The Dreamer Is Still Asleep
NebulaDreams
Ace Trainer
- Partners
-
Author’s note: Welcome back! Here’s a new one-shot I wrote in between my other projects since I really wanted to revisit Jung’s character from The Inalienable Dreamless. So while this is a sequel of sorts, newcomers can also read this in isolation since it’s a self-contained story. You just might get more enjoyment out of it if you read the previous one-shot first, though, which I'll drop a link to here.
This is a part of the Dreamdiver series (in progress!), which focuses on Jung's adventures as he examines the dreams of all sorts of different patients.
Special thanks to @SinderellaWrites for beta-reading this baby of mine.
Summary: Hypno dream therapist, Jung, is called in an emergency to treat one of his patients: a wild Komala that’s perpetually asleep. While his client’s emotional well-being is his priority, as he dives further into their dreams, Jung has to make a tough decision about whether to leave the Komala in dreamland or bring them back to reality.
Content warning: Like last time, it contains elements of surreal horror with occasional bits of disturbing imagery.
The Dreamer Is Still Asleep
Tupelo tossed and turned in his sleep – Tupelo couldn’t quite tell whether it was a tree branch or a bed, whatever beds were supposed to look like. Tupelo’s friend gave him some idea, so apparently, it was a human invention. Where was Tupelo’s friend? It had been a while since he last visited Tupelo. Tupelo missed him. Tupelo missed the warm embrace of his family, of others like him, with their rough, furry textures. Tupelo didn’t like the smoother textures he felt, either from the human he had now or those who held him before. Who were those people? Why did they take him from that spot?
Tupelo didn’t understand what they said. They spoke weird. Not like others like him. But Tupelo understood their tone, which was harsh, like a… Tupelo didn’t know what to compare it to. Tupelo had no basis for any of it. The more Tupelo thought about it, the more he tossed and turned, until Tupelo was flying. Nothing was beneath him, except for the hard, muddy ground.
No! Tupelo was away from his tree! Tupelo wanted to get back up, but he didn’t want to let go of his log. It was Tupelo’s friend. It was warm. But Tupelo didn’t feel safe unless he was comfortable high up there. Any amount of bad monsters could come to snatch him away, that’s what Tupelo’s parents always said. Tupelo wanted them. Tupelo wanted his mother. Tupelo wanted his father. Tupelo wanted his brother. Where were they? Where were they? Where were they?
Tupelo’s eyes stung.
Jung awoke in his office bed, cuddled up to his Plusle plushie. His Plusleshie. He let out a big yawn and slipped out of the covers, holding the plushie up to the ceiling. It stared back at him with those buttoned eyes, unblinking.
“Did you have a good dream last night?” he asked it. Jung mimed it nodding its head. “Oh, really? Tell me more.” He pressed the stitched mouth to his ears, humming as he listened. “Hmm, yes, you had one of those peanut butter dreams again.” Jung licked his lips for the remnants of that PB&J sandwich he had as a midnight snack. He laughed, clutching the Plusleshie to his chest.
It was silly, sure, but this was a part of Jung’s morning ritual, to ask the doll about his own dreams. It helped to psyche himself up for his future dream readings throughout the day, to get him into the headspace of one of his patients. But he knew it was a fantasy of his. He had to get out of bed and prepare for work.
Jung put on his glasses, booted up the computer on his work desk, and followed an exercise video featuring a trio of Machamp performing a muscle warm-up routine. He tidied up his bed and placed the Plusleshie on top of the cushions. He liked to imagine it was protecting the bed from bad dreams. Jung got dressed, as much as a Hypno could get dressed anyway, and put on his white coat out of many identical white coats from the closet. To cap it off, he wore his rusted pendulum around his neck.
That was the most important part for him. If other people, including his patients, didn’t see it on hand, they often assumed the worst. For all they knew, he could’ve been hiding a bright pendulum, polished to a shine, ready to pull out in case he needed to hypnotise unsuspecting patrons. Jung wouldn’t allow that to happen to him, not again. If people thought his pendulum was worthless, even if it didn’t make much of a difference, it would’ve removed some of that threat.
Now he was properly kitted out, Jung wasn’t just a regular Hypno – he was himself. He just hoped that was enough for people to see him how he wanted to be seen.
The notification on his computer bleeped, and Jung immediately hopped to it, scanning the on-screen schedule through his magnified vision. He had his usual appointments with the inpatients in the afternoon, capped off with a general meeting with the other therapists staffed in this care hospital.
Curiously, though, he had his morning booked out by an emergency house visit, which was both a blessing and a burden. It meant going out and possibly facing more suspicious stares from strangers. But it also meant going to different places and visiting nice houses, or even being treated to lunch or dinner, which made the occasional hassle worth it.
When he saw what his client’s name was, though, he groaned inwardly. It was Tupelo.
Liliane sat on the couch as she gently rocked Tupelo back and forth in her lap. Even though he clutched his log, he was still restless, and he was crying just a moment ago. Help would come, but for now, she had to wait until that Hypno arrived to find a solution, so she occupied herself by watching the TV. Of course, she gravitated towards a gardening show. Even when she wasn’t tending to her own garden or her flower shop, she still had to dig her green fingers into that business.
This episode featured a guide on how to build a forest in your back garden, with a Trevenant as the main guest. Even though the prospect of working with a ghost weirded Liliane out to no end, she had to admit, it would’ve been handy to have a Trevenant assistant shaping the topiary for her. Or help her out in the greenhouse, since it got so unbelievably stuffy in there. Or maybe it could do all the work for her.
Time passed quickly as her mind drifted between her fantasies and the reality portrayed on the TV. Occasionally, Liliane took a sip from her cup of green tea, or grabbed a handful of eucalyptus leaves from the nearby wicker bowl to feed Tupelo with. That made him feel slightly better, as he munched on the leaves and capped it all off with a satisfied coo when he was finished.
Liliane didn’t regret adopting Tupelo, not one bit. Even though he was asleep most of the time, he still kept her company, both at work and at home, and holding him made her feel incredibly warm inside. She just hoped he knew how much she cared for him, and that he appreciated her company. A part of her felt as if he didn’t trust her at all, but she didn’t want to think about that for now.
Eventually, the doorbell rang. Liliane carefully rose, still keeping Tupelo close to her, and traipsed to the front door.
“It’s open!” she called.
That Hypnotherapist Jung was there, donning his usual white coat and custom-made glasses along with his pink Buneary slippers. Her hair stood on end in his presence, but she tried to hide that behind that sweet little smile of hers. She knew he meant no harm, in theory, anyway.
“Glad you could come,” she said.
“Glad to be here,” Jung replied, bowing as he stepped onto the welcome mat. He looked at Tupelo and smiled. Jung spoke in his own language, which of course, sounded like gibberish to Liliane, but Tupelo recognised the Hypno’s voice, and he murmured in his slumber. A part of her wished she could speak to him like that.
“Sorry to drag you out like this,” Liliane said. “I hope you weren’t too busy.”
“You know I’m happy to help with housecalls.” Jung hung his coat up by the rack and slipped his shoes off. If it wasn’t for the rusted pendulum hanging by his neck, he would’ve been completely naked. He also took a large chocolate bar out of the coat pocket. “Pardon me, this is just my breakfast, and it also helps with my dream cravings. Is that okay?”
“Yeah, sure.” She exhaled. “Do you want a cup of tea while I’m up?”
“Ah, yes please, that’s really kind of you!” Jung straightened his posture again, looking to Tupelo. “Oh, shall I hold him for a bit while you…”
Liliane squinted at Jung. Right, he wasn’t like a lot of other Hypno who would’ve snatched— wait, what was she saying? Of course he wouldn’t do that. Stupid. “Yeah yeah, sure.”
She felt guilty for that one brief slight, but she kept her composure as she passed Tupelo to Jung. As soon as he was in the Hypno’s arms, he relaxed considerably. He buried his face in Jung’s fur and started sleep-talking as he did. Jung carried Tupelo with care, keeping him tucked close to his chest, supporting his head, like one would with a baby.
Liliane made for the kitchen and brewed one cup of her homemade green tea for herself, and a supermarket-brand teabag for Jung. When she returned to the living room, Jung had already made himself comfortable, gently rocking Tupelo in his lap.
She had to know what he was doing that made Tupelo so...relaxed. “What’s your secret to calming him down?” she asked, putting the cups on the table. “Or is it just because I’m not holding him?”
“Aw, I wouldn’t say that.” He pursed his lips. “He just knows me a bit more from his dreams. Still, have you tried talking to him in a soft way?”
“Um, yes, I have.” He probably didn’t mean it like that, but it struck a nerve with her. “Though if he doesn’t understand what I’m saying anyway, then what’s there to say, really?”
“He still understands the tone, though.”
He carefully handed Tupelo back to her. No sooner did Liliane wrap her arms around him, did Tupelo start to squirm again.
“A-ah, go ahead, try it!” Jung said, tensing up.
Liliane took a deep breath, keeping a firm grip on her Komala. “W-well—” She tried to think of what to say, but couldn’t come up with anything. She just defaulted to the sort of thing she’d say to a customer at her shop. “Ahem, there are lots of different teas you can grow at home – you just need to find the right conditions for it. They might not be cheap, and they might be a little annoying to maintain, but the care you give it will eventually reward you later on.”
Tupelo calmed down a little, staying still. Liliane was aghast.
“Huh, well, thanks.”
“You’re welcome.” Jung undid the wrapper to his chocolate bar and took a big bite out of it without breaking the pieces off first. He was known for having a sweet tooth, though she wondered how he got through it all without getting fat. Once Jung was finished, he washed the rest down with a sip of his tea, and turned to Liliane, crossing his arms.
“Right, let’s get to it, then. What seems to be the problem?”
“Well, same as our first meeting, really.” Lliliane brushed her hand over Tupelo’s ears. “Tupelo got restless again, fell off the tree and started crying, so I knew he probably needed your company.” She frowned, rubbing her head. “Well, he cries a lot, to be honest.”
“Poor fellow.” Jung brushed his paw across Tupelo’s cheek. “If it’s of some reassurance, he usually occupies himself with his dreams. And I know he feels some sort of security with you looking after him.”
“I know.” Liliane sighed. “I just hate that I can’t directly talk to him, or help him calm down.” She tugged at the straps of her overalls. “I mean, that doesn’t really look good with me as his carer.”
“You’re doing what you can, Liliane.” He downed the rest of his tea and gently placed it back on the saucer. “Komala are, well, they’re unique, to say at the least. You can’t change their behaviour just like you can’t change the wind or the rain.”
“Unless you’re a Castform.”
“Well, simile aside, it’s out of your control. All you can do is keep feeding him. He knows that much about you, anyway.”
“Yeah, I suppose so.” She glanced at Tupelo, who was completely still, save for the occasional rising of his chest. He appeared to be in a deep sleep state, so he was probably dreaming. “Are your Hypno senses tingling?”
“I’m not a Spinarak,” he said with a chuckle. “But, well, I suppose whatever senses I have, they are indeed tingling.”
Jung inched closer to Tupelo and closed his eyes, honing in on… something. What that thing was, Liliane couldn’t tell. But when Jung blinked, his eyes widened with a newfound clarity. Liliane recoiled.
“Well, the good thing is that he isn’t having a nightmare.” He smacked his lips. “Of course, it tastes like eucalyptus.”
“Ah, right, dreams have… tastes for you, don’t they?”
“Scents too, like tree bark,” he said, sniffing the air with his snout. Liliane groaned at the sight of it. “Sorry, I do have a rather big nose, don’t I?”
“Ah, no no, it’s no problem.” Though it was certainly creepy.
“Well then. In any case, I should be able to visit him directly in his dreams, though I might need your help.”
Liliane hummed, not knowing what to expect.
“The process of entering a dream is quite delicate for me. A lot of Hypno would just enter them by brute-forcing their way in.” He paused for a moment, cringing slightly. “Or, er, eating that person’s dreams entirely.”
He placed a gentle hand on Tupelo’s head. “In order to enter them without disturbing the person sleeping, I need to, well…” Another pause. “I need to hypnotise myself in order to lull myself into that sort of state, so my defenses are just as weakened as his.”
He shuddered at the mere mention of it. “I don’t like having to use that, even on myself.”
Liliane went to offer a sympathetic hand, but she recoiled, not knowing what would happen if she touched a psychic like him. So she drew it back to Tupelo.
“I guess it’s not easy having those powers,” she said.
“No, it isn’t.” He exhaled. “But, well, I need to do what needs to be done. So listen closely.”
Liliane waited for Jung as he took his glasses off and placed them on the table.
“There’s a very small window for me to get into Tupelo’s dreams – that state between falling asleep and staying awake. When my eyes flash pink, please pass Tupelo over to me, gently as not to wake him up. Our minds will create a link with me close to him, and he’ll stay in his sleep state undisturbed in my arms.”
Liliane nodded, keeping her hands on Tupelo for the moment. “Right.”
“Well then, on the count of three.” Jung undid his pendulum necklace and held it up in front of his face. “One… two…” He took a deep breath and widened his eyes, focusing sharply on the ring. “Three.”
He swayed it back and forth, channeling a little bit of his psychic energy into it as an invisible force radiated from his body. Jung muttered a mantra to himself, one Liliane couldn’t understand.
According to what he told her before, hypnosis wasn’t exactly a blanket term for getting people to do your bidding – it was merely the power of suggestion and influence, which any human could practise. Having the ability to affect the other person’s mind, of course, merely amplified that effect. Or whatever. Liliane couldn’t really get behind the hypnotism thing herself, but it worked for Tupelo last time, right?
Jung let out a big yawn. Liliane yawned too as a result, though thankfully, not because of the hypnotism. Just a really contagious yawn.
“Oh…” He said, in between yawns. “Can you… get that… cushion?”
Liliane freed a hand to grab one and gave it to Jung, who laid it on the side.
“Good… Now...”
Liliane tucked her hands under Tupelo and took a deep breath. She could do this. Tupelo needed this. She supported his head and lifted him up, getting ready to pass him over to Jung. Then—
Jung’s eyes flashed pink. Right. Liliane placed Tupelo on Jung’s lap. Jung dropped the pendulum, which hit the floor with a loud clink. Before he passed out, he wrapped his arms around Tupelo, and finally, his head hit the cushion.
The two of them were completely conked out, and for a moment, it seemed peaceful. They slept like babies together. And the longer Liliane looked at them, the drowsier she felt as well.
Then, the silence was cut by Jung’s snoring.
With a sigh, Liliane finished her tea and took the tray back to the kitchen. She might as well do some chores while she waited for those two to return from dreamland. The tomato plants outside needed a good trim. Before she entered the garden, Liliane took one more look into the lounge room.
She wondered if she was going to have to brush that Hypno’s fur out of her couch once he was out.
Jung awoke in a land full of abstract shapes and colours that blurred in and out of his vision, like floaters. He glided down from the air until he hit an invisible floor. The world around him was blank, yet not at the same time. A being ten feet tall that consisted of many limbs and eyes passed in front of him, though it didn’t seem to bear ill intent, going about its business as it muttered incomprehensible words. Even more colours glitched in and out of the air around him as if this was some kind of buggy video game.
The first thing Jung did was look at his hands. They were his own. He maintained his own form here, at least, which was a good sign.
Another being appeared in front of him with blue fur and closed eyes. It was like the Komala, except not, as the features were slightly off, like the nose being misshapen, or its feet being stumps instead of paws and claws. Even though its eyes remained shut as normal, it walked and had control of its own body.
“Jung?” Tupelo called.
Jung waved back at him. The imitation Komala ran up to him, dropping his log, and jumped into Jung’s arms, cuddling him like a tree branch. Jung squeezed him just as tight, which simultaneously felt solid yet as light as a feather at the same time.
“Tupelo can see you!” he said. “Tupelo can feel you! You’re here!”
“Yes, indeed.” Jung patted his head and gently lifted him back down. “Did you miss me?”
“Tupelo missed you!” He spun in place as if he just learned to walk. “Play with Tupelo!”
“Of course, of course. What shall we play?”
Tupelo sat down, pondering it for a moment as he sucked his finger. Jung was trying to think of one himself – if a Komala had no basis for how the outside world operated, then what would he imagine?
More colours hovered around him, some splattering on the invisible floor like drops of paint. Each droplet created a distinct sound, each of them random. Liliane’s sighs, TV static, forks scraping on plates, birds chirping, rain pitter-pattering, footsteps shuffling across the floor. They rained on both Tupelo and Jung, drenching them in a kaleidoscopic array of colours. Eventually, this all morphed into a foot-deep puddle that made the invisible floor visible.
Other beings rose out from the puddle, appearing in many different shapes: rectangular, oblongish, horizontal, dodecahedronal, centrifugal, symmetrical, and all the like. They approached Tupelo, extending their incorporeal hands to him. He shook each one of them and laughed.
“Are these your other friends?” Jung asked.
“They’re strangers. But strangers are friends too.”
He supposed that was fair. Jung had a lot of friends who were non-euclidean shapes. One of them even came up to him and bowed their blob-like form.
“🕆︎❍︎📪︎ ♒︎♏︎●︎●︎□︎📪︎ ⬥︎♒︎♋︎⧫︎ ♓︎⬧︎ ⧫︎♒︎♏︎ ⬧︎❑︎◆︎♋︎❒︎♏︎ ❒︎□︎□︎⧫︎ □︎♐︎ ♋︎■︎ ♋︎◻︎◻︎●︎♏︎ ◻︎♓︎♏︎✍︎?” it asked.
“Um, well, I suppose it’s an irrational number, so it’s hard to calculate. Apple pie does sound delicious, though.”
The blob made a sad gurgling noise and slunk away, dragging a trail of goo along with it. Jung turned back to Tupelo, who danced in a circle along with the many foreign-looking objects that surrounded him. Jung decided to join in and dance along with him. It wasn’t quite the slow dancing he was used to, since it was more like jumping in place to an imaginary beat, but Tupelo looked like he was enjoying it.
They did that for a while… and a while… and even a while longer… Jung didn’t want to interrupt Tupelo’s fun, but he still wanted to get to the meat of the issue soon.
They kept dancing and dancing and stepping and dancing and dancing and dancing and dancing and dancing and dancing—
The towering beast of many eyes and limbs joined in, its massive feet and hands stomping Tupelo’s friends flat. The Komala stopped dancing then, as did Jung, and they stared on as the beast flopped and swayed and snapped as it walked on.
Tupelo started crying again, bashing his fists on the ground as he mourned his lost friends. Jung approached slowly before pulling him into a hug, which eventually calmed him down.
“W-why did they do that?” he said, sniffling, “that-that’s so mean!”
“It doesn’t know what it’s doing,” Jung said. “Remember, none of this is real.”
“But… Tupelo wants it to be real…” He wiped his nose. “Isn’t this real?”
Oh, crumbs. Jung didn’t want to spoil his fun or break the illusion of his dream. He had to remember that Komala were unique, in that their waking days and their dreaming nights are one and the same. For Tupelo, this would be his reality. But how does one forge a reality for themselves when they’re in their heads all the time?
No, Jung didn’t want to ruin this reality for him. Not yet. Instead, he took Tupelo’s paw and gently lifted him up.
“Never mind. Do you want to talk? I had fun playing, but, well, I sensed you were upset about something.”
Tupelo looked up at Jung and gave a wan smile. “Okay. What does Tupelo talk about?”
“Well, er…” Jung looked to the sky, which flashed green and yellow. He would’ve talked about the weather, but what kind of weather was this? “Perhaps, well, we should talk about Liliane. Remember her?”
He nodded, albeit with an unsure expression.
“The human who looks after you, I mean.”
“Oh! Liliane’s hugs are nice, Tupelo guesses. She’s also nice.”
Jung shrugged, not knowing how to respond to that. “She’s been worried about you lately.”
“Why? Tupelo doesn’t know her that much. She doesn’t know Tupelo that much.”
“Well, would you like me to talk more about her? Or rather, we can walk and talk.”
“Tupelo guesses.”
Jung took that as a yes, then. He started walking through the coloured landscape, more and more of those weird lines passing through his vision like those floaters. This was what Tupelo experienced, after all, spending every waking moment asleep. Jung was baffled that this was what Tupelo experienced on the daily. He felt like he would get tired of having all these formless objects hovering around him all the time.
“So, what do you know about Liliane?”
“Tupelo knows she feeds Tupelo. Tupelo knows she has a big tree, which is nice. Tupelo knows she has a nice laugh. Tupelo wants to know what she looks like.”
Was Jung able to control his own appearance in this dream? He could usually modify parts of his look, like bringing his white coat with him or donning a fanciful propeller hat, but changing his entire species was a little tricky.
“Hold on,” Jung said, closing his eyes. He didn’t know what effect that had in the dream since he could still see through his eyelids, but he needed to focus and recall Liliane’s appearance.
She was in her thirties. Her face was smooth, yet refined as well. She had long, flowing hair, which she also dyed grey. She usually wore blue overalls over a yellow shirt. She wore a necklace made of topaz and jade. And she was usually seen wearing those green gloves of hers.
Without the exact measurements, Jung could only guess what her body type was like. But a close approximation would do.
Without noticing a change, Jung had donned his Liliane disguise. He didn’t feel different, though he was glad not to feel so inhuman for once in his life. Tupelo certainly noticed a change as he ran up to him. Or her. The koala curiously eyed her, observing her features and playing with the jeans of her overalls. Then he climbed up her leg and perched atop her shoulder. He felt weightless.
“How is that?” Jung asked.
“You don’t sound like her,” Tupelo said in a low tone.
“Ah, right, right.” He hummed, unsure about whether or not he could pull off a feminine voice. “Oh, hello!” she said. “Did you see the flowers today? They look very nice!”
As soon as he said that, Jung cleared his throat, and his form changed back into that of a Hypno. Along with the change, Tupelo climbed back down and looked back at him.
“How was that?” Jung asked.
“Tupelo... Tupelo’s pleased to see her.” He frowned. “Tupelo wants to talk to her more. Tupelo tries to listen to what she says, but Tupelo can’t understand her.”
“That makes sense. It’s unfortunate.” Jung frowned as well, though he wiped that off as he tried to put on a cheerful mask. “I can understand her, though, so if you want to ask me about anything, please do.”
“Oh, she can speak to you?”
“Yes.”
“Then, what does Liliane do?”
“Well, she looks after a flower shop, and she does her own gardening and farming at home.”
“Flow...ers? Gar...dening?” The imitation Komala tilted his head. “What are… those?”
“Ah, well…” How would he describe it to someone who couldn’t perceive the outside world? “You know what you eat? They’re called leaves, and they come from trees. Do you know what trees are?”
“Yes, Tupelo knows. Tupelo used to live on one, before—”
Tupelo’s claws scratched Jung’s hand, breaking off close contact with him. It didn’t hurt, but Jung was rather surprised. But Tupelo was now a Hypno, just like him, except his colours were slightly more vibrant. Instead of bearing a butter-yellow coat, he was lemon-yellow, and the tufts by his neck were a pure, radiant white instead of grey white.
“Um, Tupelo,” the imitation Hypno said, “Tupelo knows what trees are.”
“Okay, so a garden is filled with those. Now, can you imagine what that looks like?”
He pressed his new-found hands to his temple, thinking for a moment before transparent, glass-like trees sprouted around him, forming a greenhouse canopy that filtered the lime sky. Except, they didn’t really look like trees at all, but more like snaking, sprawling vines that somehow held their form.
“What does Liliane do with these trees? What are flowers?”
“Well, flowers are like trees, since they’re plants, but they’re a lot more colourful and smaller, and they have petals instead of leaves. They’re as big as our feet.”
Next, a series of flowers— no, feet, sprouted out of nowhere, where Hypno paws grew out of stalks. That… wasn’t what Jung had in mind, but he supposed that would do for now. It was kind of freaky and gross to look at.
“And she sells them to people. So other people exchange money in order to keep the flowers for themselves.”
“What’s money?”
Jung had a lot of patience, but Tupelo was starting to test it right now. He was going to be here all day if he had to explain everything to this Komala. But Tupelo dropped the subject as he traipsed through the foot garden with his new Hypno body. Jung had enough problems adjusting to his own body in other people’s dreams, but Tupelo walked like a natural in that Hypno shell of his. Then, he stopped.
“Why can’t Liliane join Tupelo here?”
Jung looked at the mirror version of him: it was weird looking at the spitting image of himself, except it wasn’t. And in the blink of an eye, Tupelo changed back into his original imitation form of himself.
Light filtered through the crystal forest, draping Tupelo in a prism of colour. Wind blew through the leaves, sending shards of light dancing in the air. Jung took a deep breath, knowing he had to tell a part of the truth.
“Liliane is, well, not like me. I, along with certain other species, can visit you while you’re asleep, but not her.”
“What’s not being asleep?”
“Being awake.”
“Can Tupelo wake up, then?”
“Sort of.” Jung was slightly worried about what would happen if he told Tupelo everything. “Your body constantly needs rest, and so you can only function when you’re in a state of sleep. When you’re awake, you are still asleep, but you can hear and sense what goes on around you.”
Tupelo considered that for a moment, and he opened his mouth, about to ask another question. But then he stopped. His expression changed from inquisitive to worrisome, as he hugged himself.
“Tupelo misses his family. Where are they?”
A branch from one of the glass trees broke off, which scattered into shards on the floor.
This wasn’t good, but he couldn’t deny Tupelo the truth. Would that affect the rest of his dreams, though?
“Tupelo,” Jung warned, giving him a stern look. “Are you absolutely sure you want to hear this? I don’t want to tell you the truth if you aren’t okay with it.”
Another branch fell and collapsed. Tupelo clutched his chest. Then, he nodded.
No matter whether he stayed silent or spilled the beans, truth would have to be a bitter pill for Jung to administrate.
“You were…” Jung hesitated at first, then took a deep breath. “A group of bad men captured you. In Alola. They tried to sell you. So they took you away while you were out of your family tree.”
More cracks in the glass gazebo surfaced, shards falling like snow around them.
“Then they got stopped here, in Kalos, and you were saved, along with other Pokemon. But you couldn’t return to the wild, since you were separated from your family. So they placed you in a sanctuary, where you got to interact with the other rescues.”
Jung stopped. He realised what the situation was as he was saying it.
“Then, Liliane asked if she could adopt you. She had the right sort of environment for it, and could provide the basic care for you. So she took you in as her own.”
The crackling sound ceased for a moment, but the damage was already done. The sky’s radiance was refracted by the cracks, showering the two with fractured rays of light.
“Tupelo,” Jung started, “are you happy being with Liliane?”
“Tupelo…” The koala sat on the ground amongst the broken glass. His tears shone, especially with all the sunspots shining in his face. “Tupelo… doesn’t know. Tupelo wants to go… h-h-home…”
“There is no home. I… I’m sorry.”
Tupelo started crying.
“Tupelo wants to go home… go home. Tupelo wants to go home.”
Jung could only watch as the trees around him splintered and shattered even further, to the point that all of the trees looked like Spinarak webs with all their fissures. Tupelo curled up in a ball, tugging at his fuzzy fur until…
“I WANT TO GO HOME!”
Crack.
So much happened at once that Jung couldn’t take any of it in. His dream side took over as he experienced everything as it happened.
The whole forest was razed into white dust. Shards whipped around the air in a spiral, forming a tornado that sliced through Jung’s body. Colours shifted and melted like paint drops in water. The sounds of shattered glass continuously played like a broken tape loop. The sky turned red and black and white and grey and blue and violet and pink and green and orange and black and black and black and black and black black black black blackblackblackblack—
Stop.
Jung couldn’t take this dream anymore. There was no reasoning with Tupelo. Tupelo was nowhere to be seen, yet everywhere at once. He was in the air, but invisible, like Jung’s floaters. Living while not living. Sleeping yet not sleeping.
Jung had to put an end to this. No, he didn’t want to eat anyone’s dreams or nightmares. Not again. Not after the pain he caused by eating pleasant dreams, and the pain he inflicted upon himself by eating nightmares. But he had no choice. He, along with Tupelo, would be stuck in limbo until the next sleep cycle started. He knew this had consequences, but he would also have to face them. It was better for the both of them.
God, why did he have to tell the truth then? Why couldn’t he have just watched and not tried to make everything worse?
No regrets for now. Jung held his pendulum, which violently swayed in the wind, and struck it with his claw.
One.
The green and black world distorted around Jung as he opened his mouth, sucking the world’s image into his maw.
Two.
Everything was black. Black, black, and more black. It all nestled in his distended belly, churning and wriggling all the while. Then, it burst out of his stomach, spilling his guts—
Three.
Jung woke up in a cold sweat with the stomach cramp to end all stomach cramps. He gently placed Tupelo on the couch, then stood up, the world around him a blur. Where was the nearest bathroom? Here, downstairs? Right, it was close to the kitchen. Jung blindly flailed around the room, knocking over furniture along the way. He knew where it was by instinct since he could smell the Oran scent diffuser. He picked up the scent, body-slammed the door open, and threw what felt like the toilet lid open. And then…
He couldn’t think right now. He just had to get it out of his system. He tasted the remains of that chocolate bar.
The feeling came, then went, and he was left with the aftermath. Black. Blaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaack.
Oh, crumbs.
Jung flushed and took a few deep breaths. He was feeling okay now that he emptied his belly, but feverishness replaced the nausea, and his whole body shivered, both from the cold and the shock he endured coming out of that nightmare. Once he took another breather, he shakily stood up and stumbled to the kitchen, pouring himself some tap water. It was difficult for him to keep it inside the glass since his hands shook too.
“Come on,” he whispered, “drink, dammit, drink.”
It wasn’t like him to swear or use Arceus’ name in vain. Wait, now wasn’t the time. Drink. Drink. Drink. Jung coaxed his hands to guide the glass to his lips, and he chugged the entirety of its contents down in one fell swoop.
Better. That awful, tar-like taste no longer lingered on his tongue, though his nose still burned. He was out of the frying pan… up until Liliane entered the kitchen through the garden door.
“W-what the hell?” she said, mouth agape. “Are you okay?”
“Y” – he cut himself off – ”no, I’m not.” He fell to his knees and Liliane caught him in her arms. “P-please, give me some time to recover and I can explain.” He eyed the bathroom door. “Sorry for the mess.”
Jung was in bed with a damp flannel draped over his forehead. Liliane had tucked him into the guest room, and also prepared a cup of ginger and Leppaberry tea in case he needed it, which sat atop the bedside cabinet. Granted, one trip to the Pokemon Centre would’ve done the trick, but at the same time, he needed some space to gather his thoughts, and a pocket dimension definitely wasn’t the place.
The fever still lingered, but it was manageable for now. He just needed to remind himself to take it easy while also doing his job. He had asked for his glasses as well as his notepad in case he needed to write anything down, and there was a lot to write about. And of course, his pink Hello Skitty pen. As silly as it was, some sort of familiarity, as well as that cuteness appeal, soothed his soul a bit.
Despite that sickly brain fog plaguing him, Jung got to work.
This wasn’t going to be a pleasant confrontation. Heck, despite his line of work, Jung wasn’t fond of confrontations himself. Liliane seemed hospitable, and she clearly tried her best when it came to fulfilling Tupelo’s needs. If she didn’t have his best interests in mind, then she wouldn’t have called Jung in the first place. At the same time, though, there was something about Liliane’s behaviour that didn’t quite add up to him, but he couldn’t put his finger on why.
Jung took his empty cup back to the kitchen, put his white coat back on, and went into the living room where Liliane and Tupelo stayed. Although Liliane was by her Pokemon’s side, feeding him those eucalyptus leaves as usual, he wouldn’t stop sniffling, his fur stained with tears. Jung’s heart sank at the sight of him. Liliane seemed down about this as well. She didn’t keep her eyes off of Tupelo even when Jung entered the room.
“What happened?” she asked in a hushed tone. “Why is he crying again?”
Jung sighed, staying by the doorside.
“I spoke to Tupelo in the dream. I kept him company and asked what was bothering him, and, well, he asked what happened before you adopted him.”
Her eyes widened. “So you told him?”
“He wanted me to tell him. It was at the back of his mind before, but now he’s pieced together a part of his past. Once he realised that, the whole dream caved in on me.” He grit his teeth. “Regrettably, I had to eat his nightmare to get out of it, then that fracas in the bathroom happened.”
Liliane grunted, stroking Tupelo’s ears.
“Okay then, what’s the cure for this, doc?”
“Cure?” He pinched the bridge of his big nose. “That’s a taboo word in my line of work – you can’t simply cure a patient when they need therapy. You can help them heal, but you can’t cure them—”
“But he’s worse now.” Liliane took a few deep breaths, then she glared at Jung. “Whatever you did to him was anything but therapeutic. So what’s the point in you being here, you Hypno?”
And there it was. Jung knew it was there this whole time, but now, Liliane’s true self came out of the woodwork. Jung wouldn’t get angry, though. He knew he couldn’t. It wasn’t a direct attack on himself, no matter how much it felt like one. He just adjusted his glasses and looked at his notepad.
“Ahem. I was about to say, I do, however, recommend a couple of options. The main problem is that he’s been displaced from his habitat and is suffering from severe separation anxiety. It might be out of my field, since I’m not a ranger, but you can either find another Pokemon companion for him here, or you can return him to the sanctuary you adopted him from, where he’ll have more friends. I recommend the latter more, personally.”
Liliane shook her head. “Take him back? So I’m that bad of a carer, huh?”
“No, absolutely not.” He lowered his notes as he gave Liliane a sympathetic look. “You feed him properly and try your best to accommodate him here, which fits in with your profession.”
“Yeah, I am trying!” She slightly raised her voice, though not enough to disturb Tupelo. “It just sucks that I can’t do much to help!”
“I understand that. And I know you care for him. But he’s not happy being out of his home environment.” Jung gripped his clipboard. “He’s never going to be satisfied as long as he’s ripped away from that and doesn’t have anyone to speak to. He’s not like an Eevee you can just train to follow you around.”
“Alright then, how come it’s okay for trainers to keep him while I’m apparently in the wrong here?”
Jung put all of his effort into maintaining the same manner of voice. “Trainers have other Pokemon that can accompany Komala. They have other forms of social interaction that can fill that void. When he’s isolated with someone he can’t understand, that would make him feel upset and confused.”
“Then, what am I gonna do with all of this?” She gestured to the toys and pillows she had bought specifically for Tupelo. “What about the tree I helped shape for him, what am I going to do without him keeping me company—”
“It’s not about you!” Jung yelled. As soon as he said it, he caught himself, dropping the clipboard. Liliane stared in shock. A part of Jung was convinced that she would snap back at him, but she was stunned into silence, sadly looking at Tupelo.
Jung took a deep breath, picked the clipboard back up, and tore out a copy of his notes for her to take. That included the dream analysis, as well as Jung’s personal recommendations.
“I apologise, that was unprofessional of me.” He inhaled through his nose. “In any case, I don’t know what you do from here. That’s up to you. That’s all I can say.”
The room was silent. The Delcatty clock on the wall ticked in the background. Birds chirped outside. Tupelo whimpered in his sleep. What else was there for Jung to do here? This whole trip left him feeling worse than when he entered. The bitter feeling settled in his stomach, but that wasn’t from the bile or from the nausea, but it was from something else: not being able to help Tupelo. He wanted to hug him and tell him everything would be alright, but he already caused him a great deal of pain, and he couldn’t let himself get too attached to him.
Not anymore.
Jung took a deep breath and bowed to Liliane. “Thanks for the tea and everything else. I do appreciate it.”
“I’m glad I could be of some use,” she said through clenched teeth. “I’m sorry for snapping at you, that was childish of me.”
“Me too.” Jung glanced at the front door. “If you need anything else, or if Tupelo gets any worse, call me or the general office.”
Before he left, he took one last look at Tupelo.
“I’m sorry.”
Jung’s brain was fried. He absentmindedly bought a whole strawberry cake from Jiggly’s Puff Pastries on the way back to the clinic. Once he re-entered Courmaline’s Home for Troubled Pokemon, he was half-tempted to admit himself in.
Jung laid face down on his office bed, not wanting to get up at all. Sure, he wanted to have his lunch. Afterwards, he had to file Tupelo’s report, he had to respond to several emails, and there were also those inpatients he wanted to check up on. But he couldn’t think about that as he replayed those events in his head, his brain like a jammed cassette tape. He buried his head in his pillow, thinking about things he could’ve said, things he shouldn’t have said, that outburst, the whole situation.
Jung knew this would pass. He had been in this position before, time and time again, and he would bounce back from it. That didn’t mean it was always easy, especially since he got no closure from the situation. Sometimes, it just happened with certain patients. But Tupelo didn’t deserve something like this.
Then again, lots of Pokemon didn’t deserve the hand they were dealt. It wasn’t Jung’s fault for being born with dream-eating powers.
Jung’s stomach rumbled. He peeled himself off the bed and stomped over to the staff cafeteria with the box containing the cake in his hands. Self pity did him no favours, isolation was even worse, and hunger was the worst thing he could feel as a Hypno. He couldn’t work on an empty stomach, after all.
Once he entered, Jung sat at one of the tables with a big plate and some cutlery. He licked his lips as he opened the box, revealing the scrumptious treat inside. Strawberry wasn’t usually his thing, but after throwing up all that chocolate back there, he needed a palate cleanser. He started cutting one-eighth of a slice, then he took the rest of the cake and dumped it on the plate. Jung salivated as he looked at it all, not the least bit perturbed by how rich it would taste and how much there was to eat. He was going to finish it in one sitting, and/or die trying.
He dug in, not bothering to portion it into smaller pieces as Jung decimated the icing, the sponge, the strawberries, everything in sight. However, Jung only got about a third of the way in before the sickly sweetness got to him.
As soon as the psychiatric director, Amelie, walked in, Jung tried to clean himself up with a napkin, wanting to look his best.
“Oh, there you are,” she said. “Do you mind if I sit down?”
“Ah, please, go ahead.” Jung cleared some space for her to sit, and midway through, had to suppress a sugary burp. “Pardon me.”
Amelie made herself comfortable, while Jung was anything but cosy, especially not in her presence. She eyed the half-eaten cake.
“I haven’t received your report yet,” she said. “What’s wrong?”
Jung sighed, stabbing the icing with his fork. “Sorry. I will log the file onto the computer soon.” He let out a half-hearted laugh. “As you can see, I’m in one of those moods again.”
“Evidently.” Amelie drummed her fingers on the table. “This was Liliane and her Komala, correct?”
He slowly nodded.
“We couldn’t come to an agreement on how to treat him last time. Was this the same problem?”
Jung shrugged, unsure of what to say. “I had to eat another nightmare. Both of us were trapped inside of it, and... “ He shuddered. “I had to do what I had to do. But I got sick.”
She hummed, encouraging him to go on.
“Then, things just got worse. The thing is, Tupelo is a wild Pokemon, not a pet.” He tugged at the tufts on his neck. “Liliane just seemed convinced that she knew how to care for his best interests when he didn’t want to be with her.” He sighed. “So I tried to tell her that, and she lashed out.”
“Unfortunate.” Amelie pursed her lips. “You’re always going to find a client like that.”
“I know, I know.” He looked at her with pleading eyes, clutching his rusted pendulum. “I-I’m doing the right thing, aren’t I? I’m supposed to help Pokemon find peace, and yet, here, it just seems like I’ve made everything worse, I—”
“Jung,” she said firmly, keeping a stoic expression. “If you didn’t care for the Pokemon that came here, you wouldn’t be here. You’ve earned your place here.”
He adjusted his glasses and straightened his shoulders, trying to regain his composure. “Y-yes. I know. I know I’m being ridiculous. But Tupelo’s still there and I’m unsure if Liliane will come to her senses here.”
“That may be so, but it’s not your responsibility to decide what a patient does after your work is done. All you can do is give them advice to steer them in the right direction. Your dream reading is just another method of getting to the root of it, especially in this case with such a unique Pokemon.”
This was sound logic. Jung just had to keep reminding himself that this was the case, though his expression didn’t reflect that.
Amelie slid her hand closer to the middle of the table. “In my personal opinion, you put a lot of pressure on yourself to get to the root of all of these problems.” She smiled. “I still remember what you did for that Banette – no one else I know here would be willing to go that far.”
“I mean, I’m happy to help.” He shifted in his seat, looking straight at his superior. “I wouldn’t trade this sort of work for anything else. This is my life, so I want to live it to the fullest.”
“I really respect that. But you can’t get attached to every patient, every Pokemon you take under your wing. Or else, you will just lose yourself in each of them.” She tapped her temple. “Because of your powers, you need to take extra care of yourself too. Not just because it affects what you do here, but also because you need to stay fit and healthy.”
He glanced at that mess of a cake. “I know I should go on a diet.”
Amelie tried to stifle a chuckle under that professional visage. “That’s not what I meant. I mean, it couldn’t hurt, but we all have our vices, and I know it helps you cope.”
Jung couldn’t help but chuckle too. That relieved some of the tension in his heart.
“Look,” Amelie said, rising from her chair, “I should get back to my duties, and you should probably get to yours soon.”
He took a deep breath and put on a smile, placing his messy confectionery back in the box. “Right, I’ll get to it.”
“Good to hear.” Before she left, she smiled back. “One more thing, I would do something nice for yourself once your shift is over. Perhaps go for a walk, or watch a film, or anything. I usually hit the ice cream tub myself.”
Jung only nodded, and waved goodbye to her as she exited the cafeteria.
That made him feel better. It didn’t entirely solve the situation, sure, but it put him in a stronger frame of mind to complete his work today. He probably would feel a lot worse if he just sat around doing nothing at all, and there was no way he’d become a couch potato. Well, a couch Hypno, as his golden fur made him look rather potatoey.
As Jung headed back to his office, he thought of some of the things he was looking forward to doing. He would probably rearrange some of the plushies on his desk. He would put on some relaxing music, like some of that jazz again, as long as it wasn’t interrupted by ad breaks every other minute. He’d hit the gym within the clinic, to burn off some of those saturated fats and help him process his thoughts. And after work, he wanted to at least watch one film on his bucket list, perhaps that Furfrou and Filly. He needed something sappy to have a good cry to.
Yes, Jung had things to live for besides his work. He wasn’t just a Hypno, he was himself, and that’s all he had to be.
This is a part of the Dreamdiver series (in progress!), which focuses on Jung's adventures as he examines the dreams of all sorts of different patients.
Special thanks to @SinderellaWrites for beta-reading this baby of mine.
Summary: Hypno dream therapist, Jung, is called in an emergency to treat one of his patients: a wild Komala that’s perpetually asleep. While his client’s emotional well-being is his priority, as he dives further into their dreams, Jung has to make a tough decision about whether to leave the Komala in dreamland or bring them back to reality.
Content warning: Like last time, it contains elements of surreal horror with occasional bits of disturbing imagery.
The Dreamer Is Still Asleep
Tupelo tossed and turned in his sleep – Tupelo couldn’t quite tell whether it was a tree branch or a bed, whatever beds were supposed to look like. Tupelo’s friend gave him some idea, so apparently, it was a human invention. Where was Tupelo’s friend? It had been a while since he last visited Tupelo. Tupelo missed him. Tupelo missed the warm embrace of his family, of others like him, with their rough, furry textures. Tupelo didn’t like the smoother textures he felt, either from the human he had now or those who held him before. Who were those people? Why did they take him from that spot?
Tupelo didn’t understand what they said. They spoke weird. Not like others like him. But Tupelo understood their tone, which was harsh, like a… Tupelo didn’t know what to compare it to. Tupelo had no basis for any of it. The more Tupelo thought about it, the more he tossed and turned, until Tupelo was flying. Nothing was beneath him, except for the hard, muddy ground.
No! Tupelo was away from his tree! Tupelo wanted to get back up, but he didn’t want to let go of his log. It was Tupelo’s friend. It was warm. But Tupelo didn’t feel safe unless he was comfortable high up there. Any amount of bad monsters could come to snatch him away, that’s what Tupelo’s parents always said. Tupelo wanted them. Tupelo wanted his mother. Tupelo wanted his father. Tupelo wanted his brother. Where were they? Where were they? Where were they?
Tupelo’s eyes stung.
***
Jung awoke in his office bed, cuddled up to his Plusle plushie. His Plusleshie. He let out a big yawn and slipped out of the covers, holding the plushie up to the ceiling. It stared back at him with those buttoned eyes, unblinking.
“Did you have a good dream last night?” he asked it. Jung mimed it nodding its head. “Oh, really? Tell me more.” He pressed the stitched mouth to his ears, humming as he listened. “Hmm, yes, you had one of those peanut butter dreams again.” Jung licked his lips for the remnants of that PB&J sandwich he had as a midnight snack. He laughed, clutching the Plusleshie to his chest.
It was silly, sure, but this was a part of Jung’s morning ritual, to ask the doll about his own dreams. It helped to psyche himself up for his future dream readings throughout the day, to get him into the headspace of one of his patients. But he knew it was a fantasy of his. He had to get out of bed and prepare for work.
Jung put on his glasses, booted up the computer on his work desk, and followed an exercise video featuring a trio of Machamp performing a muscle warm-up routine. He tidied up his bed and placed the Plusleshie on top of the cushions. He liked to imagine it was protecting the bed from bad dreams. Jung got dressed, as much as a Hypno could get dressed anyway, and put on his white coat out of many identical white coats from the closet. To cap it off, he wore his rusted pendulum around his neck.
That was the most important part for him. If other people, including his patients, didn’t see it on hand, they often assumed the worst. For all they knew, he could’ve been hiding a bright pendulum, polished to a shine, ready to pull out in case he needed to hypnotise unsuspecting patrons. Jung wouldn’t allow that to happen to him, not again. If people thought his pendulum was worthless, even if it didn’t make much of a difference, it would’ve removed some of that threat.
Now he was properly kitted out, Jung wasn’t just a regular Hypno – he was himself. He just hoped that was enough for people to see him how he wanted to be seen.
The notification on his computer bleeped, and Jung immediately hopped to it, scanning the on-screen schedule through his magnified vision. He had his usual appointments with the inpatients in the afternoon, capped off with a general meeting with the other therapists staffed in this care hospital.
Curiously, though, he had his morning booked out by an emergency house visit, which was both a blessing and a burden. It meant going out and possibly facing more suspicious stares from strangers. But it also meant going to different places and visiting nice houses, or even being treated to lunch or dinner, which made the occasional hassle worth it.
When he saw what his client’s name was, though, he groaned inwardly. It was Tupelo.
***
Liliane sat on the couch as she gently rocked Tupelo back and forth in her lap. Even though he clutched his log, he was still restless, and he was crying just a moment ago. Help would come, but for now, she had to wait until that Hypno arrived to find a solution, so she occupied herself by watching the TV. Of course, she gravitated towards a gardening show. Even when she wasn’t tending to her own garden or her flower shop, she still had to dig her green fingers into that business.
This episode featured a guide on how to build a forest in your back garden, with a Trevenant as the main guest. Even though the prospect of working with a ghost weirded Liliane out to no end, she had to admit, it would’ve been handy to have a Trevenant assistant shaping the topiary for her. Or help her out in the greenhouse, since it got so unbelievably stuffy in there. Or maybe it could do all the work for her.
Time passed quickly as her mind drifted between her fantasies and the reality portrayed on the TV. Occasionally, Liliane took a sip from her cup of green tea, or grabbed a handful of eucalyptus leaves from the nearby wicker bowl to feed Tupelo with. That made him feel slightly better, as he munched on the leaves and capped it all off with a satisfied coo when he was finished.
Liliane didn’t regret adopting Tupelo, not one bit. Even though he was asleep most of the time, he still kept her company, both at work and at home, and holding him made her feel incredibly warm inside. She just hoped he knew how much she cared for him, and that he appreciated her company. A part of her felt as if he didn’t trust her at all, but she didn’t want to think about that for now.
Eventually, the doorbell rang. Liliane carefully rose, still keeping Tupelo close to her, and traipsed to the front door.
“It’s open!” she called.
That Hypnotherapist Jung was there, donning his usual white coat and custom-made glasses along with his pink Buneary slippers. Her hair stood on end in his presence, but she tried to hide that behind that sweet little smile of hers. She knew he meant no harm, in theory, anyway.
“Glad you could come,” she said.
“Glad to be here,” Jung replied, bowing as he stepped onto the welcome mat. He looked at Tupelo and smiled. Jung spoke in his own language, which of course, sounded like gibberish to Liliane, but Tupelo recognised the Hypno’s voice, and he murmured in his slumber. A part of her wished she could speak to him like that.
“Sorry to drag you out like this,” Liliane said. “I hope you weren’t too busy.”
“You know I’m happy to help with housecalls.” Jung hung his coat up by the rack and slipped his shoes off. If it wasn’t for the rusted pendulum hanging by his neck, he would’ve been completely naked. He also took a large chocolate bar out of the coat pocket. “Pardon me, this is just my breakfast, and it also helps with my dream cravings. Is that okay?”
“Yeah, sure.” She exhaled. “Do you want a cup of tea while I’m up?”
“Ah, yes please, that’s really kind of you!” Jung straightened his posture again, looking to Tupelo. “Oh, shall I hold him for a bit while you…”
Liliane squinted at Jung. Right, he wasn’t like a lot of other Hypno who would’ve snatched— wait, what was she saying? Of course he wouldn’t do that. Stupid. “Yeah yeah, sure.”
She felt guilty for that one brief slight, but she kept her composure as she passed Tupelo to Jung. As soon as he was in the Hypno’s arms, he relaxed considerably. He buried his face in Jung’s fur and started sleep-talking as he did. Jung carried Tupelo with care, keeping him tucked close to his chest, supporting his head, like one would with a baby.
Liliane made for the kitchen and brewed one cup of her homemade green tea for herself, and a supermarket-brand teabag for Jung. When she returned to the living room, Jung had already made himself comfortable, gently rocking Tupelo in his lap.
She had to know what he was doing that made Tupelo so...relaxed. “What’s your secret to calming him down?” she asked, putting the cups on the table. “Or is it just because I’m not holding him?”
“Aw, I wouldn’t say that.” He pursed his lips. “He just knows me a bit more from his dreams. Still, have you tried talking to him in a soft way?”
“Um, yes, I have.” He probably didn’t mean it like that, but it struck a nerve with her. “Though if he doesn’t understand what I’m saying anyway, then what’s there to say, really?”
“He still understands the tone, though.”
He carefully handed Tupelo back to her. No sooner did Liliane wrap her arms around him, did Tupelo start to squirm again.
“A-ah, go ahead, try it!” Jung said, tensing up.
Liliane took a deep breath, keeping a firm grip on her Komala. “W-well—” She tried to think of what to say, but couldn’t come up with anything. She just defaulted to the sort of thing she’d say to a customer at her shop. “Ahem, there are lots of different teas you can grow at home – you just need to find the right conditions for it. They might not be cheap, and they might be a little annoying to maintain, but the care you give it will eventually reward you later on.”
Tupelo calmed down a little, staying still. Liliane was aghast.
“Huh, well, thanks.”
“You’re welcome.” Jung undid the wrapper to his chocolate bar and took a big bite out of it without breaking the pieces off first. He was known for having a sweet tooth, though she wondered how he got through it all without getting fat. Once Jung was finished, he washed the rest down with a sip of his tea, and turned to Liliane, crossing his arms.
“Right, let’s get to it, then. What seems to be the problem?”
“Well, same as our first meeting, really.” Lliliane brushed her hand over Tupelo’s ears. “Tupelo got restless again, fell off the tree and started crying, so I knew he probably needed your company.” She frowned, rubbing her head. “Well, he cries a lot, to be honest.”
“Poor fellow.” Jung brushed his paw across Tupelo’s cheek. “If it’s of some reassurance, he usually occupies himself with his dreams. And I know he feels some sort of security with you looking after him.”
“I know.” Liliane sighed. “I just hate that I can’t directly talk to him, or help him calm down.” She tugged at the straps of her overalls. “I mean, that doesn’t really look good with me as his carer.”
“You’re doing what you can, Liliane.” He downed the rest of his tea and gently placed it back on the saucer. “Komala are, well, they’re unique, to say at the least. You can’t change their behaviour just like you can’t change the wind or the rain.”
“Unless you’re a Castform.”
“Well, simile aside, it’s out of your control. All you can do is keep feeding him. He knows that much about you, anyway.”
“Yeah, I suppose so.” She glanced at Tupelo, who was completely still, save for the occasional rising of his chest. He appeared to be in a deep sleep state, so he was probably dreaming. “Are your Hypno senses tingling?”
“I’m not a Spinarak,” he said with a chuckle. “But, well, I suppose whatever senses I have, they are indeed tingling.”
Jung inched closer to Tupelo and closed his eyes, honing in on… something. What that thing was, Liliane couldn’t tell. But when Jung blinked, his eyes widened with a newfound clarity. Liliane recoiled.
“Well, the good thing is that he isn’t having a nightmare.” He smacked his lips. “Of course, it tastes like eucalyptus.”
“Ah, right, dreams have… tastes for you, don’t they?”
“Scents too, like tree bark,” he said, sniffing the air with his snout. Liliane groaned at the sight of it. “Sorry, I do have a rather big nose, don’t I?”
“Ah, no no, it’s no problem.” Though it was certainly creepy.
“Well then. In any case, I should be able to visit him directly in his dreams, though I might need your help.”
Liliane hummed, not knowing what to expect.
“The process of entering a dream is quite delicate for me. A lot of Hypno would just enter them by brute-forcing their way in.” He paused for a moment, cringing slightly. “Or, er, eating that person’s dreams entirely.”
He placed a gentle hand on Tupelo’s head. “In order to enter them without disturbing the person sleeping, I need to, well…” Another pause. “I need to hypnotise myself in order to lull myself into that sort of state, so my defenses are just as weakened as his.”
He shuddered at the mere mention of it. “I don’t like having to use that, even on myself.”
Liliane went to offer a sympathetic hand, but she recoiled, not knowing what would happen if she touched a psychic like him. So she drew it back to Tupelo.
“I guess it’s not easy having those powers,” she said.
“No, it isn’t.” He exhaled. “But, well, I need to do what needs to be done. So listen closely.”
Liliane waited for Jung as he took his glasses off and placed them on the table.
“There’s a very small window for me to get into Tupelo’s dreams – that state between falling asleep and staying awake. When my eyes flash pink, please pass Tupelo over to me, gently as not to wake him up. Our minds will create a link with me close to him, and he’ll stay in his sleep state undisturbed in my arms.”
Liliane nodded, keeping her hands on Tupelo for the moment. “Right.”
“Well then, on the count of three.” Jung undid his pendulum necklace and held it up in front of his face. “One… two…” He took a deep breath and widened his eyes, focusing sharply on the ring. “Three.”
He swayed it back and forth, channeling a little bit of his psychic energy into it as an invisible force radiated from his body. Jung muttered a mantra to himself, one Liliane couldn’t understand.
According to what he told her before, hypnosis wasn’t exactly a blanket term for getting people to do your bidding – it was merely the power of suggestion and influence, which any human could practise. Having the ability to affect the other person’s mind, of course, merely amplified that effect. Or whatever. Liliane couldn’t really get behind the hypnotism thing herself, but it worked for Tupelo last time, right?
Jung let out a big yawn. Liliane yawned too as a result, though thankfully, not because of the hypnotism. Just a really contagious yawn.
“Oh…” He said, in between yawns. “Can you… get that… cushion?”
Liliane freed a hand to grab one and gave it to Jung, who laid it on the side.
“Good… Now...”
Liliane tucked her hands under Tupelo and took a deep breath. She could do this. Tupelo needed this. She supported his head and lifted him up, getting ready to pass him over to Jung. Then—
Jung’s eyes flashed pink. Right. Liliane placed Tupelo on Jung’s lap. Jung dropped the pendulum, which hit the floor with a loud clink. Before he passed out, he wrapped his arms around Tupelo, and finally, his head hit the cushion.
The two of them were completely conked out, and for a moment, it seemed peaceful. They slept like babies together. And the longer Liliane looked at them, the drowsier she felt as well.
Then, the silence was cut by Jung’s snoring.
With a sigh, Liliane finished her tea and took the tray back to the kitchen. She might as well do some chores while she waited for those two to return from dreamland. The tomato plants outside needed a good trim. Before she entered the garden, Liliane took one more look into the lounge room.
She wondered if she was going to have to brush that Hypno’s fur out of her couch once he was out.
***
Jung awoke in a land full of abstract shapes and colours that blurred in and out of his vision, like floaters. He glided down from the air until he hit an invisible floor. The world around him was blank, yet not at the same time. A being ten feet tall that consisted of many limbs and eyes passed in front of him, though it didn’t seem to bear ill intent, going about its business as it muttered incomprehensible words. Even more colours glitched in and out of the air around him as if this was some kind of buggy video game.
The first thing Jung did was look at his hands. They were his own. He maintained his own form here, at least, which was a good sign.
Another being appeared in front of him with blue fur and closed eyes. It was like the Komala, except not, as the features were slightly off, like the nose being misshapen, or its feet being stumps instead of paws and claws. Even though its eyes remained shut as normal, it walked and had control of its own body.
“Jung?” Tupelo called.
Jung waved back at him. The imitation Komala ran up to him, dropping his log, and jumped into Jung’s arms, cuddling him like a tree branch. Jung squeezed him just as tight, which simultaneously felt solid yet as light as a feather at the same time.
“Tupelo can see you!” he said. “Tupelo can feel you! You’re here!”
“Yes, indeed.” Jung patted his head and gently lifted him back down. “Did you miss me?”
“Tupelo missed you!” He spun in place as if he just learned to walk. “Play with Tupelo!”
“Of course, of course. What shall we play?”
Tupelo sat down, pondering it for a moment as he sucked his finger. Jung was trying to think of one himself – if a Komala had no basis for how the outside world operated, then what would he imagine?
More colours hovered around him, some splattering on the invisible floor like drops of paint. Each droplet created a distinct sound, each of them random. Liliane’s sighs, TV static, forks scraping on plates, birds chirping, rain pitter-pattering, footsteps shuffling across the floor. They rained on both Tupelo and Jung, drenching them in a kaleidoscopic array of colours. Eventually, this all morphed into a foot-deep puddle that made the invisible floor visible.
Other beings rose out from the puddle, appearing in many different shapes: rectangular, oblongish, horizontal, dodecahedronal, centrifugal, symmetrical, and all the like. They approached Tupelo, extending their incorporeal hands to him. He shook each one of them and laughed.
“Are these your other friends?” Jung asked.
“They’re strangers. But strangers are friends too.”
He supposed that was fair. Jung had a lot of friends who were non-euclidean shapes. One of them even came up to him and bowed their blob-like form.
“🕆︎❍︎📪︎ ♒︎♏︎●︎●︎□︎📪︎ ⬥︎♒︎♋︎⧫︎ ♓︎⬧︎ ⧫︎♒︎♏︎ ⬧︎❑︎◆︎♋︎❒︎♏︎ ❒︎□︎□︎⧫︎ □︎♐︎ ♋︎■︎ ♋︎◻︎◻︎●︎♏︎ ◻︎♓︎♏︎✍︎?” it asked.
“Um, well, I suppose it’s an irrational number, so it’s hard to calculate. Apple pie does sound delicious, though.”
The blob made a sad gurgling noise and slunk away, dragging a trail of goo along with it. Jung turned back to Tupelo, who danced in a circle along with the many foreign-looking objects that surrounded him. Jung decided to join in and dance along with him. It wasn’t quite the slow dancing he was used to, since it was more like jumping in place to an imaginary beat, but Tupelo looked like he was enjoying it.
They did that for a while… and a while… and even a while longer… Jung didn’t want to interrupt Tupelo’s fun, but he still wanted to get to the meat of the issue soon.
They kept dancing and dancing and stepping and dancing and dancing and dancing and dancing and dancing and dancing—
The towering beast of many eyes and limbs joined in, its massive feet and hands stomping Tupelo’s friends flat. The Komala stopped dancing then, as did Jung, and they stared on as the beast flopped and swayed and snapped as it walked on.
Tupelo started crying again, bashing his fists on the ground as he mourned his lost friends. Jung approached slowly before pulling him into a hug, which eventually calmed him down.
“W-why did they do that?” he said, sniffling, “that-that’s so mean!”
“It doesn’t know what it’s doing,” Jung said. “Remember, none of this is real.”
“But… Tupelo wants it to be real…” He wiped his nose. “Isn’t this real?”
Oh, crumbs. Jung didn’t want to spoil his fun or break the illusion of his dream. He had to remember that Komala were unique, in that their waking days and their dreaming nights are one and the same. For Tupelo, this would be his reality. But how does one forge a reality for themselves when they’re in their heads all the time?
No, Jung didn’t want to ruin this reality for him. Not yet. Instead, he took Tupelo’s paw and gently lifted him up.
“Never mind. Do you want to talk? I had fun playing, but, well, I sensed you were upset about something.”
Tupelo looked up at Jung and gave a wan smile. “Okay. What does Tupelo talk about?”
“Well, er…” Jung looked to the sky, which flashed green and yellow. He would’ve talked about the weather, but what kind of weather was this? “Perhaps, well, we should talk about Liliane. Remember her?”
He nodded, albeit with an unsure expression.
“The human who looks after you, I mean.”
“Oh! Liliane’s hugs are nice, Tupelo guesses. She’s also nice.”
Jung shrugged, not knowing how to respond to that. “She’s been worried about you lately.”
“Why? Tupelo doesn’t know her that much. She doesn’t know Tupelo that much.”
“Well, would you like me to talk more about her? Or rather, we can walk and talk.”
“Tupelo guesses.”
Jung took that as a yes, then. He started walking through the coloured landscape, more and more of those weird lines passing through his vision like those floaters. This was what Tupelo experienced, after all, spending every waking moment asleep. Jung was baffled that this was what Tupelo experienced on the daily. He felt like he would get tired of having all these formless objects hovering around him all the time.
“So, what do you know about Liliane?”
“Tupelo knows she feeds Tupelo. Tupelo knows she has a big tree, which is nice. Tupelo knows she has a nice laugh. Tupelo wants to know what she looks like.”
Was Jung able to control his own appearance in this dream? He could usually modify parts of his look, like bringing his white coat with him or donning a fanciful propeller hat, but changing his entire species was a little tricky.
“Hold on,” Jung said, closing his eyes. He didn’t know what effect that had in the dream since he could still see through his eyelids, but he needed to focus and recall Liliane’s appearance.
She was in her thirties. Her face was smooth, yet refined as well. She had long, flowing hair, which she also dyed grey. She usually wore blue overalls over a yellow shirt. She wore a necklace made of topaz and jade. And she was usually seen wearing those green gloves of hers.
Without the exact measurements, Jung could only guess what her body type was like. But a close approximation would do.
Without noticing a change, Jung had donned his Liliane disguise. He didn’t feel different, though he was glad not to feel so inhuman for once in his life. Tupelo certainly noticed a change as he ran up to him. Or her. The koala curiously eyed her, observing her features and playing with the jeans of her overalls. Then he climbed up her leg and perched atop her shoulder. He felt weightless.
“How is that?” Jung asked.
“You don’t sound like her,” Tupelo said in a low tone.
“Ah, right, right.” He hummed, unsure about whether or not he could pull off a feminine voice. “Oh, hello!” she said. “Did you see the flowers today? They look very nice!”
As soon as he said that, Jung cleared his throat, and his form changed back into that of a Hypno. Along with the change, Tupelo climbed back down and looked back at him.
“How was that?” Jung asked.
“Tupelo... Tupelo’s pleased to see her.” He frowned. “Tupelo wants to talk to her more. Tupelo tries to listen to what she says, but Tupelo can’t understand her.”
“That makes sense. It’s unfortunate.” Jung frowned as well, though he wiped that off as he tried to put on a cheerful mask. “I can understand her, though, so if you want to ask me about anything, please do.”
“Oh, she can speak to you?”
“Yes.”
“Then, what does Liliane do?”
“Well, she looks after a flower shop, and she does her own gardening and farming at home.”
“Flow...ers? Gar...dening?” The imitation Komala tilted his head. “What are… those?”
“Ah, well…” How would he describe it to someone who couldn’t perceive the outside world? “You know what you eat? They’re called leaves, and they come from trees. Do you know what trees are?”
“Yes, Tupelo knows. Tupelo used to live on one, before—”
Tupelo’s claws scratched Jung’s hand, breaking off close contact with him. It didn’t hurt, but Jung was rather surprised. But Tupelo was now a Hypno, just like him, except his colours were slightly more vibrant. Instead of bearing a butter-yellow coat, he was lemon-yellow, and the tufts by his neck were a pure, radiant white instead of grey white.
“Um, Tupelo,” the imitation Hypno said, “Tupelo knows what trees are.”
“Okay, so a garden is filled with those. Now, can you imagine what that looks like?”
He pressed his new-found hands to his temple, thinking for a moment before transparent, glass-like trees sprouted around him, forming a greenhouse canopy that filtered the lime sky. Except, they didn’t really look like trees at all, but more like snaking, sprawling vines that somehow held their form.
“What does Liliane do with these trees? What are flowers?”
“Well, flowers are like trees, since they’re plants, but they’re a lot more colourful and smaller, and they have petals instead of leaves. They’re as big as our feet.”
Next, a series of flowers— no, feet, sprouted out of nowhere, where Hypno paws grew out of stalks. That… wasn’t what Jung had in mind, but he supposed that would do for now. It was kind of freaky and gross to look at.
“And she sells them to people. So other people exchange money in order to keep the flowers for themselves.”
“What’s money?”
Jung had a lot of patience, but Tupelo was starting to test it right now. He was going to be here all day if he had to explain everything to this Komala. But Tupelo dropped the subject as he traipsed through the foot garden with his new Hypno body. Jung had enough problems adjusting to his own body in other people’s dreams, but Tupelo walked like a natural in that Hypno shell of his. Then, he stopped.
“Why can’t Liliane join Tupelo here?”
Jung looked at the mirror version of him: it was weird looking at the spitting image of himself, except it wasn’t. And in the blink of an eye, Tupelo changed back into his original imitation form of himself.
Light filtered through the crystal forest, draping Tupelo in a prism of colour. Wind blew through the leaves, sending shards of light dancing in the air. Jung took a deep breath, knowing he had to tell a part of the truth.
“Liliane is, well, not like me. I, along with certain other species, can visit you while you’re asleep, but not her.”
“What’s not being asleep?”
“Being awake.”
“Can Tupelo wake up, then?”
“Sort of.” Jung was slightly worried about what would happen if he told Tupelo everything. “Your body constantly needs rest, and so you can only function when you’re in a state of sleep. When you’re awake, you are still asleep, but you can hear and sense what goes on around you.”
Tupelo considered that for a moment, and he opened his mouth, about to ask another question. But then he stopped. His expression changed from inquisitive to worrisome, as he hugged himself.
“Tupelo misses his family. Where are they?”
A branch from one of the glass trees broke off, which scattered into shards on the floor.
This wasn’t good, but he couldn’t deny Tupelo the truth. Would that affect the rest of his dreams, though?
“Tupelo,” Jung warned, giving him a stern look. “Are you absolutely sure you want to hear this? I don’t want to tell you the truth if you aren’t okay with it.”
Another branch fell and collapsed. Tupelo clutched his chest. Then, he nodded.
No matter whether he stayed silent or spilled the beans, truth would have to be a bitter pill for Jung to administrate.
“You were…” Jung hesitated at first, then took a deep breath. “A group of bad men captured you. In Alola. They tried to sell you. So they took you away while you were out of your family tree.”
More cracks in the glass gazebo surfaced, shards falling like snow around them.
“Then they got stopped here, in Kalos, and you were saved, along with other Pokemon. But you couldn’t return to the wild, since you were separated from your family. So they placed you in a sanctuary, where you got to interact with the other rescues.”
Jung stopped. He realised what the situation was as he was saying it.
“Then, Liliane asked if she could adopt you. She had the right sort of environment for it, and could provide the basic care for you. So she took you in as her own.”
The crackling sound ceased for a moment, but the damage was already done. The sky’s radiance was refracted by the cracks, showering the two with fractured rays of light.
“Tupelo,” Jung started, “are you happy being with Liliane?”
“Tupelo…” The koala sat on the ground amongst the broken glass. His tears shone, especially with all the sunspots shining in his face. “Tupelo… doesn’t know. Tupelo wants to go… h-h-home…”
“There is no home. I… I’m sorry.”
Tupelo started crying.
“Tupelo wants to go home… go home. Tupelo wants to go home.”
Jung could only watch as the trees around him splintered and shattered even further, to the point that all of the trees looked like Spinarak webs with all their fissures. Tupelo curled up in a ball, tugging at his fuzzy fur until…
“I WANT TO GO HOME!”
Crack.
So much happened at once that Jung couldn’t take any of it in. His dream side took over as he experienced everything as it happened.
The whole forest was razed into white dust. Shards whipped around the air in a spiral, forming a tornado that sliced through Jung’s body. Colours shifted and melted like paint drops in water. The sounds of shattered glass continuously played like a broken tape loop. The sky turned red and black and white and grey and blue and violet and pink and green and orange and black and black and black and black and black black black black blackblackblackblack—
Stop.
Jung couldn’t take this dream anymore. There was no reasoning with Tupelo. Tupelo was nowhere to be seen, yet everywhere at once. He was in the air, but invisible, like Jung’s floaters. Living while not living. Sleeping yet not sleeping.
Jung had to put an end to this. No, he didn’t want to eat anyone’s dreams or nightmares. Not again. Not after the pain he caused by eating pleasant dreams, and the pain he inflicted upon himself by eating nightmares. But he had no choice. He, along with Tupelo, would be stuck in limbo until the next sleep cycle started. He knew this had consequences, but he would also have to face them. It was better for the both of them.
God, why did he have to tell the truth then? Why couldn’t he have just watched and not tried to make everything worse?
No regrets for now. Jung held his pendulum, which violently swayed in the wind, and struck it with his claw.
One.
The green and black world distorted around Jung as he opened his mouth, sucking the world’s image into his maw.
Two.
Everything was black. Black, black, and more black. It all nestled in his distended belly, churning and wriggling all the while. Then, it burst out of his stomach, spilling his guts—
Three.
***
Jung woke up in a cold sweat with the stomach cramp to end all stomach cramps. He gently placed Tupelo on the couch, then stood up, the world around him a blur. Where was the nearest bathroom? Here, downstairs? Right, it was close to the kitchen. Jung blindly flailed around the room, knocking over furniture along the way. He knew where it was by instinct since he could smell the Oran scent diffuser. He picked up the scent, body-slammed the door open, and threw what felt like the toilet lid open. And then…
He couldn’t think right now. He just had to get it out of his system. He tasted the remains of that chocolate bar.
The feeling came, then went, and he was left with the aftermath. Black. Blaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaack.
Oh, crumbs.
Jung flushed and took a few deep breaths. He was feeling okay now that he emptied his belly, but feverishness replaced the nausea, and his whole body shivered, both from the cold and the shock he endured coming out of that nightmare. Once he took another breather, he shakily stood up and stumbled to the kitchen, pouring himself some tap water. It was difficult for him to keep it inside the glass since his hands shook too.
“Come on,” he whispered, “drink, dammit, drink.”
It wasn’t like him to swear or use Arceus’ name in vain. Wait, now wasn’t the time. Drink. Drink. Drink. Jung coaxed his hands to guide the glass to his lips, and he chugged the entirety of its contents down in one fell swoop.
Better. That awful, tar-like taste no longer lingered on his tongue, though his nose still burned. He was out of the frying pan… up until Liliane entered the kitchen through the garden door.
“W-what the hell?” she said, mouth agape. “Are you okay?”
“Y” – he cut himself off – ”no, I’m not.” He fell to his knees and Liliane caught him in her arms. “P-please, give me some time to recover and I can explain.” He eyed the bathroom door. “Sorry for the mess.”
***
Jung was in bed with a damp flannel draped over his forehead. Liliane had tucked him into the guest room, and also prepared a cup of ginger and Leppaberry tea in case he needed it, which sat atop the bedside cabinet. Granted, one trip to the Pokemon Centre would’ve done the trick, but at the same time, he needed some space to gather his thoughts, and a pocket dimension definitely wasn’t the place.
The fever still lingered, but it was manageable for now. He just needed to remind himself to take it easy while also doing his job. He had asked for his glasses as well as his notepad in case he needed to write anything down, and there was a lot to write about. And of course, his pink Hello Skitty pen. As silly as it was, some sort of familiarity, as well as that cuteness appeal, soothed his soul a bit.
Despite that sickly brain fog plaguing him, Jung got to work.
***
This wasn’t going to be a pleasant confrontation. Heck, despite his line of work, Jung wasn’t fond of confrontations himself. Liliane seemed hospitable, and she clearly tried her best when it came to fulfilling Tupelo’s needs. If she didn’t have his best interests in mind, then she wouldn’t have called Jung in the first place. At the same time, though, there was something about Liliane’s behaviour that didn’t quite add up to him, but he couldn’t put his finger on why.
Jung took his empty cup back to the kitchen, put his white coat back on, and went into the living room where Liliane and Tupelo stayed. Although Liliane was by her Pokemon’s side, feeding him those eucalyptus leaves as usual, he wouldn’t stop sniffling, his fur stained with tears. Jung’s heart sank at the sight of him. Liliane seemed down about this as well. She didn’t keep her eyes off of Tupelo even when Jung entered the room.
“What happened?” she asked in a hushed tone. “Why is he crying again?”
Jung sighed, staying by the doorside.
“I spoke to Tupelo in the dream. I kept him company and asked what was bothering him, and, well, he asked what happened before you adopted him.”
Her eyes widened. “So you told him?”
“He wanted me to tell him. It was at the back of his mind before, but now he’s pieced together a part of his past. Once he realised that, the whole dream caved in on me.” He grit his teeth. “Regrettably, I had to eat his nightmare to get out of it, then that fracas in the bathroom happened.”
Liliane grunted, stroking Tupelo’s ears.
“Okay then, what’s the cure for this, doc?”
“Cure?” He pinched the bridge of his big nose. “That’s a taboo word in my line of work – you can’t simply cure a patient when they need therapy. You can help them heal, but you can’t cure them—”
“But he’s worse now.” Liliane took a few deep breaths, then she glared at Jung. “Whatever you did to him was anything but therapeutic. So what’s the point in you being here, you Hypno?”
And there it was. Jung knew it was there this whole time, but now, Liliane’s true self came out of the woodwork. Jung wouldn’t get angry, though. He knew he couldn’t. It wasn’t a direct attack on himself, no matter how much it felt like one. He just adjusted his glasses and looked at his notepad.
“Ahem. I was about to say, I do, however, recommend a couple of options. The main problem is that he’s been displaced from his habitat and is suffering from severe separation anxiety. It might be out of my field, since I’m not a ranger, but you can either find another Pokemon companion for him here, or you can return him to the sanctuary you adopted him from, where he’ll have more friends. I recommend the latter more, personally.”
Liliane shook her head. “Take him back? So I’m that bad of a carer, huh?”
“No, absolutely not.” He lowered his notes as he gave Liliane a sympathetic look. “You feed him properly and try your best to accommodate him here, which fits in with your profession.”
“Yeah, I am trying!” She slightly raised her voice, though not enough to disturb Tupelo. “It just sucks that I can’t do much to help!”
“I understand that. And I know you care for him. But he’s not happy being out of his home environment.” Jung gripped his clipboard. “He’s never going to be satisfied as long as he’s ripped away from that and doesn’t have anyone to speak to. He’s not like an Eevee you can just train to follow you around.”
“Alright then, how come it’s okay for trainers to keep him while I’m apparently in the wrong here?”
Jung put all of his effort into maintaining the same manner of voice. “Trainers have other Pokemon that can accompany Komala. They have other forms of social interaction that can fill that void. When he’s isolated with someone he can’t understand, that would make him feel upset and confused.”
“Then, what am I gonna do with all of this?” She gestured to the toys and pillows she had bought specifically for Tupelo. “What about the tree I helped shape for him, what am I going to do without him keeping me company—”
“It’s not about you!” Jung yelled. As soon as he said it, he caught himself, dropping the clipboard. Liliane stared in shock. A part of Jung was convinced that she would snap back at him, but she was stunned into silence, sadly looking at Tupelo.
Jung took a deep breath, picked the clipboard back up, and tore out a copy of his notes for her to take. That included the dream analysis, as well as Jung’s personal recommendations.
“I apologise, that was unprofessional of me.” He inhaled through his nose. “In any case, I don’t know what you do from here. That’s up to you. That’s all I can say.”
The room was silent. The Delcatty clock on the wall ticked in the background. Birds chirped outside. Tupelo whimpered in his sleep. What else was there for Jung to do here? This whole trip left him feeling worse than when he entered. The bitter feeling settled in his stomach, but that wasn’t from the bile or from the nausea, but it was from something else: not being able to help Tupelo. He wanted to hug him and tell him everything would be alright, but he already caused him a great deal of pain, and he couldn’t let himself get too attached to him.
Not anymore.
Jung took a deep breath and bowed to Liliane. “Thanks for the tea and everything else. I do appreciate it.”
“I’m glad I could be of some use,” she said through clenched teeth. “I’m sorry for snapping at you, that was childish of me.”
“Me too.” Jung glanced at the front door. “If you need anything else, or if Tupelo gets any worse, call me or the general office.”
Before he left, he took one last look at Tupelo.
“I’m sorry.”
***
Jung’s brain was fried. He absentmindedly bought a whole strawberry cake from Jiggly’s Puff Pastries on the way back to the clinic. Once he re-entered Courmaline’s Home for Troubled Pokemon, he was half-tempted to admit himself in.
Jung laid face down on his office bed, not wanting to get up at all. Sure, he wanted to have his lunch. Afterwards, he had to file Tupelo’s report, he had to respond to several emails, and there were also those inpatients he wanted to check up on. But he couldn’t think about that as he replayed those events in his head, his brain like a jammed cassette tape. He buried his head in his pillow, thinking about things he could’ve said, things he shouldn’t have said, that outburst, the whole situation.
Jung knew this would pass. He had been in this position before, time and time again, and he would bounce back from it. That didn’t mean it was always easy, especially since he got no closure from the situation. Sometimes, it just happened with certain patients. But Tupelo didn’t deserve something like this.
Then again, lots of Pokemon didn’t deserve the hand they were dealt. It wasn’t Jung’s fault for being born with dream-eating powers.
Jung’s stomach rumbled. He peeled himself off the bed and stomped over to the staff cafeteria with the box containing the cake in his hands. Self pity did him no favours, isolation was even worse, and hunger was the worst thing he could feel as a Hypno. He couldn’t work on an empty stomach, after all.
Once he entered, Jung sat at one of the tables with a big plate and some cutlery. He licked his lips as he opened the box, revealing the scrumptious treat inside. Strawberry wasn’t usually his thing, but after throwing up all that chocolate back there, he needed a palate cleanser. He started cutting one-eighth of a slice, then he took the rest of the cake and dumped it on the plate. Jung salivated as he looked at it all, not the least bit perturbed by how rich it would taste and how much there was to eat. He was going to finish it in one sitting, and/or die trying.
He dug in, not bothering to portion it into smaller pieces as Jung decimated the icing, the sponge, the strawberries, everything in sight. However, Jung only got about a third of the way in before the sickly sweetness got to him.
As soon as the psychiatric director, Amelie, walked in, Jung tried to clean himself up with a napkin, wanting to look his best.
“Oh, there you are,” she said. “Do you mind if I sit down?”
“Ah, please, go ahead.” Jung cleared some space for her to sit, and midway through, had to suppress a sugary burp. “Pardon me.”
Amelie made herself comfortable, while Jung was anything but cosy, especially not in her presence. She eyed the half-eaten cake.
“I haven’t received your report yet,” she said. “What’s wrong?”
Jung sighed, stabbing the icing with his fork. “Sorry. I will log the file onto the computer soon.” He let out a half-hearted laugh. “As you can see, I’m in one of those moods again.”
“Evidently.” Amelie drummed her fingers on the table. “This was Liliane and her Komala, correct?”
He slowly nodded.
“We couldn’t come to an agreement on how to treat him last time. Was this the same problem?”
Jung shrugged, unsure of what to say. “I had to eat another nightmare. Both of us were trapped inside of it, and... “ He shuddered. “I had to do what I had to do. But I got sick.”
She hummed, encouraging him to go on.
“Then, things just got worse. The thing is, Tupelo is a wild Pokemon, not a pet.” He tugged at the tufts on his neck. “Liliane just seemed convinced that she knew how to care for his best interests when he didn’t want to be with her.” He sighed. “So I tried to tell her that, and she lashed out.”
“Unfortunate.” Amelie pursed her lips. “You’re always going to find a client like that.”
“I know, I know.” He looked at her with pleading eyes, clutching his rusted pendulum. “I-I’m doing the right thing, aren’t I? I’m supposed to help Pokemon find peace, and yet, here, it just seems like I’ve made everything worse, I—”
“Jung,” she said firmly, keeping a stoic expression. “If you didn’t care for the Pokemon that came here, you wouldn’t be here. You’ve earned your place here.”
He adjusted his glasses and straightened his shoulders, trying to regain his composure. “Y-yes. I know. I know I’m being ridiculous. But Tupelo’s still there and I’m unsure if Liliane will come to her senses here.”
“That may be so, but it’s not your responsibility to decide what a patient does after your work is done. All you can do is give them advice to steer them in the right direction. Your dream reading is just another method of getting to the root of it, especially in this case with such a unique Pokemon.”
This was sound logic. Jung just had to keep reminding himself that this was the case, though his expression didn’t reflect that.
Amelie slid her hand closer to the middle of the table. “In my personal opinion, you put a lot of pressure on yourself to get to the root of all of these problems.” She smiled. “I still remember what you did for that Banette – no one else I know here would be willing to go that far.”
“I mean, I’m happy to help.” He shifted in his seat, looking straight at his superior. “I wouldn’t trade this sort of work for anything else. This is my life, so I want to live it to the fullest.”
“I really respect that. But you can’t get attached to every patient, every Pokemon you take under your wing. Or else, you will just lose yourself in each of them.” She tapped her temple. “Because of your powers, you need to take extra care of yourself too. Not just because it affects what you do here, but also because you need to stay fit and healthy.”
He glanced at that mess of a cake. “I know I should go on a diet.”
Amelie tried to stifle a chuckle under that professional visage. “That’s not what I meant. I mean, it couldn’t hurt, but we all have our vices, and I know it helps you cope.”
Jung couldn’t help but chuckle too. That relieved some of the tension in his heart.
“Look,” Amelie said, rising from her chair, “I should get back to my duties, and you should probably get to yours soon.”
He took a deep breath and put on a smile, placing his messy confectionery back in the box. “Right, I’ll get to it.”
“Good to hear.” Before she left, she smiled back. “One more thing, I would do something nice for yourself once your shift is over. Perhaps go for a walk, or watch a film, or anything. I usually hit the ice cream tub myself.”
Jung only nodded, and waved goodbye to her as she exited the cafeteria.
That made him feel better. It didn’t entirely solve the situation, sure, but it put him in a stronger frame of mind to complete his work today. He probably would feel a lot worse if he just sat around doing nothing at all, and there was no way he’d become a couch potato. Well, a couch Hypno, as his golden fur made him look rather potatoey.
As Jung headed back to his office, he thought of some of the things he was looking forward to doing. He would probably rearrange some of the plushies on his desk. He would put on some relaxing music, like some of that jazz again, as long as it wasn’t interrupted by ad breaks every other minute. He’d hit the gym within the clinic, to burn off some of those saturated fats and help him process his thoughts. And after work, he wanted to at least watch one film on his bucket list, perhaps that Furfrou and Filly. He needed something sappy to have a good cry to.
Yes, Jung had things to live for besides his work. He wasn’t just a Hypno, he was himself, and that’s all he had to be.
