Eyes Open

Troy jumped, looking wildly around him at the other two people in the waiting room. There was an elderly lady, coughing softly to herself, and a thirty-something man with his leg in a plaster. Both of them were staring out of the same window, yet neither seemed to see the rather obvious tall, suited man standing directly outside. Troy stared at him for a while, trying to work out if he was really there or not. Discretely, Troy put his fingers around his nose as though he were about to sneeze, but instead pinched his nostrils firmly shut and attempted to breathe in. He couldn’t, which unnerved him, as it meant that tall man was either really there, or he was seeing things.

He glanced to the side again, to see if the other people had noticed. The man was still trying to scratch at a part of his leg covered by the cast, and the elderly woman was flicking half-heartedly through a celebrity magazine from last year. Troy looked to the window again, to see the man was still there. Judging by what he was standing close to, he was far too tall to be a normal human being – Troy put him at at least nine feet. He was wearing the suit again, and once more, was standing completely still, his black tie perfectly tied and centre, his arms by his sides, his feet together. People passed by closely, not seeming to realize that he was there. Reluctantly, Troy moved his eyes up to where the man’s face should be, and quickly came to the conclusion that this was no man – rather, it was a creature.

The thing’s face was a blank, expressionless, pale sphere. There were no eyes, no nose, no mouth. No hair or ears. No way at all of deciphering how it could have any awareness of what was going on around it. Yet, Troy was still possessed with the overwhelming feeling that it was staring directly at him, searching his face, looking into his eyes.

"Mr. DeLage."

A voice broke through Troy’s thoughts, and he dragged his eyes away from the motionless thing outside the window and instead focused on the receptionist from earlier.

"I said, Dr. Friscoe will see you know."

"Right," Troy muttered, stumbling upright and heading for the door to the waiting room. "Thanks."

Fully aware that she was looking at him as though he’s gone insane in the short space of time he had been left alone, Troy darted up the corridor, relieved to turn around the corner where all the doors were shut. There were no windows – no way the faceless being could see him. Troy realized how stupid that thought sounded as he made his way to his doctor’s office. How could something with no face see anything?

He briskly knocked on the door and when he heard acknowledgement of his presence from inside the room, he opened the door and let himself in. Dr. Friscoe didn’t look all too surprised to see him.

"Ah, Mr. DeLage," he said, as Troy turned around to face him, hoping his ragged appearance would put some strength into his argument. "How are you?"

Dandy, Troy thought to himself. That’s why I’m at the doctor’s.

"I’ve been better," Troy muttered, sitting down in a heap in front of Dr. Friscoe’s desk.

"What can I do for you?" the doctor asked, though Troy knew that he had a pretty good guess.

"Look," Troy said, leaning forward slightly. "I know you must think I’m being all dramatic or something, but I haven’t slept a single wink in five days. I think this classifies as a serious problem now, and I want medication for it."

"Troy, we’ve discussed this. The best route to go is down a natural route. You don’t want medication messing up your brain when you’re still young. For all you know your sleeping patterns might be changing. You could be one of those people who likes the night shift."

"I haven’t slept," Troy hissed. "For five days. How long do I have until I die?"

"What have you tried?" the doctor asked, sighing. He placed his elbows on his desk, forming his hands into a triangle, and stared at Troy, who resisted the strong temptation to punch him in the face.

"I’ve tried everything," Troy replied shortly. "Relaxing before going to bed instead of doing something that requires a lot of thought, I’ve tried every herbal tea and natural sleep enhancer ever, I’ve tried damn CDs and different times to sleep, I’ve even changed my damn mattress. Nothing is working. I can’t do anything, and I’ve started seeing things."

Dr. Friscoe looked a little more interested at this revelation.

"Oh?" he asked, pulling his files towards him. "Like what?"

"Well, it started off as hearing things," Troy replied, still slightly coolly. "I thought I could hear the people on TV telling me stuff, like to look behind me. Then I saw this tall guy in a suit on the television, and thought it was just a glitch, but then I saw the same guy standing outside the practise today."

"A tall guy in a suit?" Dr. Friscoe repeated. "Troy, this is the business district of town. You’ll see a lot of tall guys in suits."

"Oh really?" Troy snapped. "How many business men do you know how are nine feet tall and have no face?"

"Nine feet tall?" Dr. Friscoe repeated bluntly.

Troy nodded.

"No face?"

"No face."

"And the last time you saw this was when?"

"About five minutes ago. He was just standing outside the building looking in at me – if he can even do that. No one else in the waiting room seemed to notice him, nor did anyone outside. And he’s pretty damn hard to miss."

Troy suddenly felt very stressed out. He sighed, blowing upwards into his hair, and leant back in his seat, watching the doctor with tired eyes.

"Are they very vivid?" Dr. Friscoe asked.

"Very," Troy replied, stifling a huge yawn. "I had to check if I were dreaming or not."

"You haven’t been having those dreams when you do sleep, have you?"

"Nope."

Troy always faced questions like this when he came to the doctor. His night terrors had gotten so bad when he was younger that he’d had to see a sleep specialist. Troy couldn’t remember what his night terrors were like in the early days, but he imagined they were pretty terrifying, and didn’t really have any desire to remember them.

"Well, that is rather alarming," Dr. Friscoe eventually said.

"So do you think I’m a serious enough case now?" Troy demanded, knuckling his eyes so hard light spots started to appear. "Because I seriously need some sleep. I think I’m going mad."

"Here’s the plan," Dr. Friscoe said, after a moment’s deliberation. "Seems you have these vivid dreams occasionally, we have to consider the fact that these aren’t hallucinations, but dreams in micro sleep. When the body goes for a long time without sleep, you can fall asleep for seconds without realizing it. These could feel like normal, everyday life, and might explain this tall man you’ve been seeing. However, if it’s still happening in a week, I’ll sort out medication."

"So I have to come see you again next week?" Troy asked bluntly, his eyes blank at the thought. He was finding it hard to muster the emotion he wanted to show.

"Yes, and if these are still happening, like I said, we’ll have to reconsider your medication."

"But what if I don’t sleep for another week? I’ll be dead."

"You won’t die if this is indeed micro sleep," Dr. Friscoe said calmly. "But I recommend you don’t drive anywhere in the next week, just in case."

"Fantastic," Troy muttered. "Another week off of work to sit in my house drinking coffee and thinking tall men are after me. Sounds like just what I need."

"Patience, Troy," Dr. Friscoe muttered. "There are certain types of people you don’t fall out with – your barber, your waiter, and your doctor."

"Perhaps my barber would give me some drugs," Troy muttered, rolling his eyes as he stood up. "What if these things get worse?"

"Well, if they become dangerous, I suggest you come back down sooner," Dr. Friscoe nodded.

"Dangerous?" Troy repeated blankly.

"Well, things like this ... it can kind of be like a bad trip," Dr. Friscoe explained, in that light, airy tone doctors used when they were about to break some earth-shattering news but didn’t want to be too alarming about it. "You might become convinced this man, say, is trying to attack you, and you might ..."

"Stab my mom?" Troy put in helpfully, and Dr Friscoe shrugged.

"If you want to word it like that," he agreed.

"Right," Troy nodded. "I’ll have fun with that."

"See you next week, Troy."

"Hopefully."

Troy’s pace slowed down as he approached the corner he had so gratefully rounded a few minutes earlier. He tried to avoid looking out of the windows, but curiosity got the better of him, and he had to sneak a glance. He felt more relieved than he knew he should have done when he saw that the tall, faceless figure had gone, but it was with hesitation and much looking over his shoulder that he stepped out of the medical centre and began heading for him.

"I’m turning into a crazy person," he muttered to himself, before realizing that talking away to himself probably wouldn’t help his case.

It was a tense journey home. Troy felt stupid, but he simply couldn’t help himself scanning the tree lines or glancing reluctantly around corners before he walked around them. By the time he returned to his home, he was exhausted emotionally as well as physically. He unlocked the door and staggered into the hall, his paranoia making him remember to lock the door for once. Knowing he wouldn’t sleep, he instead collapsed onto the couch and turned the TV on, closing his eyes so he could at least have the illusion of sleep. Of course, as soon as he closed his eyes, the prickly feeling vanished and he felt wide awake.

"Well why don’t I just do everything with my eyes closed?" Troy muttered to himself, as he turned his back to the rest of the room and buried his face in the back of the couch. He wondered if he could lie there, his face pressed into the dark and warm, with his eyes open, and fall asleep that way. Of course, this didn’t work.

His mind was still racing, and ever second he was scared the TV would start speaking to him again. He felt crazy – but that was what scared him so much. It seemed like he was crazy, or if not, he was certainly heading in that direction.

"One more week of this," Troy muttered to himself. "He has to be joking."