Nights With Sable Ch. 01

Nights with Sable
Part 1: Digging Into Dreams

Perception is only a key. A key to your mind is just as good as a key to your heart.
-Some random author

Chapter 1

I was somewhere between a sip of scotch and a bad infomercial about sports towels when I realized that I was ready to end my own life.

A pen in paper were in my hands, but I wasn't sure what to write. 'Dear family, I know I haven't talked to you for a while, but if you find me here, give me a viking funeral'? Probably not the best way to make up for so much lost time. Maybe, 'Dear paramedics. If I'm somehow alive, don't resuscitate. I know you didn't like me at your hospitals anyway.' Eh, that sounds petty.

My mind wandered, and my sorrow grew with very passing thought. I had nobody I could say I truly loved that I could leave this letter for. The ladies I left behind would never care to read what I have to say. My own mother probably forgot how I looked like.

In a matter of seconds, I gave up...Just like I did with my life. I gently placed my notebook down, then threw my pen into the wall so fast that jets could be jealous.

I had decided my fate. In my chair, I leaned back and picked up the remote. Realizing that sports towels wouldn't allow a nice separation of my cervical vertabrae, I decided to scroll through the channels to find something sturdier. Then, the doorbell rang.

My thoughts automatically sprang to the women I've escorted out of here, but then I remembered that I practically blindfolded them so they could never come back. 'They would never care about what I have to say', I thought to myself. Discarding decency, I approached the front door and opened it in my robe and boxers.

A familiar pair of spectacles were pulled down over a large nose when my good friend Dr. Albertson realized that I was practically naked in front of him. The action was pretty comedic, given the number of crazed male patients he had probably seen stripping in front of him out of imaginary hyperthermia.

"Well then, good sir. Never one for subtlety, eh?"

"Afred not, shrink. Carr fer a drink?" Though I thought I had more control over my words, my response came out in a hasty slur. I attempted to regain my posture in front of my friend by stepping back and opening the door, but I damned near stumbled and used the door as my stability instead.

"That rhymed. And yes, of course." He walked in and made himself comfortable on the seat across the table from where I was sitting. Even in my drunken stupor, I knew the anti-alcohol psychologist was up to something by accepting my invitation. I returned to my seat and picked up my scotch, taking cautious sips as he leaned forward and pressed the power button on my remote. He took his therapist position in his seat and laced his fingers together in front of his face.
"I heard you walked out in the middle of an important cardiac surgery."

I felt myself sobering up exponentially. "Where'd you hear that frumm?"

"Only your three assistants. He died, you know, despite Martin's efforts."

I brought my attention back to my scotch, wishing he would disappear.

"What happened, Scott? What's going on in your head?"

I remained silent. If I told him about the sudden desire to end my life, I wouldn't hear the end of it.

"Are you planning to end your life?"

I closed my eyes. Nevermind.

"You are," he said in a matter-of-fact tone. Al brought his thumb and forefinger to his graying moustache and stroked down to his goatee. "Scott, you know that the end of your life could very well mean the end of other lives in the future."

Before I could stop myself, my inner teenager burst from my mouth. "I don't care." I shook my head, though I wasn't so sure if it was to enforce the state of not caring or the anger in admitting that fact out loud.

An uncomfortable amount of silence followed. I continued to nurse my drink while Dr. Albertson continued to nurse his facial hair. Once the silence became too comfortable, I split the silence. "What? No life advice?"

"I'm sure you've heard enough," he responded. As a sign of relief, I let my head rest on the pillow behind me. "There's nothing I can say that your parents and sisters haven't told you or will tell you a hundred times."

My sight returned to the ceiling fan above my kitchen table. I took in a deep breath, then pushed out every ounce of air I had left in me. Once I was breathless, I felt a prick on my right shoulder. I couldn't react to the sudden bite of pain soon enough to realize that I had just been injected with something.

"Wha...? What was..."

"Goodnight, Scott."

With that, I fell asleep.

The night swept by in an eventless rush. By the time I woke up, it felt like I had only slept for five minutes. I remembered by alcohol, then became aware of my body and how...unaffected I was. I opened my eyes, and attempted to sit up to see if the familiar headache would come as it usually would. Again, no sign of another depressing night.

Suddenly, I remembered Al. I looked around only to find darkness and the familiar voice of my good friend.

"Good morning. You're up a bit early."

"Yeah...Hey, Al? Did you inject me with something?"

"Just some light anesthesia."

I rolled my eyes. "Oh, boy, thanks. Just somelightanesthesia. I love when friends do that to me."

Al lifted himself from his seat and came to my left side, pressing his back against the wall and crossing his arms. "Well, if you don't care about your life, then why should I?"

This was very unlike Dr. Albertson. Usually, everybody gave him an excellent review in being personal and professional. Being uncaring? That wasn't even in his dictionary.

"I didn't say anything about not caring about my life. In fact, I don't remember sayinganything."

"You didn't need to say anything. I just needed you to be a bit more sober so that I may ask you something."

A part of me wanted to stand up and deck the gray right off of his beard. The more I thought about it, though, the more I realized that he probably had something really important to ask if he was willing to inject me without authorization. Walking out and letting me end it all may have been the worst thing that may have happened for 'Al the pal'.

"Alright. What is it?"

"Would you mind taking an experimental drug for me while you're on your emergency leave?"

If I could have dropped to the floor right then, I would have. "What the hell, Al?! You injected me to ask me that? And who said anything about emergency leave?"

"Martin did. Figured it was better to say you had an emergency and had to leave for a few days instead of malpractice, even if that was a minute possibility."

Martin. If there was ever an extremely nice douchebag, it was him. He'd just as quickly cover for my surgery as he would tell me I was a worthless surgeon who needed to off himself.

"Whatever. Why are you asking me?

"I happen to think that you are a prime candidate for the drug and what it requires."
Though I hesitated, it only took me about a minute to realize that I was just looking through infomercial channels for a good rope. I was in prime health, so whatever the drug would be, it could possibly act as an interesting change in my life. That, or it could kill me.

"Okay, I'll bite. What is it?"

"A dream drug."

He must have noticed the pause and the look of confusion on my face.

"It's a small drug, maybe 50mg. All you would have to do is take supplements for B5, B6, B12, some calcium and burn some Mugwort with an aromatherapy set."

"Al, what the hell? I haven't had a dream in years."

"I figured as much, and that's the point. Once you take this drug, you'll take away one variable after another if the drug is continuously successful. There's barely any side effects that we know of, so you won't have to worry."

I shook my head and held up my hands to stop Al from his intrusion. "Okay, wait. What makes you so sure I'll take this drug anyway? Don't I have to say yes before you start feeding me the rundown?"

Al smirked - a first for him - and placed his hands behind his back. "Well, Scott, you've already said yes."

I rose an eyebrow at that. "And how did I do that exactly?"

"You said, 'I'll bite'. You didn't say, 'Forget it. I'm going to die anyway.'"

Just as I was going to open my mouth and retort, I froze. He had a point. I was so focused on what kind of drug Al would want to give me that I completely forgot about any dying plans I had from the previous night. Maybe I was intrigued just enough.

I shrugged in surrender. "Alright, Mr. Albertson. I guess I can try it out. What have I got to lose, right?"

He seemed too happy at my agreement to fully understand my words. "Right! You're absolutely right." He bent down and picked up a cardboard box wrapped in white paper. "Happy birthday. Take two of them two hours before you go to bed. If the drug doesn't do anything for you, I'll kill you myself. Sound good?"

I grabbed the box from him and watched as he rushed out the front door with energy unbecoming of someone his age. I decided against locking out the outside world, and instead, began to unwrap my little gift. In a matter of minutes, I had B Vitamin supplements in one jar, gummy Calcium and Vitamin D supplements in another jar, an amber jar of Mugwort aromatherapy mix (with Lavender!) and a small unmarked bottle of 50mg white pills. To top off the jars and bottles, I had a light pink aromatherapy set and tea candles, which was obviously meant for a woman in her 80's. I couldn't help but to snicker at Al's inability to give well-thought gifts.

Before venturing into the world for a good breakfast, I called up Martin and confirmed that he would cover for me for a week at most. He seemed more than happy to add that I killed a man and need to get my shit straight. I struck back with the fact that the man died in his hands, and he became silent. Before I knew it, he was telling me to shut the fuck up. I promptly thanked him for covering for me, then hung up as soon as possible. Martin was many things, but he was not the quiet type.

For the first time in years, I ventured out into the world to see what was available to a surgeon that was no longer burying himself in work. Unsurprisingly, I was back at my place watching silly medical drama shows in less than an hour, chewing on some nugget meal and finding myself missing the food from the hospital or the nearby restaurants. Through that day, I let myself die, though only mentally. I watched shows, ordered chinese, watched more shows, ordered pizza, took my supplements and drugs a few hours before midnight. There was no family to worry about me and no friends to pity me. Even with my own personal crisis staring me in the face, I blissfully laughed at the problems of actors on the television and went to sleep on a reclining chair with a tiny smile on my face.

The smile was a lie, you know.

I was using my scalpel to cut down from the sternum while my other hand steadied myself on the patient's shoulder. I couldn't sense that anybody else was near. The man that died from yesterday's surgery was under my knife, black blood pouring down his sides and onto the morg's floor. A hand shot up from the man and forced me to stop cutting down his abdomen. I looked down to see deathly white eyes looking back up at me.

"Fear the pent, or lose the hope," he said to me.

Fear struck me from all angles. The smell of dying flowers rose from his wound as the blood began to freeze in place. I released my grip from the scalpel and ripped my arm from his grasp, forcing myself back. I was stopped on my retreat upon feeling a soft, shorter body behind me.
"Why didn't you use light anesthesia?" A feminine voice asked.

I turned to find a faceless woman in a nurse's outfit facing me. "Only friends do that," I responded. I then realized that Martin was nowhere near us. "Where's Martin?"

"He's responding to a dialing agent in the fixture in the diaphram," the mouthless nurse responded. "Who knows what gifts will be bestowed upon him?"

With no reason to be had or warning given, the nurse then lifted her shirt and revealed a tantalizing set of breasts, most likely a good DD size. Her tits were pushed up from a black bra with lacey pyramids on it, revealing a deep cleavage that held my attention and removed my previous fear completely. She stepped back once, a mouth-watering jiggle sending her porcelain breasts to quake lightly. "Are you prepared for the hysterectomy?"

"FEAR THE PENT!" The man screamed from behind me. "FEAR THE PENTA...PENT...PENTAGRAM. SINFUL CARNAGE-"

Suddenly, I was shot back out of the room and beyond the walls of the morg. I appeared in a much darker room with spinning red lights. An annoying ring began to make itself present for a few seconds until it would pause. After a second of pause, the ring would come back. The room began to fade, but the ringing continued to get louder and take over more of my consciousness. I then realized that my phone was ringing.

I shook myself awake and lazily threw my hand to the coffee table on my right, reaching for the source of the annoying ring. Once I clasped onto the phone, I brought the overwhelmingly bright screen to my face and looked at the caller ID. It was Al.

I answered the call immediately, remembering the feel of the that dead man's cold skin and the feel of the nurse's soft body against mine. Images of that black blood and those tantalizing tits also stood permeated in the forefront of my mind as I began to speak.

"Al, holy hell...I remember dreaming, but I have never had such vivid dreams in all my life."

"Well, my good sir, hopefully you had a good dream to start?"

"Eh...half-and-half." I pulled back from the phone to check the time. It was 2:20 AM. "Uh, Al? You do realize it's 2 in the morning?"

"Yes, but I had something important to tell you. Do NOT drink alcohol with that drug. Alcohol suppresses the ability to dream because of the stages of sleep it keeps you on. Also, when you get the chance, I want you to get a notebook to write down your dreams, and I want you to write them no matter how personal they are. Writing dreams helps with remembering your dreams, and it will allow me to see what might be going on."

I nodded, as if he could see me nodding. "No problem. What exactly would you see?"

Al said nothing for a few seconds. "Well...Let's talk about this another time. If I were to tell you now, you wouldn't believe me."

Question marks began popping up in my head, but for some reason, I couldn't ask the questions I really wanted to ask. What would I believe later that I wouldn't believe now? Was there something about this drug that I needed to watch out for? Before I could gather my words, he hung up, leaving me in a dark room with a deafening silence and an annoying cell phone light.

I put the phone down and sighed. An unsettling frustration began to build as I started to feel something completely new to my life: the fear to sleep. The fear I felt when encountering that dead man was very real, even if that feeling was covered by lusty desires near the end. There was no difference in my mind between this world and that dream, and if I were to ever have a nightmare...

My body had different plans. I carried my thoughts of scary dreams into me as I slipped back into sleep and went into a new reality, this time, with a bright sunset waiting for me over a grassy hill that stood far, far away. I sat on a hill of my own, surrounded by swaying grasses that went up to my chest. A pleasant, yet familiar voice wavered from behind something that was behind me, whispering, "Scotty? I've found you!"

I turned and lifted myself into the air using a power within the pit of my heart to fly. I was maybe a few feet in the air, watching as my mom crept out from behind an oak tree with her arms spread out wide. My heart bounded and leaped with joy, and to reflect my heart, I back-flipped in the air and threw myself at my mom, lifting her with me in a tight, strong hug. She yipped cheerily with the sudden burst.

I put her back on the ground and ran a finger through her hair so that I could take a better look at her face. The same attentive eyes and noticeable nose was present, though less prominent than mine. "Mom! Did you bring the rabbit?"

"I sure did," she said with glee. From behind her back, she produced a rabbit made of jello on a silver plate. Surrounding the red jello rabbit were vibrant white and yellow flowers, though they smelled a little funny. "I made it just a few minutes ago."

I looked to the tree to see a white clock ticking away. It was 12:10. "Wow, just in time for lunch. Thanks!"

I reached for the jello rabbit, then stopped. Suddenly, something shocked where I felt that my brain was. I turned back to the sunset over the hill and pulled my hands away from the silver platter. "Wait. Mom? It's sunset?"

"That's right dear," she said without pause. "Just past dinner time."

I looked back at the clock on the tree. It was 6:36. "Wait. I have to go to Banner to do some surg-"

A powerful awareness sparked in my mind and spread through my consciousness like wildfire. I suddenly realized that the time had changed. I looked at the clock again. 9:93.

"The time is...changing..."

That spark of awareness became a giant surge, and in a matter of what felt like seconds, I was able to control what I was doing. Though the setting itself was already vivid, now I felt absolutely awake and in control. No longer was I saying or doing things that made no sense to the part of me that was in the real world.

I turned to my mom, who was still happily holding the jello platter and watching me with a smile. "Mom? Where are we?"

Her smile lessened, but stayed present. "We're at Vanity Hill. Remember? We're picnicking."

I shook my head and looked back at the clock. 12:538. "Picnicking? When did we start?"

Mom's face became very dull, almost dead. The happy shimmer in her eyes disappeared, as well as the jello platter. However, she still held out her hands. "Son? What's going on?"

Suddenly, in the background, I heard a whisper. "Lucid," the tiny voice said.

Lucid. I was awake, yet dreaming. A burst of excitement rose up within me. "Whoa! Wait?! I'm drea-"

My body shook in my chair. I quickly looked up to see the morning sun's light climbing through the blinds and on my ceiling. I was dreaming. I lifted myself and looked around, only to find a cell phone on my coffee table and a remote on the arm of my chair. With a grunt, I scooted up on my chair and looked at my clock. 7:33. I looked away, then looked back at the clock. Still 7:33.

The energy I gained from my dream was still running through me. I had never felt so alive, so new, so...hungry for jello. Shaking my head, I jumped off the chair and padded into the kitchen to see if any magical jello made it into my fridge.

Unfortunately, no jello. However, I let the cool air of the refridgerator puff up to greet my face as I began to think about what felt like a newfound...power. For the first time in my whole life, I felt that I had gained an interesting skill like some sort of superhero. Not only was it a skill that was new, it was a skill that I couldn't immediately master or know how to get through mastering. In all the years of anatomy and physiology I took, I knew exactly where I was going to be...But lucid dreaming? That was new.

I dressed, applied deoderant and brushed my teeth, doing little to fix up my hair. I was aiming to go somewhere, but I didn't know what it was until I realized something: I missed my mom. Even with her groaning and worrying, we hadn't had a good, family member-to-family member conversation in years. I was going to see my mother today, and didn't care what got in the way.