Waking Dream

"I can't sleep."

The private investigator raised a brow at the woman sitting across from her. The office was quaint, a low, flickering light hanging over a sturdy wooden desk. The space looked more like a refurbished living room than a proper office. Floral wallpaper spanned from the floor to the ceiling, hardwood stretched far over the ground. Bookshelves rose high behind the investigator’s desk, various legal documents way above Ginny’s pay grade. Despite what should have been a comforting home, it felt cramped, as if she barely had space to breathe.

“That seems more like a concern for your doctor than a PI,” Mrs. Reed said, raising her brows over her glasses.

Ginny rubbed her eyes, sighing, “No, no, I—I don’t know how to explain. You deal in more… specialized work? Right? The supernatural and all that?”

Mrs. Reed rolled her eyes. Well-manicured fingers reached over to flip through some papers, finally picking up an empty file. “I investigate what people believe is supernatural interference. I assure you, anything paranormal you may have found is guaranteed to have a perfectly benign explanation.”

Ginny pursed her lips. She hardly wanted to deal with someone else who thought she was crazy, but this was the closest someone’s gotten to believing her. With how desperate she was, she knew she didn’t have many options. Beggars couldn’t be choosers.

“Whenever I try to sleep, I just… can’t,” Ginny blurted out, her hands gripping at the edge of her shirt. “I feel something on me. It curls itself around my head, keeps my eyes open, breathes into my ear. But when I try and look at what it is or bring it into the light, it just… isn’t there.”

A hum resonated from Mrs. Reed as she scribbled some notes down, asking, “Have you tried sleeping with the lights on?”

“Yes! That, and I’ve slept with a mirror on me, I’ve tried medication, I’ve tried everything. But when I try and look for it, it’s just like it’s gone. But I feel it. I know it’s there.”

Sighing, Mrs. Reed took off her glasses, rubbing her tired eyes. Pale, wrinkled skin laid taut on her face as she looked over the woman sitting in the chair before her. Silence filled the clustered room. With the judgmental gaze upon her, Ginny felt herself shrinking in the chair, quickly growing to regret her own presence here.

Finally, Mrs. Reed spoke, “What do you do for work, Ginny?”

Ginny blinked in surprise, answering, “I—I work retail. Why’s that matter?”

“Do you have a degree? Student loans? Car payments?”

“Yes? Why does that—”

“I think I see where this is coming from,” Mrs. Reed sighed, setting her papers down. “Look, I’m no professional in that mental health stuff you kids love these days, but… have you ever thought it might just be stress? You’ve got a lot on your shoulders, a shitty job, too much debt. Maybe you start seeing things.”

Ginny’s nose scrunched up in disgust. The same answer she’s been given, time after time. Doctors and psychologists and shitty forums on the internet all saying the same thing, but nothing’s helped. Gathering her bag, she swiftly stood up, dark brown eyes narrowing with irritation at the investigator in front of her.

“Whatever,” she huffed, turning to leave. “’Course it was a waste of time. Have a great fucking day, Mrs. Reed.”

“Hey! We haven’t discussed paym—” Mrs. Reed started before Ginny slammed the door behind her.

The cool winter breeze hit her as she made her way to her car. Pulling her coat tighter around her hefty body, she shivered, hurrying back to her run-down car. An old Honda from the early 2010s that broke down half the time. Quickly making her way inside, she gently shut the door, shuddering in the cold air settled within the car.

She knew she shouldn’t drive in this state. Half the time, she could barely keep her eyes open, nevertheless focus on driving much at all. But she had little choice. Rent had to be paid, and she had to try and at least get some help for this ailment she was facing—even if this led to a dead-end just like the others had. Turning her keys into the ignition, she messed with it a few times before it sputtered to life.

Ginny glanced behind her car as she pulled out of the driveway, thankful this street wasn’t too busy at this time of day. It had long-since gotten dark, though it was hardly even past the afternoon. The drive home was a blurry haze, as most days were at this point. She couldn’t even remember the last time she fully slept. During the night, she felt as though she was awake at all hours, tormented by the beast that assailed her.

And, at this rate, she was confident that it was a thing that was haunting her, not merely stress or anxiety. Nothing she had found had matched what was happening, the oppressive feeling of being trapped, of something being on her. She knew she had to have fallen asleep at some point, but she could scarcely remember it. All she knew was that she was always, constantly, tired. She could barely think, barely work, but she couldn’t stop. Nothing could stop it.

She pulled into her apartment complex’s parking lot. The creaky steps met her as she stepped out of her old car. These old stairs seemed to reach further and further every time she walked on them, endless spirals reaching up into the heavens, far, far, far from her grasp…

She stumbled along the steps. Exhaustion was quickly catching up with her. Coffee had become her main meal these past few weeks in her own desperation to stay awake, to keep herself away from the creature who haunted her. But she couldn’t stay up forever.

At this rate, she wasn’t sure what to believe. In front of the private investigator, she was so sure of herself. She knew what she had seen, what she had felt. Now, though, as she turned the key and stepped into her home… she wasn’t so sure. It was always so serene when she came home. The old, hand-me-down couch sat in front of the discount TV. Wires were scattered over the floor, hosting old video game consoles she took from home. The kitchen held the remnants of her rushed breakfast with dishes piling up. Nothing out of the ordinary, nothing wrong…

Just a quick nap, she told herself. Then she’d get up and try to figure something else out. Maybe she’d have to go out of her insurance for the next doctor. Something.

She barely had time to take her shoes off before she flopped into her bed, taking deep, heavy breaths. Her uniform clung to her body awkwardly. Dirty sheets surrounded her form. Yet, with how tired she was… she hardly even noticed. Just a few minutes, that was all she needed. Sleep came quickly as her eyes fluttered shut…

Before her eyes were forced open. Something wet and slimy quickly slithered over her face, gripping her tired eyes. Thin, spindly appendages, too small to be anything human. Wrinkled eyelids were pulled to the side as sharp nails dug into the sides of her temples. Something breathed in her ear. In, and out, in, and out, the warmth pressing uncomfortably against her skin. A weight hung over her head, almost like something was there, something was there, something was on her—

Ginny tried to tilt her head up, to gaze upon what was upon her… her head was forced back down, staring at the empty ceiling. The dirty nails pressed deeper into her soft, wrinkled skin. A soft whimper pulled itself from her throat. There wouldn’t be anything there. There never was. It could tear at her, rip at her flesh, pull out her hair and scream in her hair… but nothing would be there in the morning.

Of course, no one believed her. She could lay here for hours, screaming and crying in agony, and no one would bat an eye. Every doctor would turn her away. She was so young, despite the wrinkles in her face and the bags under her eyes. Friends were tired of her constant complaining, her excuses of exhaustion. Her torture and pain meant nothing, all because they could not see.

Tears rose to her eyes, and, in her torment, Ginny began to cry.