ten weeks ago, she awoke violently from a nightmareâas if jolted by electricityâand found she was sitting in her car. The windshield was misty from her breath. She clung to the steering wheel like a drowning swimmer to a life raft and watched the blood flow out of her swollen knuckles. She had three long scratches on her right forearm. Somehow she had driven to church, parked in front of it, and turned off the engine. Her pajama top was spattered with the blood from her arm, and she could feel a stinging cold in her bare feet. She drove home, shaking more from fear than the temperature. It was 4:19 when she got back into bed, cowering under her comforter and shivering until dawn.
A few hours later, she called the Oakland Sleep Institute.
She never figured out how she hurt her arm, and for weeks, those wounds were the only thing convincing her that the entire incident wasnât a dream.
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With no introduction and no reassuring smile, Dr. Clay begins talking as soon as he enters the room. His brown socks donât quite match the color of his pants or tweed jacket, and his striped tie is as interesting as the hallway. He reminds Samantha of a college English professor, but instead of dog-eared novels, he carries files and a yellow notepad.
âYou are all here because everything else has failed.â His voice is neither loud nor soft, but the intensity of it gives him tremendous authority. He speaks with a kind of reverence for what heâs saying, like a man who values the power of words and expects others to do the same.
âEach of you suffers from chronic forms of insomnia and parasomniaâa state in which people can act out their dreams. As you know, parasomnias are manifested in various ways, depending on what stage of sleep youâre in. The most severe and potentially dangerous type is the night terror. In its early stages, this disorder disrupts sleep and leads to behaviors in both semisleep and sleeping statesâmostly sleepwalking, grinding your teeth, that kind of thing. Over a longer period of time, as with all of you, the symptoms become more acute. You wake up screaming and frightenedâunable to remember what you dreamed about, how you ended up outside one morning, how you got cut or bruised.
âIn its most advanced stages, this disorder can cause seizures or lead to physical violence against yourself and others.â He pauses to look at each of them. âThis is why weâre hereâto get control of this before it gets control over you.â
Samanthaâs isnât sure whether he has made her feel better or worse, but he has convinced her to trust him. Something about the dry conviction of his words wins her over. He looks down at his notepad and reads each of their names aloud.
âOne other person is supposed to be here.â He writes something about this, then looks back at the group. âFor the next week, youâll be sleeping hereâin individual rooms on the fifthfloor. Weâll start treatment tonight at nine. Bring whatever makes you most comfortableâa favorite blanket, pillowââ
Arty interrupts, his voice tight and frustrated. âWhat exactly is the treatment?â
âItâs a form of electrohypnosis. Youâll wear lightweight goggles that emit flashes of light and an earpiece that produces synchronized harmonic tones. This will induce a kind of trance state to relax your body and promote sleep.â
âHypnosis?â Sam asks.
He must hear the waning confidence in her voice, but he doesnât seem concerned. He answers with absolute conviction, as if she had asked him the answer for two plus two. âYes.â
Perhaps it doesnât matter, she thinks. He knows that theyâre exhausted from fighting a losing battle, that theyâll try anything to keep hoping.
âWhen you get here tonight,â he continues, âtell the receptionist that youâre part of Endymionâs
Hundreds of Years to Reform a Rake