“What does it mean when you dream you’re somebody else?”
Dr. Garbuglio set down his cup of coffee and thought about Freya’s question. The black eye was gone, only a faint tinge remaining. The sadness that had colored their meeting last week seemed to have faded with the bruise. Dr. G seemed much more present today.
“Well. There’s a lot to unpack in that question. Let’s ease into it. First, do you think dreams have meaning?”
“I think um… I think they can say a lot about what’s on your mind. I don’t think they show the future or anything if that’s what you mean.”
“That’s exactly what I’m asking. I’d like to know how important dreams are to you before we start analyzing them. This is the first time you’ve mentioned one in a session.”
“I don’t think they’re a big deal, but this one was intense. I wanted to talk about it. We don’t have to if you think it’s a waste of time.” Freya leaned back in her chair.
“I don’t think it’s a waste of time. There are some other things going on I would like to get to in this session, though. I would say on average, people put too much significance on individual dreams.”
“How so?” Freya asked.
“Well, let’s think about what dreams are. Right now, the model I agree with the most is the idea that dreams are largely random, sort of like hitting shuffle on your memories. The brain then tries to construct a coherent story out of them after the fact. That’s a very simplified version of an idea named the activation-synthesis hypothesis. It was posed by Dr. Allan Hobson. He’s worth looking up if you’d like to do some reading. He’s written twenty books on dreams, and they have all have very solid neuroscience behind them.
“I’ll check him out. If that’s true, why would brains spend so much energy generating and interpreting random impulses?”
“Very good question. There are a few ideas about it, but nothing I’d call proven at this point. Some researchers believe it’s a kind of bookkeeping, and as you’ve read—” Dr. Garbuglio smiled and craned his neck in the direction of the shelf full of copies of The Fragile Phoenix, “sleep plays a critical role in the formation of new memories and overall mental health. One explanation I think is interesting is something called the Threat Simulation Theory. It posits dreams are caused by our brains sort of rehearsing for different threatening situations we might encounter, to hone the fight-or-flight reflex. The idea tries to explain why fear is the most prominent emotion we experience in dreams, and why people often dream of things like being pursued. Again, none of this is settled science. We’re still a long way from understanding dreams. Disclaimer aside, I would like to hear about your dream, if you’re comfortable telling me about it.”
“Okay, Freya said, taking a deep breath. She’d thought all morning about how she wanted to describe this.
“I dreamed I was a boy who was simultaneously dreaming he was me. It was very detailed. People argued in the lot next door to him, and a truck rumbled past on his street. I could smell the room he was in. You know how other people’s homes have a smell, not bad, just different? I smelled his house. I don’t think I’ve ever smelled something in a dream before.”
“It’s unusual but not unheard of,” Dr. Garbuglio said. “How did it feel to be in the other body?”
“I was very aware of the contrast between us. I felt how much bigger he was, that he was stronger, things were sort of, set differently. I’m struggling to describe it. It was a little like wearing a suit tailored for someone else or putting on a mask that was a mold of someone else’s face. But that doesn’t really capture it because I wasn’t uncomfortable, I was just aware of the difference. I had all the, um…, all the parts, and I felt what it was like to, uh…”
Freya had to pause and exhale. Her cheeks were hot with embarrassment. She’d never mentioned anything sexual to Dr. Garbuglio before, and she’d deflected any conversation headed in that direction. But she had a strong need to talk about the dream. It had consumed her thoughts all day. Dr. Garbuglio didn’t rush her, there was no quickening of interest in his expression. He was perfectly detached, and that let her gather herself and continue.
“I felt what it’s like to be excited. As a man, not as a woman. But that isn’t the important part. I don’t want to focus on that.”
“What was the important part?”
“Feeling like I was simultaneously him and me. Like we were somehow sharing our senses. It wasn’t just me taking over some empty shell. I dreamed he was in my body at the same time, with the same sense of uh…wonder. Excitement. We kept drawing closer and closer. A thought would originate in one of us, then it would ripple through the other. Then another would rise in response, flowing back and forth, chasing each other’s tails.
“We moved towards something big, some understanding. We both wanted it very much and, at the same time, we were afraid. Then the feeling just ended abruptly, and I felt empty and alone. I woke up feeling like I’d lost something I couldn’t get back, and I was just weeping until—” Freya halted.
She’d been about to say, “Until the Starball calmed me down.” She saw Dr. Garbuglio’s eyes lasering in on her. “—until my alarm went off, and I had to get ready for school.” She concluded. She couldn’t tell if he’d bought it. Dr. Garbuglio took a sip of coffee, and his fingers ran over his chin as he thought about it.
“That’s quite a dream. Thank you for sharing that with me. Your dream sounds very similar to the experiences some people have while taking psychedelic drugs. Have you taken anything like that recently? No judgment if you have.”
“No, not at all,” Freya said. She hadn’t expected the conversation to go in this direction. “I haven’t ever.”
“Okay. I believe you, I just wanted to eliminate the possibility. How long has it been since you discontinued the Lunesta?”
“Eight days,” Freya answered too quickly. Dr. Garbuglio stared at her for a beat. He hadn’t missed that.
“It would be unusual for this to be an effect of the withdrawal. It’s probably just a very vivid dream. Let’s talk about the boy in the dream. I’m going to make a guess here. Was I right that Dan Gregulus was not at all above talking with a mere sophomore?”
Freya blinked. She hadn’t said ANYTHING about Dan since she’d told Dr. Garbuglio he was in her Krav Maga class.
“Wait, did he mention me during therapy?” Freya asked, half-afraid of what he might have said, and half-desperate to know.
“I would not be able to tell you if he did. Everything said in here is private,” Dr. Garbuglio reminded her. Then his voice softened. “However, in this case, it was just a guess. I haven’t seen Dan recently. He just happens to be the only boy your age you’ve spoken about.”
“Oh. Well, yes, it was a dream about him. Good guess.”
“Are you two romantically involved?”
“I don’t know, maybe? We’ve been spending a lot of time together and texting a lot. He gave me a ride home on Sunday, and we spent a long time talking together. He told me about his sister, about what he’d gone through. It seems like you helped him a lot.”
“How do you feel about Dan?” Dr. Garbuglio asked, too focused to respond to her compliment.
“I really like him. As a person, I mean, not just, uh, romantically. Like he clowns around way too much in a group but, when we’re alone, he drops the act. He seems like a good guy.”
Dr Garbuglio hesitated, like he’d been about to say something but stopped himself.
“Has it been physical?” he asked after the pause.
“We kissed, but that’s all. I think I’m more into him than he is into me,” she admitted.
“That’s a very common thing for people to think in a new relationship. Everyone develops feelings at their own pace, especially when you’re young and inexperienced. My advice is slower is better, really take the time to reflect on how you feel. You will definitely have some missteps, and that’s totally okay. There’s a balance between sharing too much and scaring someone off and sharing too little and both people misinterpreting how the other feels. Finding that balance takes a long time to learn and, even as an adult, it’s still a challenge.”
Freya nodded.
“It’s hard to feel so strongly after feeling nothing for so long.”
“Just try to hang on for right now, enjoy this time as much as you can. That feeling won’t stay so intense. It’s something you’ll always look back at and cherish. In the future, time will round all the edges off your memories. You’ll forget how uncertain everything feels right now. You won’t even remember it feels like the whole relationship is over every time your partner is slow to return a text.”
“Yes. Oh, my God! It feels exactly like that,” Freya agreed.
“If I can offer a little advice here. Know that it’s hard to keep perspective. Relationships are always valuable, but keep in mind romantic relationships at your age have an exaggerated sense of importance, and it’s very rare for two people to be mature enough to create one that is lasting.”
“What makes a relationship last?” Freya asked.
“Work. A good match feels effortless initially, but a lasting relationship is exactly the opposite. We’ll talk more about it as situations arise, but the immediate advice I can give you is that it’s more important to understand than to be understood. The harder you work at listening to what the other person is saying, the deeper your understanding will grow. The more you can reflect on what’s going on beneath the surface, the stronger you will become as a partner. If you go into this with the expectation you’re still learning, and that it’s probably not a forever thing, you’ll have much more success. Don’t go Capulet on us, please.”
If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.
Freya smiled at that.
“That’s helpful to hear, thank you,” she said. She wondered if Dr. Gabuglio was trying to warn her that Dan would dump her.
“Okay. I’m sure you’ve heard it from everyone, but if you two decide to take your relationship further, please, make sure to use protection. You may want to have a discussion with each other about what it means for you both to be seeing the same therapist. I have many couples where I see each member individually. It’s usually not a problem, but keep in mind it is totally okay for you to share everything you’re feeling, and the same is true for Dan. That’s part of the deal with therapy. The other part is I will not act as an intermediary between you.”
Freya nodded in agreement. She still couldn’t help but analyze every word he said for some sign of how Dan felt about her. Dr. Garbuglio was very good at not revealing anything. It was both reassuring and infuriating.
“Okay. Well, I don’t know if we’re a couple or anything. I just like him. He must like me a little, too, as he’s picking me up after therapy. I’m glad we got to talk today. That dream was arresting. I feel better now.”
“It’s quite a dream. Did you mention it to Dan?”
“Oh, God no,” Freya said, distressed at the thought. “Way too um, lurid.”
“Ha! What a word. I’d say it’s most likely just an expression of the feelings and fears you have for Dan. Let me know if you keep having dreams like that, especially if you feel like you’re losing control or can’t deal with them. You might consider keeping a dream journal. The act of writing things like this down could help you put them in perspective.”
Freya nodded, though she was certain she wouldn’t do that. Dr. Garbuglio shifted a little in his seat in preparation for changing the subject.
“Okay. Something important. Given you are still recovering from a loss, have you had feelings of guilt about your excitement for this new relationship?” The question hung in the air between them.
“Absolutely,” Freya said. She was struck by the realization she’d wanted him to ask this all along and hadn’t known until the question was posed.
“Nearly everyone experiences that. It’s a part of the process, and I promise you it will pass. I’d like to do an exercise with you that may help. It will almost certainly be painful, but patients often make progress afterward. Do you feel up to it?”
Freya hesitated, wondering if Dr. Garbuglio was about to propose something weird, like primal scream or electroshock.
“Yes,” Freya agreed at last. It couldn’t be too bad. She had the Starball after all.
“Okay, I’m going to get into some painful memories involving your father. I would like you to take as long as you need to with this exercise. We’re going to go outside your comfort area. If we go too far, just raise a hand, and I’ll stop right away. It’s totally okay to raise your hand for any reason. It doesn’t mean you’re weak. okay?”
“Okay,” Freya agreed.
“I want you to think about how you’ve felt the last few months, think about some of the times where it’s been particularly difficult to cope, especially something we might not have had a chance to discuss in our sessions.”
They were silent as Freya went along with the exercise. She thought about sobbing against the desk in Mr. Manzinni’s class, failure welling up all around her. Her pocket grew warm, she fought the urge to slip her hand into it to touch the Starball. Her chest tightened, the sensation of plunging into fog.
“It’s been so hard,” Freya whispered. Her voice was a tiny thing, floundering in the air between them.
“Three deep breaths,” Dr. Garbuglio instructed. “Take your time, you’re in a safe place. It’s okay to feel.”
She took the three breaths.
“In one of our early sessions, you talked about waking up and believing your father’s death had been a dream. You described the sadness you felt realizing he was gone. I would like you to think about that.”
The words hung between them. Freya had a sensation of vertigo, as if the walls were receding into the distance, and she was shrinking into insignificance. Freya had an urge to get up and leave the room. She didn’t want to walk down this path.
“I don’t want to think about that,” Freya admitted. Dr. Garbuglio’s eyes were on her hand, ready for Freya to bail out.
“I know it hurts to remember some of these things, and that’s expected. Some things have to hurt,” Dr. Garbuglio said.
Thinking about those mornings triggered a cascade of other memories Freya didn’t want to think about. The pictures on the corkboard map. The secret calendar. The layer of dust accumulating on the pickup truck.
She had a petulant feeling this was sadistic and unfair. She was only sixteen, and Dr. Garbuglio was a grown man. He was driving her towards somewhere she didn’t want to be. Worse, he knew exactly what he was doing, wielding the things she’d confided in him like a scalpel.
“You’re doing fine. Take all the time you need,” he said, and she wanted to scream, but she let the air hiss out between her teeth.
“Do you want to keep going?” Dr. Garbuglio asked, and Freya made herself nod, though she didn’t want to.
“Those feelings are a link between you and the memory of your father,” Dr. Garbuglio spoke very slowly, as if he were a magician invoking a spell. “Each feeling is like a ribbon, tying you to that memory. I want you to visualize that ribbon. It can be any color you want. We’re going to slowly visualize untying that ribbon. Close your eyes.”
Heat thrummed in her pocket from the Starball. It wasn’t calming her down like before. She grew more upset by the moment. Dr. Garbuglio stared at her, expectant. Freya shut her eyes, and the office slipped away.
* * *
There were no ribbons. Freya stood on a cliff overlooking a vast blue-green ocean. There was nothing between her and the horizon but the swells of the sea. A thousand feet below, the waves crashed against the rocks, and the air smelled of salt. There was no sign of Dr. Garbuglio or his office. The sky was a featureless blue wash, and the sun was only a frozen pinprick, its corona oily and indistinct.
Freya waited for an answer. The paltry sun swept across the sky in an unsettling arc, as if it meant to burn through the whole day in an hour’s time. As the little sun slid behind her, Freya was swallowed by an enormous shadow. She’d been ignoring something massive at her back all this time.
A stone colossus rose behind Freya, standing astride a strait. It was enormous. She was eye-level with the top of its big toe. She strained against the weight at her neck to look up. The giant’s ankle was as thick as a redwood. It was bound by a shackle of pitted bronze. Chains bled verdigris as they spiraled around the stone leg. They all met at a ring over the giant’s heart. The colossus’ arms were bound behind its back, and it wore a slave’s collar at its neck, three hundred feet above her.
Freya realized she was a prisoner, too. The tightness at her throat was her own collar. The weight pulling her head down was a leash of heavy chain. Her neck ached as she struggled to behold the face of the colossus. One of its eyes was lost in a ruin of jagged rock, the other stared hopelessly out to sea. A dark ring expanded above the stone face, a halo of nothing that spread until the sky above was the perfect void of Freya’s dreams.
Freya knew she was in a dream, and she tried to wake up. But like the times before, she failed. A tremor shook beneath her feet, a distressed rumbling like the dream was angry at her for trying to escape.
The roar of the ocean grew louder and more insistent. The ground beneath her feet quavered. There was a thunderous crack across the strait. The foundation had split. It crumbled into the sea. It was all coming apart.
Freya turned to flee but the collar bit into her neck like a noose, her chains were bound to the statue. She wrenched at them and screamed, mute against the roar of the collapse.
Everything fell apart. The colossus toppled backward, striking the sea with a titanic crash, and sending plumes of spray billowing skyward. Freya was dragged into the tempest and swallowed by dark water. It was in her nose, in her mouth, the black water of the Sillas River.
There was pressure all around her, forcing the air from her lungs, stabbing at her eardrums. Sinking into the crushing darkness, Freya knew it wasn’t just a dream. She couldn’t breathe. She was dying. But as it was all slipping away, a pain refused to fade, a twinge at her hip that got worse and worse until she felt like she was being burned.
“Freya. Freya. Freya,” Dr. Garbuglio’s voice was muffled by fathoms of seawater. She thought she was being tossed by the waves, but he shook her shoulders. Her eyes shot open. Everything was blurry with tears.
“It’s too heavy!” Freya wept, sobbing until she had nothing left to give. Dr. Garbuglio let go of her. She still felt the weight of the collar on her neck, the pain in her ears. The vision had been so much deeper than any dream she’d had before. She could still taste the river.
“With me, right here. Seven deep breaths,” Dr. Garbuglio commanded, gesturing from his eyes to hers. His voice was tight with worry. “You’re not drowning. You’re right here with me. That was very intense. We’re going to take some time to recover, okay?” He reached out and gripped Freya’s shoulder. It was strange to be touched by Garbuglio, but she needed the anchor.
His voice leveled out as he spoke, but Freya noticed his other hand shook. Her thigh still stung, and she wondered if she’d been burned by the Starball. It took a long time until she felt like she could speak.
“What happened?” she asked at last.
“Progress,” Dr. Garbuglio said. He tried to sound confident, but his face betrayed unease. Something she’d done while she dreamed had unnerved him.
“You’re starting to work through some of the feelings you couldn’t before. The difficulty you had in class was the same kind of thing. It hurts, but you’re facing it. You’re very brave, Freya.”
She shut her eyes, and the image of the colossus lingered. It felt like more than a dream, and Freya wondered if she was going crazy or if this was the Starball.
“It’s too big for me,” Freya said. “I feel so small.”
“It’s too big for anyone to deal with alone. A little bit at a time, you’re getting there. You’re doing amazing, just remember this is a process. Take as much time as you need to work through what you felt today. We can talk about it whenever you’re ready.”
Dr. Garbuglio’s voice was soothing, Freya was thankful he was here. The vision of the colossus was the worst of the nightmares so far. This was more than just her imagination running away with her, it was a full-blown hallucination.
Freya wanted to tell Dr. Garbuglio about the nightmare, but she felt so raw and hurt. She was afraid if she started talking everything would come spilling out, she would tell him about the Starball, about the river, about everything. She knew how that would end. Locked up in a mental hospital, drugged out of her mind.
“Our time is nearly up, but we can extend this session if you need to. Today was a big step,” Dr. Garbuglio offered.
Freya considered it. There was a coolness spreading through her thoughts, one she had come to associate with the Starball pacifying her. Had she really made progress? She probed at her feelings, like a tongue working at a loose tooth. The dread was deeply rooted, but she thought there was a little give to it.
“I think I’m okay,” she said. “I think this helped, thank you. Sorry if I got a little dramatic there.”
Dr. Garbuglio nodded. She’d hoped the little joke would disarm him, but he still looked concerned.
“Here’s something I’d like you to think about. These profound emotions aren’t just there to make you suffer. They’re also a kind of strength. The difficulty you have letting go is a sign of how powerful your bonds with your father were, how much you loved each other. They’re so strong they persist even without him here to renew them. I want you to think about that and consider that same strength will be there for you in other relationships in your life. It will let you do things you think are impossible. That power will let you overcome tremendous obstacles to keep friendships and family together. I know your grief can seem like a weakness right now, but you will learn it’s actually the opposite. You’re so much stronger than you realize.”
Freya could almost believe Dr. Garbuglio. She wanted to. But the vision was still there, the toppling colossus, the crushing pressure, the distant star burning against her thigh to save her. Without the Starball, she would be long gone.
The hour was up.