Morton Labinsky

Jamison." Walking away, Morton noticed the man was sporting a devilish grin.

Morton swiftly continued down the hall until he reached Doctor Jamison's office door. Entering the waiting room, he didn't bother to check in at the receptionist window. He never did. There never was a receptionist, but the room was always full of waiting patients, always waiting. Walking straight into Doctor Jamison's, Morton proceeded directly to an oversize easy chair. The chair sat directly opposite of the Doctor Jamison's cluttered desk. He was happy to see the doctor had already drawn the drapes and turned on every light in the room. "Yes, much roomier" Morton felt.

"Tell me, Morton," the doctor immediately questioned, his eyes peering over the top halve of his bifocals. "how have you been dealing with your claustrophobia?"

"Not very good Doctor. I just can't seem to fight it. In fact I feel it's getting worse. I haven't been able to sleep much lately because of this nightmare I keep having."

"And which one is that Morton?"

"The same one as before, the one where I am tightly trapped in some sort of cylinder and starring into darkness through a portal only large enough for my face. I can't move my arms, I can't move my legs or any part of my body except my fingers which can move only enough to press against some sort of buttons. I'm not sure I can even close my eyes. All that I can do, is stare into the darkness." Morton's face became contorted, painfully concentrating, "and, there was something else."

"Which is?"

"Voices... Two men... Very panicky. Something is wrong. One of them made a mistake."

"These voices Morton, when do you hear them?"

"When I'm having the nightmare of course and... and when I'm having flash backs of the nightmare. Lately there are times when I am not sure which is the flash back and which is the nightmare."

"Morton, as I told you before, your problem is quit simple. You feel as though you are an insignificant entity. Your life is boring and you make yourself an easy mark to any intimidator who comes within close proximity of you. You have no meaning in life, so you tend to close yourself in on your psyche. You long for excitement but you run from it purposely thus failing at everything you do."

Morton deepen his brows and lowered his head in shame, he knew Dr. Jamison spoke the truth.

"Basically, what I'm trying to tell you Morton is, get a life. Now leave my office and don't return until you achieve something of significance. Something you can be proud of."

His mouth agape, Morton got up from the easy chair and made his way out of Jamison's office. He didn't move very fast. He couldn't, his body had became rigid and stiff. Making it to the waiting room, Morton's head, again snapped back and again his eyes stung and watered. When they cleared, he saw that the patients in the waiting area were now all gone. Only thrown about magazines littering the empty chairs indicated the patients ever existed.

Full of self pity, Morton headed for the stair well at the end of the hall. On his way, he bumped into a man wearing a white lab coat. Morton noticed he didn't vary much in appearance than he, except that he had sandy blonde hair. Morton could have sworn he had done this before. Was it another déjà vu? The man excused himself and immediately proceeded to tape a large poster to the wall outside of his office.

Morton saw the words, "Be A Hero," printed in large black letters. That's exactly what he needed. He wanted in.