It was another one of those long nights.

Professor Cornelius Strongwell sat at his desk,

sipping his usual -coffee, black, no cream or sugar and with a hint of Cacao- and read the local
paper. He scanned with well-trained eyes for any peculiar occurrences. The unexplainable and
mysterious were his speciality. Professor Strongwell worked at Darrow University as a specialist
in Dream Theory and Analysis. It was his job to constantly decipher and solve the many riddles
and symbols life threw towards him. One case caught his weary gaze, standing out more than any
other as though emboldened on the paper. It read, Local residents gone missing - show up dead
with mysterious injuries Strongwell flicked through the article, nothing remarkable. It seemed
to him that it was nothing more than wild animals and misfortune.
A movement from behind made the Professor jump out of his seat and spill his coffee
over his lap, Dammit Sammuels! Cant you at least say something before you traipse in here!
A frightened, quivering voice piped up from across the room, I-Im sorry Mr. Strongwell, sir, it
wont happen again. P-Please dont mark me down for this, I swear Ill make it up to you.
David Sammuels: a stuttering, clumsy, dimwitted fool. Strongwell kept him enrolled here at the
college for one reason, and one reason only. He was the best coffee maker the Professor had ever
met. Sammuels had been interested in dream theory for a while, but mainly chose the class
because it sounded the easiest. The Professor had quickly made him realize his mistake.
Sammuels scurried off to make more coffee, the Professor harrumphed and wiped
himself down. Scratching at his short, peppered grey beard, Strongwell flicked his paper back up.
The whole thing was miraculously dry, save the headline he had previously checked which was
now drenched in coffee. He set the paper down and pondered it for a minute, confused as to how
no other spot could be touched by the bitter drink.

The brisk wind blew against the pair as Strongwell and Sammuels locked up. The night
air was a stark difference from the warmth of the offices and they almost wished they could stay
just a while longer. As the Professor pried his door open, a man stumbled into view from the
shadows. The man was dressed in his pajamas and looked bedraggled. His voice was coarse and
raspy but he stammered out a few words, Help me, dreams horrible, horrible dreams,
please. The student and professor looked at each other for a moment, then rushed to the man's
aid.
The man introduced himself as Freddy Barick, a local baker. Sammuels began boiling
more water, it seemed they would be here for some time. Strongwell sat with the man and began
asking him about his dream. Sammuels sat across the room with his notepad, ready to record
every word that Mr. Barick had to say.
The dream always begins the same way. I am lying in my bed, not asleep but not quite
awake. There is a red glow from outside. I stand up and walk out, almost in a trance. My house
is oddly clean and tidy, with hardly any furnishings or decor. I step outside and am suddenly on
the banks of a river. It flows thick and red, as- as though it was a river of blood. As I walk, I
notice shadows moving to my right. A pack of midnight-black wolves leap out and start chasing
me. I run quickly and feel intense fear and uncertainty of my survival. I see a group of people
and scream for help, but none do. As I get closer, I start changing. I feel gnawing hunger and
suddenly I am on all fours. The wolves around me are gone and I myself have become one. The
people scream and run but I am too fast. I tackle one to the ground and rip them to shreds. I then
wake up, covered in sweat, panting and usually exhausted. This dream has happened every night
for the past several days. Im frightened, what should I do? Youre the only one in the area with
any expertise on dreams.

Professor Strongwell sat in silence for a minute, pondering. He spoke up after what
seemed like an eternity, Well, Mr. Barick, that certainly is an interesting dream. Would you
mind waiting for a few minutes while my colleague and I try to discern a possible meaning? Feel
free to help yourself to the coffee. Mr. Barick nodded his head in agreement, obviously
emotionally drained from reliving his nightmare.
Sammuels and Strongwell pulled out folders of information and started laying them out.
The Professor started shooting out orders to the understudy, Separate the piles by author! I dont
want to see a single mention of oral fixation in Carl Jungs stack! Quickly now! No you
blundering fool, the stages of sleep go this way! It took all Sammuels could muster to not break
down and cry. He pulled out strange dusty volumes and new, fresh papers. By the time they were
all sorted there was a clear contrast of old ancient books and new official-looking documents.
The first stack they delved into contained works from Sigmund Freud, one of the first
people to enter the symbolic realm of dream theory. As Sammuels flicked through pages he
looked even more and more disturbed, All of these views are so Bizarre. It seems as though
he had some perverse obsession with the genitals that goes beyond simple theory. How could any
of this be helpful?
Strongwell let out a light chuckle, My dear Sammuels, you are simply reading the
nonsense. Look between the lines, thats what dream theory is all about. We find here one of the
most valuable nuggets of information, see? He held up an old wrinkled scrap of paper and
began reading it off.

Sigmund Freud had views both brilliant and utterly stupid. Among his most incredible
philosophies were those of the Id, Ego, and Free Association. According to Freud, the Id takes
the form of the complete subconscious, all of the wants and desires that are repressed in the
waking mind. In dreams these repressed thoughts are released, causing the primal and strange
dreams many experience. The Ego is the self concept a person possesses, and is usually referred
to as being the most conscious of these concepts. The Id and Ego constantly battle for
dominance, the Id wanting to burst outwards with basic wants and needs, while the Ego pushes
them farther back in order to act like a sane and decent person. Both Id and Ego are vital in the
dream state, as they help make up dreams by adding in the swirling and combatting parts of the
personality. Dreams often take the form of symbols, which have various meanings depending on
the person. Free Association is a way to try and identify these symbols by means of asking
questions. The questionnaire would shoot off a series of words, the responder would then answer
with a word of their own. This way, symbols could be identified by what they mean to the
dreamer in question. Sigmund Freud was truly a brilliant man with incredible views.

Strongwell laid the paper down and sighed, Do you see, Sammuels? You werent
looking hard enough. I must say this paper is poorly made, but the information on it is exactly
what were looking for. The duo scoured over more papers, uncovering articles about the
misogyny of Sigmund Freud, works of minor philosophers, and finally work of Carl Jung.
Sammuels held up the document with shaking hands, S-Sir I found it, Carl Jungs D-Dream
Theory! Strongwell snatched the paper away and quickly glanced over it. He began to read in
silence as Sammuels stood awkwardly, waiting for the Professor to say something.
Finally, after what seemed like ages, Strongwell looked up, Oh! Sammuels could you
please go out to our friend and free associate? The symbols I need are wolves, blood, river,
cleanliness, and home. You should be able to handle that I assume? Sammuels stuttered out a
yes and left. Strongwell let out a sigh and continued reading where he left off.

- Jung and the ever-infamous Freud used to be colleagues, until their theories differed.
Jung believed that dreams were more than mere repressed sexual desires. He thought there were
lessons, meaningful symbols, and learning experiences hidden in every dream. Jung views the
Ego as your sense of self, the way you portray yourself to the world, a sort of persona. The most
common ground between Freud and Jung is their theories of the Id and the Shadow both
are awkward and primitive, but make up the subconscious.

Strongwell stopped there, and closed the volume. He believed he now had everything he
needed. But now came the arduous task of formulating a theory. Sammuels came back in and
relayed his information, Sir, my i-information is all gathered, h-here it is. Sammuels handed
the Professor a scrap of paper:

Blood: Death, Fear, Disgust

Wolves: Predator, Loyal, Moon
River: Uncertainty, Life, Rut
Home: Safety, Comfort, Warmth
Cleanliness: Change, Cold, Unfamiliar

The Professor studied the symbols, works he had collected, and dream information one
last time. He took out his favorite pen and began writing. Several minutes later he stood with a
sigh and spoke, I think Ive figured it out Sammuels. Here, take a look at this. He handed
Sammuels a sheet of paper written in neat, tidy handwriting.
Concerning the Dream of Mr. Freddy Barick: The symbols of your dream have been
seemingly unraveled to me and I can now provide the meaning in a concise and well thought-out
way. When you awaken from your bed and travel out into your clean house it is symbolic of
shrugging off comfort and realizing the familiar things around you are false. Once you leave the
house, you abandon your old comforts to try and find the truth of the world. The river of blood
signifies the uncertainty and danger you face of going against the tide of social pressure to seek
answers to lifes greatest questions. The wolves that chase you and hunt you are the people who
bar your way, those that try to slow you down and change you. When you turn into a wolf, you
give in and conform back to the social norms. The person you kill is one like your old self, trying
to break away and find their own truths. So in conclusion, it seems that your dream is trying to
tell you that you should explore the world and leave your comfort zone, but be wary of those that
would try to oppress you.

Strongwell let out a long breath and slumped back in his chair, So Sammuels, what do
you think? The shaky understudy spoke a few words of praise and started collecting the books
and papers and arranged them into their proper places. Strongwell put his signature at the bottom
of the note and slid it into an envelope for Mr. Barick. He checked the clock, 1:00 A.M.
Strongwell let out a sigh, he had been in the office far too long. At this point his eyes started to
droop and he considered staying the night in office.
Sammuels finished placing the notes in their sections and stumbled his way over to
Strongwell, P-Professor sir, would you like me to take the note out to M-Mr. Barick? Hes been
waiting an a-awful long time. Strongwell nodded, handed him the note, and reclined back in his
chair.

The Professor awoke to silence, but not an empty silence. Something weighed heavy in
the air, like the tension at a cliffhanger. The clock now read 3:30 A.M. and Strongwell felt
tense and irritable. It was unusual for him to feel this way after waking, something had awoken
him in a crucial moment of sleep.
The lights in the office were all still on as the Professor crept his way down the halls, his
dread grew ever greater with each passing step. Finally he reached the reception area where Mr.
Barick had been waiting. He threw open the doors and inhaled sharply. The scene was a mess,
Sammuels lay on the ground, his face all but scratched off, with strangulation marks around his
neck. His chest wasnt moving.
Suddenly he wasnt the gritty professor, the learned expert, the stern teacher. Suddenly he
was just Cornelius, alone and afraid, stuck in a living nightmare. His gaze wandered up to see an
almost equally terrifying sight. Mr. Barick stood, swaying gently like grass in the wind.
Strongwell looked to his hands which were covered in the skin of his previous friends face.
Baricks eyes fluttered rapidly, as if in REM sleep. Strongwell vomited furiously.

Cornelius was old, his days as a professor were long gone and he sat pondering. Looking
through articles and trying to occupy his time. He sipped his usual -coffee, black, no cream or
sugar, with a hint of Cacao- and looked at the cup with deep sadness. It didnt taste the same no
matter how many times he made it. Eventually he learned how it happened, a deficiency in the
brain that causes dreamers to act out their dreams. Strongwell was sad and angry still. Not angry
at Mr. Barick, angry at himself. He had read that newspaper, had deciphered that dream, had sent
Sammuels in there alone.
Cornelius ached, his eyes were tired, his mind and body were tired. The memory of that
day faded from memory, everything faded. Strongwell smiled for the first time in a long time. It
was time for a long, deep sleep. It was time to dream and never stop.