(essay)

“Good morning dear. You had nightmares again last night. You’d been tossing and turning and crying for hours.”
“Good morning.”

I knew he would look wrinkled and tired again. His restless sleep disturbs not only him, but also me, so I had to put on a little more makeup today to hide the tired look. It’s a pity that the makeup can’t hide my sadness.

I didn’t want him to see my exhaustion. So I didn’t make eye contact with him, pretending that I was carefully following the new pancake recipe and couldn’t be bothered to ruin our breakfast. It wasn’t the fact of his stormy sleep that bothered me so much as what he dreamed about. In the morning, he never told what exactly disturbed him. And I didn’t tell him that I knew what he said in his sleep. This night not only made me wake up, but also seriously scared.

I didn’t want him to see my worrying. I made so much that I could feed the entire basketball team that our son Jim was on. But I still can’t look him in the eyes. I start the conversation with my back to him.

“Sean, I’d like to talk to you. Your nightmares…it’s already crossing the line. It’s fine if you’re just muttering some nonsense, but it all sounds so real. It’s like you have a plan. It’s like being given this plan…and every time you fall asleep, you resist the plan less and less. Sean, I think you need to see a specia…”

I plucked up the courage to turn around and say it to his face. But no sooner had I started the conversation that I had been collecting words in my head for so long all night, when speech was taken away from me. Sean sat in a nightgown stained with blood. Suddenly I realized that I hadn’t heard the children getting ready for school. Oh my God… did he really do that?

“You haven’t changed your pajamas yet… you didn’t say you had a day off today.”

There is a knife on the table. Also in the blood. I squeeze more and more into the countertop and put my hand so that I can quickly grab the pan.

“Could you wake up the children, please?”

I restrain myself from crying, because I understand that no one will ever wake Jim and Jena.

“When I went to them, they were no longer sleeping.”

In all the time that I look at him, he has never clipped yet. It seems like he’s still asleep. Only during the day. And with open eyes.

I tremble all over. Now, not only from fear, but also from anger. This bastard dared to take over my husband’s body and mind. Killed my children. And it wants to get rid of me.

“It’s all your fault.”

“What?”

“Wake up at last.”

I grab the frying pan to run up to him and charge him with all the power I have and should have. If he hadn’t plunged a knife into my stomach.

* * *

“Dr. Lawrence, patient №589 is awake again. She is in a panic and doesn’t understand what is happening. She’s knocking on the glass and trying to remove the tubes.”

“Did she dream about her husband and children again?”

“Yes, this time her husband killed her.”

“Good. We explore the reactions of the body further. This time program her to kill people as she thinks her children and her husband.”