Nightmare!

Harleen looked over at the psychologist and shrugged. "I'm losing my grip on reality. I keep having the same nightmare over and over again every night. Or maybe I should say I have the same kind of nightmare. The dreams are always different, but it's the same old plot."

"And what do you dream?" He asked.

Harleen took a deep breath. "I dream that I wake up and everything that happened the last few years have been a dream. I'm still married to my abusive ex-husband and I spend the rest of the dream trying to find a way to leave him without getting killed. "What do you think this means?"

The psychologist smiled and laid down his pen. "What do you think it means?"

"I don't know. You're the shrink. You're the one who's supposed to give me the answers."

"I can't give you the answers. Only you can provide those."

"Then what are you suppose to be doing for this outrageous fee?"

"I'm guiding you by asking you the right questions."

Harleen stared into the psychologist's eyes.
"Why did I ever think this would work?"

"Thank you. I think I can handle this now."

"You don't want to schedule another appointment?"

"No!"

"Harleen, I really suggest….."

Harleen stood up and open the door. "I'm quite capable of asking my own questions now, thank you."

"And maybe even finding the answers!"

Harleen stopped at the Gotham City Gun Store on the way home, determined to put an end to this hell. It was a long shot, but what did she have to lose? She purchased a chrome 357 magnum revolver.
"I'll be paying cash!"



The joker behind the counter gives her a wide exaggerating smile.
"Now you sure you know how to handle that little lady?"

Harleen smirks at the joker and leaves the store.

Later that night, Harleen tossed and turned in her sleep, knowing that she was still dreaming, but still couldn't change anything. She woke up, and Scott was there, waiting for her, as always.

"You had the same nightmare again?" Her husband asked.

"Yes." Harleen shivered and sat up. "It's the same dream every time. We're divorced and I'm seeing a psychologist."

Harleen bit her tongue, not mentioning the wonderful second husband, and the lovely mansion and car.

"The only thing that's bad about that dream is going to sleep and waking up here: married to an unemployed, abusive alcoholic who'll kill me if I leave.

She reached under the pillow, and her finger closed upon the gun she'd bought in her dream.

"Get me a beer NOW!, " he said. "And you better hurry if you don't want to be late to that shitty place you call work! You know how long it takes to make breakfast the way I like it. Hurry!"

Harleen nodded and waited for him to turn away before pulling out the gun.

She didn't know anymore which world was real and which was a dream. But she was about to find out.

Across town, a phone rings, "Gotham City Police Department, Gordon Speaking,"

"Yes, hello, I heard a struggle next door and then gun shots. I open my door slightly and saw a man run from the apartment. Please Hurry!"


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