Dim

Jasper was tired. He couldn’t remember when he hadn’t been tired. The school year was five weeks in and going strong, but it had left him behind on day one. He used to think it was staying out late with his friends that was costing him sleep, but he wasn’t getting any more sleep now that he’d stopped. His internal clock seemed to be permanently set on going to bed at midnight, and the rest of his body was not cooperating. Nor was his school schedule, or his friends, who were mad that he wasn’t spending as much time with them.

Jasper rolled over in bed, and stared bleary-eyed at his desk across the room. On it was his math homework, half done. He’d finish it in history class.

--

“Schizophrenia,” said Mr. Harris, the psychology teacher. It was the first word that Jasper clearly heard him say that day. He hoped he hadn’t been asleep. It wasn’t that he didn’t like psychology—usually it intrigued him—but unfortunately it was his second class of the morning, and the cold gray sharpness of the outside air against the window to his back was not holding up its end of the bargain. Jasper thought about why he had taken this class in the first place. He seemed to remember a train of thought somewhat like the following: I’m in therapy anyway, so I might as well figure out what the shrink’s trying to do to me. His plan backfired on him, though, because not only did he like the course, he now almost looked forward to his weekly sessions as well. Jasper was about to start thinking about the divorce when Mr. Harris continued his lecture.

“Schizophrenia is not, contrary to popular belief, the same thing as Multiple Personality Disorder, or Dissociative Identity Disorder. It can be much more subtle than that. Schizophrenia is essentially what occurs when one person’s perception of reality does not mesh with others’ perceptions. The most common way this manifests is receiving sensory information others aren’t getting—seeing things, hearing voices, et cetera. Disorganized speech is another common symptom.”

A classmate whose name Jasper had never bothered to learn raised her hand.

“So it’s seeing things that aren’t there? Or hearing someone telling you to do stuff or whatever?”

“I’m glad you brought that up, Ms. Lynch.” So much for ever learning her first name, Jasper mused. “Notice I didn’t say that the things the schizophrenic person perceives aren’t real,” Mr. Harris continued. “We call people mentally ill when their minds work in a way that is sufficiently different from the rest of us. Who can say for sure, that just because we all perceive things in the same way, that that is truly reality? Who can say that just because only one person sees it, that it isn’t really there?”

There was a small chorus of “Oooh” from the class. Jasper chimed in dryly.

“A little taste of a philosophy course, there,” said Mr. Harris.

--

Jasper’s house was barely a mile of flat terrain from the school, but he didn’t like walking home. It figured he’d be stuck with his feet on a cold day like this. Only last week it had been so warm. Jasper hummed the “I Hate California” song as he walked. Gray autumn afternoons were always creepy to him. Good times to be inside, not out. He decided briefly that it was his own fault for never getting his driver’s license, then moved on to blame his friends for offering him rides so often. Projection of frustration. There we go, thought Jasper. Good old Freud. The leaves went crunch beneath his shoes.

As he turned a corner, Jasper looked up for no particular reason. It was staring at him.

Jasper knew this for a fact even though he couldn’t see its eyes. It couldn’t be more than a few hundred feet away. It was a tall figure, all coated in black, sticking out like an inverted light in darkness against the bright gray sky. It was slightly hunched over near the top, giving the effect of crooked shoulders. At its tip was a lump that seemed to be a ruined, lopsided top hat. It could have been a pile of laundry or an old, dead tree except that it was staring hard. Jasper could not possibly look at it with his eyes in the same way that it was looking at him, eyeless. He blinked and it was gone.

The wind blew from Jasper’s right and startled him. He looked just in time to get a leaf in the face.

--

It was the first time that Jasper had trouble staying awake at lunch.

“You’re gonna sleep in school, Jasper, do it in class!” Mitch poked him in the shoulder.

“That’s, like, the whole point of falling asleep in school,” agreed Aaron. The three of them were the only ones at their table that Friday. In a way, this was better. When the whole group was together, combined with cafeteria chaos, Jasper could barely hear himself think.

“Seriously,” he said. “I think some guy’s running around my neighborhood in all black. I’ve seen him on my way home almost all week.” He did not mention that he’d also heard it in his dreams. “Can I get a ride home?”

“I don’t know. Can you come to the party Saturday night?” It didn’t matter which one of them said it. The party was their belated beginning-of-the-year party, a tradition since freshman year.

“Ugh. If you haven’t noticed, I need sleep,” said Jasper, plunking his head on the table. Then he looked up. “Listen, about the party, I’ll…can I just get a ride?”

“Fine, fine, you can come with me,” said Aaron.

“Pansy-ass,” said Mitch. Jasper decided he was half-joking.

--

In art class, Jasper stayed awake the whole time. He drew an old, dead tree. With a top hat.

--

The car turned the corner, and Jasper felt the hair on his neck stand up. “Just keep an eye out…for anything,” he said.

Aaron looked at him. “You all right, man?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll be, I’m not coming to that party, though…just look, please.”

Aaron looked around obediently. And then, it was there. Straight ahead on the sidewalk, in plain sight so that Jasper knew Aaron could see it. This just worried him more. As it passed by the corner of Jasper’s right eye, it whispered straight through the car window and into Jasper’s head. It comes. It comes to you.

Jasper shut his eyes, but said nothing. Neither did Aaron. Jasper opened his eyes as the car pulled up to his house. “Okay, thanks,” he said. “Guess he didn’t show up today, huh?”

Aaron looked over at him. “What, that creepy guy you said you saw? The car must have scared him off today or something then.”

“Yeah, right.”

“Take care of yourself,” said Aaron as Jasper opened the door. “Get some sleep.”

“I will,” said Jasper. And he went inside and did just that. It was waiting for him in his dreams.

--

“You’re not crazy,” said Dr. Mendez, the shrink. “There are lots of reasons why people occasionally see things that aren’t there. Among them is sleep deprivation, and you’ve been telling me you haven’t been getting enough sleep.”

But what if I’m seeing things that are there? “Okay. But I’ve been dreaming about it, too. The same black thing. And it…talks to me.”

“Are you aware that you’re dreaming in these dreams? Have you been eating scrambled eggs a lot lately?” The last question came out hushed and fast, as though it was the more important of the two. Or as though someone other than Dr. Mendez was saying it.

Jasper tried to remember. “I…think so, but I don’t remember if I had my eggs scrambled this morning or not.”

Dr. Mendez looked at him. It was the kind of look that was very carefully not surprised or disconcerted by what someone else had said. Then he scribbled something on his clipboard. Jasper hated that, even though he knew by now it was often just to help therapists remember which of their many clients was which. It made him feel like a specimen under study. Such a funny word…specimen.

“Lucid dreaming is another common symptom of sleep deprivation. In lucid dreaming, you are aware of the dream, but it seems real.”

Jasper nodded. “Yeah. It feels—it’s real.”

“I wouldn’t worry too much, Jasper. But it would be a good idea to make sure you have enough time for sleep.”

“I know.”

“Of course. Now, if you still can’t seem to sleep well even when you have more than eight hours, you might want to get some sleeping aids from a doctor. Try to stay calm. You’ll be fine.”

Jasper took a deep breath. “Yeah, it’s just funny, you know, ‘cause the teacher was talking about schizophrenia in my class the other day, so…”

They laughed, nervously.

--

Returning home from the party that night, it was still light out. The streetlights were bright orange winks against the gray slush of the sky. The icy air grasped at his fingers. Jasper turned the corner.

Its image wobbled a bit in his vision, but it was staring as hard as ever. It was fifty feet away. Jasper took a step forward. It was in front of him.

It comes to you. It comes soon, it whispered in his ear. Jasper broke away and ran forward, but it was still in front of him, always in front, he was running straight into darkness, the air turned moist around him, and there was something more than darkness behind him, something much worse—

Jasper woke up. He was covered in sweat, and it was dark around him, which was somehow more reassuring than the half-light of his dream. The hardwood floor around his bed didn’t look right. Jasper put this down to his bleary vision. He turned on the light, got out of bed to go to the bathroom, and slipped on the wet floor.

--

The fact that he had been preparing all day for this did nothing to ease Jasper’s nerves as he turned the corner that Monday. It was closer than ever, and staring harder than before. He blinked. It wasn’t going anywhere. He was going to have to walk right past it. He took a step, and another. Inhaling sharply, he told himself, “It’s not real,” and plunged forward.

A chorus of its voices echoed around him as he approached:

It comes to you.

It comes today.

It comes now.

You have been warned.

It comes—

Comes—

It matters not—

Don’t panic.

Run.

As Jasper passed right by the lump of black, he obeyed. He felt it vanish behind him and something else take its place. He ran faster and tried not to think about what the new “It” was, fearful that his imagination would fill in the gaps. He reached his house, opened the door, slammed it, locked, hyperventilated. He would be fine, he would be fine, just stay calm. He went into the living room—

The door opened behind him.

Blank grey eyes of sky stared at him from the windows as he tore up the stairs and ran to his room. A single footstep was out of sync with his. He closed the door and lay huddled on his floor.

Squelch. Squelch. The footsteps coming up the stairs were wet. All Jasper’s childhood nightmares involved water. Jasper heard the clicking of pointed nails from the back of his mind. The bed was leaking again. Jasper put his fingers to the water. It was cold.

In all of the nightmares, there was always one way out. It was the same in all his dreams. Jasper tried to remember, but couldn’t. It was gone to him. His childhood was gone to him. The divorce had caused him to run away from his parents, to try to become independent as quickly as possible. Jasper realized that during every session with the shrink, they had been discussing the wrong thing. If he could only remember—

I come to you. Squelch. Click.

It was at the door.

And Jasper knew that if he could draw his mind out of the swirling gray and think straight, he could stop it. But he couldn’t. Because Jasper was tired.