To sleep, perchance to. . .

I can't remember where this story idea originated; it's one of the ones I'd scribbled on a piece of paper and saved, and the only one of the four stories I tried to write this week that I was able to turn into something. Of course, it's up to you to decide whether I turned it into something good ;)

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"Have a seat, Mr. Limbert. You're here because of some disturbing dreams, yes? Fine, since this is our first session, let's start by recounting them, the parts that you remember."

The man on the couch is a collection of opposites - tall, strongly built, seemingly a tough character; yet he is perched just barely at the edge of the cushion, hands nervously fidgeting, eyes on the carpet. He bites his lips for a moment, clears his throat. Still looking down, "I, umm, you know, these are only dreams and all, they aren't, umm, anything else. Just dreams."

"Of course, yes. That's one of the things that disturbs you?"

"No, I mean, the stuff that happens is, it's like a movie or something. I've seen lots of movies, that's probably where it comes from."

A note about that, pen slipping quickly across the paper. "Why don't you choose one and tell me what happened in it."

He takes a deep breath, coughs again. "Ah, okay. About a week ago, that was the first one I remembered. I was walking, you know, someplace, don't really know where. And there was this guy, just kind of waiting. . ."

"Mmm hmm. Was he waiting for you?"

"I dunno. I think he was just hanging out, he didn't really look at me. But I knew I was supposed to do something when I saw him, and, umm. I had something with me."

"Yes? What was it?"

A pause. "It was a gun. A pistol, Glock 19."

More notes. "A pistol, and you knew what kind it was?"

Shifting on his seat, he finally looks up. "I used to, um, use one of them. Long time ago. I don't even have one now. But I know what they feel like."

"Well, then, that makes sense. If you're going to dream about a gun, it's natural that you dream about one you're familiar with."

He seems slightly relieved by that, and continues, "So then, it was in my pocket, in a jacket I had on. I pulled it out and, he looked at me, and I capped him."

"Capped? You mean, you shot him?"

"Yeah. He dropped, and I walked over and put another one in him, just to make sure. And then I, well, I just kept walking."

"I see. How did that make you feel?"

He looks confused, thinks for a moment. "I dunno. I didn't feel anything, really. I just put the gun back in my pocket and walked away. Until. . ."

"Yes?"

"Doc, that's the really weird part. I kept going a while longer and then I saw this other guy, I mean, this thing. It was like a person, but it wasn't."

"It's not uncommon for us to fuse images together in a dream. Was it a person you remembered from somewhere?"

Shaking his head, "No, it was the size of a person, maybe six feet, but it was like a, well, a big bunny. I mean, a rabbit, but more like a toy, you know?"

A skeptical look, over lowered half-glasses. "A big toy bunny? Something like you might see at a toy store?"

He grimaces, recalling. "Yeah, I guess so. I was just standing there, at first, and then it kind of waved to me, like it wanted me to walk over. It reached out, and grabbed me on the arm, right here," indicates his bicep, winces a little. "It pinched me, I can still feel it, sort of."

"And then what happened?"

"That's it. I guess I must've woke up. That was the whole dream."

"Well, thank you for going through that. Now, is there a part of it that you find particularly disturbing?"

He fidgets again, while she waits, pen poised. "It isn't that dream, I mean, if it was just that one time, it wouldn't be a big deal. But, umm, it keeps happening. Every night. Five nights, now."

Raised eyebrows, and another note. "Five times with the same dream? Walking, the man, and the bunny?"

His eyes are unfocused now, remembering. "No, it's different. One time it was a lady, and I had a, umm, a rope. And I choked her. The other times it was another Glock, but different people. Different places, too, I remember one was like a beach house or something. And then there was, some sort of parking garage."

"Mmm hmm. And does it always end the same?"

He looks up, eyes wide. "Yeah! It's always that damn bunny! And he pinches me, and then I, well, I guess I wake up." It seems to deflate him, and he knuckles his eyes, hunches again. Speaks from behind clenched hands, "I'm so tired, doc. I gotta figure out what's doing this, it's going to make me crazy." He looks up again, "I'm not crazy, am I?"

She smiles. "Oh, no, Mr. Limbert. You're not crazy, not at all. These sorts of dreams typically indicate some stressful event that's been left unresolved in your life, something that's worrying you."

She sets the notebook carefully aside, picks up a smaller pad. "What we need to do is find that event and help you work through it, and the dreams will fade away. We'll keep working on that, and in the meantime I'm going to prescribe a mild sleep aid for you. It will help you sleep more soundly, without dreaming. After you've rested a few days we can talk again."

Still hunched, he stands; takes the square of paper, mumbles his thanks. As the door closes she picks up a phone. "Jeff? It's Sarah. Yes, I just got finished with him. Look, you're going to have to go a little easier, he can't keep up this pace. Maybe one a week, and give him a few days to rest before the next insertion. Oh, and you have to ditch the bunny outfit, he's getting fixated on that. No, I don't think it matters, you can use anything you have. Try the Santa Claus getup next time. Okay, good. Yes, I'll be talking with Mr. Johnson this afternoon, and I'll let you know how if he's okay to use for tonight."

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