Harley’s Story

Dreamcatchers

A "night terror" is what some people call the type of dreams that I have. These are the dreams that leave you screaming until you're hoarse. They are the ones that you wake up with broken teeth from. These dreams will have you wetting the bed in sweat and urine and vomit. I hate to get graphic. I know some people have weak stomachs. This is what I have to say to those poor souls: if you can't handle what I've said so far, you won't make it through this book.

Yes! That is a warning. If you think real life is bad, dreams are just going to scare the shit out of you. That's just how our brains work. We take what we fear and our brains wash it in chemicals and hormones until there is nothing left but adrenaline and knee knocking horror.

You might wonder: Why? Why is this strange girl sharing all this with us?

I'll tell you why: Because I'm tired of doing this job. I'm tired of being a Dreamcatcher. I didn't ask for it! I didn't even train for it! I was born this way! Born carrying this burden! I'm ready for the world to know what we do! What we sacrifice to make your world a better place!

I'm going to start my going back in time about five years. Back to when I was as innocent and ignorant as the rest of you. Back when these "night terrors" ruled my life.

The dreams that dominated my life back then usually involved deserts and camo. Night after night I was plunged into my father's PTSD nightmares. While he found it creepy that I some how knew specifics about some of his longest days and nights in Afghanistan he also blamed my over active imagination.

Untrained Dreamcatchers often blend their own nightmares with others. For example, I would drop into the sand pull out my gun and pull the trigger to find that it was merely a water toy. I was a good aim though, the water would splash my target in the face only to wash off the skin revealing a zombie.

I despise zombies. I hate their stunted gate, their rotting flesh, their wordless mouths, their insatiable appetite. Now a days they are just these cutsie little beasties that are portrayed in freakin' romances. You wouldn't be able to laugh at those shows if you had to watch them tear chunks out of your body with their teeth. Not to mention that you can't just freakin' die, cause your dreaming; neither can you just tell yourself it's not real, cause your dreaming!

Back too twelve year old me. I'd been through a full range of sleep studies and inpatient psych hospitals by then. Dad was desperate, mom was so hopped up on xanax that I don't think she really noticed anymore. The parental units sat me down.

"Now Harley," says my dad. Oh and if you weren't sure: Yes, my fricken parents named me after a motorcycle! "We've made an appointment with a new doctor."

I remember folding my arms and huffing. I probably also rolled my eyes.

"I promise that this will be the last one. He has made some big breakthroughs over the last few years and well he's kinda the end of the road."

"I hate doctors!" I said angrily glaring at my dad. He glared back his bad ass buzz cut making him look way scarier that he really was.

"Oh darling, glaring really make your face look dreadful," mother declared in her singsong voice.

This is how most arguments go in our house. Mom often became the peacemaker halfway through conversations. Her favorite tool for peace was the underhanded insult. I guess that's where I learned it from.

So twelve year old me went to this new doctor with pictures of rats in cages in her head. His name is Doctor Muller, and yeah, he's still in the picture. To be honest, I'm pretty sure the asshat saved my life.

I remember being so impressed with him from the beginning. He was a decade younger than any of my other doctors and he seemed to have memorized my chart from cover. The man also asked totally unique questions. He wasn't asking for a food journal or about my personal history, he was interviewing me about the people around me.

"Your dad, he was in Afghanistan for two tours, what would you say is his biggest fear?" It was as though he needed my opinion, and getting the heat off me for once was nice too.

He asked me about my mom, my best friend Sarah, and even my favorite teacher Mr. Bill. Who'd I become in my dreams only too be trampled by a gaggle of teenage girls. I liked that he didn't seem to car about my relationship with these people, he mostly wanted to know how often I dreamed about them in correlation to how often I saw them.

At the end of the appointment I said what I usually said to the medical peeps that I was stuck slumming it with. I said: "So tell me about the new magic pill that your going to give me to cure me!"

Doctor Muller smiled. "Why on earth would you want me to cure you?" and then he totally nerded out. "Look at this," showed me one a graph on his laptop. "you have the empathy of someone three times your age. You have skill that most kids don't learn until their in the mid twenties." He closed the computer. "You also know things that other people don't. You know things about the people around you that they might not even know about themselves." He leaned forward planting his elbows on his knees. "Why would anyone want to get rid of that gift?"

"Because I'm tired, and I'd like to sleep for once!" I spat back, not really as impressed as he was.

"What if I told you that it is possible to control these dreams?"

"I'd laugh in your face!"

He went around his desk and began digging through his drawers. With a loud 'aha' he pulled out a rock. It looked like one of those smooth green rocks that you put at the bottom of a fish bowel. "Here," he handed it to me, "this only requires two steps," he said giddily as I examined the rock closer. "First you tell the rock who you plan to dream for and second you sleep with it under your pillow!" he clapped his hands for emphasis. If it doesn't work, you never have to come back here again!"

I rolled my eyes so hard that I got a glimpse of my brain. "It was nice knowing you!"

I shoved the rock in my pocket and forgot about it until a week later when I wore the same jeans again. The were crisp from a round in the washing machine, but somehow the rock hadn't been lost in the black hole that was the laundry room. I set it on my desk and decided to try it that night. after three sleepless nights I was ready to try the Doc's crazy voodoo rock.

I sat in my bed, in my favorite Hello Kitty pajamas. Yes, I wear Hello Kitty pajamas, proud to say I never grew out of it! I held the rock tightly between my thumb and forefinger as I tried to decide who might have the safest dreams to borrow for the night. After a long deliberation I decided to go with my mother's. Her life seemed pretty simple to me. She was one of those high maintenance housewife types. Not to be super judgy or anything, but I'm pretty sure her worst nightmare was braking a nail.

I lifted the rock to my mouth and whispered her full name and tucked it under my pillow feeling extra silly. I didn't expect it to work, but somehow found myself hoping. The moment my eyes closed the anxiety began to build. I was sitting in a concrete room that looked an awful lot like the police interrogation rooms from the movies. The floor was painted forest green, the lights above my head buzzed eerily as the shocked the entire room with it's sickly white light.

My throat was as dry as sandpaper as I sat on a hard metal chair that's backrest felt like it was built of hundreds of barbs. Before me on a table sat a lidless orange pill bottle and a large cup of water. I leaned forward, attempting to grab the cup of water. I gripped the cup and pulled it to my mouth only to find that I'd grabbed the pill bottle. The next several hours of my dream consisted of setting the bottle down and picking up the cup to once again find the pills gripped in my fist.

Finally dream me/mom gave into the pills, fishing one out and putting it in my mouth. The thing crawled down my throat. I attempted to scream but found that this dream did not allow sounds other than the buzzing light. Again my chest began to cave, a hole forming there. I squinted into the bottle and there were and endless numbing of black cockroaches.

You really don't need to know the rest of the dream, I will tell you that I swallowed everyone of the crawling bastards before I woke up. I dashed to the bathroom to brush my teeth and vomit for good measure. The feeling of crawling in my stomach followed me for days. You might be wondering how I remembered all of that. Dreamcatchers' never forget a dream, we are like personal dream encyclopedias. Sadly I remember my dreams better than real life.

Twelve year old me was sold. I used the magic rock every night exploring the dreams of everyone I knew. When I saw Doctor Muller again I'd turned a new leaf. "Tell me how it works!" I blurted before I was even in my seat across for him.

"Did you bring it with you?" he asked a sparkle in his eyes. I pulled it from my pocket and handed it over. He held the rock up. "It doesn't work!"

I glared at him. "What do you mean? I've used it every day this week without a failure!"

"What I mean is, I dug through my desk to find something I wouldn't miss. If I didn't need my stapler, I would have given you that," the bastard was grinning now.

"Seriously?" I moaned. "What is wrong with you?"

"The same that's wrong with you." He moved to the edge of his seat, his hand taking hold of his knees as if he were trying to contain himself. "You're a Dreamcatcher, like me!"

"A what?" I was getting pissed, I mean for all I knew he was comparing me to Native American art, which now that I think about it isn't that bad.

"It takes certain skills to manipulate your dreams, you've proven that you have those skills!" He jumped out of his armchair and circled to his desk. Scooping up his laptop he came back to my side.

"Look at this," he pointed at a picture of a brain splashed in blue, "this is what a normal brain looks like when it's asleep." He swiped the screen to the left and a new brain highlighted in yellow splotches came up on the screen. "This is a normal brain when it is awake!" I could tell the dude was about to explode when he swiped the screen again. "And this is what your or my brain looks like when we dream!"

The image was brain meets Christmas tree, okay I was impressed. "Our brains are 25% more active when we are asleep than a normal waking person!"

"Before I get too excited about this tell me two things," I say trying to keep my angsty teenage facade upright.

"Shoot!"

"Why is this a good thing? My life has been pretty crappy so far!"

"Because I can teach you to control it! Because I can introduce you to others like you! Because you can make a difference in the world!"

That didn't sound all that bad to twelve year old me. I wanted to make a difference, I was my father's daughter after all. I just felt the need to hang on to my skepticism just a little longer.

"What was you second question?" Doc Muller asks, breaking my concentration.

I crossed my arms and leaned deeper into the couch. "How do you know I'm like you?"

"Because I observed a few of your dreams," he said nonchalantly.

My jaw dropped. This is not something you should admit to a teenage girl, ever! If reading a diary is invading their privacy, than sitting in on their dreams was a complete violation. "How dare you!"

He smirked. "How dare me? You've been tapping into everyone's deepest fears, including myself," he blurted unapologetically.

I shivered as I remembered his dream. I'd been strapped to a cold operating table as a masked man dissected me. I shrugged, "I didn't know what I was doing!"

"You didn't?"

I doubled my glare intensity as I tried to deny his question in my mind. Let's be honest! I knew what I was doing. I've known since I was a toddler. Just also thought I was nutzo. Not sure which was better, nutzo or peeping tom, maybe it's all one and the same. This thought process lead to my next question. "Is this a mental illness?"

"If you are asking if it's part of the DSM yet, no. Maybe in the next edition," he thought for several minutes, "Honestly, I think the government doesn't want the public to know we exist."

I rolled my eyes at his tangent, later that day I was googling "DSM". "So, now what?" I asked, frankly exhausted.

"Weekly appointments, I'm going to train you how to control this, and maybe when your fifteen you can go to Relicum!"

I didn't ask for clarification, I didn't want to go anywhere that rhymes with rectum. I did however see him the following week, and the week after that.

Training with Dr. Muller was life saving. I went from depressed anxious preteen to large and in charge. Every night was a new adventure. I was learning how to manipulate the dreams instead of being ruled by them. It was a fast three years, mainly because I was spending most of my time outside of school sleeping.

When it came time to go to high school, there was no real question about where I would be going. Relicum had already wooed my parents with its outstanding ivy league alumni, its futuristic facilities, and a rather large scholarship. Relicum was a coed boarding school outside of DC that only excepted Dreamcatchers. What Dr. Muller failed to mention is that the school was built to recruit and train future secretive government operatives.

I walked onto the perfectly manicured campus with a short wave to my parents who hadn't gotten out of the car. They were doing well at keeping straight faces, but I knew as soon as they pulled out of the long driveway they'd pull over to cry on each others shoulders.

I held my chin up and pulled my wheeled Hello Kitty suitcase behind me with as much confidence as I could muster. At the large entrance a butler type took Hello Kitty and waved me into the great hall without a word. The entrance to the hall was open, revealing six rows of long tables with theater type seating at the end of the room that retreated into the floor. I remember thinking of Hogwarts as I entered, my eyes swept skyward and disappointment had me smirking as I took in the plaster ceiling and glass chandeliers.

I made my way to the seating area where there were two other kids my age waiting near a chalkboard. Their eyes focused on some unseen distance as they fidgeted in their squeaky chairs. Both kids were boys, but on total opposites of the nerd spectrum. One of them had to weigh over 300 pounds with mouse brown stringy hair hanging down long enough to obscure his ACDC t-shirt. While the other one was as thin as a rail, wearing neatly pressed polo short and arrogant sneer. I could imagine the two playing D&D together in the lunchroom of my old middle school.

The room filled with giggles as I followed a row of chairs to the outer edge of the room. I turned to see where all the happiness was coming from as I lowered myself into the seat and ended up missing the chair and landing my ass. The giggles became even louder and I glared at the three girls, who'd distracting me from the complicate task of taking a seat. They didn't seem to care. The brats obviously knew each other, which pissed me off even more. They continued their parade down the hall as the babbled arm and arm.

I'd never liked girls like them. They weren't the popular ones. Nope. Not even the cute ones. They were the type that wouldn't be caught dead alone. They were the BFF types, that sat in each other's laps and braided each other's damn hair. It makes me puke a little in my mouth just thinking about it. One the found the most centered front seats the three took a seat as if they were one. I glared at the back of their shiny black heads as they continued their conversation in a foreign language that I was pretty sure was Tagalog.

The last of us stumbled in, there head down as they took the long path through the maze of chairs to the front. She was for sure the tallest in our class, her hair was wild, with curls peaking out of the strangest places. I couldn't quite see her face from the place that I was sitting but I decided that she was going to be my friend.

The great hall doors closed loudly and the six of us craned our necks as an adult with a white lab coat marched our way. He was a hawtie, with AW. Somehow I knew that we were all drooling, even the boys. Our teacher was going to be a Ken doll, I'd never complain about a lecture again. In unison our eyes followed Mr. Ken doll to the front of the room. "Hello, I'm Doctor Keats!" He announced in his smooth as chocolate voice, "have you all introduced yourself?"

A few glances were exchanged but no one volunteered the answer. "I see," he said as he smoother the front of his coat, "I guess I'll have to get the ball rolling." He smiled a shiny porcelain grin and silly threefer swooned out loud. "We have a class of seven this year, with only two boys," he frowned as he pulled out a piece of paper from his pocket and read from it, "unfortunately both of their names are John." Skinny John sneered and fat John blew a raspberry into the air.

"Do either of you boys happen to go by your middle name?" Mr. Ken Doll laughed at his own joke, but quickly cleared his throat and looked back down at his paper. "Tough crowd this year, huh?"

He waved his paper at the three girls, at the front. "You guys must be Emily, Anne Marie, and Carazon, the cousins?" They giggled an affirmative and the rest of the class collectively rolled their eyes.

"That just leaves Harley and Amy," the teacher looked at me and then crazy hair. "Let me guess," he points at Amy, "Amy?" She nod and I imagine her blushing, the back of her head looks like the blushing type. "That makes you Harley!" He announces as our eyes meet, I blush.

Harley must match the Goth look I'd been sporting since I started middle school.

"Well now that we all know each other, I will begin our first lecture. Everyone please pull out your computer and follow along with the power point on your desktop called 'DC101'!" after several seconds of us panicking and while looking around he laughed. "Oh dear, I forgot how knew you guys were. It's in your right arm rest." Fat John figured out how to flip it up and out first and we all followed suit. "You don't need a password, everything in this building runs off of your finger print."

I pulled up the desk top and opened the lecture. History of The Dreamcathers. What followed was an hour of the most boring lecture I'd ever seen. Mr. Ken Doll's looks did not make up for what he lacked in natural teaching ability. There were a few pieces of information that I sill remember: --

*The Dreamcatchers were first used by the government to find Communists during the Cold War.

*Torture is no longer a common practice due to the use of Dreamcatchers

*Bill Gates and Oparah are believed to be Dreamcatchers

Once Mr. Ken Doll was done torturing us an upperclassman popped in to give us a tour. She was mousy in both look and demeanor. I honesty did not hear a thing that she said; however, I did see everything she was pointing out. There were several classrooms full of gurneys, two libraries, two open kitchen with three round dining tables, tree racket ball courts, and our suites. We each had individual suites! With private siting areas, bathrooms, and bedrooms. There was a murmur about lunch as she ditched us in the open kitchen closest to our rooms.

We all collapsed at one of the round tables, exhaustion on all of our faces and I thought occurred to me. "Do any of you feel like we are just the brainy version of the Xmen?"

Fat John snorted, "Or the ugly version!" He blurted.

The cousins giggled. "Speak for yourself John number two!" Anne Marie or Corazon said between laughs.

This had us all smiling.

"Who else is hungry?" Fat John asked as began to inch his way to the fridge.

"Me!" I jumped out of my seat and followed him to the food.

My first class was Sleep Anatomy. It was a five hour class that took place Monday through Thursday, exam would be held on
Fridays. The syllabus was twelve pages long and covered everything from understanding R.E.M. to sleep management. Our first exam would be at the end of the week.

We all entered the classroom with drooping eyes at 7:00AM on our second day at Relicum. The night before had been my first night away from home, not including my slumber parties at the hospitals growing up. I'm not sure that I slept more than an hour combined that night. I looked around at my classmates, Skinny John was the only one to attempt alertness when the teacher entered the room.

She was maybe four foot tall with a pixie cut in her gray hair and permanent smirk on her face. She could have been a fairy or some other tiny winged beast, if it wasn't for her evil side. She wrapped on her desk with her knuckles until every head was lifted and every eye was on her. "Welcome to Anatomy of Sleep!" she announced in a rich voice that would have better suited for a heavyset man. "My name is Doctor Thompson, but you all may call me Ma'am!"

She looked around at all of us with narrowed eyes. "Let's start with introductions. Tell us where you were born, where your parent's live, and what you hobby is," she raised her eyebrows as she pointed at me, "starting with you."

I stood from my desk and made a big show of rubbing the sleep out of my eyes, Fat John snickered. "I'm Harley. I was b..."

"Your last name?" Dr. Evil Fairy interrupted.

"Rodriguez," I said flatly.

"Continue!"

I forced my self not to roll my eyes as I continued. "I was born in Oceanside, California. My Dad's stationed in Virginia right now. And my hobby is um," I paused to think, I seriously wanted to say sleeping, but was worried that would make me sound like a suck up. "Uh reading."

Next was Fat John's turn to stand up. "I'm John King, I was born in Portland, Oregon where my parent still live. My hobby is Magic The Gathering." I gave myself an imaginary pat on the back, I was right on the money when I looked at him and decided his level of nerdom the day before.

Skinny John stood. "My name is actually Jonathan Wells, not John. I was born in London. My parents are dead and my hobby is sleeping," he sat down curtly and I had to close my mouth before flies flew in. First off: Whoa, English accent alert. Secondly: ah sad face, he's an orphan. Thirdly: WTF, suck up alert! I tried to forgive him for part three because of part two, but none of is really matter because part one already had me drooling. English accents. mmmmm! Skinny John graduated to Jonathan.

Amy Lee was born and raised in DC and like to ride horses. I noted with disappointed that she'd tamed her curls into straight sheets of perfectly auburn hair. I secretly hated any girl that looked good with straight and or curly hair. Don't they know that some of us can never make our hair look good and all their efforts just make us look worse?

Emily, Marie Anne, and Corazon all claimed that family was their hobby. Corazon was born in the Philippines, while the other two were born stateside. The three of them were Rosales. Each of their personalities came out in their introductions. Corazon was the shy one, Emily the loud one, and Marie Anne was the pretty one.

"Thank you all for sharing, let's get to it," says Doc Evil Fairy indifferently, "In my class there will be no reading textbooks, no memorizing facts, not watching slideshows. All of that will be done during your free time." She picked up her textbook and dropped it on the ground with a loud smack. "What you will learn while in the classroom is actual techniques that you will need to know if you intend to pursue a career using your Dreamcatcher skills." She walked to the back of the classroom and pulled the door open. "Are you all ready?" she asked.

The seven of us where turned at our desks so that we could still see her. It wasn't until she left the room that we realized, she meant for us to follow. We rushed after her, bottle-necking at the door way, followed her down the hallway and into a new room. It was the tiled gleaming room full of gurneys that I'd seen the day before.

She opened a cabinet in the back of the room. "Each of you take a sheet and pick a bed!" she commanded.

Once my fitted sheet was on my gurney I hopped up and lay back. The feeling was dizziness, I didn't realize how tired I really was. My eyes closed and I once again counted my blessings that I'd decided to go to a high school where we practiced sleeping five hours a day.

"Now I will be passing each of you a sleep monitor to wrap around your wrists. It work through wifi so it will constantly update my computer as to your sleeping vs waking status as well as your heart rate. Once you put it on, you will not be taking it off until you leave this school," she slipped a stainless steel bracelet into my and I instantly placed it on my wrist as she continued to speak. "This will be the most important piece of equipment you will use during your time at Relicum."

Amy was the last to receive her sleep tracker. As she slipped it on felt an instant vibrating around my wrist. "Some of you may also notice and tingling sensation where the tracked touches your skin. This is a signal that all of your classmates are connected. You are a team now. If one of you fails, all of you fails. We want you to be aware of your team at all times!" I rubbed at my wrist feeling annoyed. Teamwork was not my thing!

"Our goal is to enter into R.E.M. sleep in the next ten minutes. I have a stop what and will be keeping an eye on your sleep trackers."

There was a collected murmur from the class. I was laying flat staring up at the cieling so I didn't catch who said which derogatory statement; however, I did hear Doc Evil Fairy's angry resoponse. "Slibs!" What I didn't know at the time was that this was a common "endearment" for first years at Relicum. Apperently first years spent most of their time "sleeping like babies", therefore we were all S.Li.B.s.

"Clock starts now!" she droans, annoyed.

I close my eyes and concentrate. After several seconds of concentration I realize that this type of brain use was counterproductive. I try to relax my face and do that thing, you know the sheep counting thing. I imagined perfect fluffy white little fur balls marching across my field of vision. "One little beasty, two little beasties, three little beasties, four lit..."

"Okay everyone, times up! Sit up if you're still awake!"

All the girls sat up. Doc Evil Fairy frowned. "John!" she glared at John, whose eyes were screwed shut. "You're not sleeping!" The kid didn't make a move. She grunted, and pushing in her chair angrily went around her desk and to his gurney. With a roll of her eyes she stomped down on a lever by the front left wheel. The head of the bed snapped up, while the foot of it lowered. Fat John his the ground with a grunt.

Doc Evil Fairy nudged John with her foot, a sadistic smile on her face. "The tracker can't lie," she said, flipping her hair and heading back to her desk. The cousins giggled.

John just grunted, but I could imagine all the nasty words he was thinking in her general direction. He took a minute or so to roll onto his side, then his knees, by the time his bed was righted and he was atop it he'd started to sweat. He panted and glared at the front of the room. I decided I'd sit next him and lunch to show solidarity in dislike for our teacher.

"Now the we are all ready to try again, I will give you all some tips. First, I suggest picking a dream from your dream index. This would be your most calming dream memory. Recap it in your head." Doc Annoying Fairy stood turning to the white book and wrote "1) Recap". "If this doesn't work try the 4-7-8 method. For deep breaths through your nose, seven seconds of breath holding, followed by a eight second exhalation." She wrote "2) 4-7-8", and then turned back to us.

"Exhaustion also helps. Sleep for a dream catcher is a precious commodity. We don't sleep for the same reason's normal people do, we also sleep because what we do during our sleep can be world changing. I'm going to suggest this now, and I won't ever bring it up again, because in the end it's your choice. The truth of it is, if your not sleeping to dream for school or work, you shouldn't be sleeping," her eye narrow as she looks at Fat John, "it's equivalent to eating calories that you don't need for fuel. Like I said, it's a personal choice."

I was shocked by her forwardness, by her obvious dislike for poor John, but also I was surprised how perfect her logic was. I remember pondering what she'd said and thinking that it was the solution for my nightmares. When would I have time for nightmares if I was only sleeping in order to complete tasks! I listened to the squeak of the dry erase marker against the board and decided I would have to write Dr. Muller and thank him for sending me to Relicum, if only for that once piece of advice.

"Okay!" She clapped her hands together. "Let's try this again!"

I lay back totally determined. I started with the breaths and then moved to the recap. My one good dream was a dream I'd stole from my three month old cousin when we'd visited my mom's family the summer before Relicum. The dream was about my mother's face. It was as if it was being projected on the back of my eyelids. There was nothing else I could see. Just her smiling and making faces. The best part of the dream was that it was wordless. The endless narrative in my head had been silenced and strings of thoughts were occurring in a melody of emotions.

"Times up, please raise your hand if you're awake. No need to move or open your eyes."

I raised my hand, my teeth automatically gritting in response to my dream.

"I see six hands!"she bellowed, I attempted to roll my closed eyes in response, but was interrupted by her starting the time again.

With every fifteen minute increment of staring at my mother's silent face I become more and more discouraged. Each time she announced the status there would be one less hand. By the round I was ready to give up. "Ladies, go a head and sit up."

Sleepily I sat up, Anne Marie was rubbing here eyes on the gurney next to me. She pushed her long beautiful black hair behind her ears and frowned. Later she would confess to me that she'd never failed at anything before. She told me that that moment was the lowest in her life. While the first day of Relicum was not all rays of sunshine, I couldn't agree with her. Every new nightmare was a new low, the changed at Relicum.

"I have one more option.This option is a last ditch effort. You will use it today and in emergencies," Doc Fairy breath said, holding up and all too familiar bottle of pills. It looked exactly like my mom's Xanax bottle. They must use the same pharmacy. "This is Ambien, if you are caught using this medication without permission, you will be expelled from this school." She came out from behind her desk and handed Anne Marie and then myself a capsule. I hesitantly watched my classmate take it first.

Dr. Muller spent most of our sessions our first year together getting me off of meds in general, and her I was holding a lovely little high in the palm of my hand. I tossed it back, promising myself that I'd work on exhaustion so that I'd never have to take a pill for sleep again. I kept that promise, Anne Marie on the other hand, has not slept without a pill since that day.

####

As I'd mentally promised I sat with Fat John at lunch. I sat in total silence unable to eat. I constantly wiped at my chin, unsure if I was drooling. The Ambien hadn't had enough time to wear off, and I wasn't sure if I'd make it through the next six hours of class. Anne Marie didn't even make it to the great hall. She ended up with each of her arms swung around a different cousin as they dragged her back to her suite.

I itched at my scalp and turned to John, "Imma glaaad we're, you know, in agrievement about this!"

"Huh?" he answered.

My hand was out before I could stop it. My knuckles dug into the top of his oily hair. "Yuck!" I exclaimed as I gave the poor guy a drunk noogie.

He smacked at my hand and in my attempt to move away quickly my chair tipped backwards and my head slammed onto the ground hard enough that my teeth crack against each other. My feet were in the air, my arms waved wildly and I began to giggle as I "realized" that I couldn't get up because I was a turtle.

"I'm stuck! Turtle! Turtle!" I shouted remembering a movie from my childhood. "Turtle! Turtle!" I snorted and grabbed at my ribs that were bursting with my laughter.

Next I knew Jonathan was lifting me to my feet and quickly adjusting my skirt. The whole thing must have been around my waist. I felt my cheeks burn when I noticed the crowd that had gathered around us. "What are you guys looking at!" Jonathan growled in his hunky English accent, his arm wrapped around my shoulder and he guided me out of the great hall.

"Where are you taking me," I said anxiously as I stumbled forward.

"You need to sleep off whatever medication that witch gave you," he scowled as he increased the pressure against my back.

I was instantly annoyed, which reminded me that I was already annoyed with this boy. "How'd you do that?"

"Do what?" He asked as he lead me through a door.

"Fall asleep first?"

"Practice!" was his curt reply.

We were a few steps away from my door, but I decided that I needed to know his secret before I was locked away in my room forever. I plopped onto the ground. Folding both my legs and my arms I glared at him with my eyelids feeling like sand bags. "I'm not going until you tell me!"

He groaned."We are so close to your room. There's no way we can pick this conversation up later?"

I shook my head and set my jaw.

He squatted down in front of me. "I was raised in a dreamcatcher orphanage."

I lifted my chin as if to say "and?", because I was actually to close to falling to sleep to actually say it.

"And we started training as toddlers," he whispered this last part.

I blinked a few long lazy blinks and noticed his smile in between the red tint of the back of my eyelids. Was he making fun of me? I grinned back. Who cares?

"You want to try and make it to your room?" I heard his voice from a distance.

I felt him lift me before I fell to sleep.

Now I understand why people "fall" asleep. It's the same reason we "fall" in love. It's because there is so little control. Your stomach bottoms out and vertigo sets in less than an instant and BAM, you're committed. I fell into Jonathan's nightmare, all of Dr. Muller's training was gone and I was left with nothing to defend myself against the giant human's that marched around splatting children under their shoes.

Three toddlers hung  upside down from coat racks, faded floral wall paper outlined their twisting bodies. Two children, maybe eight and six, rolled around on the stained carpet as a dozen or so teens stood around them cheering them on. A naked infant finger painted with feces. All of it rocked to the beat of random screams of fear and pain. Fear and then pain.

I woke with a start. A door had just shut. A door?

"Hey there," I slowly opened my eyes to see Jonathan setting a tray of food on the bedside table.

I shoot up, moving quickly away from him. "What are you doing here?"

"Umm, well it is my room," he answered, a smirk in his voice.

I scooted further away. "Why aren't I in my room?" I looked around at the beige walls and forest green covet, it was my room's exact duplicate, down to the bright white crown molding.

"Because I couldn't get you to press your finger against the scanner to unlock the door," he picked up the can of coke from his tray and opened it, the can sighed.

I glared at him, and tucked a chunk of my hear behind my ear. I was absolutely clammy. "I didn't ask for your help!"

"You didn't have too, while all the second year boys were checking out your Hello Kitty panties, I decided you probably weren't in the place to ask for help," he lifted his arm and pointed at his head with the same hand that held the pop, "you know, up here."

After a few minutes of panic, I decided to do what any irrational teenage girl would do: blame the closest person. "Well if you weren't being such a show off, I wouldn't have had to take that stupid medicine!"

Jonathan smiled. "I can't help that I'm such a bad ass," he said with a laugh.

I snorted.

"So, why Hello Kitty?" he asked, grabbing half and sandwich from the tray.

My stomach growled as I watched him take a bite. "Why not? Hello Kitty is every thing I will never get to be! She has permission to live a life of happy mouthless cuteness. She round me out!" I finished that last sentence while chewing on a bite of a ham sandwich that I snatched from the bedside table.

Jonathan sat at the foot of the bed and took another swig of the soda. "I can see where you're going with that, you are Hello Kitties polar opposite!'

I glared at him, he was laughing at me. "Are you saying I'm not cute?" I said forcing the rest of the sandwich in my mouth.

"I'm saying you're not mouthless!"