“How could you say that?” I asked. “You of all people should understand what it’s like—what it’s like to have this—this—this—freaking weird as hell look into people’s brains!”

“Dreams are really private, Rosie,” he said, like I didn’t know.

“And thoughts aren’t?”

“I can choose not to listen,” he said.

“Is that really true?” I snapped.

“What?”

He rocked back on his heels as he asked it, like it was being punched out of him.

“I mean, can you really choose not to listen?” I repeated, taking a menacing step toward him. “All we have as evidence is your word, which…”

I wanted to take the words back the moment they left my mouth. I wanted to rewind back to the beginning of this whole conversation, to the beginning of this year, to the beginning of my life. But they just hung there, those weighty words, the implication of them ringing throughout the kitchen.

“You know what,” Aaron started quietly after a moment. “You can take the bus to work.”

He grabbed his laptop and I listened to his footsteps rush upstairs, his door open and close, and then I was alone, in the empty kitchen, the only sound the oil sizzling on the cooktop, still eggless. I turned off the burner, put the bowl of scrambled eggs in the fridge, and went outside to sit on the back porch, grabbing this notebook, which I’d set on the counter when I came in all but ten minutes ago, on my way out.

It’s cold out here. March has come in like a lion. Emily loves that expression—she’ll use it for anything. Other months, a good opening sentence of a book, a particular flavor in a dish I’ve cooked for her. To her, it just means something that’s bold and undeniable, like she is. Like I’m not. For me, right now, it just means what it’s always meant: that March in Massachusetts is fucking cold.

The monster that lurked in my dreams all those months ago hasn’t stalked me in the dreamworld since my second visit to the AM. It followed me out and now it’s got ahold of me in dreams and in life. Pretty soon the monster is going to be all that’s left of me.

community/TheUnusuals post by n/thatsahumanperson

Have any of you ever told a non-Unusual about your ability? How did it go?

onmyown

Don’t think we’re not noticing that you’re posing this question without any personal context, which is a bit weird for you. How badly did it go?

thatsahumanperson

Really, really badly. But it wasn’t me. My sister finally told her girlfriend about the dreamdiving. As she put it, she “doesn’t have a girlfriend anymore.”

onmyown

Ouchhhhhhhhhhh. That sucks. Is this the first person your sister has ever told?

chuckxavier