Dreams

“Hello. Plase take a seat,” The therapist said. She pointed at a seat near a small coffee table. I sat down in the chair. “So. I know you’re here to discuss your dreams,” She said. I nodded. This was going to be a long session. “So what is happening with these ‘dreams’ of yours,” She said.

“Nightmares,” I corrected. She nodded. “Do you want exactly what happened in these nightmares?” I asked. She nodded. Where to begin.

“The dreams started on a cold winter night. I’m not sure what day it was but I remember that it was winter. I had just gotten back from my job. They made us work grueling hours. 6am-10pm. The job was a boring one. A typical desk job. When I got home I was exhausted. All I wanted ro do was crawl into my bed and enter the realm of dreams,” I said. “What time was it?” The therapist asked. I looked up. “10:40pm,” I said. She nodded and wrote something down on her little notebook.

“As I was saying. When I had dinner, brushed my teeth got changed,” I said. “What was it that you ate?” Said the therapist. “You might’ve had these dreams because you got sick. Lack of protein excetera,” The woman said. She spoke with great intellect. She must’ve come from the posh side of brougntonberg. Brougntonberg was located in the country it was hidden in the hills of the great Adelaide hills.

“Soon at about 11:15 I was lulled to sleep. In the dream I was running away from something. I could feel its hot breath on my neck. Any second it would pounce and start to rip me apart. Bit by bit,” I said. “What was the thing chasing you?” The woman asked. “It had long claws. It was wearing a robe?” I said. “That’s all I could remember,” I said.

The woman nodded and wrote something down. “Continue,” She said. I nodded and continued with my tale. “Then I tripped over and then I woke up. That was the end of that dream,” I said. “Mmhhmmm,” The lady said. She was looking over her writing. “Do you have any more ‘nightmares’ you want to share with me. It might give us a clearer result,” She said. “Well, the next dream I was at work. I was sitting at my desk on my desktop. Writing the tax invoices. When I heard a clanging sound. At first I dismmised it. Then I heard it again. Louder this time. I sighed and got up from my desk. I picked up my phone and turned on the flashlight.

It was coimg from the far end of the office. In one of the bigger cubicles. That big one was for the entry employees. You had to work your way up. To get yourself your own cublicle. It was annoying but I guess it makes sense. They work harder when you do that. I only got moved to my private cublicle just last week. It took them 3 years to do that. 3 long years. I had to become employee of the month to do that. 49 times. Then they decided to promote me. I walked towards the cubicle. The clanging had stopped but now there was a sloshing sound.

I walked closer towards the cubicle. Closer. Closer. Inside the cubicle was Chip. His head was ripped off. His head was lying several feet away from him. Blood was spilling out of his neck. Also on the floor was a message written in blood:

Do you like my handi-work?

I was gasping for air. Who would do such a thing? Then a voice in my head said: Me. I turned around and saw the thing from the previous dream. It was right in front of me looking at me. Blood was on it’s fingernails. Then I woke up,” I said. The lady nodded and wrote something in her clipboard. “Alright well that should conclude our session. See you next time,” She said. I left the room and made a bee-line for the bus. I took a seat in the back row. The bus strated and we made our way towards frecklinston avenue. When we arrived I began to sleep.

I was in a castle. A dungeon. The walls were pigmented with graffiti. Where was I? In the corner of the dungeon I saw something. It was a note. I made my way over to the note and picked it up. I’m no archeologist but I think the note was from 6 years ago. It had yellowed and crumpled up. There was a wet spot. It seemed like something had been dripping on it.

I read the note and it said:

Escape. Escape. Escape. Run. Run. Run. Hide. Hide. Hide

It made no sense at all. I looked up from the note and saw that the dungeon gate was now open. I dropped the note and let it flutter to the ground. I exited the dungeon and made my way up the stairs when suddenly.. out of nowhere I get sent flying towards a wall. I feel something tugging on my head. It tugs harder. Harder. HARDER. HARDER. I hear a squelch. My head is now on the floor. Eventually everything fades to black.

Lady Chamberlain

Lady Chamberlain arrived at the hospital at 3:09pm. She sees a young man in his 20′s lying on a hospital bed. She knew him. He was the guy who had come to therapy the day before. Now he was lying on a hospital bed. She went to go take a closer look. The man’s head was detached from his body. A frozen look of fear was intombed in his face. Something bad must’ve happened to this man. She looked up from the body and saw the Sherrif walking towards her.

“Hello ma’am,” The Sherrif said politely. “Hello, Sherrif,” She said back. Her voice was small and tiny. “I would just like to ask you a question,” He said. The man was obviouly suspicious of her. Or not. Maybe he was just asking her what happened.

“Do you know what happened to this man,” The Sherrif asked. “Well, he was one of my patients at the therapost office. Said he was having bad dreams or something like that. After some time he left and that was the last time I saw him,” She said in a nice and calm voice. When you say something really shakily. It sometimes points to you lying.

“M’kay,” The Sherrif said. “See you around,” He said. Lady Chamberlain sighed. That was the third time someone questioned her. She was kind of famous in this town. She was well known for her therapy. She could cure someone of depresstion in a couple of sessions. She had just wanted to help people. Anyways she should be leaving right now.

Sherrif Don does some sneaky sneaky evidence collecting

Sherrif Don was of somewhat important in this town. It was because he was Sherrif. The ‘protecter’ of town. Don didn’t feel protective at all. He needed to go to the crime scene. Where the young man died at 12:56pm on a Tuesday in Spring 2005 on the bus: bbb67. It was a strange case because according to witnesses a strange man appeared and took his head off then dissaperaed. He made his way to the decommissioned bus.

He was going to have to do some evidence collecting. When he arrived at the bus he expected it to be locked up. Instead it was just parked aside at a bus stop. Don got out of his car and went towards the bus. Inside the bus was what you would expect any bus to have.

At the back of the bus was the seat where the young man had died. There was a stain of blood on the seat he was sitting on and the seats around him. Don noticed a security camera in the corner of the bus. He just spotted it out the corner of his eye.

Hang on. That might’ve captured the footage. Don climbed up and took the camera off it’s hinges. He exited the bus knowing that he had got everything. Almost everything. He missed the crucial detail. The one that sums it all up.

Don plugged the camera into his desktop. He scrolled through for a few minutes before finding the correct footage. It showed the young man taking his seat. Don fast forwarded it. It showed a strange figure taking the mans head off.