Become Your Fursona

“This can’t be real.”

Blades of grass under my pawpads, which I was sure I didn’t have before. Tree branches scraping through my fur. The painful burning of overexertion in my chest.

“It’s just a dream.”

The bitter cold night air. The heavy panting of the beast behind me, a brief glimpse over my shoulder revealing little more than it was much bigger than me and probably much stronger. All of my instincts screaming at me to run for my life.

“It’s just a–”

The creature’s very real jaws snapping at my heels, causing very real scrapes. A fresh burst of adrenaline coursed through me, and I was able to surge forward again, just out of reach of the thing.

“…A very realistic dream.”

I squinted into the distance. There was something weird with my eyesight, all I could see was black and white. It did have its advantages– I was able to see in contrasts well. No wonder I could see in the dark this well. The disadvantage was I could very clearly see I was about to run off a cliff.

“Oh God. Ohgodohgodohgod…”

It extended as far as I could see. Looking back, I was probably on a mesa or something, but my geographical location was the least of my concerns then.

“It’s just a dream, it’s just a dream, it’s just a dream.”

My own thoughts set a cadence for my run. I closed my eyes and tried to ignore how incredibly vivid everything was, and hoped it would all be over soon. And finally my paws hit thin air.

I didn’t fall. I was soaring above the ground, clumsily flapping the wings I didn’t know I had before. I laughed in spite of myself, a strangely human sound given I didn’t feel human at all. Despite the muscle strain and stress, I was half-crazed with relief and beyond feeling pain.

Or at least I was until I heard the beating of wings not my own. I didn’t even have time to look behind me before a great, clawed, heavy something slamming into me, sending me spiraling to the ground as its jaws bit into my neck, making it impossible to breathe. With oxygen deprivation creeping in and strangling rational thought, I had about enough time to note that the ground was rushing up much too fast for asphyxiation to be a concern.

I was wrong. Just when I was inches from the ground, I flinched. And when I opened my eyes again, I was on the kitchen floor, tangled in my bedsheets, and not breathing.

I’d almost drowned once– hit my head on the edge of a pool when I was diving in. That was almost peaceful, because I didn’t even realize I was dying until they dragged me out of the water, with everyone but me screaming and panicking. I was numb and far away and (in retrospect) way too comfortable with it all.

And this was nothing like that. It felt like there was something crushing my chest, even though there was nothing there, my muscles ached like I’d ran for miles, something was grabbing my throat, and my lungs were burning in agony.

Somewhere inbetween me frantically thrashing around, a tiny bit of air forced its way through my windpipe, and the pain subsided just a bit. Then a little more, and a little more, and finally I was breathing normally again.

Even after all that, I still couldn’t move. I knew I probably looked ridiculous, but my parents knew about my “sleepwalking.” They didn’t know I was having nightmares all the time– nobody did. I just couldn’t tell anyone. Scary dreams were things that little kids got worked up over, not someone in high school.

It’d never been this bad, though. Then again, I’d never died either. Weren’t you supposed to die in real life if you died in your dreams? I’d come so close, so maybe that was why…

The clock caught my attention. Four in the morning. My mom was going to be up soon, and the last thing I wanted was for him to see me like this. I picked myself off the ground, bundled the blankets around me, and trudged back to my room so I could pretend to sleep for another four hours until I had to get ready for school.

The nice thing about having attention span issues is you can entertain yourself for hours with your own thoughts. The downside is it’s very easy to have those thoughts interrupted by things like a dog jumping on your bed and otherwise trying to get your attention.

“Go away, Soraya.” I shoved my head under the covers and tried my best to ignore her. So she tried to hide under the covers with me.

It’d never occurred to me before, but her name now struck me as strange. Soraya was an Arabic name, and she was an American Water Spaniel– not true to her heritage. And it always seemed like such a noble name. Noble was something American Water Spaniels aren’t. They’re silly-looking dogs whose main purpose in being was to bring back dead animals to hunters who would be otherwise too lazy or preoccupied to pick up what they shoot in the first place.

She’d always been something of a neurotic dog, which was why she was hiding in the first place. Half the time I didn’t even bother trying to find out what spooked her, but I was always the one who had to calm her down.

I felt her nudging in closer to me, so I reached out to pat her head in kind. “You’ve got it so easy.” It was true– I guess on some level I envied dogs, I had for a while. It was on some emotional or spiritual level I couldn’t quite describe. Dogs made sense in a way people didn’t, and they seemed so carefree.

I didn’t want to be a dog though, much as I liked them. There was something else out there that was better, I realized in a half-asleep epiphany. Something more me. Something like…

There was a loud creak as the bedroom door opened, and whatever answer I had slipped away. Mom was up. And I needed to pretend to be asleep. I closed my eyes and I drifted into periods of brief, fitful minutes of sleep interrupted by jerking awake, and then starting the cycle anew.

* * *

I shouldn’t have to tell you how incredibly miserable I was when I had to wake up. But energy drinks were made for people like me, and after a highly nutritious breakfast of Saltines (I knew I wouldn’t be able to keep any other solids down) and a combination of liquid sugar, fruit juice, and lots and lots of caffeine, I had about enough to make myself go to school without fainting along the way.

To my credit, I’d only ever fainted once, and that was attributed to a terrible diet. I can’t remember the last time I’d stepped into the cafeteria. I usually just skipped lunch. It was too noisy there, too loud, and too much high school politics. I didn’t want to bother with all the cliques. So I just hid out in the library. The librarians liked the company, I liked the books and relative solitude. It was mutually beneficial, so they never told the SROs.

The forty-five minutes I got to spend in there were almost always the best part of the school day. But it was over three hours away. And I had Advanced Algebra first period. I already hated today.

Of course, therein lies the advantage of being hungry and tired most of the time. It’s really easy to zone out when you’re like that.I could just glide through all my classes, not needing to comprehend anything because you’d have to be lobotomized to not at least marginally pass core classes, and I’d be fine with just marginal. If you haven’t inferred as much, I just want out of school.

So I shuffled into class, collapsed in the desk, and hoped the teacher wouldn’t notice me dozing off. They usually don’t. As long as you show up and don’t fail the tests, they’re not to concerned. I like things that way.

I had my head nestled in the comfiest part of my hoodie when I saw someone walk in out of the corner of my eye. A very tall someone with nondescript black clothing who I’d never seen before at school. He was wearing sunglasses, but I could tell he was staring right at me. Usually I don’t care if someone is, but there was something just wrong about that guy. I don’t know how to put it, he just weirded me out– there was something predatory about him. And he didn’t look strong, he was built like a scarecrow, but I got the impression he could rip me apart without trying. So much for my nap.

The teacher ran through the roll. There weren’t any new names on there, and he didn’t even address the creepy guy. Nobody else even seemed to notice him; the kid behind him seemed to just stare right through him.

I looked up the clock. Only five minutes into class. On the bright side, I was starting to feel a bit sick. Maybe I could call home and say I was coming down with something. It wouldn’t even be a lie for once, because the clock was now sliding in and out of focus. And my chest was tightening and my heart felt like it was going to explode I was starting to feel like I would be sick in the middle of class.

I staggered out the door without bothering to give an explanation. I think the teacher was yelling at me to get a hall pass, but I was beyond the point of paying attention. The world wasn’t just blurring now, it was sliding completely out of focus. The colors were all starting to blend together. The only reason I wasn’t running into anything was I’d been through these halls too many times to count.

I rubbed my eyes– it didn’t help. And I wasn’t tearing up or anything like that, so there wasn’t anything in my eyes. I still managed to stumble into the bathroom and turn on the faucet. I splashed water onto my face– it was ice cold and I didn’t really care. If anything, it made me feel a little better.

I took deep breaths in and out. The panic and sickness started to subside. I checked the mirror– I looked pale and gaunt and sickly and…

…And I was seeing things, because my ears had gone all pointy and furry. I stumbled back, blinked…and they were still there. I slumped against a wall, not daring to look at the mirror as if pretending they weren’t there would make them go away. Morbid curiosity drove me to touch the side of my head.

But nothing was there. Nothing weird, anyway. So of course when I looked in the mirror just to make sure, there was something weird behind me. Or someone, rather. He was only there for a second, his eyes seeming to bore right through me beneath his sunglasses. And then he was gone.

It took a few moments to sink in. And then I ran. I wasn’t thinking, I didn’t know where I was going, I didn’t what was happening, but it was just the only thing it seemed like I could do.

* * *

Next thing I knew I was hiding between some lockers on ground floor practically hyperventilating. “Deep breaths. Deep breaths.” I told myself. “It was just a panic attack, it’s over now. Calm down. Nothing’s wrong with you. Nothing’s wrong nothing’s wrong nothing’s wrong…” I eventually was able to make myself believe it, enough I could shakily stand up.

The intercom crackled to life. “Connor Glendon, please report to the administrative building, Connor Glendon, to the administrative building, please.”

Awesome. My truant ways were catching up to me.

“Doctor Reese is expecting you.” Or not. I guess the little incident earlier could have just been passed off as one big panic attack (and maybe that was what it was in the first place? Though I’d never felt like I was sick during one) and he was just worried about me. That didn’t seem so bad.

I flashed my ID at the SRO standing in front of the administrative building. It was probably unnecessary, I had to go here a lot, but policies are policies. I was halfway down the hall when the SRO yelled “Stop!”

I spun around– but it wasn’t me he was addressing, thankfully. It was two girls I didn’t recognize. One blonde with baggy shirt bearing the name of a band I didn’t recognize and a redhead with a scowl that seemed permanently set on her face.

The blonde girl smiled at the SRO. “I’m sorry. We’re new here, we just haven’t had a chance to get our IDs.” Her eyes flashed for a moment, and they turned bright yellow all over, with tiny, slitted snake-like pupils in the center. “Trust us.”

I felt a chill run down my spine. Actually, that was an understatement. I’m not sure how to describe how seeing that felt otherwise, but I’ll try. It’s like looking at something that can’t exist, but does. Yeah, I know some people will wear weird contacts that look kind of like that just to shock people, but this was different, more natural-looking.

And just a few minutes ago, I’d grown dog ears. Either I was going crazy or…well, I was probably just going crazy. But I was running a fever, maybe that just meant the heat was frying my brain. Which meant I was probably going to die soon. That didn’t seem much better.

The SRO’s eyes glazed over. “Well, alright.” And just like that, he let them by. Now that just wasn’t right. I mean, everything about it, right down to this weird gut feeling that she was scary and dangerous. And the officers here were supposed to be really strict, thanks to the fact we’d gotten school shooting threats and things like that. They strolled on right by me. The blonde one smiled and waved at me before they both disappeared down a corridor.

God, what a day. And I had to think of a way to diplomatically express the fact I might be having hallucinations to Doctor Reese really fast. I slumped into a chair outside his office. I just needed a few minutes–

“Connor!” He was standing right in front of me. I nearly jumped out of my skin. “Sorry.” He did one of those fake-y laughs. “Didn’t mean to scare you. But we’ve been calling you for the past ten minutes, I was getting worried.”

“Sorry…” Was all I could come up with.

“Well, come on in.” He gestured inside. “I’ve got some things I’d like to talk to you about.”

I had a sinking feeling about that. But I went inside anyway, it was better than being in class. Reese was shuffling some papers at his desk, one of those ‘I-know-something-about-you-and-I’m-not-going-to-rest-until-you-tell-me’ smiles about him. “You missed some of you classes today.” It was a statement, not a question.

“Yeah.” I stared out the window. Eye contact just felt uncomfortable.

“Have you been feeling well lately?” More paper rustling.

“Well…” Diplomacy or honesty? “I’ve been having nightmares again, so I didn’t sleep much. And I think I had another panic attack in class today.” Mom always said honesty was the best policy, and it’d be a nice change of pace.

A glint of concern flashed through his dark eyes. “You haven’t been having panic attacks often, have you?”

“This was the first one in a while.” Several months, really, I’d had one the first time I tried to take the SAT.

“And the dreams?”

“A lot. Almost every other day.” I tried not to think about the jaws closing around my windpipe. And failed. I reached my hand to my throat. “They’re usually vivid. But sometimes I just wake up afraid of something and don’t know what.” He seemed to take notice of that, his eyes settling on my neck. I jerked my hand back down.

He still got the picture. He was really good at that. “Are there any recurring themes to these?”

“I guess. I’m usually running from something.” This was getting uncomfortably Freudian for me. I took Intro to Psych, I knew where dream analysis went.

“And do you escape, or…?”

“I don’t.” And I wanted to leave it at that.

He went ‘hmmm’ again and leaned back in his seat. “So your anxiety’s been worse than usual?”

Well, thank God, and here I was thinking he’d ask be about what my relationship with my mother was like. “I guess, yeah.”

“It’s entirely possible that’s just a reflection of that.” He steepled his hands. “You see, dreams often resemble our waking experiences and parallel then, though sometimes in abstract ways. If you’d like, you could tell me a bit more about them.”

I sighed. “I don’t know, it’s pretty generic. I’m running through a forest trying to get away from a monster, and I…I don’t get away. Then I wake up. But I’m pretty sure I sleepwalk during them. I don’t wake up in my bed.”

He arched an eyebrow. “Have you gotten this checked out by a doctor?”

“The medicine didn’t help any.” And it made me sleep so deeply my alarm clock didn’t wake me up.

His phone rang. “Sorry, one second…” He checked the screen and went ‘hmmm’ for what must have been the tenth time in the past five minutes. “I have a question for you that might seem strange, so I’d like to apologize in advance if I’m off-base here.”

“Shoot.”

“In addition to these dreams, have you been having any hallucinations?”

My stomach lurched. “How’d he know?”

And of course he noticed that too. “Perhaps that you’re becoming something else. Maybe you’ve even felt like that was true for a while, and it’s only just now these hallucinations have started happening.”

I was still too stunned to say much of anything.

He paused as if waiting for the inevitable confirmation. “It’s alright if you are. It isn’t your fault. But these are symptoms of a rare mental disorder–”

“So what? I’m schizophrenic?” I cut in.

“No, nothing like that.” He held up his hands. “This is much less permanent and much more manageable. It’s called therianthropic psychosis, I’ve worked with it before.”

“I’ve never heard of it.”

“It hasn’t passed DSM review yet. But it’s very real, I’m sure of that. I get the feeling you can attest to that.”

“If I have this, what am I supposed to do–” Someone started slamming at the door. Reese jerked up, looking stunned. Obviously this wasn’t part of his script. Whoever it was– sounded like a she– started yelling, though it was too muffled to make out. “Shouldn’t you, like, call security or something?” There was a shrill edge to my voice I really didn’t like.

He was already reaching for his phone again when the door broke open. Literally. It just splintered.

The red-haired girl standing in the doorway seemed innocuous enough, except for the shards of wood in her hands. I’d seen her a few minutes ago trying a more subtle approach to breaking and entering. “You!” She hissed. She lunged at Reese, yowling like some kind of animal…and she looked like one too, she’d grown ears and a tail. Like I had earlier, except feline instead.

To be continued…