Free The Experiment of Dreams by Brandon Zenner

particularly frightening and frustrating dream he had one night. He was sleeping, completely lucid, then suddenly woke up. His room looked different. Things were not right. His bed was a twin, not a queen. The floor was carpeted, not hard wood, and the shape of the room was oddly rectangular. There was a poster on the wall so blurry he could not read whatever was written on it—and when was the last time he even owned a poster?
    He realized he was still dreaming; he was dreaming that he had awakened from his sleep. This pattern repeated itself, perhaps a dozen times, and each time he was fooled into believing he was really waking up, only to find out he was not. Panic set in. Time had no precedent—perhaps hours went by, days even, or just minutes.
    Am I stuck here? Are the sheets wrapped around my throat, cutting off the oxygen to my brain? Am I dying? Am I dead?
    Suddenly his head began to spasm and twitch, the muscles in the back of his neck shaking, and he awoke to the real world. He was fine and safe, yet his head was sore, his brain overworked. After that dream, he could consciously do that “neck twitch” whenever he wanted, and it saved him from all sorts of dream-induced panic states and near-death experiences.
    Dr. Wulfric cleared his throat, and continued speaking, “Ben, we would like to continue with the study, with you.”
    Ben laughed. “And I would very much like for you to proceed adding funds to my bank account.” He had some money left from the sale of his old house and the bar, but not much. The bar’s popularity plummeted after the incident that left his wife dead, and he barely made ends meet.
    “Ha! That’s excellent, excellent,” Dr. Wulfric went on. “I have to call Mr. Kalispell this afternoon. He is anxious to hear the results. Feel free to make yourself some breakfast, and come down when you’re finished. Mr. Marcus will be here soon to deliver the rest of your pay. We can schedule another appointment when he arrives. I’ll call the driver to take you home whenever you’re ready.”
    Dr. Wulfric stood from the table and walked to the stairway.
    “Doctor?”
    “Yes?” He turned at the top of the stairs.
    “I was just wondering … is it possible to see my dream, what you recorded?”
    There was a pause. “We’re still going through the data, cleaning things up. Let’s wait until I speak to Mr. Kalispell.” The doctor smiled widely. “I’m glad you’re interested in the work we’re doing. Mr. Kalispell will be pleased. Now, Ben, make sure you eat something.”
    Dr. Wulfric disappeared through the door. Ben thought about eating, but his stomach suddenly felt sour and his head had that far-away feeling.
    A nap in the limo would be nice, he laughed to himself. The limo! Emily, if you could see me now! Ha!

Chapter 7
    B en pushed the front door open with his foot, careful not to squash the bags of groceries he held in his arms. The door to his apartment had a strong self-closing hinge that ensured that the door would always shut unless held open by something heavy. The door annoyed the shit out of Ben. The hinge violently slammed the door shut when he didn’t want it to. He kept a brick nearby—that some kid had thrown though his window a couple months ago—to keep the door propped open, and he hopelessly searched for it now in the dark. He quickly released his foot and raced to the counter as the last ray of light shrank and disappeared with the slamming of the door. He felt for the edge of the wall with his foot and put the groceries down on the counter, then turned back to find the light switch.
    In the living room sat a brand new forty-six-inch Samsung flat screen TV. It stood on the same stand as his old TV—the boxy old Hitachi with fake wood paneling that he’d bought as a teenager and somehow managed to keep working. At least he thought it might still work, it had been years since he had even tried.
    With money coming in, Ben decided to splurge a little. He went