Chapter 2
Right at three o'clock, Jess and Sam pulled into the driveway of a massive brick building with a long wrap-around porch and monstrous wooden columns. The only thing that kept it from looking like a regular high-dollar home was the modest wood sign that was pounded into the front lawn that said, "Matthew Winsor, Psy.D. Family Psychology."
"This is it," announced Jess. "Ready?"
Sam looked down at his folded hands on his lap and fiddled with his wedding ring.
"Yeah."
They jumped out of the car and walked inside. The waiting room was small for a building so large, barely enough room for a small couch, a couple of chairs, and a small table piled high with magazines. A woman sat behind a glass window built into the wall, and all she did was peer over her book as Jess and Sam came up to her.
"Hello, how may I help you?" asked to woman in a raspy, annoyed voice.
"Hi, yes," said Jess, "we're here to see Dr. Winsor."
The woman put down her book and began typing quickly on the keyboard. "Name?"
"Sam Winchester," he replied.
The woman quickly glanced up at him before turning back to the computer screen.
"You can go on back," muttered the woman. "Room 106. Third door on your left when you walk through that door." The woman waved her hand in the direction of a door beside the window.
Jess pulled Sam through the door, and they walked into Room 106. The room was much, much larger than the waiting room. A high-backed leather chair sat in the center of the room at an angle to a long couch. An aged man sat at an extravagant wooden desk beside a massive bookcase filled with many leather-books. The man was in his mid-sixties with thinning salt and pepper hair and a gray beard, and he peered over his glasses and smiled warmly.
"Hello," he said as he stood up from his chair and walked around the desk, a hand running along the edge. "My name is Robert Winsor but you can call me Bobby. Nice to meet you." He shook hands with Sam and Jess.
"I'm Sam Winchester. This is my wife, Jess."
Dr. Winsor smiled wider and nodded to Jess. "Very nice to meet you, Mrs. Winchester."
"You, too," said Jess.
"Now," said Dr. Winsor. "Sit down, please, and we'll get this started."
Jess quickly sat down on the couch, and Sam wearily sat down next to her, weaving his fingers with hers. Dr. Winsor took a seat in the chair by the couch, opened a small notebook, and pulled out a pen from out of his pocket.
"Now, Mr. Winchester-"
"Please, call me Sam," interrupted Sam politely.
Dr. Winsor smiled again. "Sam, what's bothering you?"
Glancing back and forth, never keeping his eyes on one thing, Sam cleared his throat. "Nightmares. I've been having nightmares every night for over a year. Ever since I got back from overseas."
"Overseas?" questioned Dr. Winsor as he wrote in his notebook.
"Yes. I served in Iraq for almost two years. I've been back a little over a year."
"Thank you for your service," said Dr. Winsor.
Sam nodded faintly and mumbled a quiet "thank you." He focused his attention on a single spot on the carpet in front of the couch.
"How old are you, Sam?" asked Dr. Winsor.
Sam looked up. "Twenty-four."
"You look so much older," said Dr. Winsor. "Do you mind telling me about these nightmares? What are they about?"
Sam paused for a long time before he spoke. "I'm being chased. I, um, always get caught in the end. Every night. It's always the same every time."
"Who is chasing you?"
"That's just it. I don't know. It only appears as a shadow figure."
Dr. Winsor wrote quickly in his notebook before looking over his glasses. "So you don't see a face? You don't recognize who it is? Perhaps someone from your past?"
"There are no details. It doesn't have a face."
"Is there anything else you can recall?"
Looking down, Sam muttered, "No, not really."
Dr. Winsor took off his glasses and looked at him sympathetically. "I understand." He paused while he wrote in his notebook. "How was it overseas?"
Sam looked up and spat, "Bad. I don't want to talk about it if that's what you mean."
"Of course. I understand, but may I ask you why you don't want to talk about it? It may help you feel better about what might have happened to you."
With his hands shaking in anger and fear, Sam answered so quietly that Dr. Winsor had to lean forward to hear him. "No, please, I don't want to talk about it. Please." Sam got louder and louder, almost yelling. "I'm not here to talk about what happened overseas. I'm here to deal with these nightmares, remember?"
Dr. Winsor looked shocked at Sam's outburst but leaned back in his chair. "I'm sorry, Sam. I didn't mean to force you in any way."
"No, I'm sorry I snapped. Sorry, it's just a sensitive topic."
"Well, I believe your nightmares may be tied to your experiences in Iraq. Just like you don't want to talk about what happened, the identity of the person chasing you may also be suppressed."
Turning away, Sam nodded, taking it all in.
"Now, Sam, it will take some time to completely diagnose you of anything at this point, but I'm not the kind of doctor who prescribes a lot of medication to just numb the pain. However, I do have something you can try in the mean time."
Sam turned to him. "What?"
"It's something that is fairly new, but I am sure it will work for the time being."
Sam sat up straighter in his seat and leaned forward.
"It's called dream controlling. It's where the person can control their dreams," explained Dr. Winsor. "It doesn't require you to return weekly or anything like that. No medication will be needed."
"That sounds," said Sam, "... complicated."
"Not at all, my boy. It's a very easy skill to pick up. Just takes some practice. You can control your dream by demanding your desired dream to happen before you fall asleep," explained Dr. Winsor. "It's also a lot easier if you are aware you lucid dream. If you are aware within the dream that everything you see or feel isn't real, it becomes very easy to control what is around you."
"How do you become aware you're dreaming?" asked Sam.
"There are multiple ways. Looking at a clock or at a book or any print, for that matter. You won't be able to read them."
Sam snickered. "Well, there won't be any clocks or newspapers to read in a forest is there, Doc?"
"Before you go to bed," explained Dr. Winsor. "Put on a watch and remember that you are wearing it as you go to sleep."
Nodding, Sam asked, "How do you control it?"
"Before you go to sleep, demand what you want. Say it over and over again in your mind. It could be a simple detail you want to alter, or it could be a complete change to the dream itself." Dr. Winsor smiled. "You may be able to make the nightmare disappear altogether."
Jess bounced in her seat and tightened her grip on Sam's hand. She smiled her breathtaking smile and turned to him.
"Honey, we can make them go away! Do you want to do it?"
Tightening his grip, he smiled wide, and with tears brimming in his eyes, he whispered, "Yeah."