Night Terrors (8 page)

By the time I reach the first cars, two people are standing on the pavement. ‘You too?’ exclaims the first woman, clasping her throat as she addresses her companion. ‘It sounds awful but I have to admit I’m really glad I’m not the only one.’

I frown. That doesn’t sound good. I bypass the pair of them in favour of checking out what else is going on. I don’t have to go much further to see that not only is the surgery car park already brimming with cars but there’s a queue of people snaking out from the front door. At least a dozen tired-looking people are slumped against the wall.

‘Do you think the water supply is infected?’ someone asks with a faint tremor in their voice.

‘No. It’s mobile phones,’ another responds with absolute certainty. ‘All those radioactive waves are causing damage.’

I stop and join the end of the queue. An older man with heavy shadows under his eyes glances at me. ‘Here’s another one,’ he mutters.

‘What’s going on?’ I ask nervously.

He waves a hand at the waiting people. ‘Isn’t it obvious? We’re all here to see a doctor. And,’ he leans towards me, ‘we all have the same symptoms. My sister in Bathgate says it’s happening there too.’

‘What? What’s happening?’

He gives me a long look. ‘You’re one of the lucky ones then. It’s not happened to you.’

I resist the urge to grab him by the lapels and shake him. ‘What’s not happened? I don’t understand.’

‘Sleep paralysis,’ he says with an air of finality. ‘We’ve all had it.’

Something deep inside me freezes solid. ‘What is sleep paralysis?’

He grimaces. ‘You don’t want to know. Just be thankful that you don’t have it. Yet.’

I swallow. This has to be related to my worries about what I’ve been experiencing in the Dreamlands. Rather than feeling vindicated, I feel sick.

The only bonus is that I recognise one of the cars parked in the far corner. Rawlins. Her reasons for sitting outside my house in the middle of the night are becoming clear.

I scan the rest of the line for the police sergeant’s familiar glower. She’s not there, so I head towards the front of the line.

‘Hey!’ someone says, irritated. ‘There’s a queue here!’

Several others push themselves off the wall. I step back and put my hands up in submission. There’s nothing like loss of sleep to make people act out of character.

‘I’m not here to see the doctor,’ I say, soothingly. ‘I have a friend inside who I want to talk to.’

I receive some suspicious glares and there are a few sidelong mutters but they let me pass and I squeeze into the lobby.

I’m taken aback by the sight inside. This is a small Scottish town. The biggest thing that’s happened here recently is the summer fair committee coming to blows over whether they should allow the sale of teeth-shattering toffee after three children ended up at the emergency dentist’s last year.

The scene that greets me now is akin to the aftermath of a terrible disaster or a war. There are people everywhere. One man is arguing vociferously with the strung-out receptionist, demanding to know why he’s not been seen yet. There are two kids asleep on the floor next to the packed chairs in the waiting area. The atmosphere reeks of desperation.

A scuffle breaks out in the far corner. I see Rawlins extricate herself from her seat and stride over to sort it out. Her calm, professional tone smooths the ruffled feathers on both sides and she encourages the angry pair to separate. When she turns back to her chair and sees that someone has claimed it, however, there’s a flash of anger in her eyes that takes me aback. If this sleep paralysis, whatever it is, is affecting her to this point it must be serious.

Feeling my gaze, she glances in my direction. Her eyebrows raise and she strides towards me. ‘Ms Lydon.’

I incline my head. ‘Sergeant.’ I look around the room. ‘This doesn’t look good.’

‘No,’ she says grimly. ‘It doesn’t.’

‘Sleep paralysis?’ I ask.

I receive a terse nod. She stares at me for one long drawn-out moment. ‘I have to stay here in case there’s more trouble,’ she says finally. ‘But we need to talk.’

I point to the side where there’s a small space. Together we move over and lower our voices.

‘Are all these people here for the same thing?’ I ask.

‘Most of them. I think there’s a broken arm and a kid with the flu as well.’

I twiddle nervously with my hair. ‘That’s not good.’

Her expression is hard. ‘No. No, it’s not.’ She reaches for my arm, her fingers curling round it. ‘What are you going to do about it?’

I tense. ‘I’m not sure what I can do. I’m not a doctor.’

‘Look around you,’ she hisses. ‘Have you ever seen so many people in this surgery before?’

I refrain from pointing out that it’s been a long time since I was capable of visiting the surgery and shake my head. ‘This is why you came round, isn’t it? You wanted to talk to me about this. Why didn’t you?’

She mutters something under her breath. I hear the word ‘crazy’ and immediately understand. After speaking to the policewoman through her dreams when the Mayor was after me, I managed to smooth things over enough to make her think she’d imagined it all. A kernel of suspicion obviously remains but she thinks her idea is too far-fetched to voice aloud. I’m guessing that now she’s running out of options and is prepared to explore the unthinkable. Rawlins is the very definition of pragmatic realism. The fact that she’s considering my appearance in her dreams means something has her worried.

‘I need to understand what’s going on,’ I say urgently. ‘Explain to me exactly what’s been happening. I don’t even know what sleep paralysis is.’ I can guess but I’d rather be sure.

It helps that Rawlins is a professional. She gives a miniscule shake and focuses. ‘For me,’ she begins, ‘it started about ten days ago. I go to sleep like normal and…’ Her voice falters.

‘And?’ I prompt.

‘Not long after I drift off, something heavy starts to pin me down. It’s like a huge weight on my chest. It makes it difficult to breathe.’ Unconsciously she rubs her hand across her body. ‘It’s suffocating. I can’t move. It doesn’t matter what I do, I can’t even wiggle my toes.’

I stare at her. What she’s describing sounds similar to my agoraphobia-induced panic attacks. I know how terrifying they can be. To experience those sensations while asleep must be even worse.

‘That’s awful.’

She snorts. ‘You think?’

Shit. ‘There’s more, isn’t there?’

‘You’d better believe it. The weight on my chest moves. There are hands which hold me on. Legs which…’ She pauses and I can see her struggling for words, ‘…which knee me apart. Hot breath that covers my face. Then I feel the erection. My pyjamas are ripped off and…’

I clench my teeth. ‘You’re assaulted.’ Sickened, I look away.

‘It’s not real,’ Rawlins says quietly. ‘It seems real when it happens but when I wake up I know it was a dream. I’ve never experienced fear like it, though. I’m so helpless, I can’t do a thing to stop it from happening. But,’ she repeats, ‘I know it’s not real. It’s only happening in my head.’

The trouble is that I’m not so sure of that. Not knowing what I know.

‘Sergeant, have there been any physical signs?’ I ask urgently. ‘You said your pyjamas are ripped. When you wake up, are they still torn?’

For a long moment, she doesn’t answer. Her eyes rake my face. ‘No,’ she says slowly. ‘They’re fine. And I’ve even checked myself over, as silly as that sounds. Whatever’s happening isn’t physical.’

For now. And the mental anguish of that kind of experience is going to be more damaging. I let out a long breath. As long as Rawlins can still believe that what’s happening is only in her head, she’ll find it easier to recover. Much as I want to comfort her and tell her I’ll do what I can to help by visiting her dreams as soon as I can, it’s better for her in the long run if she still believes it’s a hallucination.

‘It sounds awful,’ I say, meaning every single word. ‘I can’t begin to imagine what you’re going through. But I’m not sure how I can help.’

There’s a sudden flare of anger. ‘Don’t you get it? I’m afraid of going to sleep!’ She throws her arms out at the other people waiting. ‘So are they! I’m not sure what I believe you’re capable of, Ms Lydon, but I know you’re capable of something. Help us.’

I shake my head. ‘I don’t know how.’ Feeling like an absolute shit, I lick my lips. ‘Have you tried a few drops of lavender on your pillow? Herbal remedies can often be very useful.’

The disappointment on her face strikes at my very core. Rawlins doesn’t believe I’m capable of visiting dreams but there’s a part of her that wants it to be true. I take her hand again sympathetically. I want to make absolutely sure I can apparate into her subconscious.

‘The best thing to do,’ I say, ‘is to go home and try to get some rest.’

She is struggling not to snap at me that the last thing she wants to do is sleep. She pulls her hand away.

A door to the surgery opens. A woman in a crumpled suit appears and clears her throat loudly. She’s holding a prescription pad.

‘Thank you for your patience, ladies and gentlemen. We are doing the best we can and will see anyone who needs a doctor if you’re willing to wait. For anyone who is here because of sleep-paralysis symptoms, we can write you a prescription for chlomirapine hydrochloride. We require full medical histories before we do this, however, and that will take time.’ There’s a sudden buzz in the room and several people sit up straighter. ‘Let me be clear that the prescription is for a very mild dosage. We recommend that anyone with medical problems does not resort to chemical sleep inducement. The best thing for this paralysis is to avoid stress.’

Despite her warnings, people stampede towards her and clamour for help. The doctor is almost swallowed up in the crowd. Worry gnaws at me as I watch the patients. It must be unheard of for mass prescriptions to be handed out like this, regardless of how mild the dosage is. I know of chlomirapine from my agoraphobic days; it has a lot of side effects.

The doctor yells at everyone to back off. By my side, Rawlins stiffens. Fortunately, the relief that there might be something that could help them makes the crowd relax and they give the doctor some space. She calls for calm and begins to list who cannot take the pills, from breastfeeding mothers to people with kidney problems; she tells them they will be turned away unless their symptoms require emergency treatment and recommends using herbal treatments instead. The atmosphere quietens. A number of people nod thoughtfully and get up to leave, no doubt preparing to hit the small pharmacy in town for the herbal stuff before everyone else. I heave a sigh of relief. Things could be worse.

Abandoning Rawlins, I move to the door and stand next to it so that I can brush the skin of everyone who walks out. I get a few strange looks but this isn’t the time to be concerned. The more dreams I can visit where sleep paralysis is an issue, the more I’ll learn about it.

The thought that this is happening all over the country is too terrifying to contemplate. I have to focus on the here and now or I’ll never get anywhere. I see the sergeant eyeing me curiously from the other side of the surgery. Her sharp eyes have noted what I’m doing. I give a nonchalant shrug as if to say I’m simply being polite by letting others leave before me.

‘You should go home,’ I mouth. Please. Go home and sleep so I can see inside your head, I pray silently.

The corner of her mouth turns up in acknowledgment. As soon as I’ve touched as many of the sleep paralysis victims as I can, I give Rawlins a reassuring smile and slip out. I’m going to need some that damn herbal stuff too. It looks like I’m going to be spending a lot of time asleep.

Chapter Six

Dreams have only one owner at a time. That’s why dreamers are lonely.

Erma Bombeck

When I get home, I fire off an urgent email to Dante, explaining what’s happening. Not only do I need someone else to know what’s going on, I also require him to come and find me in time. Based on our last conversation, I guess that even though he can’t apparate into our dreamlands zone, he can still track me through others’ dreams. Just when I think I’m getting an understanding of how all this Travelling malarkey works, something else comes along to change what I think I know. The rules seem to be almost as nebulous as dreams themselves.

Despite everything, I still have to be at the Dreamlands town square for the Department’s meeting. The enormity of everything I have to worry about threatens to overwhelm me. It doesn’t get better when I flick on the television and see on the news that the problem of sleep paralysis is affecting all corners of the country. Numerous experts give advice but nobody can suggest a reason for the sudden affliction. The Minister for Health is due to make a statement in the next couple of hours. I hope that it’s going to reassure, rather than panic.

I check my watch. It’s already late afternoon. It’s less than four hours since I woke up from my cat nap but, while I have no way of knowing whether Rawlins has taken my advice and has gone to sleep, I need to go under again to find out. I need to see this for myself.

I sit cross-legged on my sofa and try to relax. I’m no meditation expert but I know the basics. I centre myself and concentrate on loosening up. Then I lie down and close my eyes. Come on, Zoe. Sleep.

My ears prickle. I hold my breath, praying that I’m in Rawlins’ subconscious and not the Dreamlands. When I open my eyes and register the small, darkened room, my skin tingles. There’s a lump in the middle of the bed and the faintest chink of light coming from the window.

I tiptoe over and peek out. It’s still daytime. I feel a flicker of satisfaction; of course Rawlins would invest in black-out curtains when she has to work nights so often. I’m in the right place. I drop the curtains back into place and peer at the sleeping figure. It’s definitely her. The severe hairstyle she normally sports has been abandoned and her hair spreads out across her pillow. Her face is far less severe in sleep.

If landing inside people’s dreams is strange and uncomfortable, being in a dream that’s taking place inside someone’s bedroom is even worse. I’m an intruder in almost every sense of the word - but it’s not like I have much choice.