They let me keep my journal at least. Owen was so excited when I asked him about it—saying “wonderful” for the hundredth time since I’d met him and asking to see it.

“Oh, I don’t want to read it,” he’d rushed to say when I looked at him funny. “I just think it’s wonderful that you’ve been keeping a dream journal. Our doctors here often ask dreamdivers to do just that, so you’re ahead of the curve!”

He gave me a genuine smile then, brighter than any of the tight, practiced smiles that he’d given me as we’d gone through a questionnaire asking everything from what my “upper reach limit” of dreamdiving was (wouldn’t even begin to know how to answer that given I barely understand the question in the first place) to what my body temperature is when I’m asleep and normally dreaming versus dreamdiving (literally … how would I know that?).

So I showed him this journal, already scuffed around the edges. His eyes lit up and for a brief, horrifying second, I thought he might actually clap.

“That’s wonderful, Rose,” he repeated. He looked so … proud of me, like I was already doing a great job. I get why they have that guy do the intake.

But now that I’m alone again, in this strange windowless cinder-block room, I’m starting to feel nervous again. Not fear-nerves—Aaron was right, this place is weird but it’s not that scary. Instead, I feel like it’s the first night of sleepaway camp and tomorrow I’m going to meet the rest of my cabin. Except, this time, the rest of my cabin are people who have supernatural abilities and I might accidentally pass out and go inside of their subconscious minds. So. You know. Not your usual summer camp.

SEPTEMBER 26TH, 2016

The weird, alt-summer-camp feeling I had the first night was driven home today by my first group therapy session.

The entire weekend went by with little activity—as anticipated, I got a big wire cap put on my head, got a tiny bit poked and prodded, waited in an itchy hospital gown for an hour for a doctor to come take my temperature and leave, like that’s not something I could have done myself, and just generally slept. A lot. And, of course, I dreamed.