//------------------------------// // Chapter 8 // Story: Finding Yourself In Another World // by Jest //------------------------------// Tom awoke with a start, his chest heaving, and his entire body absolutely covered in sweat. For a moment the room itself struggled to enter focus, the man clutching at his chest while struggling to find out what was going on. The last thing he remembered was finally passing out on the floor of Trixie’s wagon, and then a brief moment of falling. “Tom? Tom!” shouted a voice that sounded like it was a great distance away. Blinking away the spots, Tom looked around to find that he was sitting upright in his own bed. No longer was he a griffon, or a girl, but a human man whose girlfriend was staring at him intently. This realization was oddly disappointing for some reason, but he quickly shook off that notion and looked over at his partner. “How long was I out?” he muttered. “Nearly twelve hours,” Emelia exclaimed, sitting back down on the bed. “I was beginning to worry that you weren't going to wake up. I had nine one one ready and everything.” “Please don't do that. The ambulance ride over alone would bankrupt us,” Tom murmured dejectedly. “I thought your insurance would cover that,” Emelia replied. Tom sighed. “I work at a pizza place and a book store. The only thing it covers is paper cuts and grease burns.” “Well, are you feeling better now? Did you have that dream again?” Emelia questioned. Tom released a long exhale and fell back against the bed, his arms spread wide. “You have no idea babe. There was a whole town of those strange creatures and the dad one wanted me to fight a wolf but I couldn't do that. Heck, I couldn't even fly, or even use a weapon with those weird quadrupedal limbs.” “You mean the griffon,” Emelia corrected. “What?” Tom replied. “You are not a griffon. Whoever you were in that dream wasn't you,” Emelia explained. “Right, yeah. Whatever,” Tom dismissed. “The point is that it was weird, and I can remember every moment of it like it really happened. Even the pain of my leg where that wolf attacked the griffon felt incredibly real.” “I can tell,” Emelia pointed out. Tom glanced down at his arm and immediately realized that he was scratching it again. “Right, fuck,” he muttered, noting how red and agitated his skin now was. “You’re going to a clinic,” Emelia stated firmly. “You’ve clearly got some weird case of narcolepsy, and it isn't getting better.” “What part about, I can't afford it, don't you get?” Tom muttered in exasperation. “I didn't say hospital. I said clinic,” Emelia corrected. “There is a free one on the other side of town that is not for profit.” “Those places are terrible and have enormous lines,” Tom dismissed. Emelia leaned over and poked the man in the side. “Do you have a better idea?” Tom lay there for several long seconds before sighing deeply. “You’re right,” he admitted, sitting up suddenly. “Wait, twelve hours? That means my shift is about to start!” “Can't you take time off? This is serious,” Emelia stated while Tom scrambled out of bed. “No can do,” Tom retorted, hopping around with one leg in his pants. “We can barely afford this place as is. If I lose one of my jobs we’d have to go back to that shithole on sixty-seventh street.” “Oh alright,” Emelia exclaimed with a pout. “But you are going to that clinic, today.” “Just send the hours, and location to my phone!” Tom shouted, stuffing his head into a shirt. “If I rush I might be able to pick up some food on the way.” “Get something healthy!” Emelia called. “Sure thing honey!” Tom lied while sprinting out the door. “Now let's hope Greg isn't working.” Tom blinked slowly, his shoulders slack and his posture poor. His entire body ached, and his eyelids drooped, despite this he continued to sit upright on the hospital bed. He wanted nothing more than to lie down for a few minutes, to give his eyes a rest after his long day but he refused. Without any way to determine if he was going to end up back in that weird place, he couldn't afford to fall asleep for even a second. A beep prompted him to pull out his phone and gaze down at the screen. I swung a deal with an old friend to get you an appointment with a trained psychiatrist, but that won't be for a while. Don't worry about the money, she’s covering this pro bono, as one of her regulars unexpectedly quit. Read the message from Emelia. Thanks, what happened to them? Tom replied after a short pause. They uh, won't be needing her help anymore. Emelia answered almost immediately. “Grim,” Tom muttered to himself. A sudden knock made him put away his phone and sit upright, attempting to look more awake than he felt. A difficult task and one he wasn't even sure he had accomplished even after straightening his spine. A moment later the door opened, and a tired, but smiling young woman wearing mostly black entered the room. Her long sleeve, skirt, choker, makeup, hair, rings, belt, and large, heavy shoes were all the same dark shade. In her hand was gripped a clipboard and on her face was a wide, genuine grin that put Tom at ease. “Tom Williams?” she asked. “That's me,” Tom replied. “Great, one moment,” replied the girl. She turned, pushed shut the door, and sat down across from the man, seating herself behind a slim desk. Though like most things in the underfunded clinic, the desk was old and partially damaged, it held up at least. The antique even contained a pen which the woman plucked from a cabinet and clicked several times before turning toward him. “My name is Layla, and I’ll be assessing you today,” she stated. “How does this work exactly, are you a doctor?” Tom inquired. “The doctor on staff is actually out for the day,” Layla replied. “But I can assist in setting up your file and getting you started so this whole thing isn't a total waste.” Tom sighed. “Just my luck.” “Look. I know it isn't ideal, but it's late, and at least this way we can avoid all these questions if or when you come in tomorrow,” Layla offered. “Sure, whatever,” Tom grouched. “So, what brings you into the clinic?” Layla pressed, lifting her clipboard. “Where to begin?” Tom muttered, leaning against the wall. “I couldn't sleep so my girlfriend got me these organic sleeping pills. I didn't think they’d work but that night I fell asleep almost instantly and had some of the wildest nightmares of my life.” “Do you know what brand they were, or where she got them?” Layla asked. “I don't know. I got the bottle at home though,” Tom remarked. “If you do come back in then make sure you take a picture or bring the bottle with you. There's a reason a lot of those companies aren't allowed to stock their goods at normal stores,” Layla exclaimed. “I didn't even think about that,” Tom admitted. “She’s usually so good at doing her own research.” “Continuing on,” Layla offered, tapping her pen. “I doubt you would be coming here if it was just a few nightmares after taking some potentially sketchy pills.” “Right,” Tom murmured. “In the dream, I got bitten by a wolf and it felt horrible. I remember the agony as it hung onto my arm, ripping through my flesh and tearing apart my muscle.” “Is that why you keep scratching your arm?” Layla pressed. Tom blinked and looked down to find that he was indeed clawing at his skin. “Err yeah. Shit. I didn't even notice,” he muttered. “Just try not to. Continue,” Layla pressed. “Right, so I had this horrible dream where I was this uh… female griffon,” Tom all but whispered. “And got attacked by a wolf. The first night ended with me passing out in my dream in front of this cabin in the woods. At which point I woke back up.” “Huh. Interesting,” Layla murmured, hastily scratching down notes. “But that's not all,” Tom continued. “I went to bed last night and the dream continued right where it left off. In fact, it was like the dream world was continuing while I was awake.” “And you were a female griffon again?” Layla asked. Tom blushed and nodded. “Yeah, it was weird, but not as weird as the whole getting bit thing. I didn't even know you could feel pain in dreams.” “It's possible,” Layla muttered. “Though it usually means there is something wrong with the limbic centers of your brain. I’m just a med student though so don't jump to conclusions and think you have cancer or something crazy.” “Right, yeah. Of course,” Tom murmured. “So, the dream picked up back where it left off?” Layla prompted. Tom nodded. “I walked around this weird griffon town chatting with people and a bunch of weird stuff happened. This one ended with me talking to a unicorn and falling asleep in a wagon, only to wake back up in the real world.” “That certainly is… abnormal,” Layla remarked. “You’re telling me. It feels like I’m losing my damn mind and it's hard to get a full night’s sleep when I’m living a whole other life whenever I close my eyes,” Tom exclaimed. “I’m going to ask you a few questions now if that's alright with you?” Layla offered. “Of course. Go ahead,” Tom replied. “Have you been having any headaches, blurred vision, or difficulty concentrating these past few days?” Layla asked. Tom shook his head. “No. I mean. I haven't exactly been feeling well-rested despite apparently sleeping sounder than the dead.” “Hmm,” Layla hummed to herself. “Does your family have any history of heart disease?” “Not that I’m aware,” Tom answered. “One final one for now and I warn you this one may sound a little odd,” Layla warned. “Shoot,” “Do you frequently dream that you are a woman?” Layla pressed. “I… a few times, why?” Tom inquired. Layla shrugged. “I’ve had a few patients whose dysphoria comes out as frequent and intense dreams of being a different gender than the one they were born as.” “Dysphoria… you think I’m trans?” Tom exclaimed in shock. “It's just a possibility,” Layla replied, raising her hands defensively. “I’m not telling you how to feel or suggesting who you may or may not be.” Tom sighed, his shoulders falling slack. “I mean. I was a little effeminate when I was younger, but I was just a late bloomer. I’m not trans.” “Hey I’m not saying you are,” Layla repeated. “All I’m suggesting is that you should consider the possibility. I would also make an appointment with your family doctor as this might be something more serious than an identity crisis.” Tom chuckled bitterly. “That's just what I need. As if my life could get any worse.” “Hey, it's alright,” Layla exclaimed, gently taking Tom’s hand and clutching it in her own. “My girlfriend used to be my boyfriend at one point and she came out the other side happier the other. In less than a year she was able to take herself off her anxiety medication and hasn't needed to renew her prescription for fluoxetine in months.” “That's great for them,” Tom muttered absently. “She came out of the experience happier, healthier, and a whole new person. Again, that might not be you but just think about it okay?” Layla pressed, giving his hand a squeeze. Tom nodded. “I will.” Tom gently opened the covers and slipped beneath them, warry of waking up his sleeping partner. His efforts were in vain, however, as the young woman rolled over, and opened her eyes, blinking rapidly. “Oh hey,” she murmured. “I didn't hear you come in.” “I was trying to be quiet,” Tom replied. “It was a long drive from the clinic.” “What did they say?” Emelia inquired. “They think I might have something wrong with my brain, or it might be something else entirely,” Tom answered, the second half barely coming out louder than a whisper. “What, really?” Emelia asked, pushing herself up on an elbow. “It's just a possibility,” Tom cautioned. “And the doctor wasn't in so I couldn't even know for sure.” Emelia relaxed, falling back to the bed. “What was the other thing?” “Well the nurse thought I might… possibly,” Tom hesitated a moment. “Be trans.” Emelia blinked slowly. “Really?” “She said that there are others who have experienced something like I have who ended up being… you know,” Tom muttered. “That certainly is a lot. How are you holding up?” Emelia gently inquired. “Honestly? I’m not sure which I hope it is,” Tom murmured half to himself. “At least if its some kind of tumor it can be cut out of me.” “You shouldn't hope for a tumor,” Emelia pointed out. “It sure would be easier. Maybe then I could finally get some time off,” Tom remarked. Emelia took her partner's hand in her own and squeezed gently. “Either way we’ll get through it together.” “Babe would you still…” Tom hesitated, his expression darkening. “Still love me if I was a girl?” Emelia blinked several times, releasing her hold on Tom’s hand for a moment before gripping it once more. “Of course dear,” she exclaimed. “You’d still be that wonderful man- er person who stole my heart all those years ago.” “Thanks,” Tom whispered. “Now get some rest. You have an early shift tomorrow morning and you can't sleep in again unless you feel like calling in sick,” Emelia offered. “Err right. Can't do that,” he muttered. “Good night sweety,” Emelia exclaimed. The woman then rolled back onto her side, turning away from Tom, who lay there in silence, staring at the ceiling. Extending a hand, he imagined what his nails would look like with polish on them, or if they weren't so darn short. The thought made a strange feeling of repulsion well in his chest, causing him to quickly tuck his arm back under the covers. Let's just try and get some sleep. He thought quietly to himself. Maybe tonight I won't wake up as her and I can instead dream of running my own business or something normal. Closing his eyes, the man tried to think of something other than Gluey, and his dream life. Yet no matter how hard he tried, Tom couldn't help but think back to where he had left off. Of Trixie, of her wagon, of the strange forest he had woken up in a few days ago, and of the strange predicament, he was in. And would soon find himself in again.