It began with the sound of breaking glass. Every night for the past three months, Pisces had been haunted by the same harrowing dream. As he lay in bed, his mind plunged into the dark corridors of an abandoned house, where he witnessed the gruesome murder of a woman he had never met. Her screams pierced his sleep, and the sickening crunch of bones being shattered under a heavy boot resonated through his subconscious. Despite countless therapy sessions, medications, and even hypnotherapy, the nightmares persisted, drawing Pisces deeper into their sinister grip.
Virgo, Pisces’ new therapist, sat across from him in her cozy office, her expression a blend of concern and curiosity. She had reviewed his case file thoroughly, noting the skepticism of her predecessors who had dismissed his dreams as mere figments of an overactive imagination. But Virgo saw something more—a pattern, a plea for help hidden within the chaos.
“Pisces, can you describe the dream again?” Virgo asked, her pen poised over her notepad.
Pisces sighed, running a hand through his disheveled hair. “It’s always the same. I hear the glass shattering first, then I see the woman. She’s running, terrified, through this dilapidated house. And then… then he catches her. He always catches her.”
“Do you recognize the house? Or the woman?” Virgo inquired, leaning forward slightly.
“No,” Pisces replied, shaking his head. “The house is old, Victorian-style, but it doesn’t look familiar. And the woman… she’s a stranger. But it’s like I know her somehow.”
Virgo nodded, jotting down notes. “Have you ever had a dream this vivid before?”
“Not until three months ago,” Pisces said, his voice tinged with frustration. “It’s like I’m living it. I wake up drenched in sweat, sometimes with bruises and cuts that match what I saw in the dream.”
Virgo’s eyes widened slightly at this revelation. “Bruises and cuts? Pisces, why didn’t you mention this earlier?”
Pisces shrugged, a defeated look on his face. “I thought maybe I was hurting myself in my sleep. But it doesn’t add up. The injuries… they appear in places I couldn’t reach.”
Virgo leaned back in her chair, a thoughtful expression on her face. “Pisces, I don’t think this is just a nightmare. I believe you might be experiencing something called ‘shared trauma’. It’s rare, but not impossible. It’s like you’re somehow connected to someone who’s actually experiencing this.”
Pisces frowned. “Connected? How is that even possible?”
Virgo gave a small, reassuring smile. “There are many things about the human mind we don’t fully understand. But I think we need to investigate further. I want you to start keeping a detailed dream journal. Write down everything you see, hear, and feel. And let’s look into your past. Maybe there’s a link we’re missing.”
Pisces nodded, feeling a glimmer of hope for the first time in months. “Alright, I’ll give it a try. But Virgo…what if this woman is real? What if she needs help?”
Virgo met his gaze, her eyes filled with determination. “Then we’ll find her, Pisces. We’ll find her.”
That night, Pisces sat at his kitchen table, a notebook open before him. He felt a strange mix of anticipation and dread as he waited for the familiar pull of sleep. His mind drifted to the past, trying to recall anything that might explain these nightmares. But his memories were a blur, a mosaic of unremarkable moments.
Eventually, exhaustion claimed him, and he was once again thrust into the horrifying dream. The sequence played out as it always did: the shattering glass, the terrified woman, the relentless pursuer. But this time, something was different. As Pisces reached the climax of the dream, he heard a voice—his own voice, shouting a name.
“Scorpio!”
Pisces jolted awake, the name echoing in his mind. He scrambled to write down every detail, his hand shaking with adrenaline. The name felt significant, like a key to unlocking the mystery. But who was Scorpio?
The next morning, Pisces shared his findings with Virgo, who listened intently. “Scorpio,” she repeated, tapping her pen against her chin. “Does the name mean anything to you?”
Pisces shook his head. “No, but it felt… important.”
Virgo stood and walked to her bookshelf, pulling out a thick volume on dream analysis. “Names in dreams can be very powerful. They might not always make sense immediately, but they often hold clues. Let’s start with what we know and see if we can find any connections.”
For the next few weeks, Pisces and Virgo delved into his past, combing through old photographs, diaries, and even visiting places from his childhood. The name Scorpio continued to haunt him, but no clear link emerged.
One rainy afternoon, while they were sifting through a box of old family photos, Virgo gasped. “Pisces, look at this.”
She held up a faded photograph of a young girl, her bright eyes and mischievous smile frozen in time. On the back of the photo, in elegant cursive, was written: “Scorpio, summer of ’85.”
Pisces’ heart raced. “That’s her. That’s the woman from my dreams.”
Virgo studied the photo. “Pisces, who is she?”
Pisces took a deep breath, the pieces of his memory slowly falling into place. “She was my childhood friend. We spent every summer together at my grandparents’ house. But one summer… she disappeared. Everyone said she ran away, but I never believed it. I thought something terrible happened to her.”
Virgo nodded, her expression grave. “Pisces, I think you’re remembering her trauma. Somehow, your mind is trying to piece together what really happened to Scorpio.”
Determined to uncover the truth, Pisces and Virgo contacted old friends and family members, piecing together the events leading up to Scorpio’s disappearance. The investigation led them to the abandoned Victorian house from Pisces’ dreams. It had once belonged to Scorpio’s uncle, a reclusive man with a dark past.
As they explored the house, Pisces felt a growing sense of dread. The rooms were eerily familiar, matching the twisted corridors of his nightmares. In the basement, they discovered a hidden room, its walls lined with old newspapers and photographs. In the center of the room was a trunk, its lid slightly ajar.
Pisces hesitated, his hand trembling as he reached for the trunk. “Virgo, what if we’re too late?”
Virgo placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “We have to try, Pisces. For Scorpio.”
With a deep breath, Pisces opened the trunk, revealing a collection of old dolls, letters, and a locket. Inside the locket was a photo of Scorpio and a lock of her hair. Tears welled up in Pisces’ eyes as he realized the truth. Scorpio had been taken by her uncle, her life cut short in this very house.
Virgo gently guided Pisces away from the trunk. “We need to report this to the authorities, Pisces. They can help us bring Scorpio justice.”
As they left the house, Pisces felt a weight lift from his shoulders. The nightmares might never fully disappear, but he knew he had taken the first step toward healing. With Virgo’s support, he was determined to honor Scorpio’s memory and ensure her story was never forgotten.
Months later, Pisces sat in Virgo’s office, a sense of peace replacing the torment that had once consumed him. “Thank you, Virgo. For believing in me and helping me find the truth.”
Virgo smiled warmly. “You’re welcome, Pisces. Sometimes, our minds hold the key to unlocking the past. And sometimes, we need a little help to find the right door.”
Pisces chuckled, a lightness in his heart. “Well, here’s to never having nightmares again. Or at least, not the gruesome kind.”
Virgo laughed. “I’ll drink to that. Just make sure you keep your dream journal handy. You never know when you might need it.”
As Pisces left the office, he felt a renewed sense of purpose. The haunting echoes of the past had led him to a deeper understanding of himself and the power of the human mind. And with Virgo’s guidance, he knew he could face whatever dreams—or nightmares—came his way.