The dreams, they're back.

I sat with my head in my hands not daring to meet the eyes of the agent across from me.

Can I please get more of the meds?

I tried to hide the desperation in my voice for fear of being accused an addict.

I suppose the reality is that I was an addict, but the drug I longed for was peace. You know we can't do that, Jeffrey,

at least not yet. The word slid out of Agent White's mouth like a song. Now look at me and let's get

this started. You're so close to being finished. So we do this and I won't ever have to see that

place again? Correct, Jeffrey. This is to be our last meeting.

And then the foundation will permanently provide you with medication.

The dreams, or memories rather, will cease to disturb you.

Shall we proceed?

She walked over to a bland hospital bed that was draped in white paper.

Should I just lie down? I asked.

Agent White patted the bed.

Please, we will operate like normal.

I assure you, this session is no different than any other we have had.

The only caveat being that it may go for a greater length of time.

I stood and walked over to the bed.

Agent White handed me what she called the scanner as I awkwardly climbed aboard the beige

vessel that would transport me back to my own personal hell.

The large parchment paper crackled under

my weight and startled me. I noticed the trash can in the corner of the room was full of body-sized

...