Day 7—Monday:

Matt followed slowly behind me.  Terrance was standing at the coffee pot.  He could see me coming into the kitchen out of the corner of his eye and he froze.  He stopped pouring his coffee and set the pot down.  He turned toward me—his eyebrows raised and a concerned look was painted across his face.

I was confused.  Had something happened to me?  Was I bleeding?  I looked down at my outfit; it was slightly wrinkled and unimpressive, but there was no blood—no reason for concern.  I reached up and touched my face; I could feel some stubble on my cheeks and oils on my forehead.  But no blood.  No swelling.  No pain.  I was confused.

“Tom,” Matt said behind me.  I turned to face him.

“Tom,” Dr. Taggart began, “I’m glad to see you.”  He stood to shake my hand.  A gesture uncharacteristic of the doctor.  “I didn’t think you’d show up today.  Do you want to talk about what happened?”

Night 7—Monday:

I sat in the chair opposite the Dr.’s side of his desk.  I was at a loss.  I had no idea what he was talking about.  I made something up.  “I don’t really feel comfortable talking about it right now.”  I paused and looked to the floor to sell my distress.

There was a long moment of silence as I stared at the floor thinking of what I could say next.  Dr. Taggart interrupted my thoughts, “I understand.”

I looked back up at the doctor and nodded in acceptance of his understanding.  There was a long pause as he stared at me in silence.

“Is the CD still working for you?  Are you still sleeping well?”

“At least seven hours a night.”

“Good!  And the dream?”

“Still the same dream.”

“Have you tried to fly?”

“I haven’t been able to.  Last couple times I dreamed, I woke up before I could get to the top of the building.”

“Huh,” the doctor said as he scribbled something down before looking back up at me.  “That’s quite peculiar.  Have you figured out why you’re going to the top of the building yet?”

“Last time I dreamed, I was climbing to the top of the building so I could fly.  That was all I could think about.  Each step, I kept repeating to myself that I was going to do it—that I was going to fly.”

“But you didn’t make it to the top?”

“No.”

“Maybe it’s because you’re climbing the building for the wrong reasons,” he said almost questioning his own analysis.

“What about what you were talking about in our last session—how your thoughts are all jumbled.”

“What about it?”

“Are you still experiencing that?”

“A little in the morning when I wake up, but everything is pretty cleared up now,” I lied.

“I’m glad to hear that, Tom,” he said with a subtle insincerity—like he didn’t believe me.  He wrote something else down in his notepad and looked back up at me with a look that suggested he was waiting for me to say something.  I had nothing else to say.

I let out a deep sigh in that uncomfortable silence as I fidgeted in my seat.  He just kept staring at me.  That damned condescending stare.  I couldn’t take it anymore, his looking down at me.  I turned away from the doctor to get his face and that glare out of my mind.

“Are you sure you should be here today, Tom?” Matt asked.

I was confused.  I felt fine and yet everybody was treating me so strangely.  “I’m sure.  I’d much rather be here than sitting around at home all day,” I stated before turning back toward the coffee pot and pouring myself a cup.

Day 7—Monday:

I walked back to my desk with my coffee in hand.  I could feel the stares behind me.  Matt and Terrance stood in the kitchen entryway and just watched as I situated myself at my desk.  I tried my best to ignore them—keeping my head down and just going about my daily tasks.

I booted up my computer, logged in, and opened my prototype project that had recently been green-lit.  From over my monitor, I could see Alice approaching my desk.

“Hey, Tom,” she said.

“G’morning, Alice.”

“I got some more of that sound stuff you wanted done and sent it your way.  Don’t know how much time you’ll have to really get it working before the meeting, but just thought you’d like to know.”

“Great!” I said as I opened up my email to download the attachments she sent me.  I looked down at the clock in the corner of my screen; it was a little after nine and the meeting was set up for 10:30 that day.

To be continued…

Freefall is the creative property of Andrew T.S. Bedgood and is protected by US Copyright law.  Any use of this creative work without permission is prohibited.