Chapter 9
Missouri took Dean's hand when she heard him moving. He had been out, in a coma, for a long time this time. It had been two weeks. Missouri had found herself spending a lot of her time t Dean's bedside. She was distressed when she saw his tears.
"Dean?" Missouri said, squeezing Dean's hand to get his attention.
Dean turned and looked at her. He squeezed her hand back. He was back into his reality. And for that he was glad. But, he had no idea what to think. The institution was his life. It was all that he could remember, except when he dreamt. Only in his dreams could he freely visit the day his whole life changed. But, this time it was different, in past dreams the borders were well defined. In his previous dreams, it had felt unfamiliar, and he had wanted no part of it. But, this time he felt closer t the dream. That was the only way he could describe it. He was closer. He didn't feel like a stranger in a foreign land.
Dean had never tried to reach out and touch the image of his brother before. That was because, before, it had just been an image, a wisp of smoke. And it had been fleeting. It had been gauzy, and not the least bit solid. And, come to think if it, there had not been conversation. No coherent back and forth. Everything seemed to be like two or three-word cryptic messages or phrases back and forth. Dean had not understood the messages he had been given. And, conversely, he had not understood the things he had said in his dreams. His psychiatrists and psychologists, all, had told him that that was perfectly normal. Something about the unconscious mind making up and the conscious mind falling asleep or taking a nap or something. He wasn't sure. But, it didn't help him to know that his own mind, when it was free to voice itself, spoke in riddles.
In his dreams Dean always said "I can't do this alone." He had no idea what it was he didn't want to do alone. And he was not entirely sure who he was supposed to be doing it with. He would have assumed his brother, Sam. But, if he needed Sam to do this, that meant that Sam had survived. That also meant that they had done…whatever it is that they did together long enough for Dean to see Sam's value in it.
Despite a little muscle weakness from his two weeks of immobility. Dean was up and about. The sensations he had felt afterwards continued to plague him, however. And he was confused as to what to make of it. Plus, Dean was kind of sad to be back. He had really felt this that last time. There was another feeling this time, too. He felt like he had left someone behind.
Dean had spent a lot of time, through the years, imagining what his brother would look like. And he had always imagined a sort of miniature Dean. He was a twin, almost, except he was just a little younger and a little shorter. He had not imagined the man he had seen standing before him. A tall lanky guy with hair like Shaggy from the Scooby-Doo cartoons.
Regardless of his opinion, he knew that this was his brother. And he could see Sam's concern for him in his dreams. He could see that both Bobby and Sam were very afraid that he had lost him mind…or had been possessed by a demon.
What…possessed by a demon? Demons…those were the things of late-night horror flicks. Who would come up with that? What did Sam do? What was he involved in, in his life, to even think up something like that? What…what was the mindset to draw that conclusion?
Dean shook his head. He was just recovering a little slower from the last time this had happened.
"…time was different, wasn't' it?" Missouri asked. She had been talking to Dean for about an hour.
Dean looked at her. His mind had drifted, yet again, and he had caught only a small part of the conversation.
"What is it, Baby?" Missouri asked. She didn't usually hug her patients. She had been told that it could lead to all sorts of attachments that were very hard to break. Not to mention opening yourself up to possible physical harm. But, she had no fear from Dean. He was not violent and had displayed no violent tendencies. Plus, she could not see those unshed tears in his eyes and not try to comfort him. "It's okay. It's gonna be okay."
Dean just shook his head, unable to speak. He had this ache, a yearning he had never had before. He was beginning to feel like he didn't belong here. This was his home. It had been for the majority of his life. And it was all he knew. But, now it was different. He belonged with his brother. Each time he thought back to his last…dream, he felt it stronger.
TBC
