The beeping sounded far off at first; in the throes of slumber its sound seemed intentionally annoying.

beep-beep-BEEP-BEEP...beep-beep-BEEP-BEEP...beep-beep-BEEP-BEEP.

With a resigned groan David rolled over in bed and with sleep-laden movements managed to find the pager sitting on the night stand.

Blinking away sleep from his eyes a glance at the red glowing numbers on the alarm clock told him it was just past two in the morning.

He recognized the number displayed on the pager: it was his answering service.

So, I wonder who ran out of their Xanax...

He picked up the cordless phone sitting on the night stand and dialed the answering service.

A minute later a familiar voice came on the line.

"'Becca. Voss, here.  What's up?"

Without preamble, Rebecca told him, "I normally won't page you at this hour, Dr. Voss.  But the doctor down at Trent Mercy Hospital insisted.  It seems a patient of yours, someone named Ramsey, was admitted a short while ago."

David cracked a yawn that made his jaw pop.

"Alright.  Give me the number for the doctor that called."

Damn. Ramsey?  Why on earth would he digress so suddenly, to the point of being admitted?

David recalled his last session with Ramsey; during the session Ramsey had mentioned new nightmares.  What did he say the nightmare was about?

A young man of twenty-two, he had been raised in an abusive home until his teens.  Ramsey had begun manifesting psychotic episodes of sheer terror and paranoia shortly after his mother died, three years ago.  His only surviving relative, a great uncle, had brought Ramsey to Dr. David Voss' office almost seven months ago when the episodes that rendered Ramsey in such a helpless state started appearing almost daily.

Soft-spoken and self-effacing Ramsey seemed to avoid any interaction with people in general.  It took 3 sessions of David and Ramsey sitting at opposite sides of the room before Ramsey began to talk to David.

His uniqueness became obvious though when he managed to forget his phobias.

He had perfect recall.