The Morpheus Gate

James Griffin bolted up in bed, the veins in his forehead throbbing with each rapid beat of his heart. Sweat poured from his scalp as he fought to bring his screaming mind back into focus.

The chair in the corner. The window by the bed, its curtains waving gracefully with the steady hum of the A/C unit. The door to the hallway standing ajar just enough to let in the light from the bathroom.

James fumbled around the bedside table for his phone and shrank back when its bright screen attacked his sleepy vision. After a few moments of rubbing his eyes, he could see the beautiful, smiling woman on his home screen, seated underneath the bold, white numbers “3:16”.

He quickly accessed his call log and tapped the most recent number.

Ring.

No answer.

Ring.

“Come on, come on, pick up!”

Ring.

“H-h-hello?” a groggy voice answered.

“Petey?”

“J-j-immy? What the - Jimmy, it’s 3 in the morning.”

“I had the dream again, Petey.”

“Awww, geez,” Petey replied sympathetically. “All right, man. Meet me for lunch today at the little bistro down on Main. Twelve o’clock. In the meantime, try to get some sleep.”

The sky was turning a dark, ominous gray as James sat just inside Hattie’s Hometown Bistro around noon. He turned his coffee mug slowly in his hands, the sounds and smells from the cafe triggering a cascade of memories that came flooding back.

He looked at his friend across the table with a silent, earnest plea. Peter Stanton had been his best friend for over 30 years and was perhaps one of the smartest, funniest and most honest people he had ever known. James knew that no matter what, Peter would tell it like it is.

“Angela’s not coming back, Jimmy.”

James lowered his gaze to his untouched sandwich.

“No, no,” he whispered, shaking his head in defiance. “You don’t understand. You haven’t seen the dream...the nightmare. It’s connected somehow, I know it.”

“Right,” Pete replied with a sigh. “The interdimensional portal theory. I told you, you write too many fantasy novels.”

“But if Angela…”

“Look, we’ve been over this. If my fifteen years on the force has taught me anything, it’s how to tell when someone leaves a relationship. JImmy, Angela left you.”

“And all of her stuff, too?”

Pete sighed.

James knew he had him in a stalemate. He couldn’t prove that his dreams were visions of portals to other dimensions, but Pete couldn’t explain why a woman who leaves a man would sacrifice all of her belongings to start a new life elsewhere.

“I just…” he continued, “I just wish there was some way I could show you what frightens me awake every night. You would be convinced.”

Pete looked at his friend’s pleading gaze as he produced his wallet. He laid his debit card on the table with the check, then pulled out a business card and handed it to James.

“ ‘Dr. Charles Hartmann, M.D., Ph. D. Freudian Psychiatry,’ “ he read, staring at Pete in disbelief. “You think I’m crazy.”

“Stressed would be a better word for it. Grieving, confused, distraught, but not crazy. Dr. Hartmann can help you process the pain and find your way through this. Trust me.”

“Have you ever gone to him?”

“Are you kidding?” Pete asked sarcastically. “After everything I’ve seen on the force? If I hadn’t gone to him I would have put a police issue Magnum in my mouth years ago. Jimmy, let him help you let go.”

James walked into Dr. Hartmann’s office the following morning, cheerfully greeted by a blond receptionist with a toothy grin. She handed him a clipboard and pen, watching his every move as he sat and filled out his pertinent info.

When he returned to the window, she met his depressed gaze with sparkling blue eyes that peered over her thin-rimmed glasses, ignoring anything he had just written on the form.

“Dr. Hartmann will be with you shortly,” she said, sounding a bit like a schoolgirl at recess. “I’m Marie. Let me know if you need anything.”

“Thank you, Marie.”

“And by the way, I just loved your recent novel, ‘The Morpheus Gate’.”

“It’s always nice to meet a fan,” he thanked her with a half-hearted smile.

The door to Dr. Hartmann’s office opened and out stepped a middle-aged man with salt-and-pepper hair. He wore a brown cardigan with elbow patches and denim jeans that barely touched the tops of his white sneakers.

“You must be James Griffin,” he beamed as he stretched out his hand. “Pete Stanton said you might be dropping by. Come on in and get comfy.”

The office was warmly lit by a crackling fireplace on the far wall. James thought the room looked more like a cozy den than a psychiatrist’s office. There were two velvet recliners and a soft leather sofa surrounding an oval coffee table filled with magazines on everything from hunting to robotics. James took a seat in one of the chairs and grabbed the latest issue of Science Weekly when something familiar caught his eyes.

One whole shelf of Dr. Hartmann’s built-in bookcase was full of his fantasy novels. He studied them for a moment, and realized they were all there. “Genesis Rising”, “The Fall of Syncronax”, the entire “Dark Sun Chronicles” series.

“Apparently Marie out there isn’t the only fan,” he said in amazement.

Dr. Hartmann chuckled.

“I happen to be a huge fantasy fan, and I find your books intriguing. Especially your latest, which I believe is the subject of our session today, is it not?”

“What do you mean?”

“ ‘The Morpheus Gate’ is more than a novel, isn’t it?” Hartmann probed. “In fact, I would say it’s more autobiographical in nature.”

“Listen,” James seethed, frustrated. “I know Pete put you up to this, so if you’re just going to joke around and be condescending…”

“I assure you, I’m not joking,” the doctor explained, a pained expression forming on his face. “I’ve experienced it as well.”

He arose from his desk and grabbed the fire poker from its cradle.

“Seven years ago,” Hartmann continued, “I began having strange dreams - actually, one dream over and over. My wife and kids were standing on a rocky cliff, although other-worldly. The stones below them were continuing to slip and slide while a dark form was creeping up behind them, forcing them closer to the edge. And they were all screaming for me to save them.

“The first time it happened, my wife and kids had disappeared. I filed missing persons reports, went out on hundreds of search parties, but never came up with even the slightest trace. I began to interpret the dream psychoanalytically. The Darkness was symbolic of my work slowly killing my family and I needed to slow down and love them more. But after awhile, I knew.”

“They were in an alternate dimension,” James added, “pursued by the Darkness.”

Dr. Hartmann nodded silently.

“And if I’m not mistaken, something similar has happened to your loved one.”

“Angela,” James answered. “Every time, she is being held captive in a cage in a dark dungeon, calling my name and begging me to rescue her. Then I wake up and she’s not laying beside me, and I can’t do anything about it.”

“Until now,” Dr. Hartmann replied.

James wore a puzzled expression as the doctor returned to his desk and shuffled around in the drawer. After a couple minutes, he produced a long set of colored wires with white diodes at one end. On the other was an ordinary set of television cables.

“I’m not only a psychiatrist,” he explained. “I’m also somewhat of an engineer. And when I read your novel about interdimensional gateways being opened in someone’s dreams, it confirmed my theories about my own. So I set to work inventing this.”

He quickly plugged the cables into his TV set on the wall and attached the diodes to James’ forehead. He then picked up a remote device and began pressing buttons.

“This device is a neural stimulator. It will trigger the beta waves in your brain as if you were having your dream, but you will be fully awake. The neural impulses will then be transferred into the television where we will have full control over them and - in theory - they will be projected into the room. All that will be left is to rescue Angela from the Darkness.”

James nodded his head as Dr. Hartmann began to activate his brain’s dream patterns. At first there were only slight flashes of light, pink and green hues scattered sporadically about the room. Then the colors began to grow larger and move in circular patterns. Within a few moments, a giant spectrum of color was swirling around in the middle of the room.

After another minute, a picture began to form in the swirl, and James could make out the silhouette of a giant cage with something moving inside of it. Then the thing took the shape of woman, and the screams began.

“Jimmy! Jimmy! Please help me! Oh, God, Jimmy, please help me.”

James had heard enough.

“Is the gateway stable, Doctor?”

Hartmann nodded his head with confidence and removed the diodes from his patient’s forehead.

“The TV is powering it now,” he confirmed. “Go get your wife.”

Without hesitation, James jumped through the portal and into the dark dungeon that held Angela.

“Jimmy? Jimmy, baby, you found me!”

James quickly broke the lock on the cage and pulled his wife to freedom. Together, they quickly stepped back through the gateway into Dr. Hartmann’s office and fell onto the floor.

“Shut it down!” James yelled. “Shut it down now!”

Hartmann pressed a button on the device and the swirling portal immediately vanished.

“Doctor, it worked! You did it! You’re a genius! Quick, let’s get you hooked up to it and get your family back, too.”

Hartmann shook his head silently.

“No,” he whispered sadly. “No, James. My dream stopped over two years ago; my family’s screams have been replaced with silence.”

James thanked him again and led Angela out into a bright, sunny day, holding her close.

The Morpheus Gate has remained closed ever since.