Wendy was never an ordinary girl. Growing up she was a horrible student, but she was often considered brite for her age. As a child she had alot of imaginary friends. But as she aged, they started showing up less and less, untill one day she couldn't find them anymore. She had payed far more attention to her imaginary friends than real kids her age. The result was a bad case of anti-socialness when she reached her teens. As she saw it, her old imaginary playmates understood her far better than any annoying kid down the street could. Missing her imaginary friends and with lonelyness starting to grow, Wendy fell into depression.
The adults tried to help, what with their doctors, their shrinks, and all that medication, but nothing could help her. That is untill around 15 when she started noticing strange things inside her head. She would constantly analize her surroundings, experiences, things, and people. She would sit and think of one thing over and over untill she understood it completely, then move to the next topic. For what seemed like an eternity, she didn't even realize what her brain had been automatically doing. All analizing caught up with her, and suddenly the world started to seem dull. The root of her depression had been analized. She had even analized her need to analize. When depressed, people aren't the same. Some eat too much, others too less. Some get mad, start drinking and beat on their spouse. But for Wendy, she slept too much. Way too much.
She noticed her dreams started getting very articulated and life-like. Reaccuences were nothing surprising. Every night was a reaccurring dream. When it began to get wierd, Wendy just chalked the reason of which up to puberty, just as she did with all the analizing. After all, in her dreams she isnt that sad, and pecular things don't need to be analized. It's just a dream. She finally found the shelter she had been searching for.
Years go by.
Night by night the dreams would get more realistic. She made friends with many of the people and creatures of her dreams. One night she was even re-united with some old aquaintences- her childhood imaginary friends. They had even grown up. The imaginary ones also seemed surprised and equally happy to see her again. Some would find this very unheathy behavior for a 19-year-old girl, but Wendy didn't care. She chose not to talk about it. She knew if she did they'd find a medication to make her more "Normal". She couldn't stand the thought of parting with her friends once again. And after all, they're jusy dreams, she tells herself every morning.
One dream, she was dared by one of her childhood imaginary friends to give him her phone number. Wendy gave it out jokingly. They're just dreams, she mutters, as she wakes up that morning. After breakfast, the phone rings. She put the reciver to her ear and as soon as she said hello the voice on the other line shook her very core. "W..Wendy?"
As she covers her mouth, and tries with all she has not to scream, she then knew it was no longer just a dream.
(c)copyright Mike Nimmo 2006
Art by Mike Nimmo. Story by Mike Nimmo and Droxeliazk.
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