Page 11 of Realm of Dreams & Shadows

“They were,” I snap, then immediately cringe, realizing I’d gone too far. “I mean the nightmares were happening. But that was because I’d just lost my mother not my grip on reality.”

I blink back tears. “I hated it there. Hated it. But you never even asked. Not once. You signed the forms to trap me there and called it love. And now you’re doing the same thing with my roommate assignment. Picking the girl you figure can watch over me without freaking out because her cousin has night terrors.”

“Oh, sweetheart. No. I’m so sorry. I didn’t know what to do back then. I’d just buried my sister, and I knew you had the same disorder and—” He cuts himself off with a shake of his head. “I thought I was helping you. I thought being there would keep you safe.”

“Whatever,” I say, wiping my tears away, then pulling my feet up onto the seat so I can hug my knees. “It’s okay,” I say, even though it isn’t. Not yet. Maybe not ever. “I just—it’s just that I don’t need you to babysit me.”

“Babysit?”

I want to throw my hands up in frustration. “Hello? Picking my roommate based on how well you think she’ll handle it if I wake up screaming?”

“I see.” He’s frowning again. “Do you want me to assign Tia a new room?”

“No,” I blurt, wanting to bang my head against something hard. “Are you kidding? She’s great.”

His frown deepens. “Then everything’s okay, right?”

I take a moment to count to ten. “Yeah,” I finally say to my totally brilliant but practically clueless uncle. “We’re fine.”

And I guess we are. After all, Finn’s just being Finn.

But at the same time, this revelation that my uncle has been planning contingencies for my inevitable failure at school is a stark reminder that I’m not normal. And probably never will be.

“Uh-oh. We’re not fine,” he says with a glance at my face. “Okay, lay it on me some more,” he adds, then sinks onto the sofa.

I look at my wine instead of my uncle. “It’s just—it’s just that I haven’t had an episode in over a month.” That’s a lie, of course, but only if you count today. And today I hadn’t woken up screaming. So yay for me.

“Oh, well, that’s wonderful.” His relief is almost palpable. “What did the trick? Have you adjusted your meds?”

“That’s not the point. You didn’t even ask. You just assumed I’m going to wake up screaming and freak out my roomie.”

I sigh, then shrug. Because, yeah. That’s exactly what’s going to happen. A month without an episode is pretty amazing, but I know I’m not cured. There is no cure. Not unless dying counts as a remedy.

Besides, it’s only been two weeks and three days since my last screaming freak-out. I rounded up.

So, yes. A doozy is coming. I can even feel it brewing, the nightmares poking at me, gathering like moths to a flame.

One day, I won’t have a choice.

One day, my elaborate ritual of caffeine, nap apps with those special sound waves, and sheer, stubborn willpower won’t work anymore.

One day, I’ll have to sleep deep. And the nightmares will be there waiting for me.

“You’re right,” he says. “I shouldn’t have assumed. But Cora, no episodes in over a month? That’s something to celebrate.”

“I know,” I say, not meeting his eyes.

“And?” He waves his hand as if urging me to talk. “New meds? A new doctor? What facilitated the change?”

“My doctor thinks it’s because I finally processed Mom’s death.” The lie slips out easily. No way am I telling Uncle Finn the truth—that since I’m certain my nightmares are premonitions of my own impending doom, doctors are useless.

“It’s been hard,” Uncle Finn says. “I miss Cassie too.” He sits up straighter and aims a finger at me. “If you do have an episode, I want you to call me. Day or night. A sleep disorder is nothing to screw around with. You promise?”

“I promise,” I lie. “But didn’t you lure me here under the pretense of dinner? I’m starving.” I’m not. But I am desperate to change the subject.

He stands, gesturing for me to follow him to the kitchen. Since the table is covered with academic tomes and clippings, he points to two clear spots at the kitchen island. We sit there, filling our bellies with some seriously awesome pasta while he clues me in on the quirks of various professors I’ll encounter in my courses.

“Professor Valdez teaches Abnormal Psych,” he says. “Brilliant woman, but if you look away while she’s speaking, she’ll think you’re not paying attention and call you out in front of everyone.”