1 Tails and Heads

"Do you remember anything Typha?"

I swept the room; the blue walls, the framed pastel daffodil.

"Typha- do you remember anything from back then?" My attention snapped back to Mrs. Shiva, my counselor. Remember anything? From back then? My mind wandered for a moment; I could feel something. It was a hint of something- a vague, fogged feeling. It was not of any place or face, but the emotion was there- that feeling that was bad to have.

"No." I answered; after all, that was why I was here.

"What has happened since then Typha? It'll help me help you if I have a basic understanding of your past." The smile on her face was supposed to make me feel less uncomfortable telling a stranger about the things I had always kept locked inside my chest. My fingers pulsed with anxiety, and though I wanted to flicker them, I reigned myself in.

"After first being put in the system at 10, I was fostered by a kind family. The Stevenstons. They helped me through high school and prepared me for college."

"Do you visit them on holidays?" I wondered why this was important, but I nodded my head in response.

"And if you don't mind me asking you, why didn't they adopt you?" That question- it was the one that conflicted with my lack of memories. If I said yes, something inside me thrashed and clawed against my rib cage.

"I didn't want them to. To adopt me, I mean." My voice dropped slightly, and it was enough for her to move on to a different topic. My fingers twitched slightly- it was getting hard to be calm. I clenched my jaw and swallowed away the dryness in my throat.

"Your previous family then- the one you got separated from. Do you have any hope to find them some day or what happened to them? Maybe some unresolved feelings that trouble you that you would like us to focus on?" When I needed that fogged feeling the most, it was mute. How was I supposed to go about finding answers if I didn't understand anything in the first place?

"I'm not quite sure about those yet, there is so much I don't understand..." I clasped my hands together and looked into my lap. I was motivated to start seeing her for something else. "I would like to start on a dream I've been having repeatingly- obsessively."

Her eyes intensified slightly now at having a goal in mind, before looking down and typing into her computer. She looked up and took off her glasses.

"Great Typha, I'm glad we can start somewhere. Everything in our sessions- including the notes I just took- will be staying only with me; I want you to know that." Somehow, that didn't make me feel much better.

"We'll get into it in our next session, and before then I'd like to give you some homework." She got up from her chair and started digging through papers in a filing cabinet.

"Sometimes, before telling the dream to someone else, taking notes about certain details on your own will help us to understand what you are feeling with as little confusion and frustration as possible." With her back to me, I looked to her book stand in the corner of the room; psychology, behavioral counseling, some books about different cultures and ethnological studies littered into the mix. She turned back around and placed a stapled packet in my hands.

"Here- it might seem childish and stupid, but I want you to try to complete it anyways." A nod jogged my chin as I stood up and shook her hand.

"Thank you." The daffodil picture felt like it was condescending for some reason. Her hand pulled open the door of her... office? It didn't really look like one, but it was where she worked, so perhaps office is the best word for it.

"I'll see you next Saturday at 8 AM then. Have a good day Typha." A small smile marked my lips as I walked out and started towards the exit. Reassurance placed a hand on my shoulder as I walked back to my car; it was nice to know that maybe I would finally start to understand things.

Once I got back to my apartment, another sigh fell from my lips. Hope. It was nice to have a little bit of it.

"Typha, is that you?" I set my things away in the closet and sat down on our sofa.

"Yea it's me, Kayla"

Shuffling sounded from down the hall before she walked over and collapsed beside me, her hair fanning across my face. I blew and spit the hair from my mouth, ultimately admitting defeat by just turning my head away.

"So how was it? Were you happy that you finally got to talk to someone?" The slight tease in her voice made me want want to push her off of me, but I let out an annoyed huff instead.

"You were right, I was wrong. There, I said it."

"Ha! I knew it!" She leaped off of me and crossed her arms with a stupid smile on her face. Just by looking at her I could tell she was repeating what I had said a few times- it wasn't often she won our silly arguments. Her hands began to delicately braid her hair as she continued to replay it, and with her distracted, I laid my hand against my face tiredly.

I hadn't really done anything today, but I was still exhausted. In the past few months I had begun to feel as if even a corpse had more energy then me, but falling asleep felt more like a trap than a luxury. The dream I keep having isn't even scary or horrible- it's like most dreams, I told myself. But for a dream, it was torturous in its own way. I peeked at Kayla from the corner of my eye and reminded myself how lucky I was to have her as a roommate. She knew just how stupid the dream was, but still, she wanted me to seek help anyways.

"You look tired Ty," ugh. "You should take a nap- and I know you hate me saying that but you look more and more rough each time I see you." I rolled my eyes and sat up.

"Wow, thanks Kayla. You're such a nice person." A glare made me shut up- she was all fun and games, but she was definitely a 'mom friend'. Responsible, caring- even though she annoyed the hell out of me sometimes, I always needed someone like her in my life.

"Fine, die of sleep deprivation," She snarked. "But before you do, let me leave you some left-overs before I go on my date. You seriously look like you'd die-"

"Kay- it can't be that bad! Can you back off?" My voice was sharp, and though I didn't mean to sound so angry, I felt short fused all the time now.

"You want me to back off? Look at yourself Typha-" A camera noise rang from her phone before she shoved the photo in front of my face. Dark purple bags were protruding from under my eyes and my hair was stringy. A yellow undertone had weaved itself beneath my skin, and my eyes were nearly hollow looking- black and barely focused. Even looking at the photo made me want to close my eyes, but I still resisted. The real world was so much more calm than my dream. I didn't want to lose myself to something that wasn't real- some unsettling fantasy world.

At my silence, she stomped back towards the kitchen and worked loudly; giving me the silent treatment. I was surprised she still set a bowl of soup in front of me before walking out and slamming the door behind her. The sound caused my ears to ache deeply, the pain numbing itself into my jaw and face. With her gone, I weakly lifted myself up and went back to the closet. I dug through my jacket pockets before I found the packet Mrs. Shiva had given me. Completing it would be a good distraction for a little bit.

I flipped it open to the first page and grabbed a pen from our coffee table. Sitting up on the couch was too draining, so instead I sat on the floor and looked at the packet using the coffee table as a hard surface. The warm vapors of the soup whispered against my face as I struggled to focus on the questions.

Question one: Does your daytime sleepiness hamper your efficiency to perform your tasks in school, at work or in any situation?

Yes. Kayla has always been my witness to that. Even responding 'yes' to the first question made me feel angry towards myself, but I let out a limp breath and forced my dead eyes to keep reading.

Question two: Do your dreams evoke emotions, sadness, fear, anger and disgust? Question three: Do you clearly recall the events of your dreams?

I circled 'yes' for both of them and continued on, telling myself I would eat the soup after I finished the first page. Perhaps the 'yes' for the second one had more wiggle room, but I circled it anyways.

Question four: Do you find your dreams unpleasing? Question five: Do you wish you could change the events in your dreams into something more pleasant?

Unpleasing? That foggy feeling from before came to life with in my veins. Its little voice told me to say no, but that wasn't the question. Did I find the dream unpleasant? No, it said once more. No, but I should, I concluded. My fingers felt heavy as I marked them each as 'no's. What was unpleasant was the repetition- the agony and sadness that wakes me up in the middle of the night.

Are you emotionally disturbed right now? ... Yes? Should I be?

Do you prefer not going back to sleep upon waking up from a nightmare? Yes, but I'm not sure I would call it a nightmare. I told myself I would have to google 'nightmare' later to be 100% sure.

Are you able to perform your daytime tasks without feeling sleepy? Isn't this question the same as the other one?

Did you have any painful experiences during childhood? I stared blankly at this one for awhile. Did I? Memories from when I was younger then ten years old were non-existent. Could that have been caused by something painful? Something traumatic? I listened for the fogged voice again, and though it was there, it seemed just as hesitant as me. My hand dipped and circled 'yes'. Perhaps being pessimistic in cases such as these would hold more truth for me; not that I would know.

A cotton-mouth taste bloomed on my tongue as my mind repeated that question a million times over. I looked down the rest of the page, but I couldn't focus on any of them. Trying to save myself from the impending heavy feelings from weighing down on me as they always did, I pulled the soup towards me and ate it, attempting to distract myself. I let my attention be drawn to each taste and texture- actively trying to distract myself from my thoughts. I mused that perhaps it would be fun to be a food critic, but as I tried to describe the taste of the soup, the only word I could come up with was 'potato-ey'. I probably wouldn't be a very good food critic.

Though the question was still in the back of my mind, the warm soup relaxed the chaotic thoughts which were swirling around my head before. Once I finished the soup, I could feel the tension in my face release, and I drew my heavy arm up to answer the few remaining questions.

Question 10: Do you fear going back to sleep again?