One
The whip marks on Lizzie’s arm still aching, she hit the door with all her strength. It seemed to be stuck in the wall, motionless. He held the whip in his hand, slowly approaching. Lizzie hit the wall with her head…
Lizzie woke up.
It was five in the morning. Her boyfriend was by her side, asleep. He looked tired. She stroked his deep dark circles with her index finger. His scary face in the dream suddenly flashed in her mind. Lizzie immediately held her hand back.
Lizzie sat up, looking out of the window. The sky had a blue haze, making trees glow with a dizzy light.
"You woke up." Her boyfriend's voice broke the silence.
"A nightmare." Lizzie’s voice sounded a little hoarse.
Lizzie lay down. He held her in his arms, gently stroking her hair with his fingertips. "Don’t be afraid," he said, "I'm here."
She looked at him. His eyes reflected the green light of the trees. He also looked at her. She was afraid, but somehow felt a little peace of mind.
"I couldn’t sleep." Lizzie got up.
“Let me make the breakfast. You look tired.” Lizzie’s boyfriend said.
Lizzie curled up on a sofa in the living room. She had been having similar dreams for many weeks, and they grew scarier and scarier. He was a totally different person in her dreams. If dreams were reflections of the subconscious, what was she being afraid of?
Lizzie smelled the pleasant aroma of freshly-cooked breakfast from the kitchen. There was really nothing to be afraid of.
Pudding jumped on the sofa, lying next to Lizzie. Pudding was a cat Lizzie and her boyfriend had been raising together, since Lizzie quitted her job. The whole idea of staying at home was stupid, making Lizzie remain a naïve and dumb girl forever.
Pudding climbed up Lizzie’s arm. She felt a little strange. Painful. She rolled up the sleeve and saw something she was very familiar with…
Whip marks. Red whip marks covered by white unguent.
Two
Lizzie’s boyfriend was a psychiatrist and neurobiologist. Lizzie never knew what exactly his jobs were, which was unbelievable, because they had been together for three years. She only had an obscure impression that he was obsessed about dream and reality.
The second floor in their house was her boyfriend’s “research area”. Lizzie never went upstairs, because he did not allow her to. Lizzie was always obedient, obedient to a degree that was even annoying. However, today was different. Somehow she had a strong desire to take a look at that place. He had left for a meeting.
Lizzie slowly walked up the stairs. They were squeaky, as though saying they didn’t agree with what Lizzie was doing now.
Two metal doors appeared in front of her. She opened the left one. It was a clinic. A smell of dust indicated it had been abandoned a long time ago. All papers and books were scattered on the ground. Lizzie saw photos of her boyfriend’s ex-girlfriends on the wall. She asked about them before, but the answers were always “I don’t want to talk about it”. She saw her own photo, which was taken two years ago. She was smiling in the picture, a wholly different person from now. Now she looked haggard and slovenly, much older than her actual age.
On the right side was a laboratory, full of different machines. A sense of familiarity surrounded her, as though she had been here before, for many many times.
On one of the machines, she saw some brown curly hair, just like hers.
“One day I will create machines that can make people think reality is dream, and dream is reality.”
Three
Lizzie had been noticing a man and a woman sitting next to her for a long time.
It was a Saturday noon, but this Japanese restaurant was almost empty. Bored waitresses dressed in black skirts leaned on the cashier. The middle-aged man behind the cashier was staring at Lizzie. Lizzie realized it and he quickly looked away. Lizzie knew what he was thinking. She always came here with another person, but today that person was sitting with another girl, just next to her, and pretending Lizzie and him were strangers.
Lizzie looked at the pink salmon sashimi on their table. They looked delicious. The man noticed Lizzie. He looked at her. His eyes were empty and cruel.
“There are two people inside me. The other me is eating the real me. I’m a psychiatrist. I know this is extremely difficult to be completely cured.” Lizzie remembered those words he said when he forced her to leave him.
The man sitting next to Lizzie was the second person. The person that woke up in the night and left whip marks on her arms.
Lizzie held a note in her hand. She was thinking how she could pass it to the woman without he knowing it.
“Those dreams are real. Leave him.”