• Day 1
    “So…,” waited the therapist.
    “I had a dream the other night,” the boy said. He was slouched in the couch and wearing a band tee and blue jeans. The fifteen year old just chilled on the couch with a bored expression and slits on his wrists.
    “What was it about?” asked the therapist, seeming interested.
    The boy stood up and walked to the window.
    “See that factory over there?” the boy asked.
    “Of course,” the therapist replied.
    “It’s going to blow-up,” the boy said quite simply.
    “You mean it did in your dream? It’s not going to blow-up; it was only a dream, Hawl”, the therapist said.
    “No. It felt too real to be ‘only a dream’. It was so vivid and just…real,” Hawl said.
    There was a silent pause and the therapist scribbled some notes on her clipboard.
    “I want to ask you some questions now,” said Hawl.
    “Sure,” confirmed the therapist.
    “What is your name?”
    “Dr. Frankowski,” said the therapist.
    “No. What is your name?” the boy asked again with an edge of frustration in his voice.
    “Carol,” she said.
    “Do you have a family, Carol?” asked Hawl, trying to make conversation.
    “Just my mother,” Carol replied.
    “Are you close with her?” asked Hawl.
    “Very. But she’s going on a vacation to Florida soon. She leaves in tow days,” Carol explained.
    “That’s nice,” Hawl commented.
    At that moment, a timer rang.
    “Well I guess that’s it for today. It was very…interesting. I’ll see you tomorrow then,” said Carol.

    Day 2
    “…did you do it?” asked Carol.
    “What are you talking about?” asked Hawl.
    “’What are you talking about?’ Look out the window!” Carol screamed.
    He did
    Where the factory was; there now stood rubble. A fire truck and three ambulances reared at the scene. People moaned, screamed, and cried.
    “A bomb was found in there. Two hundred people died at the last count. I want to ask you again: did you plant the bomb?” said Carol.
    “No”
    “Then how did you know?! I really doubt you dreamt it. It’s more like you nightmared it,” said the frustrated therapist.
    “I don’t know. ‘It was only a dream’,” he quoted her.
    Carol took a deep breath and cleared her throat.
    “What happened there?” asked Carol, , pointing to Hawl’s cut-up wrists. She obviously wanted the subject changed.
    “My cat scratched me. He’s crazy,” Hawl chuckled.
    “You have to look the person in the eye if you even want them to think you’re not lying,” joked Carol. Hawl didn’t think this was very funny.
    “No! My baby! My baby!” a shout erupted from the rubble. Carol’s curiosity killed the cat. She looked through the window to see a woman sobbing over her husband, who was on a gurney. She stroked his face with her finger tips. A tear fell from her beautiful cheek and landed on his face. At that moment, the husband’s eyes shut for…forever.
    “I had another dream last night,” said Hawl. This brought Carol’s attention away from the grieving beauty and to Hawl.
    “About what?” she asked, trying to seem only a little interested.
    “It’s hard to tell. In the middle of the ocean- I think – there was an airplane. But the airplane was in pieces, scattered across the ocean. Corpses floated throughout- except one. She looked older and had a perm,” briefed Hawl.
    They both knew what each other was thinking: Carol’s mother.
    They stared at each other for what seemed like forever. It was a very long and awkward silence. But what broke it was the timer.
    “I think that’s it for today. See you tomorrow,” Carol shooed him out.
    After Hawl left her office, Carol immediately retrieved her cell phone from her purse and dialed her mother. It rang only once.
    “Hello?” the older woman answered.
    “Hey mom, it’s Carol,” Carol greeted.
    “Well, hi,” her mother said.
    “Mom…I don’t think you should get on the plane tomorrow. It’s just…You know me and my fear of planes,” she requested.
    “I can assure you that nothing is going to happen to me. But if you’re really this worried, I’ll go to Florida later.”
    “Oh, thank you…I just love you so much. I’ll talk to you later,” said Carol, feeling guilty that she was delaying her mother’s vacation.
    “Buh-bye.”

    Day 3
    Hawl and carol stared at each other for awhile until Hawl broke it by saying “what? Why are you staring at me?”
    “It’s just hard for me to admit that…I don’t get you. You’re so…come with me,” she stood up and walked to the main lobby of the office. Hawl followed. Carol pointed to the television and said simply “watch”.
    “This is channel seven action news. We have an update on this bizarre- very bizarre- incident. Northwest airline flight 186 mysteriously crashed in the ocean this morning. There are no survivors…but one elderly woman with a strong gut feeling. I’m now here with Paula Frankowski. She was supposed to be a passenger on flight 186, but her intuition-“started the reporter.
    “It was not my intuition; I love Florida! It was my daughter’s intuition. And now I thank God, from the bottom of my old heart, for her fear of planes,” Carol’s mom cut the reporter off.
    At that exact moment, the weirdest, strangest, and just plain-old effed-up thing happened. First, Hawl howled in pain. Second, Carol saw why. More slits appeared on Hawl’s wrists…but how? He was just watching the TV with his therapist when, all of a sudden, his wrist slit open. “AH!” he growled as blood dripped down his arm.
    “You!’ he growled again, “ It’s all your fault! You saved her! Your-you-you ruined it! The dream must come true-as I saw it- or this is what happens!” Hawl shoved his arm into her face so Carol could see. Almost every inch of the inside of his arm looked like a razor blade attacked it.
    “I don’t know how or why, but when I have a dream and it doesn’t happen when I’m awake, I cut. But I don’t cut. My body slips open by itself,” he put his face just inches from Carol’s and said “something is wrong with me”.
    “So…you did blow-up the factory?” Carol asked slowly.
    Hawl only responded with a grin; one you would see on the Coyote after he finally caught Road-Runner.
    “Is that a ‘yes’”!? Carol screamed. “You thought tour one single life was worth all those innocent people you killed!?”
    The timer rang.
    “I believe that is all for today,” Hawl mocked. He got up from the couch and walked out.

    Day 4: Confrontation
    “How was your day tod-“Carol started
    “AH!” Hawl shouted.
    Yet again, his wrist mysteriously cut open. Blood dripped to his fingertips and fell to the floor.
    “Ms. Frankowski, I had a dream last night. I’ll give you the synopsis,” said Hawl with an edge of…hysteria in his voice, “Actually, it was quite simple really! A lady was in a room. She had very nice eyes,” he looked up from the floor and into Carol’s eyes, “She was on the floor- dead. A knife was held in her hand- and she was you, Carol,” he explained.
    She gasped and took a step close to the door. A hybrid of fear and panic rushed through her body; her blood ran cold.
    “Now I’m going to give you a choice,” Hawl took a ******** dagger from his pocket and set it on the couch next to him, “you can either do it your self or have me kill you. Well, you wouldn’t want me to bleed to death, would you?”
    Silently, Carol picked up the knife and pointed it towards her chest. In the blink of an eye, she thrusted the knife towards her. But at the moment the blade would have hit her, she turned it around and jammed it into Hawl. He took a step back and his face turned pale.
    “That is exactly what I want you to do,” Carol said.
    And that is exactly what he did.
    In this case, dreams don’t come true…