Doctor Stiles sat at his office desk, staring at the broken dreamcatcher. His face still hurt like hell and he thought he could feel a small bump under the skin. No matter. He was here, now, and he could finish that which had been started by others.

He brushed the dreamcatcher into his garbage can with what might have almost seemed like glee. He picked up the phone and called Stuart to make sure Ward 7 had been cleared of all patients except Patient 777666; the man whose dreamcatcher he had just disposed of.

His head started throbbing, as it usually did before the memories came back. He tried to fight it off, but finally buzzed Miss Jones and told her he wasn't to be disturbed until after lunch. He slid his top drawer open and took all five of his 'magic cocktail' pills.

Just before passing out, he heard his sister's screams and relived  hiding under her bed, wetting himself, and once again experienced the nightmare of her death.

One hour later, he groggily rose. "Dreamcatcher, indeed," he thought through the hazy, wavy patterns in his head, "It is no match for the dreamthrower you'll experience now."

Doctor Stiles smiled as he remembered all the strings he had pulled to get this particular position at this particular Sanitorium. It had taken him a year and one half to track down Patient 777666. It took another five months to "arrange" for Doctor Blevins' removal. And here he was. Ready to exact his revenge. He had to laugh. Insanely laugh.