The man crossed his legs and adjusted his thick glasses, peering intently about Mike all the while.
"Well Michael," he said, after waiting for Mike to speak for several long moments. "Nice to see you in my office again."
"Yeah," Mike offered, because the alternative was to say 'no it's not' and he didn't want to be back next week.
"Your mother is very worried about you," the shrink said, as if Mike didn't already know. Mike said nothing. Instead, he looked back and forth around the office for plaques or diplomas mounted on the wall. He couldn't remember the therapist's name, even though he'd been coming every few weeks for months now. "She told me over the phone that your nightmares are back."
They never went away, Mike wanted to say, but bit his tongue. Somethings are better kept to yourself. Especially most of the things that ran through Mike's head these days.
"Michael. Can you tell me about your dream?"
This is how it starts: Mike is running through the woods by the train tracks, like he has before a million times. Only this time, none of his friends are with him, wielding wooden swords and slingshots. It's night, but there are no stars, and he can barely breathe he's running so hard.
He comes out of the forest by an abandoned road on the edge of a cliff and suddenly it's day and the sun is so bright it's blinding him. He turns around and Dustin is there with him. He breathes a sigh of relief to not be alone anymore, but James jumps out of the woods and presses a swiss army knife to Dustin's throat.
Mike whirls around, but Troy is there too. Only it's not Troy, it's the tall white haired man from the Department of Energy- Doctor- Doctor Brenner! He pulls a gun out from behind his long black jacket and points it at Dustin, threatening to pull the trigger if Mike doesn't jump off the cliff's edge. Dustin is screaming for Mike not to jump, and Mike is gazing over the edge and trying to calculate if the water will save him or kill him, and then Doctor Brenner fires the gun and Dustin falls with a bullet in his brain and Mike tries to scream but his throat is frozen and he staggers backwards and falls off the edge anyway.
He's falling and falling and falling, wind rushing past him so fast it makes his ears pop. Now that it's too late his mouth is working again, and he shouts and shouts and begs for El to save him, please please El don't let me die please please please
And then he hits the water. He never got time to finish calculating before he fell but if he had he would have discovered the water would kill him, because he feels his spine crack when he hits.
Drifting, drifting, drifting, he sinks deeper into the water. He can't move, all his bones are broken and he's paralyzed, but his mouth is still open and he's yelling underwater and inhaling lake water and drowning. Dustin is in the lake too, Doctor Brenner must have thrown him in, and his eyes are wide open and he's glaring at Mike through two blank eyes with a bullet hole in the middle.
Mike sinks deeper, and Lucas swims up with gills and tells Mike it's all his fault, like Mike doesn't already know this. Bubbles leaving Lucas's lips as he speaks. Then Lucas starts to float upwards, but Mike is going deeper and deeper and he's moving faster than sinking. Something has a hold of his ankle.
Struggling through broken bones, Mike tilts his head downwards and sees the demogorgon with one vine-like appendage wrapped around his ankle. Mike's staring and staring, too broken to do anything else and then it morphs into El and she's begging, pleading, "Help me, Mike, help me, I'm close, I'm close, please help me."
But her grip on his ankle slackens and she's sinking faster than Mike and he can't reach her, he can't reach her, he can't even see her again she's too far she's too far she's too
And that's when Mike wakes up in bed, throat raw from screaming. Nancy is already rubbing his back when his eyes open and then the light switches on and his mother is there with her bathrobe thrown over her nightgown, face blank with panic but Mike knows it's nothing compared to the look on his own.
"Michael?" the therapist asked, and Mike realized he'd been staring into space for well over a minute now, lost in thought.
"Sorry, what?"
"Can you tell me about your dream?"
"Yeah," Mike told him, leaning forward. The shrink raised an eyebrow and uncapped his pen for the first time of the session. "I'm at school and I'm taking a test but I realize I'm completely unprepared for it and then I look down and I'm completely naked and everyone in class is laughing at me, even my teacher. Isn't that sick?"
The therapist continued scribbling on his clipboard for a good half a minute, then stared at his notes as if he didn't quite believe he had written them.
"Well Michael, the good news is that this is a fairly common dream."
"Is it?" Mike asked, feigning ignorance. "Phew."
The man nodded, adjusting his glasses once more. "The strange thing is that your mother says you wake from these dreams choking and screaming, which isn't conducive to a good night's rest."
No, Mike wanted to tell him, the strange thing is the girl I met last fall who can move objects with her mind and create alternate universes. This strange thing is my friend Will, who sometimes forgets which universe he's in. The strange thing is my sister Nancy, who has a shrine to her "missing" friend in her room. The strange thing is my friend Dustin, who sits in his room and listens to the same album over and over again for hours. The strange thing is my friend Lucas, who never wants to play board games in my basement anymore. The strange thing is Chief Hopper, who I see around town sometimes and wave, and he won't ever meet my eye. The strange thing is-
"Michael?" the therapist called to him. "You with us over there?"
Michael shrugged. "Where else would I be?"
The man nodded, as if pretending to understand what Michael meant. "Let's make a deal," he said, leaning in as if he could sense he was on the verge of a major breakthrough. Mike could tell very clearly that he was not. "I've got an appointment free next Wednesday at 3 o'clock. Today is Monday. You have 9 nights until then. If you have this dream again 3 times in those 9 nights, you'll come back next Wednesday. If not, I'll tell your mother you don't have to come back until next month." He sat back in his chair, clearly very satisfied with himself.
Mike tried not to let his disgust show in his face, but it wasn't easy. "Sure," he said.
"Alrighty then," the therapist declared, standing up with a groan. It reminded Mike of the noise his father made when he pulled himself out of his armchair to head for bed. "3 dreams or more, and I'll see you next week."
"You won't see me next week," Mike told him, standing as well. He knew he'd have the dream at least 3 times, but he resolved to keep quiet about it. He'd play with Holly right before bed, listen to relaxing music, and drink tea. Anything to keep the nightmare quiet. If it came to it, he'd sleep in the basement where only full blown shouting would alert his family that he was dreaming again.
"Let's hold off saying you will or won't until next week." The man clapped Mike on the shoulder, and Mike stumbled forward. "Whoops."
He walked Mike to the waiting room, where Karen was sitting with Holly reading a stack of magazines. Karen stood quickly to greet them, and Mike tried to appear interested while the therapist told his mother of their "arrangement."
"Are you sure we shouldn't just plan to come in next Wednesday anyway?" Karen asked, and Mike groaned.
"No, Mrs. Wheeler," the therapist said with a smile that Mike despised. "This way Mike has motivation to start having better dreams."
That statement sounded like motivation for Mike to get a new therapist, but he smiled and nodded anyway, and Karen sighed.
"Thank you, Doctor Frisina," Karen said, shaking his hand, and Mike could have shouted ah ha! if he wasn't so tired. "We'll see you next week."
"No, we won't," Mike insisted, and Karen grabbed Holly's hand and led her two children to the check out window.
"Sure, dear," she said, sliding her insurance card to the woman behind the desk. The secretary wrote a few notes down on a piece of paper and slid the card back.
"You're all set," she smiled. "See you next Wednesday."
"No, you won't!" Mike told her indignantly, but Karen was already leading him out of the building and to the car, more focused on getting Mike into the car than Holly. "We won't see them again next week," he said, once he had his seat belt buckled in.
"Okay," Karen agreed, but Mike could tell she wasn't really listening.
"Mom," said Mike, and Karen paused and looked at him. "We won't be coming back next week," he told her. "We really won't."
"Okay," Karen nodded, and this time it sounded like she had actually heard him. "Alright sweetie, I believe you."
Maybe she had been wrong to, Mike thought to himself about a week later while his mother was pulling into a similar parking space. He gazed at the window, not really seeing out of the car.
"I'm sorry, Mom," Mike whispered once she had put the car in park. The ride over was silent; Holly was at home with Nancy. The bags under Mike's eyes were worse than even Jonathan's. He hadn't gotten a full night's rest in days. The dreams had gotten worse. He could feel Eleven, even when he was awake. She felt so close, all the time now. Mike had started falling asleep in class, drifting off for barely 10 minutes before he woke up shouting things he shouldn't have, his friends staring at him with wide eyes and open mouths each time.
"It's alright, Michael," his mother told him. She got out of the car and came around to the other side. Mike's hand was resting on the handle, but the idea to open the car door just hadn't occurred to him yet. Karen opened the door before he realized, and reached across him to unbuckle his seatbelt as well.
"Sorry," Mike repeated, so lost in thought he didn't remember saying it barely a minute ago. She was so close. She was so close.
"Who's close?" Karen asked, and Mike realized he had been talking out loud. He looked around and found himself seated in an unfamiliar waiting room. Not the one from the usual office. This one was… bluer. And bigger. Busier.
"Are we in the hospital?" Mike felt his mouth moving and his throat making noise but couldn't remember the decision to speak happening in his brain.
Karen's face tightened. "Yes," she said. "Doctor Frisina is meeting us here instead. I told you twice in the car, and at home. Do you remember?"
"No," Mike replied honestly, slumping back in the chair. There was a white wristband on his arm he didn't remember getting, but he didn't think it worth it to mention that to his mother. "Why is Doctor Frisina meeting us here? I'm supposed to meet him in his office today. I lost the deal."
Karen flinched. "Sweetheart," she said softly, "It's Friday."
Mike's brain couldn't process this. "So… I won the deal? We were supposed to meet two days ago."
"Michael, you were supposed to meet him in five days."
This information didn't make sense to Mike either. "Okay," he said. "I don't think I understand how days work."
Karen nodded without looking at him. "That's alright," she told him.
"Michael Wheeler?"
Karen looked up right away, and stood, before Mike had even realized someone had said his name. He looked up to see his therapist standing tall in front of him, wearing a white lab coat instead of his usual corduroy blazer.
"I usually see you when you're sitting," Mike blurted. The man looked at Karen, alarm written in his stretched out face, and Mike said, "I don't remember your name again."
"Frisina," he said. "Doctor Frisina. Would you come with me now, Mike?"
"Okay," Mike said, but remained seated.
"Honey." Karen put her hand on Mike's shoulder. "You have to get up now."
"Oh!" Mike realized. "Okay." He pushed himself out of the chair, standing on two unsteady feet.
"Follow me, Michael," Doctor Frisina told him, and started to turn.
"Doctor," Karen called to him. "You should- Could you take his arm, please?"
"Oh, of course." The therapist took Mike by the arm and led him out of the waiting room. As they were leaving, Mike took one look behind him and saw his mother still standing by the chairs.
"She's not coming with?" Mike meant to say, but instead his mouth formed different words.
"Yes, she is close," Doctor Frisina assured him, not understanding what Mike was saying. "She'll be in the waiting room the whole time, and she'll be in with you in not too long. We just have to talk for a few minutes alone first."
"She's close," Mike said again. "She's so close."
"Yes."
"She's close."
"Alright."
"I could almost reach out and touch her."
"No, Michael. She's in the waiting room."
"..."
"Michael?"
"Almost. She's very, very close."
A/N: Reviews are very, very appreciated! If wanted, reviews can be paid for with a picture of my dog. Just specify if you want me to contact you about it in your review.
I'm also on ao3 under the same username as well as Tumblr at save-will-byers. Thanks for reading!