The Reality of my dreams

As I reached platform 3, I could barely see a thing. My long brown hair had fallen out of its messy bun, and I’m sure my rushed outfit didn’t look much better as I tripped on my untied shoelace. The fog was dense and the morning fresh. Winter seemed to be lasting longer than usual this year. I checked my phone and it was earlier than I expected.

Not too sure how I arrived almost an hour early for my train, I took a seat on the bench, it was ice cold. To my right, there was an elderly gentleman who seemed to be dozing off. Clearly, I wasn't the only one who didn't get enough sleep.

I stared at him, I knew I shouldn't but I was intrigued. The longer I stared the more I began to notice. He had a light dusting of grey hair, his eyes had wrinkles, and he could probably use a new pair of glasses. The pair he was wearing were taped together, I wondered how they broke.

He was holding a black notebook, it had been on many adventures, and was well worn. The spine had creases, the pages are well adorned with dog ears, and the elastic band holding it closed was clearly strained. Whatever was in that notebook was a wonderful mystery I wished to uncover.

I stared at the man and imagined what could possibly be in his notebook, as the sun began to rise, sharing its light and lifting the fog. The platform was getting busier and my train arrived in another 15 minutes.

Even with the hustle and bustle, my unacquainted acquaintance was still dozing. I walked up to him and gently nudged his shoulder. No response. I tried again. Still nothing. I’m convinced I saw his chest moving and his eyelids flickering just moments before.

"Help! Help!" I screamed, everyone remained unresponsive. What was this? Why was no one helping?

"HELP!" I screamed louder, but nothing happened. Nothing came out of my mouth and nothing was heard.

I stumbled in a panic and all I could see were the bright lights of a train coming at me. How did I get here? Where was I? This was my worst fear, how was everything happening at once?

I closed my eyes and reached for the platform edge, the concrete was rough. The air smelt like engine oil, my heart was pounding heavily, and I couldn’t hear the screeching of brakes.

There was a cloud of dust. Everything became silent. In the distance I could hear a radio. It was playing 'Don't dream it's over' by Crowded House. My eyes flashed open, as I realised that was my alarm.

It was a dream. It felt so real though. I got ready in a daze and made my way to the station. As I approached, emergency vehicles barricaded the street and subsequently the station entrance.

I waited the commotion out and watched the events unfold, from a coffee shop window across the street.

Someone got wheeled out by paramedics, and the police entered the station, speculation was buzzing, and one particular conversation piqued my interest.

"It all took place about an hour ago, I overheard one of them saying it may be the nanotech attacker", said a man with dark hair.

"No way, what was he doing on this side of town?" replied his mate, who was wearing a grey blazer.

"Not too sure, they're saying that he had used a screw of his glasses to create a nano tracker, that could manipulate one's subconscious once they were asleep", explained the dark haired man.

"That's absurd, there's got to be more of an explanation!" exclaimed the man with the grey blazer.

"I'm not sure there’s one, but they are offering $20,000 to anyone who can provide evidence or proof that it was him, or that it was a nanotech attack", stated the dark haired man.

I reflected on this morning's dream, was it just that or... was it something more. Was I proof that it was a nanotech attack?? Was it my mind he was manipulating?? Is that why I experienced my worst fears...? Also, how had he died and why?

These questions ran through my head and I had no one to tell. Who would believe me. I needed more evidence than 'Oh, I can confirm it was a nanotech attack, I dreamt of a man with broken glasses'.

My only hope was that little black book. No one had mentioned it, and if this was an attack, and one on me, I would be the only one who saw it. I needed to find the black book.

So, I finished my coffee, vacated my spot and made my way to the station.

The ambulance left, and a single police vehicle remained on the scene. The only platform still closed was platform 4, where the accident occurred. Strange…. As I recalled the events happening on platform 3, however, I was confused and lost a large portion of the dream.

I retraced the steps of my dream. I sat where I sat. Stared where I stared. Smelt what I smelled. Took in everything a lot more clearly and comprehensively. Although muffled the sounds weren't drowned out, when I heard the platform announcement.

"Gail Rhodes, your notebook has been turned in at the ticket office. If you are in the vicinity of the station please come and collect it!"

That’s me. That's my name. I didn't have a notebook. Why did they announce lost property? They never did that.

I made my way towards the ticket office and was greeted by a kind looking middle-aged woman at the counter.

"Hi sweetheart, how can I help you?" she asked with a smile.

"Uhm, my name was just called over the intercom. Apparently my notebook has been turned in..." I stated as confidently as possible, although my palms were sweating and my left eye twitched with nerves.

"Aaah, yes. We don't usually make such announcements, but with the events of this morning we thought we'd chance our luck to see if you were still around. The notebook seemed special and well loved, we had to find a way to return it," she explained, "here you are," she continued, as she handed me the notebook from my dream.

I grasped the black fraying leather notebook from her hand. In that moment, my thoughts - or was it my dream? - were confirmed. It was definitely a notebook that had seen many adventures.

Too numb to think of an explanation or appropriate response, I replied with a simple "thank you", and walked out the station.

I'd been awake for nearly 2 hours. It felt like 8. I’ve lived a couple realities and was not sure which was which or where I was. I was overwhelmed to the point that I was on autopilot. I looked up from my thought induced daze, and realised I was back at my apartment, where my day began.

I texted my assistant to let her know I wouldn’t be coming into work due to the nanotech attack that took place at the station, and sat on my sofa, with a freshly made cup of tea.

I decided to gather enough courage to open the notebook. I removed the strained elastic band and let it spill open. My eyes focused on the contents and I realised that it was in MY handwriting. Confusion kicked in, and dizziness ensued. I needed air!

I distracted myself by taking a sip of tea and a soothing breath. I counted to ten and looked at it. It felt more like a bomb than a notebook at this point. I didn't know where to start, so the beginning, ...it was.

I picked the notebook up, closed it, and opened the front cover. There sat my name. In my handwriting. No other details, just 'Gail Rhodes'. I turned the page, it was dated - December 15th. I turned the page again, another dated entry. Turned another page, the same thing. This little black notebook seemed to be a diary of sorts.

I picked a random page and read it.

"20th January. Gee, today was rough. I wish we knew more about that specific legislation, until we do, nothing can be done. I'm not sure we're going to be able to stop this before it becomes a major issue. Does he have a conscience? Does he realise the impact that these attacks are having? Why is he doing this? I know it's not my company's place to get involved, but we have been asked to go covert with it, as they believe the original investigation is in jeopardy. If only there were some way to help this individual, or organisation, see that this isn't how nanotech should be used. I may do some more research later."

Shocked. That was simply it, my thoughts were being invaded, I felt violated. I needed a shower. I needed to get to the bottom of this. I needed to be braver and read further.

I stood up, placed the notebook on the table, and went to take a shower. I needed to clear my head, change my clothes and get emotionally prepared for this discovery.

I had wished for this, but this is not what I imagined it to be.

My senses dulled with the increasing heat of the shower, as I once again recalled my dream and recollected as many details as possible. A light bulb suddenly switched, the dog ears. They had to be there for a reason.

It had been about 3 hours since I showered, and I had uncovered vital information. The dog eared pages included footnotes, and although in my handwriting and my thoughts, the little black notebook was actually field notes. It was part of the nanotech attacker’s latest experiment.

The last footnote read, "10th February. I have decided it's time to execute the final stage of the experiment, engaging the subject's worst fears. Not only have I planned on engaging them, I am going to ensure that they get executed too. I want to discover if it is possible for someone's subconscious thoughts to be responsible for their death. The subject has had the latest shared device in her for 10 days. From the first device insertion, on December 15th, I have been able to track her person and access her thoughts. I understand her daily routine and her actions are predictable, making insertion easy. I have accessed her greatest fears and know that this is the best spot. It's an hour early for her, but right on time for me.

She approaches, and I dare not open my eyes. I know she isn't physically there and I have to keep up the facade for at least another 20 minutes.

I'm feeling strange though, there's a possible glitch in my half of the shared device. The more I access the subject’s thoughts and mannerisms, the more my emotions have started to feel her’s. I'm afraid if I don't execute this now, I may not be able to.

She just screamed for help and stumbled onto the tracks. I can't look actually. The train is coming. What is this? Why am I panicking? I've got to stop this. She isn't going to make it onto platform 4. She isn't supposed to, but she has to. I can't let her die. I'm aborting the mission. This has gone too far."

I had been saved by the nanotech attacker, and this little black book had all the evidence I needed to prove that the man who was injured on platform 4, was him. I rang the police.

It has been 4 months. Using the information provided, the police were quick to confirm that it was him, charges were placed and I received my reward. My unacquainted acquaintance, is now a friend, and is recovering in rehab. He is glad that he was able to change the trajectory of his discoveries.