Nightmare in Depth

It all began when I went in for float therapy. For those of you who don't know what that is allow me to summarize. I was advised by my psychiatrist to try it. It was formerly known as sensory deprivation, but I think people had a negative connotation being "deprived" of something, so they went to float therapy, even though it's the same idea. You get into your birthday suit and get into a pod filled partway with saltwater. This makes you more buoyant and allows you to relax. You have earplugs and a two-way radio (waterproof, of course) to keep you in touch with the attendant outside.

I have had problems with sleepwalking since I was eight years old and now that I'm forty-eight you could say it's a lifelong problem. My psychiatrist, Dr. Sylvia Robinson (as in "Here's to you Dr. Robinson. Jesus loves you more than you will know...and yes, Simon and Garfunkel came to mind every time I said her name) had prescribed medicines, therapy, and even biofeedback, but nothing had worked. She told me she had had some success with patients with insomnia using float therapy and since there were no side effects (aside from some complaints of claustrophobia or drowning) I should try it to break my habit of the somnambulist shuffle.

I found a place online called "Relaxing Depths" and besides having a cool name, the price was right, and I would receive fifty percent off with a doctor's referral (which I had). I made the appointment by phone and was told a bit about the process by a guy who sounded like Rick Moranis from Ghostbusters (shoot, for all I know maybe it WAS him, work is tough to find these days, even for the famous).

"So okay then Dennis," Rick said, "you're all set for your appointment at one this Saturday. Get here fifteen minutes early for the video that will cover all the stuff I just told you about and then we'll get you floating. Sound good?"

"Sounds great!" I responded. "I'll see you then."

I hung up the phone, went back to work at my mindless data entry job (I work for the state and when asked what department I usually say the state of intoxication or insanity, depending upon my mood). By the time I had clocked out, made a quick dinner, and watched the panic inducing news, I was ready for bed at 9:00 pm.

I woke up seated on the couch, which informed me I had been sleepwalking again because I had been firmly ensconced in my bed at the early hour of nine. As far as I was concerned, the float therapy session couldn't arrive quickly enough.

I arrived at Relaxing Depths twenty minutes early, was greeted by an attendant named Lisa who looked to me to be no more than nineteen (the older I get, the younger everyone seems to be, I can remember when I used to be the kid in the room. Now, I'm the kindly old Uncle) and I was a little sorry not to meet Mr. Moranis face to face, but she was efficient and friendly, showing me into the room where I watched the video, then taking me into the room where there was a ten-foot egg shaped, white pod half filled with water. There was a hook on the wall with a shelf underneath for my clothes, a small shower, and three white towels on a wooden bench.

Lisa said I could contact her by pressing a black button in the roof of my pod and there was a speaker next to it so I could hear her. She said once I told her I was ready there would be music that would slowly fade out and then my "float" would begin. After the allotted hour, she would then tell me the float was over and I would take a shower, dress and then relax in their lounge until I felt ready to drive home. With that she left me in the room to prepare. In no time I was ready and settled in the warm saltwater that would hopefully put to rest (no pun intended, but fully realized) my sleepwalking adventures. After what seemed like a few minutes in the warm, silent, darkness I began to dream (though it was far more vivid).

I was walking on an impossibly white sandy beach the waves were brilliantly blue and lapping up to the shore rolling over my feet (I was barefoot). Suddenly, I saw a desk in the distance in the middle of the beach, but dream logic told me this was not at all out of the ordinary office work found you everywhere you went, even the beach it seems! I approached the desk and saw among papers that had scribbles I couldn't read, a two-headed stapler, and a large black book, was a red telephone that began to ring loudly. It was in stark contrast to the serene breezy beach scene, and it startled me, so I picked up the receiver to stop the glaring noise.

"Hello?" I said. The receiver was warm to the touch.

"Dennis," said a voice, "this is Hershel, your boss! Remember me?"

"Yes sir," I responded.

"This looks bad Dennis, you never put in for a vacation what are you doing at the beach?"

"I'm not at the beach," my dream self lied, "I'm on my way in, just got held up."

"You're lying," he hissed, his voice becoming low and guttural, almost a growl. "I've sent someone to bring you back in! If you're not here in ten minutes you're fired!"

"But I don't know where I am!" I replied wondering who he was sending to get me and how far away I was from work. What if I couldn't make it in ten minutes?

"Not my problem, minion!" Hershel screamed and the phone heated up at my ear. "You are going to pay! Worthless! Worthless peon! Hang up this phone before they charge us!"

I slammed the phone down relieved because the thing had begun to heat up even further in my hand. I looked down to see blisters where I had been holding the red phone!

"That's going to sting," said a familiar voice behind me. I turned to see Dr. Robinson seated in her leather office chair with an equally leather couch next to it. She indicated the couch and I quickly went to lie down.

"What are you doing here?" I asked. She was dressed professionally as usual except for her bare feet wriggling gently in the sand.

"I could ask you the same question," she said putting her pen to her lips as she paused for a moment in notetaking.

"I have no idea," I replied looking out to the waves, noticing now that there were black lumps floating in the water now, hundreds of them. "What are those?"

"Our future," she whispered dropping her pen and tablet, standing up and extending her hand. "Come, let's have a swim, shall we?"

I didn't want to, but she pulled me towards the ocean with surprising strength and I found myself dazed, almost in a trance, walking beside her. As we got closer to the water, I realized what the lumps were, they were corpses hundreds of them rotting and grinning as they plopped one by one onto the beach many with sickening thuds or snaps.

I turned to beg the doctor to let me go, but noticed to my horror that she was a rotting corpse now as well. I tried to get free of her grip, but I felt the rot spreading and saw my hand turning grey.

"Let me go!" I screamed.

Her face twisted into a grin as flesh dripped off of it, "Don't you see Dennis, this is all there is. You can pretend there's more by hiding in work, hanging out with friends, even fucking, but in the end, we are all doomed to this! Embrace the future, Dennis, it's for the best really and it's the only real choice we have!"

Her corpse pulled me in for a kiss and I felt death run through my lips my nostrils filled with the stench of decay. I screamed and screamed, but my mouth was covered and the sound I gave out was muffled by the zombie psychiatrist's rotting lips.

I awoke with a start in the pod pressing the button and pleading with Lisa to let me out.

"It's okay, just open the pod and come out. I did so, hurriedly showered, and left the float place in a hurry.

I am pleased to report that my sleepwalking has indeed been cured, but unfortunately, I now am now plagued by recurring night terrors. Dr. Robinson assures me that they will go away given time, therapy, and medication, but for now I dread sleeping for fear of what waits for me at the beach.