If I stayed put, I would be vulnerable to counter attacks. Instead of acting immediately, I waffled around in the dark, like a sitting duck. I could barely see twenty feet ahead of me. The room stilled at the edge of my vision, drowned out in silence and shadow.
"Great," I huffed. "More dream fuckery."
On the lip of my ear, the suited man's cackle perched, like a trickster spirit, and taunted me.
"Try anything and you might just find that the exit lies beyond reach," he purred. "I could make things so much easier for you if you just listened."
Annoyed, I said, "Try anything and I'll shove my foot up your--"
Suddenly I was thrown back into the tile floor. The wind was knocked out of me. I could feel the world closing in as the breath in my lungs spilled out. I curled up on my side, exasperated, and reeling from the blow.
"What was that again? Something about your foot? Mocking won't win you any points with me, kid."
I leaned on my elbow and used it to support my throbbing side. My head spun.
"That's it? Tossing me around seems about the only thing anyone can do around h--"
Another pull, this time from above. A force jerked me up into the air like a doll thrown across the room. I soared upwards, nearly hitting a piece of medical equipment. The ceiling fell increasingly beneath me, or rather I was approaching it closer and closer with the speed of a bullet. The air thinned as I braced for my next crash. My meteoric trajectory seemed destined for impact with a light fixture. I could hardly breathe.
I rolled to the side and onto my back, missing the light just in time for the ceiling to slam into me. I looked up--which was down now apparently--and saw a shape coming straight for me.
"SHIT!"
Thump! CRASH! I jumped out of the way as Dharia's cot slammed into the light fixture right next to me, scattering glass and metal every which way. I was in it now: the thick of it. No way to go but back towards the hallway.
Except, I was falling again.
Down, or rather sideways, toward the window. The way in which gravity pulled me was once again flipped, sending me straight for the window at the far end of the hospital room, opposite of the door. The glass plane advanced toward me at an alarming speed. I would have thought it was a bus if it wasn't for the city lights illuminating the space between, shining into the room in blinking reds and greens and yellows.
I reached out desperately, searching for something to catch me before I broke through the pane and fell beneath the world. My fingers brushed against a cabinet and, in a moment of clarity, I grabbed onto the handle as the force of gravity pulled me down; my palm drew blood as I caught it, the creases of my ligaments bursting with pressure and pain. I dangled and swayed from the cabinet, but at least I wasn't down there--
The glass shattered. Dharia's cot had fallen yet again, but this time it dropped down from where it crashed into the light on the ceiling towards the unprotected window, slamming into it, and smashing the glass surface so that it shattered and spilled into the night air like falling snow. It plunged through the surface and fled out into the void, assumedly never to be dreamed of again.
Some poor soul is going to have the worst day of their life, if this weren't a dream of course. Otherwise, I couldn't stomach the thought of someone getting steam-rolled by a flying bed. Though, the thought brought me a little humor in the face of impending bedlam.
A rush of wind blew up into the room, ruffling my hair and chilling my fingers, which clung to the increasingly freezing metal of the cabinet handle. I didn't know how much longer I could hang on for. It was apparent that I couldn't last forever, even if this was a dream; the dream-logic appeared to be beyond my control. Behind my eyes, a headache bashed against my skull, coagulating the corners of my mind in a thrumming, mushy mess.
I yelped through the headache, "Get out of my head!"
"Yield and I'll let your mind go."
I shook my head like a wet dog.
"Who the hell are you anyway? You're like a tapeworm, you know? Can't wait to shit you out and stomp on that stupid, tasteless smirk."
Suddenly, I felt the wind change and I knew that the gravity was once again flipping, twisting, turning back to its normal rotation. I sat suspended in the air for a moment before dropping on my butt. Ow. I landed flat on the tile floor. After re-adjusting to the room's original arrangement, I rose up onto my shaking feet, rubbing my side and nursing a few bruises the best I could. I had been in fights before, primarily scuffles with backstreet kids, so I knew how to handle the pain; to an extent. I felt like I could take the pain just as much as I could dish it out. Granted, I haven't been in many fights anyway. If things had to come to that, then I could probably hold my own. I searched the dark for the man in the suit only to realize it had returned to its normal length and shape. While I stared blankly into the gaping dark, I began to feel another pull, but this time on my mind. I trudged through the mess left in wake of the man's chaos, stepping over fallen medical gauze and trays, stepping over scalpels and tools, sweeping back to the hallway where someone whispered from the shadows. "Monty, Monty. How did we get here?"
"Great question," I said. "Let's address the elephant in the room." Outside Dharia's room, the hallway stretched on infinitely to both sides. Only a single overhead light blinked above me. So, I could not see very far. "Surely there's a reason for all this waffling? All the taunting and evasion only proves to show that you're trying to distract me from something."
"Really? And what would that be?" I recognized the direction of the voice. It whispered out from the lobby. I followed the direction, hoping to catch sight of the disembodied voice.
"Dharia Rhodes," I said, plainly. "That's her name, right? She's a patient here in the hospital. I don't know why, but she's connected to my dream."
The voice said, "Poor Dharia. It wasn't her fault she was caught up in all this. Just another victim of happenstance. But, when I learned that she possessed such a skill as THIS, I simply had to see for myself."
The lobby was lit with a simple ceiling light. It covered the chair and sofa ridden room in geometric shadows. Potted plants grew like jungles. The receptionist's desk crawled around the front like a conveyor belt. The silhouettes of chair legs grew to look like cell bars. I had to be cautious. He could be hiding anywhere in here, waiting for me to lower my guard. I had to keep him talking, just at least until I could figure out where he was concealed.
"So why did you choose her? Just because you could?"
"The fact is that I could find no one else like her. Because of recent events, my hand has been forced to act rashly and quickly. As a result, my influence on her has been all but gentle, but rather than wait for the veil to be lifted I had decided to approach her in a more straight forward way. Semi-Oneiropathy is a hell of a tool, and one that I simply could not just leave to be ignored, especially with things moving as quickly as they are."
Where the hell is he? Now that I stood in the center of the lobby, it was almost harder to tell where his voice was coming from. Was I mistaken? Was he really somewhere else, somewhere far and well out of my way? Could he control where his voice was coming from in the dream? No, there has to be limits. It's not his dream after all…
"The big question I have then…is why me? What reason could you possibly have to drag me here? You are just a figment of my imagination. A shadow of my trauma. But this doesn't make sense. Why drag in someone I've never even met before?"
"Monty. This is real."
"Like hell it is! I know what Mr. Chelsea taught me about Freud. This is the id, right? Some kind of dark place deep down in the back of my psyche, where my primal fears and urges live, it's the part of me I can't really access normally. I can't think of any other reason besides that to explain what's going on…"
I had to be right. I just had to be. How else could I explain what's going on? This past week is making less sense by the second. I needed something Real to latch onto, just so I don't go crazy.
"You remember, don't you?" He laughed. "It was only a week ago. I'm sure you do."
The shadows began to grow, wider, deeper, hungrier. The man in the suit was on my doorstep now, just beyond my vision. I could feel it.
"Care to enlighten me? I won't take Philosophy 101 until junior year."
"You think I speak in platitudes? This is Real. As real as it ought to be, anyway--as a dreamscape. There are consequences here that will extend into the Real world."
"Don't be ridiculous. I know when I'm getting my chain yanked," I shouted back. "I just didn't expect myself to be the one doing it."
"I AM NOT YOUR SUBCONSCIOUS, CHILD. I AM AS REAL AS YOU ARE!" His voice stung my eyes. I reeled from the exclamation, turning my back toward the hallway. He tried to pry into my thoughts. Skeletal fingers pulled on my mind, its clutch finding hold in the recesses of my fears. Things were getting out of hand.
There was more to the feeling than I realized. When he raised his voice, I clutched my chest in radiating pain. It was quick and fleeting, but the innate shock I felt reminded me of something I thought I've long forgotten. The last time anyone's yelled at me like that was years ago. My mother's words seemed etched in my mind, "MONTY!"
How did he do that? I searched my memories for the voice, filing through abandoned thought cabinets I left dusty and unkept in the back of my subconscious. Surely I've heard this voice before? Memory upon memory siphoned, analyzed, pondered. However, nothing came up. I realized it was futile to try and examine the voice of every single person I've ever talked to; it was downright unrealistic. I would not learn anything from even trying.
But something about him reminded me of that voice; it was almost like my brain was a toy box, and he was digging his hands in, shaking them around with no respect for my autonomy, pulling out one memory after another and playing with them as a child would play with another's toys. I felt sick.
--Skrt!
Hmm?
--Skrrrrrt!
Static. It streaked across the nightmare, almost disembodied from any physical place within, a ghost in the machine. The TV on the wall illuminated the world with the twinkling sandy light of static. I felt my shoulders tense. I glared at the humming box, alerted and ready for anything. A face appeared in the foggy pixels. It silhouetted the rainy fuzz like a hitchhiker in a blizzard. The figure smiled with broad ivory teeth, bearing his fangs for me to witness.
A flash of light exploded from the dark. One of the chairs in the lobby flew across the aisle, aimed for my head. I tucked in my chin and turned out of it's way, watching it slam into the wall and shatter into several pieces.
The voice on the TV laughed.
Dharia Rhodes stared me down from across the hallway. Her eyes glowed with a dreamy green hue, like sunlight refracted along the faces of a precious emerald gemstone. Static reflected off her eyes, dancing sporadically.
"You don't have to do this," I pleaded. Her eyes caught something else, a reflection of something darker. She frowned.
"But, I do," she said. Another chair soared across the lobby, but this time it grazed my foot and sent me reeling toward the ground. I rolled on my back to a neutral position and knelt down. She threw two more chairs with some telepathic force at me, and like the first two they splintered upon impact. I couldn't keep dodging them at this rate. I had to put distance between her and myself before one of their legs poked a hole in my eye.
"W--wait! Come on, can't we talk it out?"
She sighed and said, "What's there to even talk about? I just have to get rid of you, then I can move on from this god-awful place."
"You see," I said, exasperated, "that's plenty to talk about. You sound like you have something you want to get off your chest."
"Nope. Nothing. I don't want to talk to you, I just want to get this over with." If I wanted to push her, I had to try and will it. Maybe I could reason with her if I got her to see that this wasn't the way to go about things. I mean, what's wrong with her? To resort to violence probably wasn't her first choice. Why?
"Look. Dharia, right?" I started. She glared at my mentioning her name. "I'm Monty, Monty the Morose Court." I held up my hands. Cindi's brashness came to mind. I don't think I could ever match her energy, but I could at least try to imitate her bravery. "It sounds like Mr. Bachelor over there on the TV is the real one pulling the strings. Whatever he promised you, I'm sure he's lying. Besides, I'm harmless!" I gestured toward myself. "The dude sounds like a parasite. I wouldn't listen to a word he says."
"What would you know?" she said. Steel reinforced her tone. "How could you understand how I feel?" A metal basket twisted around the receptionist desk and hit me square in the side of the head. My head rattled and I started to see stars.
"Owch!"
"You're making this soooo much harder than it has to be."
I spat out a loogy and was shocked to see a little blood mixed with the spit.
"Isn't this supposed to be a dream? Is it supposed to feel so painful?"
"I know about as much as you do. Paradigm said he'd help me if I just did what he said."
"Para-who now?"
Her eyes flared. She scoffed and said, "Paradigm is the guy in the stupid suit. He came to me in my dreams, promised me he'd help me wake up."
"And you have no issue with hurting people to do so? Besides, who would trust someone with an alias?"
"Why would I trust you? You're not even real."
Excuse me? Not real? I patted my sides like I was looking for my keys.
"No, I feel pretty real. Honest."
"My lord! You don't shut up, do you?"
"Last time I checked, this was my dream. Not yours," I said, pointing from me to her.
She shouted, "You can't just slap your name on my dream like a science project, that's not how reality works! That's so dumb, farcical, complete utter nonsense!"
I shook my head. How could I get her to see?
"If you're the one dreaming, then why can't you do this?" she continued.
A creaking surge of energy erupted behind me. I ducked, but a shock of electricity still managed to nip me in the shoulders and arms. Dharia managed to force the electricity in the TV to split from a running wire. I feared for what she could do if I stayed here any longer.
"What's the matter, sparky?" She taunted. "You look shocked."
I gritted my teeth. Alright, two could play that game. I closed my eyes, breathed in and out, slowly, consistently, enough so that she could notice it. Think, make something move. Come on!
"What the hell are you doing?" she asked.
"I'm tapping into the dreamscape."
"You look constipated."
"Shut up!"
I squeezed my eyes then snapped them open. I reached out my hands for her to see. I could feel the tips of my fingers tingle, like they were inches away from an open circuit.
"Just watch me!"
She smiled and folded her arms, a shit-eating grin crawling across her face.
"Go ahead Mr. Morose. Tap into the dreamscape." The sarcasm dripped from her words.
"Any second now!" My fingers twitched. Following another moment or two, my arms began to tremble with the strain. How does she do it? I glanced back toward her. She hid her mouth with her hand, but I could tell through her slight shaking that she found this amusing.
The TV started to crackle again. The man in the suit--Paradigm--materialized onscreen.
"Thank you for your efforts, Dharia. But I have need for him."
"What?" She stared up at the TV stunned. "B--But you said…" She looked like she wanted to say more, but something held her back. Instead, she recovered the conversation. She said simply, "I want to go home."
"As I assured you before, you will. But first--" The hallway shook and expanded again, leaving behind a train's length corridor where the lobby was once only the size of an onboarding stage. Dharia looked just as shocked to see it change before her.
A tremble followed her voice as she said, "What's going on…you told me that he was just a figment of my imagination. Not real."
"In a way that's true," Paradigm said. "He's only a reflection here. But a reflection can reveal hidden truths." Out of the corridor, he stepped forward in dignified, calculated strides. An obsidian black suit, black shirt, and white tie. White gloves like snow covered branches stuck out the end of his jack sleeves. His voice beckoned me to step forward.
"I was right to find you here, at the hospital. To be frank with you Monty, we've been preparing for this for a long time."
I lowered my eyes. "What do you want from me?"
"I think you already know."
Do I? Do I know what he wants? Nothing initially came to mind. A flood of memories crashed into my skull, like a tsunami. But, a shape emerged from the murky depths. A box. Obsidian like his jacket, with a light as bright as the gloves he beckoned me with.
The box. I reached into my pocket and pulled it out. The flash of color and streaks of light pierced through the shadows of the corridor like a lighthouse at the cusp of a misty bay. I held it out to get a better look at it. It really was beautiful.
Paradigm reached his hand out, as if to take it.
"Good. That's it."
"What is that?" Dharia asked, beside me. "You promised!"
"Come on Monty. Give it here."
Dharia stepped forward, between me and Paradigm. I couldn't help but stare down at the box. I could see why we were fighting over it on the wharf. It was a neat little thing.
"You didn't tell me anything about a stupid box. What could you possibly want with this? How does this help me go home? Nothing makes sense anymore." She shook her head. Then turned back to Paradigm. "Tell me now. Before I give it to you."
Suddenly, the box was no longer in my possession. Dharia now held it aloft between her face and Paradigm. The light illuminated the space between them. His eyes shone like two kaleidoscopes, effervescent and ethereal. The lines of his face were almost marble esc, as if he was carved out of a solid block of stone and chipped away until his cheeks were just straight enough to carve a slab of meat. His voice exuded ego.
"You don't know what you're playing with, girl. Some things are just beyond simple explanation."
"Well, I already know that much," she said, gesturing towards the room. "This is all pretty unexplainable if you ask me."
"Dharia, this is not a game. I promised you would see your parents again. You trust me, don't you?"
She stared down at it. Her fingers moved around, fidgeting with it like some strange movie prop.
"I don't know if I do, actually." Paradigm watched her intently, curious to what she'll try next. Her gaze met his and something seemed to break between them. A rope had split from the tension. The room started to vibrate.
"Dharia," he said, venom in his words. "Give. Me. It."
"No."