Lucid desire

Chapter 7_ The therapist

Aria blinked, her vision struggling to adjust to the strange light of the new world. Colors shimmered and bent unnaturally, air rippling like liquid around her. Her stomach churned as she realized she was standing on a cliff edge, overlooking a valley where flickering fires painted the landscape in molten oranges and deep shadows. The smell of sulfur and smoke stung her nose, making her cough.

Then she saw her.

The woman on the opposite cliff moved with uncanny familiarity the same height, the same posture, even the same dark hair tied loosely at the nape of her neck. Aria’s chest tightened, disbelief rooting her to the spot.

“That… that looks like me,” she whispered, stepping forward, but the ground beneath her shifted subtly, forcing her to halt. “No… it can’t be.”

The doppelgänger was kneeling, arms outstretched, trying desperately to keep a group of children away from the flickering flames below. Their tiny faces were pale, eyes wide with terror, clutching each other for safety. Aria’s heart thudded painfully in her chest.

And then she saw him a figure in a black cloak, moving with unnerving precision. The hood hid his face entirely; not a single feature could be seen. His hands, gloved in black, reached for the children with deliberate intent. He carried something small and fragile a baby, swaddled tightly.

Aria’s breath caught. “No… no! Don’t!” she whispered, but the wind seemed to swallow her voice before it left her lips.

The doppelgänger turned, catching sight of the cloaked figure, and lunged forward. “Get back!” the other Aria shouted, voice ringing with authority and fear. She blocked the man’s approach, arms spread to shield the children.

Aria’s mind raced. She wanted to run, to help, but her feet felt rooted in place. Panic clawed at her chest. “What is happening? This can’t be real…” she muttered, trembling. Her eyes darted between the doppelgänger and the cloaked figure, heart hammering so loudly it drowned out everything else.

The cloaked man ignored the shouts, moving deliberately toward the largest child. Aria’s hands shook. I have to do something… I can’t just watch.

Her chest tightened as he lifted the baby higher. Time slowed in her mind. The infant’s tiny limbs flailed, its eyes wide, innocent. Aria’s voice rose before she could stop it:

“Nooooo!”

But the shout never fully formed; reality itself seemed to shudder at her scream. The ground beneath her vibrated violently, rocks skittering across the cliff edges. The fire below twisted unnaturally, flaring and retracting, as if the world itself were tearing apart.

Aria stumbled back, clutching at nothing but air. Her heart raced, adrenaline screaming through her veins. The doppelgänger’s voice cut through the chaos: “Hold them! Don’t let them!”

The black-cloaked figure hesitated, his movements jerky as if sensing the disruption, but the hood still hid his face entirely. Every instinct screamed at Aria to intervene, yet she felt an invisible force pressing her back, guiding her retreat.

The fire leapt unnaturally toward the sky, smoke coiling like serpents. Trees along the cliff edges bent and twisted as though recoiling from something unseen. Aria’s stomach dropped as she realized the entire scene was collapsing. The valley warped, the cliffs groaning and splitting, the ground beneath her trembling violently.

Her pulse thundered. “What… what’s happening?!” she gasped, voice shaking. She wanted to run toward her double, to stop the baby from falling, but the pull from the world around her was undeniable. A force tugged at her chest, her limbs, even her thoughts, dragging her backward.

The doppelgänger’s cry cut through the chaos: “Aria! The baby”

And then everything tilted. Rocks and debris swirled in the air around her. Flames flickered wildly, and the wind roared like a living thing. Aria reached out instinctively, feeling the pull as if reality itself were yanking her back. Her hands brushed against nothing tangible, yet energy shot through her fingers, and she felt a strange resonance a connection, raw and unfamiliar, vibrating inside her chest.

“No… no!” she whispered, gripping at the air, trying to hold onto the scene. But the world had already begun to fracture, collapsing like sand slipping through a sieve. The doppelgänger’s form flickered, eyes wide, lips parted in shock, and then just as abruptly vanished into the chaotic void.

Aria felt herself tumbling backward, spinning through colors that defied naming. Her body felt weightless, then heavy, then weightless again. The roar of collapsing earth and fire echoed in her ears, replaced slowly by the sound of her own ragged breathing.

And then silence.

She landed hard, knees scraping against the tile beneath her. A hand went to her chest, feeling the rapid thump of her heart. Her eyes flew open, and she realized she was back in her own world. The bathroom looked exactly as it had when she had touched the mirror no smoke, no fire, no collapsed cliffs. Time seemed unchanged, as if nothing had happened.

Aria sank to the floor, gasping, chest heaving. “What… what’s happening to me?” she whispered, voice trembling. Her fingers flexed, brushing against the cold tile. She could still feel the echo of the pull, the strange resonance of the collapsing world lingering inside her.

Her mind raced, replaying the scene: the children, the doppelgänger, the cloaked figure, the baby teetering over the flames. Her knees shook as she muttered to herself, more in disbelief than fear:

“I… I wasn’t dreaming… was I? That… that was real. I saw… me… doing that. And that man… that thing… what… what is happening to me?”

A cold shiver ran down her spine. She tried to rise, staggering to the mirror she had touched before, half-expecting it to shimmer again. But it sat ordinary and inert, reflecting only her wide-eyed, pale face.

Aria pressed both hands to the glass, staring at her own reflection. Her breathing slowed slightly, but her mind refused to settle. The knowledge of what she’d witnessed the power she had felt pulling her from one world to another, the doppelgänger saving children, the cloaked figure she couldn’t recognize left her trembling.

Her voice broke as she whispered into the empty room: “What’s happening… to me?”

The mirror remained still, silent, unyielding. And yet, deep in the pit of her chest, Aria felt a pulse a tiny, persistent heartbeat of energy that didn’t belong to the world she knew.

It was hers.

And it was awake.

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Aria stepped into her apartment, kicking off her shoes and letting the door click softly behind her. The mundane hum of the refrigerator and the faint city noise outside should have been comforting, but instead, they felt alien, almost intrusive. She pressed her bag to her chest and sank onto the edge of the sofa, letting out a shaky breath.

Her mind refused to stop racing. The memory of the other world the woman who looked exactly like her, the children in danger, the black-cloaked figure pressed in on her from every angle. She hugged her knees tightly, rocking slightly. “This… this isn’t real,” she muttered, voice barely above a whisper. “I’m imagining it. It has to be. I can’t… I can’t be seeing things like that.”

But the memory was too vivid, too visceral. She could still feel the heat from the collapsing valley, the tension of the doppelgänger holding the children back, and the eerie pull that yanked her back to her own world. Her hands shook as she pressed them to her face.

“I must be… going crazy,” she breathed. “There’s no other explanation. Nothing about that… that world… that wasn’t a dream. It couldn’t have been. I’m… losing it.”

Aria pushed herself upright, pacing the small living room. She tried to replay the events logically, forcing herself to reason them away. But every time she closed her eyes, the images returned the baby teetering above the flames, the cloak hiding the figure’s face, her other self moving with desperate urgency.

Her fingers drummed against the edge of the sofa. “I… I can’t just… ignore this. I can’t pretend it didn’t happen.” Panic bubbled in her chest, making her stomach churn. “I need… help. I need someone to tell me I’m not… insane.”

The thought of calling a therapist had crossed her mind before, but now it felt urgent, necessary. She glanced at her phone on the coffee table and picked it up, scrolling through the contacts she had researched months ago. Her fingers hovered over the names, unsure. Will they even believe me? Or will they think I’m completely delusional?

Aria sank back onto the sofa, wrapping her arms around herself. “Maybe… maybe I’m just stressed. Overworked. Maybe this is all in my head.” She shook her head violently, rejecting the notion even as she admitted it. “No… no, that was too real. I saw it. I felt it. I… I can’t just pretend it didn’t happen.”

Her chest tightened. She could still feel the pull of the other world lingering faintly, a strange vibration beneath her skin. It was unsettling and thrilling at the same time. I can’t ignore this. I have to… I have to figure it out.

Finally, her trembling fingers settled on a name a therapist she had bookmarked long ago but never called. Her thumb hovered over the call button, her mind a whirlwind of fear and hope. “Okay,” she whispered to herself. “One step. One step at a time. I’ll… I’ll call. I’ll tell them everything. Maybe… maybe they can help me understand what’s happening.”

Aria took a shaky breath, feeling a flicker of resolve among the panic. She wasn’t sure if this would explain the doppelgänger, the collapsing world, or the cloaked figure, but it was a start. She could take that first step, and maybe, just maybe, regain some control over her spiraling mind.

The apartment was still, ordinary, quiet, yet she felt changed. Something inside her had shifted a sense that reality itself was not as fixed as she had always believed. And as she finally pressed the call button, whispering once more to herself, “What’s happening to me…?” she realized this was only the beginning.