The Deep Dream

Chapter Six: Life Slapped And Reality Checked Me.

Six months.

Fuck that.

Four months had already passed, so time is at least flying by you would think. But it was like it was trying to outrun me. I was sitting in the hospital room, actually relaxed for once, staring out the window and pretending—just for a moment—that things were finally settling.

Knock. Knock.

“Hey, James,” Dr. Amber said as she stepped in. Her voice was quiet and scared . Careful. That should’ve been my first warning.

“I have some news for you.”

Something in my chest tightened.

“Last week, your son didn’t come in for his visit, remember? “It’s because… Isaiah is in a coma.”

The room tilted.

“He went out with his girlfriend,” she said, swallowing, “and his best friend and his wife. They were at the new Jeans Rabbit Den bar. There was an altercation.”

My body was trembling inside.

“He was pushed off the roof.”

The words echoed, it sounded too familiar. This having the sense that I lived this already is scary.

Dr. Amber held something out to me.

“A letter,” she said quietly. “We found it in his pocket.”

My hands shook as I took it.

I haven't opened it yet.

I couldn’t.

Because the moment I do, I won't want to live anymore. The story isn't done. A voice said to me. I start turning around.

It was a very deep man's voice. It then said The Story Had Just Began. It also said it had just changed narrators.

Five months in.

Lonely. Completely alone. My boy is in a coma, and I feel every second of it.

The note… I haven’t read it yet. I’ve stared at it for weeks, and now I can’t put it off any longer. My hands shake as I unfold the paper.

I start reading.

And then—visions. Flooding my mind, rapid, unstoppable. The room bends. The walls breathe. Faces I know, faces I don’t. The bar. The roof. A voice. Words I haven’t heard. Things I’ve never done, things I can’t explain.

It’s… out of control.

Every line pulls me deeper. Every sentence hits before I can process it. My chest tightens. My stomach flips. The world around me isn’t real anymore—it’s the note, the coma, my son, all crashing together.

And I realize: nothing will ever feel the same after this.

Yes, James… you’re right.

You’re seeing things you never knew were real.

The voice wasn’t coming from the room.

It wasn’t coming from my head either.

It was coming from somewhere in between.

You will join Isaiah, the voice continued, smooth and certain. You will see what he went through. Every step. Every mistake. Every choice that led him to where he is now.

My heart slammed against my ribs.

You wanted answers, it said. This is the price.

I tried to speak, but my mouth wouldn’t move. My body felt heavy, like gravity had doubled. The air around me thickened, pressing in on my chest.

Then the voice laughed.

Not loud.

Not fast.

Slow. Enjoying itself.

Mwahaha…

Mwahahaha…

The sound crawled down my spine.

Now, the voice said, lowering, almost kind, here is where he was.

The room around me began to fade. The hospital walls dissolved first. The beeping machines stretched into long, distorted echoes. The floor dropped away like it had never been there at all.

And suddenly—

I wasn’t alone anymore.

I was sitting in Jeans Rabbit Den.

Isaiah was right there—close enough that I could’ve reached out and touched him.

“Isaiah,” I said.

Nothing.

It was like my voice didn’t exist.

He sat with his best friend, Michael, laughing, drinking. Michael’s girlfriend leaned into him, smiling. Isaiah had his arm around another girl I didn’t recognize.

“Isaiah,” I said again, louder this time.

He didn’t even flinch.

It hit me then—I wasn’t with him.

I was watching him.

Isaiah stood up, wobbling slightly. Michael’s girlfriend stood with him. They exchanged a look that made my stomach drop.

“Hey,” I said, panic creeping into my voice. “Don’t—”

They walked past me like I wasn’t there.

Toward the bathroom.

And no matter how fast I followed, no matter how loud I shouted, I couldn’t stop it.

The voice echoed again.

Does this memory feel oddly familiar to you? it asked.

Like you’ve lived this before?

This is one of many things he did before he went into a coma, the voice continued, almost casual.

I clenched my fists.

Don’t worry, it said, amused. This isn’t how he ended up in his state.

There was a pause.

It was much worse, my friend. It repeated three times.

My stomach dropped.

You’ll see, the voice whispered.

Everything went dark.

My head felt like it was splitting open. Pressure. Pain. Laughter—loud, endless, echoing from everywhere at once.

“Shut up,” I screamed. “You son of a b***h!”

Poof.

I was back in the hospital.

The white walls. The machines. My heart racing like I’d just been dropped from a height. The laughter still rang in my ears, fading slowly, like it was retreating—but not gone.