Somnolence

Part I: Recollection

Devin stared up at the ceiling, closely examining the intricate, yet rather plain design of the sponge pattern. Almost a year beforehand, he had gone through a bitter divorce with his wife, wherein the resulting settlement left him, as he saw, destitute. There were several failed suicide attempts on his part in the months following the seemingly endless court battle. After finally being discharged, it was recommended that he see a psychiatrist on a regular basis.

"I knew I should have gotten a pre-nup," Devin thought to himself, "and none of this bullshit would have happened."

"You look a little tense, is there something you want to talk about?" asked Dr. Hanjin

"Yes, actually. I had that dream again last night," Devin replied.

"You've told me several. Which one was it this time?"

"The one involving Perce, that weird guy that lives down the hall."

"Ah, that one. Have you tried talking to him at all regarding the dream?"

"Well, I don't want to seem crazy, just walking up to him and telling him about it. Honestly, what would you think if it involved you, and you had never met me before? Wouldn't that seem a little ... bizzare?"

"It's not really important what I think at this point, but how you would approach the situation. That's why I asked if you had talked to him."

"I guess it would seem a little strange, but it's not something I would be comfortable talking about to someone I barely even know. Sure, we've passed and had a small conversation now and then, but I don't think that telling him about the dream I had last night would be such a great conversation starter. What would I do? Walk up to him and say 'Hey, I had this dream where you were murdered, let's have some tea over it!'. One thing would lead to another, and I'd probably be lucky enough to wind up with just a restraining order, and maybe, just maybe, community service. Or even better, more psychiatric evaluation, similar to what we're doing now, but more robust, and intense, because of the upped dosages of meds that I would be getting. I don't know why, but I feel nervous about the whole thing. Something is wrong."

"I'm sorry if I've upset you. I think what you should do now is relax, take some deep breaths, and start from the top, again."

"If you think it'll help, fine. But nothing's changed in the dream."

Part II: Sublimation

Perce Collins lived a few rooms down from Devin. Most of his neighbors, Devin included, thought he was a bit of a shut-in. He was actually more of a night owl, due in part to his free-spiritedness and steadfast belief that people should live during the night, and sleep during the day. Most of his time was consumed with painting, which served him moderately well for his otherwise minimalist lifestyle.

The alarm went off. It made a beeping noise similar to that of a garbage truck, except louder and more annoying. For a few moments, he tried to ignore the squalling fiendish device, but decided against it and instead hit the snooze button. "Just a few more minutes of sleep", Perce thought to himself as he bunched up a large blanket between his legs like a pillow, and curled into the fetal position. As he dozed off, a loud knock on the door snapped him back to reality. It was 9am and he was still tired. Grabbing the ear plugs from his nightstand, he solved the problem of noise, gently dozing off to sleep again.

Devin had been up since 7am. His appointment was at 10. Walking down the hallway, he noticed a woman knocking at Perce's door, looking at her watch and muttering under her breath every so often. Devin tried to ask the woman what was going on as he passed, but she cut him off and said "Sorry, I don't have the time to talk. What the hell is taking him so long? He's already an hour late!"

"Looks like Perce's going to have himself a fun day," Devin sarcastically thought. After his stomach stopped rumbling, he lit a cigarette and walked out of the building to his car.

Part III: Dissemination

"What I don't understand, Clyde," Devin said, "is why in the world are you so fond of drinking before noon."

"Here's the thing about that, I do it so I don't feel so traumatized as to what's happening right now."

"The hell are you talking about?" Devin asked, with a slight hint of confusion.

"Look over there," Clyde immediately responded, pointing to two men sitting at a table near the door. Both of them were lavishly dressed, immaculate appearance, and looked to be of Spanish descent. One of them was in tears, with his head in his hands, obviously upset about something.

"Por qué usted tiene que lastimarme como esto?" the crying man asked.

"Usted sabe que no puedo cambiar. Le he dicho esto antes," his companion responded.

"Pero mi corazón es tan pesado con tristeza! Miguel, por qué debe usted hacer esto a mí," he said between heaving sobs.

"I am sorry Raul, but I like the women better," Miguel said. Raul promptly ran out of the restauraunt, crying uncontrollably.

Devin looked repulsed in the way that one would seem if they saw a lovechild between Don King and Phylis Diller. All he could do was stammer a few words. "Are they... uh..."

"I'm pretty sure. While my knowledge of spanish may be limited, I think we just witnessed a breakup." Clyde calmly drank his margarita as though he had seen a similar incident elsewhere, and was somehow less than surprised. "Would you like something to drink? I'll gladly pay for it."

"Just promise me that I won't see something like that again," Devin said, with a tinge of desperation.

"I can't make any guaruntees."

"That's... just encouraging. So, when are these people supposed to show up about our business proposal," Devin enquired.

"They should be here any minute, but I wouldn't make any mention of what we just saw," Clyde said, taking another deep chug from his drink.

"I don't plan on it."

The waitress walked up to the table with an equally disturbed look plastered on her face. "Are they..."

"Yes," Devin and Clyde said simultaneously.

"Some of the fruitcakes that come by here... Honestly, you'd think they'd at least do that in private. So, can I get you gentlemen anything else? Food? Drinks?"

"Drinks for right now, Marty" Clyde responded, "We're waiting for some other people to show up, but I think my friend here needs a doubleshot of whiskey."

"Understandable. I'm not really a drinker myself, but this one's on the house."

As the waitress walked away, Clyde dutifully watched her and said, "I would so bone her."

"That's nice," Devin said, taking a drink of Clyde's nearly finished margarita, "So would I."

After a few minutes of silence, Marty reappeared with another margarita and 2 doubleshots of whiskey. "When your friends show up, I'll be back," she said. Before walking away, she winked at Clyde. "You're serious, aren't you," Devin asked.

"I have every intention."

Part IV: Reclamation

"What happened after that?" Hanjin asked.

"After that, I went back to the apartment. The business proposal worked out fine, and the agreement was if the deadlines were met, both of us would be guarunteed triple digit salaries plus commission. While I was making myself a killer sandwich --"

Hanjin chuckled a bit, and interrupted with "... An interesting choice of words"

"Yes," said Devin, "it tasted delicious. I sat back down on the couch to channel surf, and I heard what sounded like a gunshot, followed by a lot of screaming. I wasn't sure whether to call the police, or to investigate, but for some reason, curiosity got the best of me. When I went to go look, there he was, lying in a pool of blood. The strangest part was, that you were holding the gun. His paintings were everywhere, ripped to shreds."

"Well, the first time you told me this, I thought that you needed more help than I could offer," Hanjin responded, "... but, I figured given your situation, you really just needed someone to vent to and get some stuff off your mind. So have these kinds of dreams been recurring with increasing frequency?"

"As a matter of fact, they have. What makes it even more peculiar is that with each time we talk, I get the feeling that we've had this discussion before... not like that we haven't, but I just seem to get the feeling that this particular discussion has happened time and time again."

"You mean like Deja Vu?"

"Very much so."

"Well," Hanjin said, looking at his watch, "time's up. I suppose you have other things you'd like to be doing, so I won't keep you."

"Likewise."

Part V: Revitalize

Devin walked towards the fridge, both hungry and with an odd sense of familiarity. As he put down the final building blocks of his sandwich, and headed for the couch. While flipping through the channels, he was startled by the sounds of a gun firing off repeatedly, followed by the obvious sounds of a struggle.

"DAMNIT! It's all down the front of my shirt!" Devin exclaimed, attempting to lick off an excessive amount of condiments that had spilled onto his outfit. At first, he decided to keep to himself about this, and just stay out of trouble. If the cops showed up, he would pretend to be asleep. As he placed his sandwich down, he heard somebody scream "I'm not hurt, but for the love of God, would somebody help? FIRE! TORNADO! WHATEVER NATURAL DISAST.."

At this point, Devin decided that if anyone should help, it might as well be him. As he walked down the hall, he noticed that nobody was present, and there was ominous silence in the air. As he opened Perce's door, he noticed that nobody appeared to be in there. Even more intriguing was the fact that there weren't any paintings scattered about. More disturbing was the lack thereof. Instead, around the room there were birdcages, filled with ravens.

"Hello?"

There was no answer. Devin heard a noise in the bathroom, and decided to investigate. Again, the room was empty. He looked into the mirror, and saw Hanjin standing directly behind him with a grin that would strike fear in the heart of any deity.

Devin froze. Hanjin laughed and said "There's a first time for everything, Devin. Today was your day to find out mine." At that point, Devin realized that he had never even seen Perce's face. Before being struck in the temple with the handle of a revolver, he asked himself whether or not Perce even existed.

Part VI: Subjection

Devin woke up to find himself back in Hanjin's office. Mysteriously there was no bruising or pain where he had been struck. "What the --"

"It's ok, we just did a small session of hypnosis to see if we could get any closer to getting rid of your anxiety. Towards the end there, you seemed to be really stressed out, and started yelling fire. I decided to wake you up before things got out of hand."

"It felt so ... so real. I mean, I'm obviously here, but I feel partially filled with shame."

"It's ok. That happens occasionally when you start delving into the subconcious. Sometimes you see things that you really don't want yourself to see, so your mind buries them away. Think of it as mental revisionism. That's what we're trying to figure out."

"You look a little tense, is there something else you want to talk about?" asked Dr. Hanjin

"Yes, actually. I had that dream again last night," Devin replied.

"You've told me several. Which one was it this time?"

"The one involving Perce, that weird guy that lives down the hall."

"Ah, that one. Have you tried talking to him at all regarding the dream?"

"Well, I don't want to seem crazy, just walking up to him and telling him about it. Honestly, what would you think if it involved you, and you had never met me before? Wouldn't that seem a little ... bizzare?"

"It's not really important what I think at this point, but how you would approach the situation. That's why I asked if you had talked to him."

Suddenly, there was a tap at the window. Looking over at the same time, both Devin and Dr. Hanjin saw a crow perched on the windowsill, looking in.