After I emptied my stomach for the second time, I rubbed my temples like I normally do, but the pressure was still there. I finally took out a pen and started writing the events that took place in my dream.
When I was done, I put the journal away, and turned the lights out. I couldn’t lie down, I didn’t want to go back to sleep. I sat up, rocking in the dark.
Chapter Five
Rachel sat up in her bed the next morning and stretched before she turned to look at me. I hadn’t gone back to sleep since the dream. I was still sitting on my bed rocking.
When she finally took in my expression, she was alarmed. She jumped out of her bed and ran to my side.
“Jamie, what is it? Did you have another dream?” she asked.
When she mentioned it, I immediately started crying again. For the last couple of hours, I was trying to hold it in.
“Why is this happening to me Rach, I don’t understand? I’ve tried to figure this all out, tried to piece it all together, but there is nothing to put together. I’m having these dreams, and then clear across the country, it’s really happening. What can I make of it?” I said still crying.
“I know and I’m sorry this is happening to you. I wish there was something I could do or say to help ease the pain, but I’m just as confused as you are.”
The sobs burst out of me and I couldn’t control it. Rach was there, holding me and rocking with me. She pushed the hair out of my face and looked at me.
“You’re going to get through this, I promise,” she said.
“How can you promise that? You don’t know that for sure. What if I don’t? I can’t go on like this anymore.”
“I know. I’m so sorry Jamie.”
I rubbed the tears from my face, but it was no use. My head throbbed harder. There was no escape from all this horror.
“We are going to see Dr. Silverman today, maybe he can help you. Please just try to pull it together until then. I told you we are in this together. I’m here for you until the end,” Rach said.
“Thanks.”
It was already seven fifteen in the morning and I was exhausted. My class was at eight, but I wasn’t going. I couldn’t go in this state of mind.
I was too afraid to go back to sleep, so I got up and went to take a shower.
“I’ll have some clothes out for you when you get out of the shower. Don’t worry about anything, I’ll take care of it, just try and relax,” Rach said.
I turned around and hugged her. I squeezed her so tight, her next breath came out like a hiccup. I was just so glad that she was here with me. I never expected her to be this involved, and a big part of me felt bad, but I had no one else. She didn’t care, she was sticking with me through it all.
After I got out of the shower and got dressed, I felt ore relaxed. The shower made it easier to think.
I paced the floor so much I could have worn a hole in it. The silence went on forever. My mind and stomach was doing back flips. The dreams consumed me to the point where I didn’t know what it felt like to not have them. I didn’t know what normal was anymore.
I looked at the clock and it was eleven forty-five. At this point, I was anxious to see the psychiatrist. I needed an outlet.
I stopped in front of the window and looked over the campus at all those people walking around without a care in the world. Did they know how lucky they were?
Who would’ve thought I would be dreaming about actual murders, and even more, I would be the one committing them in my dreams. I gazed out the window again, longing for a release from the stress of it all.
I glanced back at Rach, who was still sitting on her bed, biting her nails. She looked up at me, her face apologetic, wanting to say something, anything to take my mind off of my troubles. I felt horrible, because this was not her problem, but like any true best friend, she took it on and didn’t complain. I loved her more than I could explain.
I had been going over everything in my mind for the past six or seven hours and it wasn’t doing me any good. I halfway understood having nightmares, but couldn’t grasp the reality of it.
I wondered if they would ever catch the serial killer, and when they did, would the nightmares stop? I wondered if I knew who it was, would it help me figure out the connection? Does this person know me? They couldn’t possibly know me because I’ve never been to Italy.
“Do you want to get something to eat?” Rach said finally breaking the silence.
I was startled when she spoke, it made me jump.
“I’m not really hungry,” I replied.
“You have to eat something.”
“My stomach is in knots. I don’t know if I can eat right now,” I said.
“Well, do you at least want to ride with me to get something? I’m starving and I don’t want to leave you here alone.”
I looked at the clock again. It was now twelve fifteen. I should ride with her and get out of this closed space.
“Yeah, I’ll ride and then after we can go to my appointment.”
“Okay, sounds good.”
I found some shoes to throw on while Rach grabbed her things. We headed out of the room and got into the car.
I turned up the music and leaned back in my seat. Rach stopped at the Junction and ordered a to-go plate of chicken tenders, fries, and wings. I knew she ordered extra stuff to make me eat, too. It worked because I dug in as soon as the plate came.
We left from there and drove to the office. We sat in front of the building until it was time for me to see the doctor. We ate in silence and it started to drive me crazy.
“Please talk about something, the silence is killing me,” I said, “tell me something about school or Derrick. It doesn’t matter.”
“Okay, well I told Derrick we were going out of town this weekend, he said he would miss me. I thought that was sweet. I think he’s a keeper. I’m really excited about how well the relationship is going.”
“That’s good. So are you guys officially together or what?”
“I guess so. I’m not seeing anyone and I don’t think he is either. I guess you can say we’re exclusive,” she said with a smile.
I didn’t say anything, just nodded. It was nice that Rach had some kind of escape from the pressures of life. She seemed optimistic for the future of the relationship and I was happy for her, she deserved it.
We sat in silence again and I knew it was because she felt uncomfortable.
“Let’s go in a check this place out,” I suggested.
“Okay,” she said.
We got out of the car and slowly headed for the door. All the feelings I had twirling inside me made me nauseous and lightheaded.
When we approached the door, everything, every part of my body felt heavy. Rach opened the door and before entering, I could see the faces looking at me.
I was scared and I didn’t know why. I knew they were here for the same reason, seeking help from some type of anxiety and they wouldn’t judge.
We walked in and went to the receptions desk.
“Hi, can I help you?” the woman asked.
I couldn’t say anything.
“She has an appointment with Dr. Silverman at one,” Rach spoke for me.
The woman started pecking at her computer and finally looked back up at us.
“What’s the last name?” she asked.
“Whit…” Rach began.
“Smith,” I yelled before she could finish, “Wendy Smith.”
The woman looked at me with a smirk on her face. She knew I was lying, especially because of the face Rach was making.
“Okay, just have a seat and I’ll call you back when he’s ready for you.”
“Thanks,” I mumbled.
We sat down and the only thing I could think of doing was twiddling my thumbs.
“Why does the receptionist think your name is Wendy Smith?” Rach asked.
“That’s what I told her my name was. You know I’m already worried that this guy will think I’m crazy.”
&
nbsp; She giggled while shaking her head. “What does that have to do with your real name?”
“I don’t know why I lied to her. The name just came out when she asked me,” I said.
“Okay, whatever,” she said. “Have you figured out what you’re going to say to him?”
“I’m just going to tell him about the dreams and see what he says. I don’t want to tell him about the news report, unless I feel I need to.”
“Alright,” she said.
We waited for about fifteen minutes before I was finally called back. Butterflies were in my stomach, but it wasn’t from just the nervousness. I was looking for something positive to come out of this.
I walked in the office and Rach was behind me.
“Hi, Miss Smith, I’m Dr. Silverman,” he said extending his hand to shake mine, “How are you today?”
I shook his hand and looked away.
“I’m okay, I guess,” I replied.
The doctor turned and looked at Rach.
“And you are?” he gestured toward her.
“This is my friend Rachel Phillips. I didn’t want to come alone. I hope you don’t mind if she sits in with us,” I answered.
“Not at all, whatever makes you feel comfortable. Nice to meet you Miss Phillips,” he said shaking her hand as well. “Let’s have a seat, shall we.”
Dr. Silverman was younger than I expected, but he still looked refined and knowledgeable. He was about five feet and nine inches tall, slim and well dressed. His hair reminded me of Ash’s, because of the dark brown curls, the only difference was the length. Ash’s hair was a little bit longer than the doctor’s. He wore glasses that sat at the tip of his nose, which complimented the wisdom in his face.
He pointed the couch out for Rach and me to sit and he took a seat next to his desk.
I looked at him and he was watching and taking in my every movement. This made me nervous.
“So, Miss Smith, what is the nature of this visit today?” he asked.
I was silent. Before we came, I had rehearsed and memorized everything I was going to say to him, but words failed me. Rach nudged me with her elbow and I jumped slightly and cleared my throat.
“I’ve been having dreams,” I started, “nightmares actually and when I don’t have the nightmares, I don’t dream at all. I know this might sound silly, but these dreams seem so real and it is really taking a toll on me.”
“I see,” he said pushing his glasses from the tip of his nose closer to his eyes, “what are the dreams about?”
Rach grabbed my hand and looked at me. She nodded for me to continue.
“Well, at first the dreams are about me in different rooms. Some are hospital rooms and the others are just regular ones. Some are rooms I don't really see because I'm being hypnotized, but in all the rooms I feel like I’m trapped or being held hostage. There are two guys, doctors I think, who run test on me. It’s always the same two people.”
“Do you recognize any of the people or surroundings in the dreams?” he asked.
“No. Nothing looks familiar,” I replied.
“You say they are running tests on you. Can you describe what these test consist of?”
“In the dreams about the hospital rooms, I’m always groggy, like I’ve been drugged. So, my mind seems to go in and out, like having constant blackouts. But I remember lying on a table with tubes in my arms and a beeping noise in the background, with a bright light in my face. The only test I really recognize is when they check my blood pressure or my temperature.”
He was nodding as if he understood, maybe he could help me after all. I squeezed Rach’s hand and looked at her to show my enthusiasm.
“And what about the dreams where you are being hypnotized? Can you remember what you say while you're under? Do you recognize the hypnotist?” he asked.
“I don't see the person at all, but I know it’s a woman. My eyes are always closed when she starts talking to me. She tells me to relax and then when my body no longer feels there, she tells me to open my eyes. The only thing I can do is stare at the ceiling, my head won't move.”
“Can you remember what you talk about?”
“We talk about things that I have never done, feelings I have never felt. It doesn't make sense,” I said.
“Can you elaborate?”
“I tell her that I am angry all the time. I am tired of being trapped and I want to get out. I go into detail about a place I have never been, but know so vividly because of the dreams. There is an image of a man that is stuck in my head and it makes me angrier thinking about him. But this is a man I have never met. She tells me she wants to help me to get past my anger, but I really don't want to get over it. We go back and forth about being and thinking positive and I don't feel there is anything good coming from my situation. Like I said, none of it makes sense to me at all. I don't have those kinds of problems.”
“This man that you see, you say you don't recognize him, but can you describe him to me?”
“Well, all I see is his face and he looks like an older man. He has gray hair and wears glasses. He looks worried or sad. I can't decide which one. He looks like a gentle, kind man. I don't understand why I am so angry with him.”
Dr. Silverman started to write something down on his pad. While we sit and wait for him to finish writing, Rach squeezed my arm to reassure me.
“So what are the dreams like now?’ he said.
I took in a deep breath.
“Now the dreams are about murder.”
“Murder,” he repeated.
“Yes,” I said feeling uneasy again, “I am committing murders in my dreams, random people I don’t know. I’m cutting their throats.”
I looked at the doctor to take in his expression. It still hadn’t changed.
“I don’t know why I started having these nightmares and I just want it to go away. I close my eyes and I see these people all the time. I don’t know how to deal with this anymore. How do I stop it?”
His face turned apologetic.
“Well, Miss Smith, there are studies on the reason for dreams and nightmares. Some say nightmares are a way for your unconscious to get your attention about a situation or problem that you have been avoiding. Something must be troubling you on a deeper subconscious level. Has something dramatically changed in your life recently or have you had problems resolving an issue of some sort?” he asked.
“I’ve tried to think through all the events that have taken place in my life and there is nothing that I can think of that would cause stress or depression. I have no unresolved issues and there hasn’t been much that has changed that is major,” I said.
“In your dreams, you are the one committing the murders. Is there any difference between the person you are in your dreams and the person you are in your waking life? Other than the fact that you’re killing people, of course.”
“Yes, a huge difference. It looks like me, except for the eyes, they are black or dark brown, which, as you can see, my eyes are hazel. Then my attitude is totally different. It’s more menacing. It’s hard to explain, but I’m tense during and after these nightmares. I feel everything happening around me just as clearly as seeing it. The dreams are lucid, because I know I’m dreaming, but I can’t change the outcome or even so, that I want to while I’m in this state of mind. I’m stalking people in these dreams and wanting to kill them. That is nothing like who I am when I’m awake.”
“Are there any characteristics about this person that you want to possess? Like for instance, is she fearless, is she bold? Doesn’t matter how small you think it is, just try to think if there are any.”
I sat back in the couch and ran through the dreams, trying to find something about this other me that I would consider making a part of my personality. I knew there wasn’t any. Bottom line, she was a murderer. I would never want to be like that.
“I can’t think of anything. Everything about the person in my dreams is wrong,” I finally answered.
He got up and walked
to the bookshelf. He started searching for a book while Rach and I looked at each other. I wanted to ask her what she thought about all this, but I knew there would be plenty of time to talk after we left.
“There are many theories about why we dream and what they all mean. For example, Sigmund Freud, who was the father of psychoanalysis, believed nothing occurs by chance; that all of our actions and thoughts are motivated by the unconscious on some level. Carl Jung believed that dreams are more spiritual, another way of communicating with your unconscious state of mind. His theory is that all things are paired. In other words, good and bad, man and woman, love and hate,” he explained while he pulled a book down from the shelf.
The book had symbols of a moon and stars, from what I could tell. I didn’t get a good look at the title. I was hoping he would tell me so I could do some research of my own.
He went on about the different theories from the original researchers like Alfred Adler to Frederick Perls. By the end of the conversation, which was an hour and a half later, he figured my subconscious was trying to help me put an end to an old habit or former way of thinking. He also said that the meaning of death in a dream aspect was the end of a cycle; that something was finally over.
I didn’t want to tell him that my dreams were related to the murders that were taking place in Rome. I felt that was too much to tell at that point. I know Rach wanted me to say something, but she knew how I felt about it.
“Now the dreams about you being hypnotized could represent a feeling or fear that you have, in reference to giving yourself over completely to someone else in your waking life.
It could also mean that you have a tendency to live life without truly being aware of your surroundings. You don’t relish in the moment or appreciate the little things. If so, you should try to make an effort to be more present and aware in each moment. You need to look beyond the obvious. A dream is often about something other than its obvious meaning. Physical events in the dream commonly represent mental or emotional matters.”
More Than One: A Novel Page 5