Page 7 of Dreamscape Therapies

I haven’t slept for more than an hour at a time in months. I’m so tired I can barely think straight. I’m desperate enough that I drove out to a falling-apart house in the middle of nowhere to see a therapist who looks like he should be studying for midterms.

What do I have to lose?

“Fine,” I grumble, turning around and trudging back to the couch.

The relief on his face is almost comical as he practically skips back to his chair. He settles in with his legal pad, wiggling like he’s a dog and I just gave him a peanut butter cookie.

I sink into the green suede cushions and close my eyes. The couch really is incredibly comfortable. Kind of like lying on a cloud. Or what I imagine it feels like, since I haven't actually slept in recent memory.

Gods, I’m fucking tired.

The silence stretches between us, broken only by our breathing and the soft patter of rain coming from a white-noise machine on the side table.

I try to turn my brain off. I count sheep. List phone numbers. Recite the alphabet backward. Anything I can think of.

Nothing works.

Minutes crawl by awkwardly.

Eventually, I crack one eye open. “This isn’t working,” I complain.

He grins, a tiny dimple appearing in his cheek. “Would you like some help?”

“What kind of help?” I ask, sitting up slightly. “Like a sleeping pill?”

He fucking giggles. The sound is so unexpected and ridiculously cute that I forget to be annoyed.

“I’m a Sandman, Mr. Klein. I was going to offer sleep magic.” He smiles coyly. “But if you’d prefer a prescription, I can refer you to a physician.”

Right. Sleep magic. That’s literally why I’m here. “Yeah. Let’s try the magic thing.”

“All righty!” He practically bounces out of his chair and over to the couch to stand beside where I’m lying. He looks down at me with an eager expression. “Please, close your eyes.”

“Right,” I murmur, feeling like an idiot.

“Now…” his voice drops to a whisper, and I feel the air shift in front of my face. He’s close enough now that I can feel the warmth of his breath against my skin. “Relax.” His voice is soft and melodic, wrapping around me like a blanket.

The tension in my shoulders begins to loosen, and my breathing slows as the constant buzz of anxiety in my head quiets. My body sinks deeper into the couch, and my thoughts blur at the edges. The darkness behind my eyelids becomes warm and inviting instead of threatening.

I feel safe.

So I let it happen.

I sleep.

Chapter Three

It's so peaceful.

Just me and the early morning lake. The water is smooth as glass, not a single ripple to be seen. The air is slightly damp and cold enough to wake me better than a cup of coffee ever could.

This is nice. This is what I needed.

My fishing pole rests against my shoulder as I stroll down the wooden dock, tackle box bumping my leg with every step. Someone is already out on the lake. I can't see who it is, but there's a tiny aluminum boat drifting near the reeds. Every now and then, I hear the muffled PLUNK of a lure hitting the water.

I drop down near the edge of the dock, cast my line, and watch the ripples spread across the surface.

Birds chirp in the distance. A large dragonfly that's the size of a small bird lands on my tackle box. Holy shit. Everything feels weirdly peaceful and yet urgent and important at the same time.