C 2. Nightmares

"Good Morning, Bala," he said when I was about to sit. I nod my head as a response. 

The only thing that I think this place ever gave me is learning three languages and mastering only one.

English is the only foreign language I'm good at communicating fluently. Yeah, my accent will set me apart from the native English speakers. 

"How are you feeling now?" I stared at him without expression. With all evidence, I do not like this kind of questions. It's not a bad question, but I just don't like them beating around the bush in an effort to make me comfortable. If I decided to open up, then it's okay, but now my thoughts are just not straight, especially since these nightmares are disturbing me much more than before! 

Not to mention, I was kidnapped to this place without my consent. On top of that, for them to have their data, I was forced to be sleeping strapped on a standing bed for almost three months now. That way of sleeping influence me to have more nightmares that I can not even remember.

During the days of the nightmares, they always take me to a room filled with a different futuristic machine as if stolen from a Sci-fi film: a white floating bed, that scan the body; a projector that projects realistic-looking organs the doctors wanted the body; a full-dive cabin that connect to neurons and it will throw your mind in a white space, they used it to monitor the Central Nervous System activities. 

There are a lot of other machines that I don't know their uses.

Seeing that he was just looking at me, I nodded again to answer his meaningless question. Well, if I were to answer, I would say I'm hungry, but they already know. 

"Will you allow me to see your hands please." Being polite in your request will not change the fact you are forcing me to do things.

I shifted my hands from underneath and place them on the table. "Shift them forward please." 

I pushed them then I stopped, there was this thin layer of... I don't know, should I say glass or plastic that is very thin and transparent? I felt familiar with it, thinking I saw something similar, but can't remember where. 

I opened my palms the way he can see them and placed them on the thin glass. They passed through as if passing through nothing!

I thought I'm going to touch the transparent layer, but I did not.

All this time he was watching me. I looked at him puzzled, but he shifted his gaze to my hands and held them with his. He looked and touched them as if a palmist reading a palm. I have the urge to ask him what my future is, but refrain from asking, to maintain my poker face lest he decides to push a conversation on me. 

After he finished I retracted my hands while he wrote in a white file that was sitting, before him, on the table. Damn white again!

"Your nightmare, can you remember anything?" I shook my head. 

"Can you describe how you feel after waking up? The Intense fear, helplessness, or any pain."

"I think it is fear and helplessness," I said for the first time today. He looked at me for a moment and asked again, "Can you describe the type of fear you went through." I like this conversation because it allows me to understand my nightmares. 

They have been interested in my dreams ever since I was brought here for the first time. But I know what they are truly after, though I'm not helping them understand it.

"I think it's about something pursuing me. Or in a place that I do not want to be." His scrutiny was not intense, but I have this feeling he is interpreting my answer with great depth. 

This is not the first time I have this nightmare, but I always forget what I dreamed about. At first, I thought they were the ones inducing the nightmares in me, but later I remembered even before I came to this place, I used to have similar dreams. 

The only difference is that here it became more often: Every two to three days I will have a nightmare, as long as I was strapped on a standing bed. Before coming to this facility, I had it once a month, or once every three months.

From then, he asked questions and I answered with either a nod or shake of my head, and if I was required to speak, I gave a short answer.

"Okay, your first phase has come to an end. Our conversation now is the final evaluation.

From now on you will no longer be confined in your room, and also you will be meeting with others that are special as you!"

I knew I'm not the only one here because in the corridor where my room is there are four other doors. And every, so often I heard the doors opening and closing from time to time. 

"Okay," I said to show that I'm interested. And it worked, he relaxed and smiled as if he found a way to crack me. He must be thinking, he now has two ways that will surely make me speak: my nightmares and being with other people.

"Brandon and Peter will take you to the cafeteria, where you and others will be having your breakfast, lunch and dinner." He looked at me playing with his pen before he continues, "we hope that you make friends."

"Okay." 

We were about to leave the room when I heard his last question. "You still do not know what your Special Ability is?"

I did not expect to hear this question again. But he did say that this is a new phase which means that the most important question of the century will be asked.

At every experiment I went through there was one question that the doctors kept asking "What is your ability?", "What do you think is your ability?" and other similar to it.

I was fed up with these questions that my head throb anytime they asked it. But I always answered vaguely "I think I can see spirit!" But they were never satisfied with it. Because of that, they make me went through different ability testing, but it was for nothing.

"Not yet, I think," I answered. By the time I was out of the room, there was this thing bugging me. After I answered, the man just smiled and repeatedly said I should behave well and try not to get into a fight with anyone.

I understand the precautions, but his smile is like he knew my ability or knew that I have been hiding it from them. But I brush it off by observing the surroundings. The same route but the doors that were closed and I never pass through now they open. Through them, we pass toward the cafeteria.

We passed a room and I saw chairs and tables in an orderly manner. There is also a white screen board placed on a wall facing the tables. "This classroom is for what?" I ask Brandon. He said, "There you will be learning about your abilities. You and others like you." 

"So what is my ability," I asked. I want to have a glimpse if they have an idea. 

"Your dreams or nightmares are linked to your ability. Understanding it will give you a way to comprehend it. And you have already known that anytime you have a nightmare, there will be some changes in you." 

His explanation is something that I knew but influenced by his words I get goosebumps when a memory flashed in my head: a piece of the dream.

The memory flash took away two minutes of me before I returned to normal. I was now standing soaked in my sweat, trembling. My unfocused eyes gradually registered the surroundings.

Brand and Peter we're patiently waiting for me. After I looked at them, there was a concern in their voice and expression when they asked if I'm alright. They also consoled by saying that being around more people and talking to them will reduce this kind of reaction.

I swallowed hard and asked them what was the possibility of my ability in relation to my forgotten dreams, that I dreaded to remember. They answer by saying, research shows different possibilities such as abilities related to eyes, mind, brain and transformations.

"Wow! So many options," I remarked, but remembering they include Eye Ability, my heart skips a beat, and then I sigh. Despite my efforts in not cooperating verbally, these people are understanding me through observations alone.

I looked at Peter, he wore their standard coverall uniform of complete white from neck to toe. But now that I'm looking at him with scrutiny and interest, I saw a transparent layer covering his head and neck. It is similar to the layer I saw separating me and that psychiatrist.

Now, I recalled where I have seen this layer: it's all around me, the doors, every corner, junctions and on the head of every staff I met.  Unconsciously I'm ignoring it, but my mind registered it long ago since the first time I had a nightmare.

Nightmares? How far do they influence abilities?

I continue walking beside Brandon and Peter. My thoughts are trying to decipher the secret of the layer. Perhaps the layer was a high tech that the facility is using to filter out radiation or something that flows in the air.

We are now closing on to large double doors. After we reached it, Peter pushed one side and I looked at him and Brandon, they nodded at me. I walked inside and the door closed behind me.

It's a large white hall. White tables that have a single stand attached to the floor were arranged across the hall. Each table with two white chairs.

I looked around and I saw three people sat at different locations looking in my direction, and a moment later they looked away.