More rain, but Devin didn’t mind. The raindrops carried the scent of new beginnings, and on the roof of the tent they sang a lullaby sweeter than his nursery memories. Dry, he sought the contentment of the road. He belonged here. No sense getting caught up in the lives of others. That never failed to disappoint. Safety lay here, alone, not in the company of strangers, or worse those who came to believe in him. He never failed to disappoint
. 
Crossing his legs at the ankle, he leaned back against his rolled sleeping bag. After his mother died and the final confrontation with his father, this tent became his home, the world became his neighbourhood. He wanted nothing more until – no, he refused to go there. His treacherous mind, always his enemy, would not win now. 

A fly, caught in the tent, bounced against the roof, trying to find its way out. He watched it amused by its struggle. If it would just rest, it would find peace. Peace, despite his best efforts peace eluded Devin. As he concentrated on the fly the tent faded, receded. What the hell? His saliva glands worked overtime, producing warm gagging moisture.  A familiar prickling on his scalp reminded him of earlier episodes. This can’t be happening. Not again. Years passed, six to be exact, since the last vision, hallucination according to Dr. Solomon, yet he couldn’t ignore the symptoms. 

“No, resist” Even as he spoke the words, a room replaced the tent. A small man sat across from him, squinting as he threaded his needle. “Go away.”

“You wish us to leave?”

“Us, there are more of you?” Stop. Don’t believe in it. You know this is not real.

The man looked around. “Late as usual.” He snapped his fingers, and a large spider appeared on his head. 
Devin pulled his legs back. “Who are you?”

“You know not?”

“Yes, I know. You are a manifestation of my inner psyche.”

“This you believe?”

“I have to. Look at you. You are my imaginings – nothing more.”

“We all create our own realities.” The man began weaving an intricate design with the spider’s silk.  

“You are not real.”

“Am I not?” The little man chuckled. “Real or not, I warn you of your mistake.”

“Mistake?” 

“You chose the wrong path.” 

“Aha, you are a manifestation of my unresolved feelings for Caitlyn.” Devin waited for the vision to disappear. Dr. Solomon taught him to face down his delusions. 

“Be that as it may, that is not the cause of your mistake. You are needed in Crimson Lake.”

“Needed? For what?” Stop this nonsense. Do not engage in the hallucination. “Don’t answer. You are not here.” Devin turned his head away. 

“The mission – it is time.”

Devin pushed his fists against his temples and closed his eyes, willing the hallucination to stop.
 
“Go back.” The voice faded
.
The rain pattered against the roof of the tent again, and Devin opened his eyes. The fly continued its fruitless endeavour, seeking escape. 

“It’s gone. Thank God, it’s gone, and with no meds.” As if to re-establish his reality, Devin flicked on his flashlight, letting its soft glow play over his meagre belongings. A shimmer caught his attention. He shifted to pick it up. Lifting the object, he shone the beam on it, and the light danced across its surface illuminating constantly shifting colours. The intricate design formed a dream-catcher. 
Devin flung it away from him. “What the devil is going on?” It’s just a minor remnant of the hallucination. It must be. Relax. Devin focused on the breathing pattern Dr. Solomon had taught him. In on ‘re’ and out on ‘lax’.

Devin continued his mantra, waiting for his heart-rate and emotions to return to normal, and the dream-catcher to vanish. It didn’t. He focused on his breathing and closing his eyes continued his mantra, but unbidden the thought changed. ‘Go’ replaced ‘re’ and ‘back’ replaced ‘lax’. Despite his initial panic at the change, the words succeeded. His heart beat slowed. 

When he opened his eyes, the dream-catcher floated in front of him. This isn’t a hallucination. It can’t be. I have to go back.

Despite Devin’s solitude, the old man’s voice filled the tent. “Wise choice, it is your duty.” 

“What duty?”

“All in good time, Gwerve.”

Whether or not this was a hallucination, Devine needed to know one thing. “What the hell is a Gwerve?”  
A deep laugh filled the tent, and then dissipated leaving Devine alone with the dream-catcher and a thousand unanswered questions.