A simple matter of Consequence

Author: Sakura123

Genre: Supernatural/Humor/Drama (naturally)

Rated: K+ (PG)

Summary: What does one do when someone is unintentionally sending visions of their own death through Allison's dreams, thus enabling her to dream anything otherwise? Set before Allison has her third child (whenever that was. I swear the little girl just popped up out of nowhere, crying and hanging off mommy's hip while she poured herself some tea). Does anyone know her name?

Disclaimer: MEDIUM, and all characters, or familiar places are property of its respective creator and NBC Television networks. Storyline and Original characters (minor and major) are copyrighted to me the author. "High Sensitivity" is property of the band Ra.

Author's note. This my first Medium fanfiction ever written (11-15-16-05). Constructive criticism is welcome.

I feel like I'm old

I feel like an invalid

I feel like I'm sick

In a casket so close the lid

I feel like I'm done

I feel like it's over now

I feel but I'm numb

Curtain falls while I take a bow and now

Substance races through my veins

Angels try to soothe my pain

High sensitivity

Wake up with my head still aching

High sensitivity

I'm drugged from all the pills I'm taking

I don't know my name

I don't know if I can make it

I don't feel the same

My brain is dead and I cannot wake it

I don't wanna run

I don't have a place to run to

I don't see the sun

I don't understand what I must do

Substance races through my veins

Angels try to soothe my pain

High sensitivity

I wake up with my head still aching

High sensitivity

I'm drugged from all the pills I'm taking

High sensitivity

I laugh, my self respect is flaking

High sensitivity

I hate all the mistakes I'm making

My money's running out

My shoes are wearing thin

Each day I break my back

To end where I begin

A razor full of blood is dragged across the sky

But I don't think I really want to die

High sensitivity

I wake up with my head still aching

High sensitivity

I'm drugged from all the pills I'm taking

High sensitivity

I laugh, my self respect is flaking

High sensitivity

I hate all the mistakes I'm making

She's not sure how to explain this. She's sitting (or lying, in this matter) in what looks like a poshly decorated office. The curtains are drawn open and she can see the large tree. The birds fluttering over to the branches, making themselves comfortable. The smell of Cuban cigars hung heavy in the air. Her hands are moving about above her as she tries to explain herself in the most logical way. 'Are you getting me? I'm not crazy,' Is the faint mumble that emits from the young woman's mouth. There's a man sitting in front of her at the desk, the cigar lying on the desk in an ashtray. The man stares at her with eyes of disbelief. It was as though he expected her to tell him the actual truth, because he believed she was lying. She refuses to speak and promptly gets up from the lounge chair, her hand grabbing her backpack off the ground beside her.

The door swing door opens, with no restraint it hits the wall of the office. The scenery moves as though it's on an centuries old film reel. There are not enough frames to give the feel of normal human movement. Figures standing in rows of lockers, all of them talking about a particular subject. One of the girls turned and waved to her, she only catches the motion for a second but she manages to wave to her friend. Her friend vanishes in the sea of heads. The heels of her shoes rap against the title, she's obviously in a rush to get somewhere. The crowd gets thicker, it makes it hard to move as fast anymore, her shoulder's are bumping against the traffic around her. The air was thick and her lungs weren't responding to her anymore, suffocation was soon to follow. She had to get out, get out now.

She exits the traffic and enters yet another hall that seemed to transition between the school and her house's hallway. The world around her was on pause. Her legs are not used to the abuse she was receiving from the stillness. The door at the end of the hall began to open slowly the moment her hand raised. A brilliant white light shone through the crack. The more it opened, the greater the light became. She welcomed it, the exit from this vacuum she called life. The door opened completely and she made a break for it, pushing her unwilling legs forward with all her strength. The girl made it her intention to reach the door before the bell. Ghosts of figures and lockers appeared again, she paid no attention to them until she saw a foreign face speed past her. The world rewound itself for a brief moment, their eyes met. Both women were equally confused, but only the girl was wondering "Who the hell, are you? What are you doing here?" Many questions in this form raced through her head. Only the woman did not answer her. The woman stared back at her with a knowing expression, begging to be recognized. Anger swelled up inside the girl, she ran toward the door - toward the light. Toward nothing. The light swallowed her whole, sneering heat seared her eyelids shut. Her body went over the edge of the void that beckoned her. Wind rushed through the fabric of her clothes and delicate skin as her body accelerated in velocity.

All Allison Dubois could do was watch as the young woman became a tiny speck in the greater world.

And she wanted it that way.

Allison awoke from her dream like she always did. For her it was routine. Ever since she was a child her dreams had always disturbed her, always meant something. Always came to her in coded messages. She would tell her parents and they would tell her 'it was only dream Allison, nothing bad is gonna happen to anyone.' Of course they were always wrong. Something did always happen.

Her eyes darted around the bedroom, she was steadily realizing she was in the safety of her home. Her husband Joe was lying next to her, asleep for once. Scratching the back of her head, Dubois buried herself underneath of her covers again. Her eyes cautiously shifting toward the alarm clock. 3:00am. Great she wouldn't be able to get to sleep for another hour now. Her head hit the pillow again and her eyes stared at the ceiling for about five minutes before they began to droop. "Bad dreams?" Joe's voice startled out of her half sleep. Damn. The woman turned on her side facing her husband whose eyes were half open. Placing her hand under her head, she nodded. "Yeah, bad dreams. Now go to sleep," Allison mumbled closing her eyes. Joe turned on his side, his back facing his wife. Allison opened her eyes again, her mind thinking back on the dream she had. 'What are you doing here?' The words echoed in her mind until she drifted asleep.