Dream This, Honey

Prompt: Write a story involving dreams

Word Count:1618

Should I be doing this? Is It the right thing to do? Can these kind of people really be trusted?
Jessica Robinson's mind raced the same couple of complicated questions she had been asking herself for days, as she stood outside the door for an agency that would help ease her mind of a recent, plaguing dream.
Standing outside on the sidewalk of Chicago looking like she was frightened of a building wasn't going to help though, she thought as she squared her shoulders. A light breeze carrying her dark tresses upon her shoulders and causing a slight shiver to play her spine.
It's probably not even worth it, she told herself, they're probably just a bunch of quacks.
But on her own, she couldn't get rid of the odd, repetitive images. Or figure out what they meant.
Finally, after telling herself to stop being such a coward, she rapped her knuckles against the solid wood of the door.

"Come on In!" a woman's voice commanded from beyond, aiming towards becoming shrill.

Not disappointing, Jessica slid her 5'2 frame through the door. Her eager eyes took in all the details of the small, yet cozy room; from the lush green carpet to the soft coral of the walls.

"Hello! Welcome to the Sleep Lab, how may we be of service to you this afternoon?"

The young brunette behind a counter, Jess guessed her to be around 20, seemed normal enough as she asked the question with a polite smile, her telemarketer style head piece bobbing as she tilted her head. Bright blue eyes held specks of amusement as she looked over the older woman fidgeting with her necklace.

"Uh, my name's Jessica Robinson, and I'm here to see Mr.Clairborn." she stated, wondering if she was insane as the words left her mouth.

Jessica Robinson, a perfectly normal twenty-six year old woman that had just earned her Bachelors Degree in English, was consulting some place called a "Sleep Lab" to analyze her dreams. DREAMS for christ's sake!
Three things were on her mind at this point.
1) What kind of hopeless nutcase would go to someone who boasts to be a "Dream specialist"?
2) What kind of hopeless nutcase would boast to be a "Dream Specialist"?
3) Why was she asking herself this when the woman behind the desk was looking at her as if her forehead had suddenly sprouted a horn?

"Alright I need you to sign this form, Miss Robinson."

Padding over, Jessica took a pen from a plastic cup on the end of the desk and read over the form.
Wait...
She skimmed over the content of the form. Wait,... Hold on.
Why would she need to sign a release form?
Were they going to try and operate on her head? Maybe even something equally, or more, ludicrous?
Well, whatever the case, she penned her name to the designated space and handed it back to the woman who accepted it with a smirk.

"This is loopy...I'm loopy." she muttered, forgetting that she was speaking aloud.

"I'm sure you're fine." the woman murmured with a quirked brow and another smirk aimed at Jessica, no doubt evaluating her mental state.

"Right this way..."

Putting a hand to her forehead in a gesture of inner frustration, Jessica remained quiet so she wouldn't say something else to indicate that she might have escaped from an asylum of some sort.
Standing and walking from behind the area she worked, the young lady directed Jessica through a maze of corridors until they came to a black door labeled "Clairborn".
Jessica was left on her own to open the rather suspicious looking door and walk inside.

"Miss Robinson, I presume?" came a deep male voice from the side of a large, sparsely furnished room.

Sitting in a black leather recliner, a short man was perched. His stubby legs were crossed, spectacles perched on the end of an amusingly hooked nose. A ring of thin, graying hair circled his head in a poor halo, making him appear to be in his mid Fifties. He looked much more like a dumpling than a specialist in any field.

"Yes, that's me." she said with a tilt of her lips.

This was NOT what she'd expected.

"Do have a seat my dear." he coaxed, patting the seat of the clone chair next to him.

Having no choice otherwise, Jessica made her way over the thick forest colored carpet to the seat offered.

"Tell me what your problem happens to be dear."

Taking a long, deep breath, Jessica rolled her shoulders and relaxed herself. Time to cross the threshold from eccentric, to insane.

"It all started a few weeks ago, after I had gotten my degree. I keep having reoccurring dreams. They acted like they were going away there for a while, and then they came back even stronger. But what really gets me, is that it doesn't even seem to mean anything! It seems so random, like something out of a child's imagination."

A plump hand reached over and squeezed her own, too friendly.

"Why dont you tell me what this dream is of? What's happening?"

Grimacing, Jessica pulled her hand away.

"I'm continually chased through a field of flowers... By a goat."

For a moment she could have sworn the old fart was going to burst into a giggle fit. God forbid, his heart would probably give out, she thought with a slight smirk.
But he regained his composure and looked at her with only seriousness glazing his eyes.

"Is this goat out to get you? It it's pursuit one to harm you? Or is it simply prancing along behind you? You know just Baaaa-ing along?"

Eyes about to bug out of her head, Jess tried to contain a laugh. Did this man really just Baaaa at her? This was getting weirder and weirder...

"Come to think about it, it was just kind of following me along. It had big eyes, kinda playful, ya know?" she admitted, wondering why she never thought of it earlier.

"Ah, I see, I see. It seems to me Jessica, you don't mind if I call you Jessica do you?" he asked suddenly.

Hairs on the base of her neck stood up as she looked at him. He was making her Creep-O-Meter soar into overdrive.

"Miss Robinson please." she asked politely.

"Well Jessica, it seems to me that there is someone new in your life that wants to get to know you. That is what the chase symbolizes anyway. The goat could mean that your progress in life will be affected by this new 'relationship'." he concluded, ignoring her request, reaching over again to pet her hand.

"And what can I do to get rid of these dreams Mr.Clairborn?" she asked with a hint of venom as she jerked and dislodged his clammy, pudgy hand.

A thick silence replaced the question.

"Give your new friend a chance at a little fun..." he said softly, reaching back over yet again to run a fingertip up her jean clad thigh.

Jumping from the seat, fire leaped into her eyes as she pointed a long forefinger at him.

"What in the world Mr. Clairborn! I came here for help and you're sitting here trying to jump me like a horny teenager!" her voice neared a scream as she walked, no, stalked to the door and flung it open, standing in the frame for a moment.

Forget help, forget getting rid of the dream, FORGET sitting in a room with an old man trying to get his groove on! Jessica tried and failed to reign in her anger and humiliation.
A joke, this must be some kind of sick joke.
Well, she steamed, I'm not playing.

"Go get yourself some help Mr. Clairborn." she suggested on a growl as she stomped out, extremely indignant at having been approached in such a way by a complete stranger.

Grayson just sat on the recliner for a moment after she left, knowing exactly what had gone wrong. Leaning over after rising, he grabbed at a small, ominous black remote control box under the seat he'd been on top of.
Pressing the yellow button, he watched as a door slid open from a secret compartment in his wall. Striding to it, he let it lead him down a series of dark, dank tunnels before he reached a large iron door. Aside the door was a matching box with a glass screen and hundreds of red lasers beaming from beneath it's shiny surface.
Laying his hand on the box, he watched as his prints were recognized and the door slid open, astoundingly, without a sound.
Looking to his left, he saw a man haunched over what looked like a large telescope with a pointed edge directed out a small hole in the room.
Strait into the mid-day sky.

"Ferdinand you ignorant bastard!" Clairborn yelled as he waddled over to the frowning Latin man and smacked him upside the head.

"What?!" Ferdy questioned in reply, hand immediately covering the aching place of impact.

"Next time I pick a tester, turn the damn beam up HIGH! How can I try to grasp a woman who is still in her right mind? I didn't invent that Dream Beam to give women frustrating, repetitive dreams for no reason! Turn it up high, aim in the coordinates I give, and press the big red button. Think you can do that?" he growled, spittle flying to land on the poor man as he nodded, understanding.

"Good. Now aim back at Miss Robinson, and when she comes crawling back with horrible dreams, we'll see how she likes my advances then!" he rumbled with a maniac chuckle.

The human mind was so fun to toy with...