In All My Dreams I Drown Part One

[butterflyslinky]

Title: In All My Dreams, I Drown
Author: butterflyslinky
Characters: Spoony, Linkara, mentions of others
Rating: R
Word Count: 3571
Warning(s): Implications of noncon, child abuse and mental illness; gaslighting; brainwashing; dubious science experiments.
Summary: My name is Spoony. I am thirty-three years old. I don’t know how to feel. I don’t know what’s a dream…and what’s a nightmare.
Note: For the mix by alien_snipe. Thanks to lady_sci_fi for beta-ing. “In All My Dreams, I Drown” is performed by Jessica Lowndes.

File 29C: The Spoony Experiment

Purpose of the experiment: To harness strong emotions into an energy source. In this trial, the emotion “hate” is under consideration.

Method: Subject was put into a medical coma and then hooked up to the machine that both controls his subconscious and harnesses his emotions (see File 29B.) The subconscious was controlled to project an average, but miserable life. Subject was subjected to painful memories and then forced to encounter the people he despised most.

Subject is a white male of approximately 35 years of age. Subject is in generally good health, with a minor heart condition and medicated bipolar disorder. Subject has no living family or close friends. Subject was selected at random and brought to the facilities without his knowledge.

Subject is unaware that his perceptions and experiences are not the truth.

Results: Subject’s hatred was strong enough to power a small generator. However, the mental strain on the subject proved to be too stressful for his heart and the experiment was stopped. Subject has been left at the facility and is still asleep. His subconscious is still broadcasting the hate program.

Given the stress on the subject, we must declare the Spoony Experiment a failure and recommend that the machine be destroyed and the subject be left alone until life support fails, as his mind has been damaged beyond repair.

Signed,

Dr. Wayne Schulmper

Dr. Cochran Block

Dr. Coquette Tease

*

My name is Spoony. I am thirty-three years old. I work as a writer for a magazine. I hate my job.

My name is Spoony. I am thirty-three years old. I am single. I hate women.

My name is Spoony. I am thirty-three years old. I play video games in my free time. I hate Final Fantasy XIII.

My name is Spoony. I am thirty-three years old. I see a movie every week. I hate summer blockbusters.

My name is Spoony. I am thirty-three years old. I have a family dinner once a month. I hate my mother.

My name is Spoony. I am thirty-three years old. I am normal and well-adjusted.

I hate everything.

*

My name is Spoony. I am thirty-three years old. I am happy.

Hating things doesn’t make me unhappy. It’s normal. It’s nice. It frees me from the responsibility of being kind.

Some people worry, so I see doctors often. Doctor Block is nice. Doctor Tease is even nicer. But they always make me see Doctor Schlumper whenever possible.

They say he can make me better. But there’s nothing wrong with me. I don’t need to be made better.

This is the life I’ve always dreamed of. The life I’ve always wanted. And while I hate everything, it all seems to love me anyway.

What could be wrong?

*

File 29C Addendum

Upon arriving at the facility, it was found that the machine was still running, though nothing seemed to be powering it. Subject was still alive and upon looking at the readings on the machine, he still exhibits signs of brain activity.

The program in the machine has stopped. Subject responded to basic stimulus. Upon suggestion, the program in his subconscious radically altered.

Given these findings, the experiment will continue with new emotions suggested to the machine.

Signed,

Dr. Linkara Lovhaug

*

My name is Spoony. I am thirty-three years old. I don’t know what I’m doing. I don’t know why I hate everything.

Maybe I’m just the type who hates everything naturally. But I don’t want to.

Or maybe it’s because of what happened when I was a kid. When my mom locked me in the asylum. When I went to prison as a teenager.

I don’t know.

I don’t know.

I want to fight this, but I can’t.

I don’t even know if I ever really hated these things or if I just thought I did.

It doesn’t feel real that I hated everything. It feels more like a dream. Or a story I read. Or something someone told me.

I haven’t seen the doctors in a long time. Maybe that helps. Maybe when I stop talking about why I hate things, I stop hating them.

I’m done fighting with everyone. I’m done hating everything.

It’s done and over.

Time to start again.

*

There’s a new doctor. His name tag says “Doctor Lovhaug,” but he asks me to call him Linkara.

I give him the facts I know.

My name is Spoony. I am thirty-three years old.

He laughs and marks that down.

He’s nice. Cute, even. I know right off that I don’t hate him.

Upon seeing him, I want to fly. Or run away with him. Or at least take him out for a drink.

So I ask. And he laughs again. He says he’s flattered, but I’m his patient. That would hardly be appropriate.

So we talk about why I’m there and how I feel and my mother and my job and the games and movies and everything else.

I don’t hate at all after talking to him. That means he’s better than the others, but it also means I can’t ask to be given to someone else so I can date him.

Maybe I’ll get better soon. Then he can be my boyfriend.

Then I can finally love someone.

*

File 29C Addendum

Subject is responding favorably to new programming. Given the stress levels brought on by the hate program, it has been decided that it would be best to erase his memory and start over with more positive emotions.

Signed,

Doctor Linkara Lovhaug

*

My name is Spoony. I am thirty-three years old. I am empty. I feel cold.

That’s it. Just cold.

Maybe I’m dying. Or maybe I was never alive. It doesn’t seem very important.

I just cling to the two things I can depend on.

My name is Spoony. I am thirty-three years old. My name is Spoony. I am thirty-three years old. My name is Spoony. I am thirty-three years old.

My name is…

My name is…

My name…

“Your name is Spoony. You are thirty-three years old. You write for a magazine and are pretty good at your job. You see your mother once a month and you are devoted to her. You play video games and watch movies and they’re all okay. My name is Linkara and I’m going to take care of you.”

*

My name is Spoony. I am thirty-three years old. I am starting over.

I like my job. I love my mother. I appreciate games and movies. I am in love with a man named Linkara.

I like my job…whatever it is.

I love my mother…whoever she is.

I appreciate games and movies…if games and movies exist.

I am in love with a man named Linkara.

That’s what he told me. And if I’m in love with him, that means he’s in love with me. And if he’s in love with me, that means what he tells me is true.

I feel happy. I feel content. There’s no pain. There’s nothing bad. And I know what I’m supposed to do.

I am in love with a man named Linkara. And that means I do what he says is right. He knows what’s best for me, even if I don’t think it’s right.

I do what he says. I do what he says.

It may seem stupid. It may seem bad. But I do what he says, no matter what. Because I don’t know what else to do.

I am in love with a man named Linkara.

I like my job. I love my mother. I appreciate games and movies. I am in love with a man named Linkara.

My name is Spoony. I am thirty-three years old.

*

File 29C Addendum

Subject has taken conditioning well. Minor changes will be made to examine the effect.

Subject is responding to physical stimuli. While he is still unconscious, it is possible that he can recover.

Signed,

Dr. Linkara Lovhaug

*

My name is Spoony. I am thirty-three years old.

Nothing hurts. I think it used to, but it doesn’t now.

Linkara makes sure of that. He always has, because he’s always been here. I remember him being here, from the very start.

I told him I hurt, once. But he told me it was psychological. That I was fine, really. And he was right. He’s so much smarter than me.

He makes sure I’m okay all the time. He loves me. He touches me softly. I lie with him at night, and he’s perfect. He’s good for me.

He tells me he’s good for me.

I know he is. I know he loves me. I know I love him.

But I don’t feel anything.

And that’s perfect.

*

My name is Spoony. I am thirty-three years old.

This isn’t right.

I don’t know why, but I know something is wrong.

I question whether Linkara really loves me, or if he simply tells me that so he can do what he likes with me.

I thought love was something to be felt, not known.

I don’t feel anything.

He’s doing something to me. He’s molding me. I know he is. But whenever I try to bring it up, he tells me I’m being silly. It’s always been this way. It’s meant to be this way.

Then he takes me to bed and makes me forget what I was thinking about.

He’s in my head. Always in my mind. It frightens me.

But then I see him again, and he tells me he loves me and I love him, and I know he’s right.

I know he’s right.

So why do I hate him when he’s not around? Why do I not feel any love for him when he isn’t right there loving me?

My name is Spoony. I am thirty-three years old.

And that’s all I can be sure of.

Part Two