Jennifer woke up with a start, her eyes snapping open. Outside, the first faint glow of dawn was just beginning to touch the sky. She reached for the alarm clock—it wasn't even close to going off yet. Sitting on the edge of the bed, she rubbed her temples with her fingertips. Awake again before the birds.
Jennifer slid her feet into warm slippers and threw on her robe. Moving quietly so as not to wake her husband or the kids, she padded into the kitchen. As she poured steaming tea into a large mug, she noticed her hands were shaking again. She took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. Her nerves were shot, and the sheer feeling of helplessness nearly moved her to tears. Things were taking a dark turn—she had almost completely stopped sleeping, and she felt perpetually exhausted and broken.
It had all started six weeks ago. As a senior partner at a prestigious law firm, she had been providing counsel on a high-stakes white-collar criminal case for a very prominent client. That evening, he had called her after 10:00 PM.
"Jennifer, I'm sorry it's so late. I need an urgent consultation."
The case was grueling, and she stayed on the phone with him until midnight.
The exhaustion and mental strain had finally taken their toll. She had barely managed to crawl to the sofa, and the moment her head hit the pillow, she plummeted into a deep sleep...
***
Jennifer was running along a winding forest trail. The woods in her dream weren't the kind where you'd go hiking or picking berries. They were sinister and suffocating, straight out of a horror movie. The moon cast a pale light on the path that led toward her childhood home. But suddenly, she realized she had lost her way and couldn't find the right turn.
The trees ahead grew taller, closing in like a dark, living wall. She let out a strangled cry and tried to run in the opposite direction. Suddenly, a dark silhouette flickered behind the trunks. Terror washed over her from head to toe, freezing her in place. It felt as though her feet had taken root in the earth.
The silhouette approached her rapidly, shifting into a blurred, incomprehensible creature. Jennifer tried with all her might to run, but her legs felt like lead. When the phantom lunged at her from behind, she screamed in pure, primal horror and bolted upright in bed.
She had woken her husband with her scream. He stared at her, then at the clock, completely bewildered.
"You scared me to death! What happened?"
She shook her head, trying to shrug off the remnants of the nightmare.
"Go back to sleep, it was just a bad dream," she whispered. He turned over and was snoring again within a minute.
***
In the morning, occupied by her daily routine, Jennifer almost forgot about the nightmare.
But gradually, the dream turned into a true obsession. The poor woman saw it more and more often. Over the last week, it had begun to repeat every single night. Jennifer would wake up screaming in a cold sweat and find it impossible to fall back asleep until morning.
She began dosing herself with sleep aids, but to no avail—nothing worked. She became terrified of even getting into bed at night. Due to the constant sleep deprivation, things started falling apart at work. She lost client after client because she couldn't concentrate or grasp the nuances of her cases.
Her boss had already called her into his office twice and had even issued a formal warning. Because of her lack of focus, the firm had suffered significant losses. But worse than that was her own realization of her decline. A top-tier specialist, she was slowly turning into a bumbling amateur. Without rest, her brain was misfiring and categorically refused to function.
Jennifer began snapping over trifles, venting her frustration on colleagues and family alike. Her actual sleep consisted only of five-to-ten-minute snatches.
"I'm going to lose my mind! There has to be a way out of this," she lamented to her best friend, Sarah. "If this doesn't stop, I'm going to lose my job and my family. I'm snapping at everyone like a lunatic."
Sarah shook her head sympathetically.
"You're going to have to see a specialist, Jen. You can't handle this on your own."
"I've already seen a neurologist. I even went to a sleep disorders center where they hooked me up to monitors to study my sleep cycles. I slept there all day, but the diagnostics didn't show any underlying neurological issues. I have the report right here. I'm scared, Sarah... I think the next stop is a therapist, or worse, a psychiatrist." Jennifer broke down in bitter tears.
Things at home were getting worse, too. Her husband was growing resentful of being woken up every night. Eventually, she had to move to the sofa in the den. During dinner, her daughter brought up a new idea.
"Mom, watch this video with me on my laptop. We spend so little time together lately. There's this specialist talking about subconscious blockages."
She set the laptop on the table in front of Jennifer.
"Mom, let's go see him? Look, his rates are reasonable. And he's been featured in that big documentary series about the mind," her daughter urged.
Jennifer looked at her wearily. "You're so young and naive. The last thing I need is a charlatan or a fraud."
The breaking point came when Jennifer nearly crashed her car. She realized then that something had to change. She had fallen asleep at the wheel while driving to an urgent meeting. She managed to force her eyes open just inches away from a semi-truck. By some miracle, they missed each other, but the driver gave her a long, angry blast of his horn—a wordless bouquet of curses.
That was it. Enough. She was going to see a psychotherapist.
***
The next day, following a recommendation from a former client, she selected a specialist and called. The first session was set for Monday. The doctor's name was Dr. Richard Miller. From his profile picture, an older, distinguished-looking man with a neat grey beard and glasses looked back at her.
Jennifer was incredibly anxious. "What if there really are skeletons in the closet?" she wondered.
But she was ready for any experiment at this point, just to find the cause of her suffering.
Dr. Miller practiced out of a home office. At 10:00 AM, Jennifer stood at the door of a modern high-rise in the city center. She found the office quickly.
The experience reminded her of a scene from a movie. A shorter man with silver hair and a beard, wearing thick glasses, met her at the door and gallantly led her into his study.
"Even the sofa looks familiar—green velvet," Jennifer thought to herself and smiled.
The therapist seemed to embody the classic image of his profession. Within minutes, Jennifer realized her doubts were misplaced; she was in the presence of a truly skilled psychologist. Dr. Miller asked simple, unobtrusive questions, but soon she found herself sharing her deepest secrets.
Jennifer couldn't recall how long they talked. Suddenly, her head began to thrum, her eyelids felt like lead, and she plummeted into the abyss of sleep. The nervous exhaustion and chronic insomnia had finally won.
Dr. Miller reached out to wake her to continue the session, but she suddenly began to speak—quietly and incoherently. The doctor immediately turned on his digital recorder. He waited with interest for the repetition of the nightmare she had described.
Sitting nearby, he watched the sleeping woman's face intently. She slept for about an hour, then suddenly groaned and began to thrash restlessly. Her mouth twisted in a silent scream; she snapped her eyes open and bolted up from the sofa.
"I'm so sorry, I... I don't know how that happened," she said, looking at the doctor with frightened eyes.
Dr. Miller placed a hand on hers to calm her. He brewed a cup of herbal tea and handed it to her.
"Don't worry. Everything is fine. It was only a dream." Ten minutes later, as he saw her to the door, he added, "I'll see you at our next session. I believe by then I'll be able to understand the root of the disorder and suggest a course of action."
Dr. Miller handed her her coat and bowed politely.
He had difficult work ahead. He needed to listen to the recording again and piece together the cause of the problem. He was certain the answer was buried there.
The specialist, with over twenty years of experience, was right. He listened to the muddled mumbling for a long time, replaying the recording over and over. Suddenly, his face cleared. He took off his glasses and wiped the fogged lenses. He went to the kitchen, slowly brewed some peppermint tea, and called Jennifer.
"Hello, Jennifer. I'd like to see you tomorrow at five sharp. I've identified the issue, and I can advise you on where to begin."
Intrigued, Jennifer could hardly wait for the next evening. She was at the doctor's door ten minutes early. She nearly collided with a departing patient as she burst inside.
"What is it, Doctor? Please, don't keep me in suspense. I can't take it anymore."
Dr. Miller smiled and invited her into the kitchen for a traditional cup of herbal tea before leading her into the study.
"Yesterday, you didn't mention much about your relationship with your father. But I believe, and not without reason, that the root of these nightmares lies in that specific area of your past."
Jennifer didn't like his words. She didn't want to stir up old wounds or talk about the long-standing resentment she held toward her father.
"What are you trying to say?" she frowned, setting her empty cup down sharply.
Dr. Miller looked at her steadily.
"Don't be upset. Just answer me honestly: How long has it been since you saw your parents?"
Jennifer looked down, embarrassed.
"A very long time. My mother passed away twenty-five years ago. And my father..." she nervously toyed with the edge of her scarf. "Are you saying I should call him?"
The doctor shook his head.
"You need to go there, Jennifer. That is the only way. Go see him."
***
Jennifer went home feeling unsettled. She had stopped finding common ground with her father after her mother died. He had turned into a domestic tyrant, forbidding her from seeing friends and controlling her every move. He had even forbidden her from going to her high school prom in a short dress that had been a gift from her mother.
Now that she had children of her own, she could partly understand his anxiety. But as a teenager, it had felt like a betrayal. After graduating, she had simply run away from home—anywhere to be away from him.
She had moved to the city, got into law school—thankfully, her honors diploma helped—and after graduating, found a good job and established herself as a rising star. Life had moved on: marriage, children, a successful career.
In all those years, she hadn't given a thought to how her father was living.
The relationship had ended, and everything stayed in the past. To go to him now felt like a knife to the heart. For all she knew, he might have been dead for years. But the desire to be free of the nightmare won out.
She requested a leave of absence at work and began to pack.
***
It was a long journey with several transfers. She took a train to a regional hub and then caught a bus to the small town. She usually hated travel, but she noticed that to the rhythmic clicking of the train wheels, she slept peacefully.
Jennifer looked around the town where she had spent her childhood with curiosity. Significant changes had taken place over the years. Memories flooded back, making her heart ache.
She walked down the street, her legs feeling weak, shivering under the curious glances of the locals. Finally, there it was—the house she knew so well. God, it was terrifying to take that first step. She stood for a minute, brushed a strand of chestnut hair from her forehead, and resolutely opened the gate.
Her gaze fell on the neglected, overgrown yard and the rotted, sagging porch steps. A horrible thought pierced her heart. No, her father had been a meticulous man; he would never have let the house fall into such a state.
"He's dead! I'm too late!" She pushed the unlocked door and stepped inside.
"Mrs. Gable? Help me up... I need to get some air..." a faint male voice drifted from the other room.
Jennifer dropped her bag and rushed toward the voice. There, she saw a heartbreaking scene. A man lay hunched on the bed, covered by an old, frayed blanket. On the nightstand, a pile of pills sat next to a large, chipped mug of cold tea. The old man turned his head and squinted blindly at the visitor.
"Who are you? The nurse? Where's Mrs. Gable?" The elderly man dissolved into a dry cough.
Jennifer let out a choked cry and threw her arms around him.
"Dad! It's me! It's Jennifer!"
The old man's face crumpled, and tears began to track down his wrinkled skin.
"You came... Jennifer, my girl..."
Through her own tears, Jennifer looked at his shaking, withered hands and felt like a monster.
How could she have forgotten and abandoned her own father over a foolish childhood grudge? When had her heart become so hardened? Her conscience cut through her like a sword. She pressed his grey head to her chest with both hands.
"Forgive me, Dad. If you can... please forgive me. I can't bear to see you cry. I promise, I'm going to make everything right."
***
Jennifer brought her father back to the city. She found the best hospital and the most renowned doctors. Only a month passed, but he fully recovered and regained his strength. He didn't want to stay in the city, so she hired contractors, and within a month, the house back home was fully renovated. During that time, the grandfather got to know and befriended his grandchildren and son-in-law. As they say, "Every cloud has a silver lining."
They said their goodbyes with tears. Jennifer sobbed, and the grandkids cried too.
"You have to come visit. And we'll come see you," Jennifer said, handing him a new smartphone. "Call me—the kids showed you how to use it, right?"
Her father gently patted her head.
"Don't worry. We'll always be together now. We won't lose each other again."
Jennifer nodded, agreeing. They hugged one last time, helped the old man with his bags, and saw him onto the train.
They stood on the platform for a long time, watching the train disappear into the distance. That night, Jennifer had the nightmare again.
***
She was running through the enchanted, swaying forest once more. Moonlight filtered through the strange thicket. She knew exactly what would happen next, as if she were watching a movie she starred in. Seeing herself from the outside, she suddenly began to notice the nuances.
Countless paths twisted under her feet, but she was stubbornly marching toward a dark swamp. Suddenly, she saw the black shadow begin to transform. But tonight, it wasn't formless. It quickly took the shape of a man. She recognized him as her father, and the phantom no longer seemed frightening.
He approached rapidly, blocking her path to the swamp. He found her by an old, spreading evergreen, hugged her, and pulled her in the other direction. At the moment they stepped out of the woods, Jennifer squinted against a bright light, cried out, and woke up.
She wiped the tears from her face with a sense of relief and looked at the ringing alarm clock. She realized then that the terrible, dark dream would never return...
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