Warning! This story contains instances of cursing and violence which may be inappropriate for some readers. This story is voluntarily rated PG for parental guidance.
"Donny!"
"Donatello!"
"My son, are you all right?"
Concerned voices flickered through Donatello’s battered mind as he struggled to come to grips with this situation. He seemed to be floating outside his body for a moment, before he pulled himself back together with a deep breath. His first thought was that he had imagined it. That was it. His overworked mind had spewed forth his tormenting nightmare, this time in the form of an imagined newscast. He looked at the television, praying that the newscaster would be talking about space aliens or the budget deficit, ANYthing that did not involve schools, explosive devices, or red cars.
But no. The newscaster was now interviewing a young detective, who was prattling on about logistics and possible suspects, and again, the damnable red car. Why did it have to be so detailed? If it had been vague, he could’ve laughed it off as a coincidence. A disturbing one, but a coincidence nonetheless. But-
P.S. 116. A car bomb. In a RED car. And-here was the kicker-at precisely 12:12. Don moaned softly. It couldn’t be a coincidence. But then what was it?
"Donny?" Another voice. Leo was shaking him. He was lying on the couch on his carapace. Funny, he hadn’t noticed moving, or being moved-
"Eh?" He grabbed Leo’s arm, tried to focus. He squinted in the living room’s half light. "Leo?"
"Geez, what happened, bro?" asked Mike. His wide, scared eyes belied his tone of relaxed nonchalance.
"Nothing, I’m fine." Don sat up and shook his brother’s hand off. "Really."
"Come on, Don, that’s crap!" said Raph. "You were spacing out or something."
"And look, you cut your hand," Mike pointed out. Don looked. He was right, his hand was oozing blood in several places, and there were slivers of glass in it here and there.
"He is awake?" Splinter swiftly entered the room, bearing a small first aid kit. "Donatello, are you all right?" His concerned eyes looked hard at Don.
"Yeah, I’m fine." He winced. "My hand hurts a little." He was reluctant to tell his family about his dream. It was so disturbing, even without the matching real-life scenario.
Splinter quickly-but painfully-withdrew the glass slivers and cleaned the wounds. He carefully wrapped the cuts on Donatello’s hand. "You will have to be especially careful until those cuts heal," Splinter warned.
"Yes, Master Splinter. Thank you." Don cradled his hand to his chest and looked up at the ring of faces surrounding him. They wanted an explanation, and Donatello didn’t want to give it. They’re your family! They want to help you! he told himself. But something held him back, and he just couldn’t explain fully.
"What happened there, Don?" Leo prompted gently.
"I-I’m not sure," Don said slowly. It wasn’t QUITE a lie, but it wasn’t exactly true, either.
Raph frowned at him suspiciously. Splinter patted his hand knowingly. "We are here, if you need to talk about it."
"I’m fine, really," Don protested. "I just need to be alone a while." He stood up and felt fine. His brothers stared silently after him as he walked slowly into his lab and shut the door behind him. He flipped his computer on.
He needed to calm down, to think. Maybe think more about what had just happened. It couldn’t be a coincidence. Couldn’t. The details matched too perfectly. But how could he have a dream giving the exact details of the event before it even happened? Somewhere, mixed up in his confusion, was a sense of guilt, too. Don’t be silly. How were you supposed to know the dream meant anything? But the guilt nagged him. People were dead and dying....If he had only known-
But he HAD known! The dream made it clear what was going to happen! If he had only known that the dream was REAL....I could have saved them.....
He let the tears leak down his cheeks, his eyes closed. He took a deep, shuddering breath and wiped them away. He had to think. He had to figure out why this was happening, what was going on. He quickly started up AOL and signed on as Donturtle. "Donatello" had already been taken when he started using AOL...the nerve of some people! "Turtle" was pretty popular, too...Maybe he should be flattered that people thought so highly of turtles.
His friend Kelly was on; he had met her in a metaphysics chatroom a few months ago. She was into UFOs and alien abductions and all that stuff. Kind of spooked Don out sometimes, but she was a neat person. She lived in New York too, in Manhattan even, so it was nice to know they had something in common...He opened an Instant Message box, entered Kelly605 and then Hey, Kelly, what’s up? He sat back and waiting for a reply. Somehow he felt more comfortable talking to someone...intangible. Someone he couldn’t see, someone who didn’t know him intimately and wouldn’t judge him. He needed to spill his guts, but his brothers would call him crazy....
Kelly605: Hey, Don, long time no see!
Donturtle: You see the news tonight?
Kelly605: yeah
Donturtle: The thing about the car bomb?
Kelly605: Hell yeah! I used to go to school at PS 116!
Donturtle: Really?
Kelly605: yup, it sucked. But man, all those little kids...I dunno...
Donturtle: ::nods:: Something weird though.
Kelly605: What? You mean why some guy would blow up a school?
Donturtle: Well that too. But I mean, I had this really weird dream last night...
Kelly605: And?
Donturtle: I know this sounds completely messed up...but it was like my dream was coming true.
Kelly605: That happens to everybody. Just a coincidence, you’ve probably been stressed out lately and are interpreting things to the extreme.
Donturtle: Thank you, Dr. Katz!
Kelly605: Hey, I was a psych major, remember?
Donturtle: I wish it was a coincidence. But it just can’t be.
Kelly605: why?
Donturtle: Too many details.
Kelly605: Such as?
Donturtle: Like, the car in my dream was red too. The school was the same. I saw all the street signs in the dream, I KNEW that the school was P.S. 116. And the weirdest part is that I KNEW THE TIME. In my dream, it was exactly 12:12. I was looking at my watch.
Donturtle: Hello?
Donturtle: Kelly?
Donturtle: Still with me?
Kelly605: That’s spooky.
Donturtle: You’re telling me!
Kelly605: I’ve got goosebumps.
Kelly605: Are you sure you’re not making this up?
Donturtle: Of course I’m not making it up!!!!!!
Kelly605: Okay, but you’re right, it is weird.
Kelly605: What are you gonna do?
Donturtle: I don’t know
Kelly605: Tell you what
Kelly605: You ever heard of ESP
Donturtle: Uh, yeah
Kelly605: Some people claim that they know what people are thinking, or what’s happening in another part of the world, or even sometimes they know what’s going to happen before it does happen.
Kelly605: It’s a phenomenon that’s been recorded throughout history. In ancient Greece there were oracles who predicted the future, and people sometimes predict their own deaths.
Kelly605: Even Abraham Lincoln had a dream about his own death!
Donturtle: Are you saying I have ESP?
Kelly605: It’s possible
Donturtle: Yeah RIGHT. I thought you were a college graduate. A psychologist. This isn’t science, this is whacked!
Kelly605: I have friends who are parapsychologists...I do this stuff in my spare time.
Kelly605: Trust me, Don, it’s documented. ESP happens. Parapsychologists are part of the scientific community.
Donturtle: How do you know these people aren’t faking you out?
Kelly605: You research the case history. If I were a parapsychologist trying to figure out if YOU had ESP, I would probably look into your background. Figure out if you had any history of mental illness, socio-emotional problems, head injuries, etc
Donturtle: Oh, thanks a lot
Kelly605: Well that’s how you make sure it’s not fraud!
Kelly605: Then I’d talk to people who know you, find out what you’re like...If you’re imaginative, a pathological liar, anything like that, if you would have any reasons to make up a story...
Kelly605: Then I’d interview you, talk about your experiences, maybe interview anyone else you talked to about it.
Donturtle: And then, off to the lunatic asylum?
Kelly605: Funnyman!
Kelly605: If I still think you’re telling the truth at that point, I’d probably continue researching your case.
Kelly605: It would also be neat to monitor your brain wave patterns.
Donturtle: Why?
Kelly605: They often change during psychic episodes; alpha waves
Kelly605: i gotta go now, take care okay?
Donturtle: Kay
Kelly605: Good luck tackling the nightmare! :-)
Donatello logged off and sighed. It was still early, but he couldn’t believe how exhausted he was. He glanced at the closed door of the lab. From the nearby living room, he could hear what sounded like a Die Hard marathon, and the sounds of a Raphael-Michaelangelo popcorn fight. He didn’t want to confront his brothers.
ESP? Was that even possible? The scientist in him said no, but Kelly was a psychologist, an educated woman who believed this...And there were really people who studied this stuff for a living...He hadn’t known that. He’d thought the only people who believed in ESP and UFOs and all that stuff were backwoods hillbillies trying to get free publicity and a break in the monotony of their lives.
ESP? Him? Even more impossible. How could he be some kind of psychic? He never thought that was possible either...
Don dug out a futon he kept in his closet and settled down next to his computer desk. He couldn’t confront his brothers, but at least he could get some rest. He sighed and closed his eyes, pushing back his inner fears about what awaited him inside his mind. Whatever it was, it couldn’t possibly be worse than what he’d already seen.....