What if you dreamt

.

.

.

?

And not just any dream,

But one where you see people die.

How they die,

When they die,

And it actually happens…?

Chapter 01: Welcome to the Panic Room

“Smile for me.”

Is what she would always tell me. That maybe if I smiled that it would be less painful, less hurtful. That if I could bare it enough to smile, it’ll actually be worth it…

But is it ever really worth…

“Janeen, I’m so sorry but,”

My eyes lower, “Your prescription has no refill.” My eyes shoot open wide. No refill? How the hell am I supposed to…

“How the hell am I supposed to sleep peacefully?!” I shriek at the man across the desk from me. His salt and peppered thick beard, his slick back almost cow lick hair to match the color. His eyebrow so bushy, they cover most of his eyes.

“I am terribly sorry. Just try and get some sleep. I’m sure they were just nightmares.” He says.

I get up from the desk, sitting here and yelling and bitching out the matter isn’t going to make anything better, not for me anyway. “Tsk.” I click my tongue in irritation and walk away from him.

“Don’t forget your…”

***

“Therapist. Don’t forget your therapist appointment today, Janeen.”

She says as soon as I get in the door.

I sigh and look over at her and then look back at my phone. She means that place I go to and sit in a room with what used to be a stranger that claims they care about me and my problems? Nah. I call that the panic room.

“Janeen.” She says.

Her voice filled irritation – she knows I heard her, but I haven’t answered her and that’s what irritated her. I switch my eyes back over to her and furrow my eyebrows down. “I’m going.” I growl and grab my hoody from off the hook.

As soon as I get in the house… I’m told to go to my therapist… Right. Because someone with a degree can help me with my problems…

Well, I’m ready for the worst, right?

“Janeen,” the woman says across from me. I pick up my head. The woman in front of me? Looks like she could pass for a playboy bunny. The bleach blond hair, blue sky eyes and the sun-kissed skin. The very tight, very short milk colored skirt to match her milk colored shirt. “Talk to me. You always wait til the last minute.” She says.

I lean back in the couch, the leather. I try to find comfort, but nothing really soothes me. I wanna panic, I want to run and hide. I want to shut myself in a room. “Please.” She pleads.

I look at her, but this time more intently. Her rectangular black framed glasses get pushed up closer to her eyes. “It’s not… worth it.” I sigh.

“Janeen, if you were gonna lie… You should’ve just stayed home.” She says it bluntly.

“What the fuck do you want me to tell you lady?” I spit at her.

I grab the sides of my head and wrap and tangle my fingers deep in the short hair I have. “The shit I dream about will make the hairs on the back of your neck stand like an erect dick.” I growl at her.

My eyes pacing the room, studying and looking at every center and every inch. But really? I’m looking for an exit. The windows? Maybe it’d be best, maybe I could just kill myself and it’ll be over. The door? Nah… I’ll just be caught… like last time.

“But that’s all they are, dreams.” She says.

I look back to her. I want to insult her intelligence, but to any other human being I guess that’s what they would be – “What did you dream about last night?” She asks.

“Nothing, that’s what my medication was for. But I have no more refills… And it’s hard to get more because they’re narcotics.” I sigh.

“Okay, you’re going through withdrawls. You’ve become addicted to your own medicine.” She claims.

Addicted? “ADDICTED?! Oh boy you’re right, I got addicted to dreaming like a normal person! I got so damn addicted to actually being normal I wanted to overdose.” I tell her openly.

I shrink down in my hoody. “But I couldn’t do that to her,” I pull my knees to my chest. “I just couldn’t.” I groan.

“Her?”

“We don’t talk about her. We talk about me. You leave her out of this.” I hiss.

She backs off, metaphorically. “I see. One subject at a time, right?” she says. “Tell you what, come back in a week – in fact, like our schedule says and we’ll pick up from there.” She offers.

Pick up from there? How the hell can… I frown and bite my bottom lip. But would this be a way out for someone to actually believe me? “How’s your day?” She asks.

My eyes squint, “My day?” she nods. “My day has been shit. Yours?” I ask.

“We don’t talk about me. You’ll be fine, just fine. I assure you.” She says.

“Can you really assure something like that to people like me?” I ask her.

“Good-bye, Janeen.”

“Bye.”

---

And that’s how we left things and now I’m on the outside of a corner store with two white bags, heavy with junk food. I sigh and watch as a stray cat mosey’s on in front of me. “Cat?” It’s a fat and small gray tabby. It’s so small and it looks so lost. I begin to chase it..