It is nighttime, and I am lying down on my bed in Minnesota. I can tell because of the shape of the room, the posters lined on my walls and the particular smell of forest leaves that this can't be in LA or in any hotel room of sort. Yes, I'm definitely in Minnesota. Knowing this, I feel comfortable and safe, so there is no problem to stand up from my rest and move around the house.
But it's empty. There isn't anyone around, and for some reason that intrigues me... like there is something off. I can't help but fear every turn I give, every new corner in the end of the hallway, every hint that something might move or trigger anything. I make my way down the stairs and to the backyard. I don't know what I'm looking for; all I know is that I don't want to be in the house on my own. I step outside to the yard and it's all covered in white snow. In fact, it is snowing at the moment. I see the snowflakes touch my skin and melt, but I don't feel any cold. There isn't even a breeze of wind. Everything about this place seems wrong, despite it being my own home.
It's like home but at the same time it isn't.
It's me but at the same time I'm not.
I cradled myself in my arms, because even though I didn't feel cold, I still shivered. It was the loneliness and eeriness of the place. It was the thought of emptiness inside me. It was the fact that I was alone, oh so alone, that made my skin crawl and fear ran down my spine.
-"... My happy little pill... take me away..."
Immediately I looked towards the forest in front of me, beyond the wooden fence of my backyard. I would recognize that voice and that song, anytime, anywhere.
-"... Dry my eyes... bring color to my skies..."
That was my song, and the singer was my Troye. He was somewhere in the forest, probably in great danger. I have to find him.
-"Troye...?"—I asked towards the nothingness, as I started running in the direction of the happy pill—"Troye!"
I didn't mind the figs breaking under my feet or the strange noises from the forest. I just kept running deeper and deeper into the unknown, because I knew that I had to find my friend. I couldn't leave him in the open like this. I needed to find him and take him to safety, and I needed to tell him that I was sorry.
-"... Take my hunger..."
Left. Right. Right. Left. Right again. I didn't know where I was going; but it didn't matter. Somehow I knew I was getting close.
-"... Light within..."
He was getting closer. I could almost bet on it. I can't stop running. I'm so close. I have to apologize.
-"... Numb my skin."
Silence.
I stood in the forest, surrounded by tall pine trees. The snow was still falling around me. I felt like the entire world was spinning, and I kept looking around, trying to find something, anything desperately. But most of anything I wanted to see Troye again.
-"Hello!?"
No response.
-"... Troye!? Troye are you here!? It's me, Connor!"
Dead quiet.
-"... Troye...? ... Troye I wanted to say I'm sorry..."
I was almost certain nobody would answer again. And then, it began.
Whispers.
Coming from every direction possible, all around me, above me, and underground... hundreds over hundreds of voices that whispered in chaos and daze. I couldn't tell all of what they were saying, but I did manage to catch a couple things. "He's the one with the pills", "he's the one in the closet", "he's the one with the scars", "he's the one who keeps lying to everyone..."
I covered my ears with my hands and fell on my knees. I felt like my head was going to explode. As I felt the panic rising, there was suddenly a warm feeling on my forearms. I looked at them in horror to see the blood dripping open from the gashes that weren't there the second before. This place can't be real. It has to be another of the nightmares, there is no other explanation. I felt like screaming but no sound left my throat. The whispers were now unbearable and the blood kept pouring, I didn't know what to do. Then, I raised my gaze and came face to face with a pale, void from life Troye Sivan. His eyes were no longer blue but black, and he showed no emotion. Just like that all the whispers stopped, along with all the sounds of the forest. He looked at me dead in the eyes, and then spoke.
-"You are on your own."
I gasped for air, but that was it. I didn't scream, unlike many other nightmares I could recall and name. But I did notice the sweat on my body, and the feeling of fear lingering in the air. Like the aftertaste of a bad meal, this was still there. I breathed evenly so that I would calm down my nerves. I would usually tell Troye straight away whenever I had a nightmare, but that isn't the case now. The nightmare is right. I'm on my own.
We were sleeping in the O2L bus, and the movement rocked everyone else to sleep, or so I thought. My head tilted a bit to the left, and I found myself looking back at Sam's eyes. He had been watching me sleep. No. He had been watching me having a nightmare.
-"Bad dream?"—he asked in a very low tone.
-"... Yeah."—I admitted—"Bad dream."
-"... Do you want to talk about it? We're still far away from Chicago, and I can't get any sleep."
-"... I don't really think it would be that entertaining..."
-"Who said anything about entertaining?"
Sam stood up straight on his bunk, and gave me a knowing smile.
-"You know, the one way of avoiding a dream to come true is by telling it to someone. So maybe you should tell me your nightmare, so that it won't come true."
-"Eh... are you sure that's how it works?"
-"Hey, it's either that or grabbing Jc's arm."
-"His... his arm? What for?"
-"He has that dream eater tattoo! That's supposed to work somehow, right?"
I laughed, because I hadn't come to think about that detail. Even though it's kind of silly to think about it, he actually does have said tattoo, and it's meant to catch dreams after all.
-"Well, the tattoo won't probably work..."
-"That settles it then. Come on, spit it."
I moved around a little, trying to get myself more comfortable in the bunk, so that I could face Sam while still lying on the bed. I was actually pondering about whether to tell him or not. Maybe I could try telling him very vaguely, so that he wouldn't suspect so much.
-"It... it's a very recurrent dream. I mean, sometimes it's different, but mostly it's the same concept in different scenarios. I remember the first time it was in the open ocean, and then it was in a desert."
Sam nodded, paying close attention to what I had to say. Geez, even I didn't know what I had to say. But Sam has always been into the psychology of dreams and stuff. Out of the all of us, he's the one who tries to educate himself the most about the factory of the mind. He likes that, and it helps him understand himself and others better.
-"Today I was in a forest, looking for a friend."—I continued—"And after I lost them, I got really, really scared. The place was getting darker every second... and I felt all on my own. And I hated it."
He stayed pensive, trying to come up with a sort of explanation to what was going on in my head. Funny; it almost reminds me of Dr. Kellerman. Of course I wouldn't be speaking with her in this sort of situation, but it's as close as it gets, I think.
-"From the way you put it, I take it this 'friend' is not one of us, ain't it?"
-"Well... yeah. That's true."
-"It isn't Andrea either?"
-"No..."
-"Hmmm..."
Damn, Sam is good at reading people. Or maybe it's just that I'm really easy to read. Who knows anyway?
-"Well, I remember reading once."—he said—"that trees usually represent fear. Especially if they're really, really tall. Do you recall if the trees were tall?"
-"Well, there were fig and pine trees all around."—I observed—"And some of them were really tall, yeah."
-"Any other details from the setting it took place in?"
-"Well... it was dark. And it was snowing. Oh!"—I has almost forgotten—"At first I was at my old house in Minnesota, so I guess that's where the forest was."
-"In Minnesota? Back at your home?"
-"Yeah, pretty much."
-"So it was a cold winter night..."
-"Well, to be honest, I didn't feel any cold at all."
-"Of course you didn't. It was a dream!"
-"But... I have felt things in other dreams."
-"No, you don't."—he explained—"You feel the sensation of cold. Your subconscious is not vulnerable to the effects of the environment. The body can feel either hot or cold, but that isn't going to transmit into your deep sleep. And neither is the idea of noise or chatter; that's a myth."
That sounded quite outrageous, but I knew better than contradicting Sam in this type of matter.
-"Well, being lost and alone generally has to do with life decisions."—he proceeded—"It means you are unclear about choices you are making in real life, that perhaps you should be doing something different instead of how you do it now."
-"Like... like a warning?"
-"Hmmm... yes and no."
-"What do you mean?"
-"Well, the subconscious does not know right from wrong. It isn't a secret answers machine; it's a different level of thought, of processing information. Just like your thoughts on a daily basis, the subconscious drives with thought the same way you do normally, only that you don't notice."
To me, he was talking Chinese.
-"I'll re elaborate."—he said—"The subconscious of a person is like a second brain, but one you can't control. Its thoughts and conclusions are not evident like the ones from your consciousness; they are hidden, and only come out at very specific moments, mostly in everyday actions and impulses. That, and in dreams."
-"So... it's like a sleeping me with a mind of his own?"
-"More or less."—he said with a so-so look on his face—"The thing is that the subconscious bases its actions differently than what we consider 'normal'. Instead of being driven by logic, it is by instinct. To be put in other words, let's say you are faced with a problem. Your brain, in efforts of finding a solution, will go through a vas variety of possibilities. That's logic thought, the idea of distinguishing right from wrong by the use of testing. The subconscious on the other hand goes with what it feels is right, without any second thoughts."
I think I was getting the point.
-"So, basically..."—I said—"The subconscious wants me to go with my gut."
-"Yes! Couldn't have said it any better."—Sam beamed, happy for being a good teacher—"So, in dreams, the subconscious is most likely trying to deliver the message of what it thinks is the best thing for you. So in your case, by showing how you were lost in a forest, your subconscious was basically saying that... 'You need to change the decisions you are making'."
I gulped.
-"But that doesn't mean it's true."—Sam said—"Like I said, what the subconscious thinks is just a hunch. It's what your deep-down feels, but there is no logical foundation to it."
-"... Aren't hunches so right lately, though?"
I heard Sam laugh through the darkness. Even in the movement of the bus, there was still that eerie feeling of mockery in the air.
-"That's a good point, Con."—he said—"Now, you did say something about looking for a friend...?"
-"Yeah..."—I said—"That's probably the part that confuses me the most."
-"Had that happened before? In other dreams?"
-"... Actually, now that you mention it... now... It's usually me running away from people I know... friends, too, but for some reason this time it seemed like I was on the opposite side of the table..."
-"Hmm... well, usually there's two ways for this. When people we know—people we are close to, appear in our dreams, it usually means that you have some sort of unresolved business with them."
The last thing I wanted to hear, literally.
-"No kidding..."—I said, clearly annoyed.
-"Hey, it's not that bad. Sometimes they don't have any specific reason at all."
-"How does that make any sense?"
-"Well, the other reason why they might appear in your dreams is, believe it or not, feelings."
-"Wait—WHAT!? No there is NO WAY I have feelings for the person that appeared in the dream—-"
-"Calm down, Con. It's not like that. I mean feelings in general. When a dream focuses itself on one sort of emotion or feeling, it's not strange that a person that reminds you of said emotion to appear in it. Despite the relation you may hold with them, of course."
I can't say that what he was telling me made me feel more at ease.
-"Then, you are suggesting..."—I said—"that the friend I saw in the nightmare... reminds me of fear?"
-"From the looks of it, yes."—he mentioned—"But that's only for you to decide."
Given that his current hypothesis on Troye was already pretty discouraging, I decided I could omit the part of the dream where he jumps out of the blue and actually does scare the shit out of me.
-"But really Connor, dreams are just reflections of the things that worry you in real life."—he added—"If anything, talking about it helps. I know it helps me."
-"Well... it sure would've helped a lot if it weren't such a bummer for a dream, as it turns out it is..."
I went back to my sleeping position, no longer facing Sam. The sweat had stopped, so I figured that maybe I would be able to sleep now. I mean, sleep again. Oh geez you know what I mean, you are here with me all the time anyway.
-"... Connor... is it alright if I ask you something?"
Oh, great.
-"You know how much I hate that question...?"
-"Huh? Why?"
-"Well lately it appears everyone is asking it..."
-"Well, I don't really see what you mean, but... sometimes at night when I wake up to take my insulin shot, I hear you mumbling in your sleep..."
Huh?
-"I really didn't mean to eavesdrop or anything. But that's kind of the reason I was awake today, listening to you..."
-"I... I talk in my sleep?"
-"Yeah. I don't think anyone else has noticed, because they are always asleep when you are. But I have to get up during the night, so, yeah..."
I could sense that Sam was trying to get somewhere with this. But what could it be? Well, taking into consideration that sometimes I still do think out loud and end up saying things I don't really mean to, then who's to say that I don't confess my darkest secrets while I'm asleep? For all I know Sam might now already that I'm gay and that I have... the thing. Hell, he might even know I had a fight with Troye. I wonder how much he knows...
-"... Don't you want to hear what you've been saying?"—he asked, as if he had just read my mind.
-"... Please, tell me."—I said, without daring to turn around and face him—"I think I want to know."
Sam exhaled deeply, and I hear him reposition himself back into his bed, ready to fall asleep at any moment once again. A few minutes that seemed like ages passed before he started speaking.
-"You keep saying you are sorry."—he said—"You've been saying you are sorry to the weirdest set of people... you say you are sorry to Andrea, to Ricky... and I could swear you mentioned someone named Sasha at some point."
I felt the sensation, the feeling of guilt clogging up my throat. Am I really this easy to read? Am I really this transparent, this fragile? Made from such a breakable glass... no wonder I have broken already.
-"... Then a couple of days ago, I think since we left New York, you just stopped. Instead you keep saying someone's name..."
-"... Who is that...?"
-"Well, I'm not sure exactly... I think its two different people. I think, but I'm not sure, that you mentioned Troye..."
Well no wonder I am this easy to read. I spill everything when I'm sleeping, apparently.
-"... I see..."
-".... And then I heard you say someone else's name, but only once. I don't think I got it right... something like Peppermint?"
I laughed a little, because Sam really had tried, but he could only know so much. And in a way he wasn't to blame for anything. He's just trying to help me out after all. And apparently, one way to do it is to listen to me sleep.
-"Kellerman."—I said.
-"Huh?"—he asked.
-"Kellerman. The name you heard. It wasn't peppermint—it was Kellerman. I can see why you confused the sound... I must be a mess when I sleep talk."
I could almost touch the tension that had quickly formed between Sam and myself. That name alone was a huge leap of faith, a huge, secret part of me that absolutely no one knows in this bus. Only you and I. And well, now Sam knows of it, just not its true meaning. I don't even know why I told him really. Maybe I'm just tired of this game of tag, of avoiding the questions all of my friends keep sending my way about what's wrong with me lately. Maybe it's time we settled down the game, and just decided to move on...
-"... and who is Kellerman?"—he asked.
-"... she's a... very fond friend of mine..."
-"... is... is she the one you've been dreaming about...?"
-"... I don't know... I don't think so. I might have seen her a couple of times, just not lately..."
Just between you and me... To be quite honest, her image won't leave my mind for a second. The red headed doctor has left her impression on me.
-"... so is she a good friend?"—he asked.
-"... she's a different kind of friend. She's the kind of friend that... is there when I look for her, so to speak. She never asks for anything in return for her time, and it's something... rare, to find. It's something that I... that I appreciate."
-"... and... and what kind of friend am I?"
I turned around to face Sam once again. He seemed really expectant for an answer, and I felt all the conflicted emotions from the past month drive through me like wildfire. The doubt of my trust in the guys, the feeling of loneliness that has been haunting me mercilessly... and yet here I am, having a heart to heart with Sam. And he's not even flinching.
-"... you are the kind of friend"—I said—"that is as close to me as family."
Sam's cheeks have always been rosy, but I could swear I saw him blush.
-"Well, I think of you as family too, Con."
That was cue for him to turn around and go back to the sound world of the sleep. I gave a gentle snort and turned my back on Sam. His everlasting wisdom always makes me wonder why he isn't in the Tibet or something of the sort.
Before I could sleep again, I took my hand to my pillow, and searched its insides. In no time I came across the prize, and I removed it from the place where I had hidden it. There was no light to see, but I had already memorized every detail of the plastic flask, filled with the blue little happy pills.
This has been my sole sleep for the last month.
Since I lost Troye, this has also been the one thing that reminds me of him. The happy pills.
It's so sad, how you must depend on tablets to be happy. It's so sad, so frustrating... and yet slightly poetic. You might be wondering why I sleep with them inside my pillow now... truth be told, I don't want a second Troye. I don't want another person to find out about them by accident or whatnot. Ricky has his suspicions already, and since he had sent Tyler and Zoe to keep an eye on me before, there wasn't anything saying he wasn't trying to find out what was wrong with me now, possibly going as far as searching through my stuff.
I have promised myself that the truth's time is almost here. And I do keep my promises.
But the truth's time implies that the pills remain hidden with me, where they are safe.
Where nobody can see them, just you and I.
Without the need of water, I placed one in my mouth and swallowed. They aren't really meant for sleeping, but it's one of its merry side-effects, so who am I to complain? Who knows in how long we'll be at Chicago. Perhaps we're just a couple of hours away. I guess I'll let the sleep help me find out. I don't know if I'll have a nightmare again, or if I'll see Troye accusing me of horrible things. But well, I think you and I both know that secretly, I was actually looking forward for that to happen. Anything, just so I could see his face and hear his voice again.