Depressed in the Midwest

Silence, it was the sound that woke Brandy up each morning. It was greeted by the unsettling feel of the comforter against her skin. This urged her to get up from bed. She could tell by the way the sun crept into the windows that it was nearly 8AM. There was nothing on her plans. It clearly upset her because she had no purpose in the mean time. All she did was wait for something, anything to distract her.
Then, the cravings hit her hard. Brandy had no problem doing drugs. They were like a catalyst she used to be something she liked. Her problem was she wasn't connected to the game of drugs nor had the finances to afford the life of it. It was almost as if she was a panhandler for them. The endless quest for supply was wearing on her deeply. She already cut off most contact with people on a social level, now the few that she did interact with were interfering with her. It took a lot of energy to battle these people to get the goods, and by the time she got her reward the value of it's stake wore significantly.
Brandy was so beyond the average level of clinical depression that she could no longer just sleep like the newbies of depression,the attention seekers. The clock flashes each second away as Brandy blinks in synchronicity. Somehow, she has fallen into a trance. As she sits in front of the computer an email pops up. All of a sudden as the email begins to animate itself Brandy is surrounded by hidden dimensional beings guiding her.
One of the guides is a Magician of the Old World. He knows the secrets of the elements on Earth and how to use them.