Page 3 of Lost in the Dark

After a quick consultation and walk-through, which involved drawing bloodwork, she shows me a machine.

“What is this?” I ask, genuinely curious. This pod, for lack of a better word, looks like a sleek capsule that I’ve only seen in movies. It makes MRI scans look bulky and antiquated. It’s like an exotic sports car in the world of rusty pickup trucks.

“This is the patented Somni pod. Once I get a potential client into our system, this is the primary sleep chamber that we will use to monitor you.”

“And here I thought all you did was sleep studies,” I say. “You know, set up a video recording device to see what we do while we’re sleeping.”

Artemisia flashes a perfectly placed brochure smile. “Yes, but instead of a sleep study with observations and equipment that just monitors things like heart rate, this actually goes deeper than that. This shows us a more dynamic insight into what you were experiencing when you sleep. Think of it as very close surveillance.”

I have given them my blood and submitted to a physical. How much closer do they need? “Does someone stay in the room and watch me sleep?”

The technician laughs, her voice a sparkling sound that reminds me of wind chimes dancing in the spring breeze.

“No, but in our technology, it’s almost to the point of virtual reality. We are at a groundbreaking forefront regarding our own health and well-being. It is easy enough to see things medically, but even then, we cannot see the tie between psychological effects and physical effects. For example, phantom limb syndrome. How is it possible that patients feel relief from a limb that is no longer there when we can trick their mind into believing that their limb is being massaged and treated? Why does our heart feel more at peace when we are around forests and around people who we trust? These are the things that our current medical practice cannot answer for us, and yet these phenomena are still real.”

I stay silent, not wanting to give voice to how her words are affecting me. What she says makes me feel less alone. I let her continue her practiced speech, as I feel that part of her spiel includes overcoming potential objections.

“Where Somni comes into play is that we actually have been able to tap into the neural processes in your brain, kind of like how we do as a computer. And then this way we can almost see what you see while you sleep.”

I pause mid-stride. “Are you saying that you can see my dreams? That sounds like something out of a science-fiction movie.”

The technician smiles. “Well, we don’t actually see what it is you’re seeing as in replaying a movie. However, we see impressions. Kind of like a sonogram. We have been able to see where there are spikes of really intense emotions and correlate that with certain pictures or outlines in the brain. It’s really fascinating.”

Goosebumps rush across my skin and I am grateful for my suit jacket because I suddenly feel extremely cold. I realize I’m gripping my forearm over the scratches there.

“That still sounds so unreal, like something out of a fantasy,” I say. If it works, though, I will happily update my stock options to invest in Somni.

“I assure you, it is very safe. Results vary with individuals. However, even with mild results, patients report a heightened sense of relaxation after the therapy. It’s as if directed dreaming in this controlled environment has allowed them to have power over their dreams and ultimately, resolving subconscious conflicts that manifest as exhaustion and stress in your everyday life.”

If that’s the average user’s result, then sign me up.

I don’t want to appear too excited because I know what it’s like to reel in a sale. “How much do you charge just to try out this bad boy?”

As expected, the med tech probably fields this question often because she’s completely unflappable. I recognize a good salesperson. Game recognizes game.

“The first session is always free. Do you have time to try it out today? I planned for a trial run as part of your tour.”

I cleared my entire day for this session because I didn’t want any of the people at work to bother me. If they think I’m with a potentially big client like Somni, they will leave me alone to work my magic.

I smile. “Do you have a changing room?”

Mahal

Islip between the silky sheets of my designated sleep pod. At their price point, I expect nothing less than top luxury, and they delivered. There is a pile of gadgets on the side table with some instructions. I strap the watch on and calibrate it. Once on, I tap a button to let the researchers know that I’m ready.

A pleasant tone like the gong of a singing bowl plays through hidden speakers. A disembodied voice follows. “Are you comfortable, Ms. Evangelista?”

“Please call me Mahal, and I’m happy to say that this is the most comfortable I’ve ever felt in a doctor’s office.”

“Excellent. Whenever you’re ready, slip on the mask, lie back, and relax.”

“I’m a chronic insomniac, and I haven’t napped in my adult life. I don’t think I know how to relax.”

“You will appreciate our methods. Every single patient has at least been able to sleep.”

“If you accomplish that, it would be worth it. In the off chance that happens, wake me in about four hours so I can check in with work.”

Artemisia walks me through the sound settings and the mask settings, and after fiddling around with it, she is confident I can maneuver the settings myself. “We will monitor you while you sleep. Your dreams may feel intense, but remember that you’re in control. If it becomes too much, though, press the button on your watch. It will signal for the Somni pod to wake you up.”

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