Blue Box

Ember Winters has had the same dream as long as she could remember. Monsters and chocolate. Doctors and boxes. But they are only dreams, right?
Oh, they're real. And Ember is soon going to get the surprise of a life time. Everything she has ever thought was real is an illusion. All the things she claimed didn't exist. Well, they do. And the man she has known all her life from a dream, he will save her life.


1. Dreams about Doctors

     "It starts with a chocolate bar. Vicky, my sister, is eating a chocolate bar. Her skin begins breaking out like crazy. It melts off her, leaving nothing, not even a skeleton.

     "I'm running for no reason, and I trip. A man comes out of no where. He's tall and handsome. He helps me up and whispers, 'Run! Just run, and never, ever look back!'

     "I don't know why, but I trust him. I do what he requests. I run with him at my side. I keep stumbling, and he is always there to help me up. He never abandons me. He just helps me up and keeps me going by yelling, 'Allons-y! Allons-y!'

     "We stop in a room. We just stop. We're standing in front of a creature. A monster. It has a red body and arms that are ten feet long and ending with razor sharp claws. Its teeth are more like fangs and look more dangerous than the claws. It lashes out at me, and the man pushes me out the way, so it misses me by a hair.

     " 'Run into that!' the man screams, pointing to an object in the corner of the room. A box. It's a blue box with a sign above it reading, POLICE PUBLIC CALL BOX.

     " 'What's that?' I ask. 'What's in there? Who are you?'

     "His answer is always the same. 'It's a TARDIS, stands for Time and Relative Dimension in Space. Inside is your safety. And I am the Doctor.'

     "I rush to the blue box and pull on the door because there is a sign-thingy on it that says PULL TO OPEN. It doesn't open though.

     " 'It won't open!' I tell him.

     "The Doctor snaps his fingers, and the door swings in. There is a bright light, and - and I wake up." I finished my description, adding, "It's always the same. Except-"

     "Except what?" Dr. David questioned, revealing his curiosity.

     "Except last night." I moved my hair out the way to reveal a jagged cut, from my cheek down my neck and to by collar bone. "The dream was the same until the Doctor and I got to the room. The monster talked. His voice sounded familiar, now that I think of it. Anyway, it said, 'Ember and the Doctor. What a great pair. Too bad you will soon die.'

     "The Doctor must have been as surprised as me. When it attacked me, he didn't push me out the way in time. I was clawed. The Doctor had to carry me to the TARDIS, because I went limp and fell to the ground, gasping for air. I know it was just a dream, but it hurt."

     "May I?" Dr. David extended a finger. I nodded.

     Lightly, as though it had been transformed into a feather, his finger grazed my wound. He traced it from top to bottom. I felt excruciating pain like electricity surging through me. Wincing, I pushed his hand away.

     "When did these dreams start?"

     "I've always had them. It's funny though. I have always had the exact same dream, excluding last night. It was kinda like I was seeing into the future. Dream Vicky always looked the same, even when Real Vicky and I were kids. I had no clue it was her until last year."

     "So let me get something straight. You have had the same dream for as long as you can remember, but you never told anyone?"

     "I told my diary. I write everything in it," I admitted. "I keep it locked in a small safe, but I didn't know Vicky's boyfriend taught her to pick a lock. She read it and told on me. She thinks I'm a nutter."

     Dr. David excused himself and left, leaving me alone on the couch in a child psychiatrist's office. Leaving me to stare at a billion diplomas nailed on the wall. Leaving me to stare at my reflection in the mirror on the opposite wall (with "Everyone in this picture is beautiful," written in Sharpie on the surface).

     I was tall, although the mirror didn't show it. I was also skinny, like I had never been given food a day in my life. I had long, straight, black hair that I had dip-dyed frost blue to represent my last name, Winters. My skin was tan, which was odd because sunlight was something I rarely exposed myself to. I wore black, thick-rimmed glasses over my gray eyes. Not like it mattered. I used my hair to cover half my face, and my glasses were well hidden. I wore the leather jacket, leggings, and black tennis shoes with white skulls that I wore everyday (Just to clear things up, I had multiple pairs of leggings, not just one pair that was always worn.).  I had a pink skirt over the leggings, and up higher, my shirt. Light pink with a large red skull over it. My arms were decked with spiky bracelets.

      After a few minutes, he returned with my parents who sat down on the couch on either side of me.

     "Right then," Dr. David announced. "I believe I know what her deal with the dreams is. Ember woke up this morning with a scar. Her subconscious provided a way to explain it. A dream. She wrote about it in her diary faking writing from when she was a kid until now. She wasn't even aware she was doing it."

     "Are you accusing me of lying? Oh, I knew this would happen!" I snatched my purse which was on the rug at my feet. "I came prepared though." I yanked open my purse and pulled out my sketchbooks, handing them to Dr. David. "I got my first one when I was seven, and I drew and drew and drew. If you don't believe me, ask Mom and Dad."

     "It's true," Dad confessed. "She drew a man all the time. The same man. It started with stick men and progressed to realistic portraits. Once, I asked her, 'Who is that?"

     " 'The Doctor.'

     " 'Who is that?' I had repeated. 'Who is the Doctor?'

     "She'd answered, 'I don't know.' "

     "Ember drew this monster thing and a blue box, too. It worried me so much, but it seemed like a phase. I thought it would pass." Mom looked scared as she told Dr. David.

     He just sat though, flipping through old sketches from when I was a child.

     "Fine, then, new theory," he said, not taking his eyes off the drawings. "The dream was real once, maybe even twice. You saw it as an opportunity to get more attention. You wrote about it. You drew it. And then to top it all off, a self-induced cut."

     "That is outrageous!" I growled, before I stormed out.

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