TRANSCRIPT: SOMNARIUM. S.010 – The perfect shot

Case of Milly Tyler. First seen by Dr. Susan Renwyck on April 24th, 2007, for insomnia, recurring nightmares, and increasing distress related to perceived abnormalities in photographs taken during wedding assignments.

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S.010 – The Perfect Shot

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INTRO

I’ve been digging through the extra files I got because of Maddy. Like I said last time, there’s a lot to take in.

Among the many partial case files I’ve been able to piece back together, there are a few complete ones as well. I’ll get to them one by one, but it’s going to take time.

One file in particular stands out. It’s dated 2008, and Renwyck wrote DANGEROUS and AVOID in bright red marker across the margins.

What I don’t understand is why. What’s dangerous? Avoid what? The patient? Something else?

I need to go through it carefully before I accidentally let this drive make me see or hear things again. I still don’t believe any of that was real. I don’t know how it did it, but it could’ve–couldn’t have been real.

[pause]

Anyway, I’ll let you know if I find anything useful in that file.

For now, we’re going to look at a wedding photographer who starts seeing things in her pictures.

PATIENT APPLICATION

Applicant: Milly Tyler
Date: April 18th, 2007
Referral: Dr. [REDACTED]

Dear Dr. Renwyck,

I’ve been putting this off longer than I should’ve. I kept assuming that if I just got enough rest, or took on less work, things would go back to normal. They haven’t.

I work as a wedding photographer, and ever since I made a serious mistake on a recent job, things have been getting worse both in my work and in my sleep.

Since I expect you’re going to ask about it, I’ll explain that part first. I was hired by a friend’s sister’s best friend to photograph her wedding. I’m fairly sure they chose me because they assumed I would give them a friend rate, which I did, more or less.

I met with the client about two months before the wedding so we could go over the plan for the day itself. She explained the itinerary and pointed out which moments absolutely had to be photographed. Apart from that, I was free to take as many atmosphere shots as I liked.

To my surprise, the bride had also rented one of those photo booth stations so guests could take pictures of themselves throughout the evening. That meant I was free to move around more and focus on candid shots.

Needless to say, I was looking forward to the job and nearly couldn’t contain my excitement.

The weeks flew by, and before I knew it, the day had arrived. I packed my camera bag with more lenses than I realistically needed and left early enough to spend some time looking around the venue before the guests started arriving.

It was a nice venue, the sort of place that photographs well without much effort. There were mirrors in the dressing rooms, tall windows along the reception hall, polished cutlery already set at the tables, and little glass details everywhere that caught the light.

I remember noticing that and feeling relieved. Some weddings fight you the entire day, but this one seemed easy. Everything looked like it wanted to be photographed.

Looking back on it now, I think part of what made the whole thing stay with me was how well the day had gone. Everything happened when it was supposed to. Nobody was late, nobody argued, nobody got sick, nothing was forgotten, nothing broke.

Having worked more weddings than I can comfortably count, I can tell you that something almost always goes wrong. Usually it is something minor, but there is always some snag, some delay, some small disaster behind the scenes. This time there wasn’t. The day went exactly the way it was supposed to, and I think that’s important.

I mention that because the mistake I made happened later, during the speeches, and it still doesn’t make sense to me how something so small managed to spoil the whole thing in my mind afterward.

During the speeches, I was doing what I always do and moving between the guests to catch reactions.

That part of the evening is usually worth photographing carefully because people stop performing for a little while. They laugh too hard, cry when they are trying not to, stare off for a second when they think nobody is looking.

You get some of the most genuine pictures that way. You also get some of the worst ones, if you’re not careful.

The photograph in question was taken during one of those moments. The bride turned suddenly in her chair, laughing, and her dress shifted in a way I didn’t register at the time.

When I later saw the picture properly, it was obvious it had captured a brief wardrobe malfunction. I still don’t understand how I missed it, and it never should’ve made it into the gallery.

I didn’t realize my mistake until the bride contacted me the following day. She was furious, and honestly she had every right to be. By that point, too many people had already seen the picture.

She demanded to know how a photograph like that could possibly have made it through my review, whether there were others like it, and why she had to find out for herself.

I apologized immediately and took it down, but by then the damage had already been done.

But then, it got so much worse.

She told people. I don’t know exactly how many, only that within a matter of days I had a second message from someone involved in the wedding, then another, and then a review online that didn’t mention the photograph directly but made it very clear what I had done.

I was described as careless, unprofessional, and invasive.

One client cancelled a consultation not long after, and another stopped responding altogether.

I know there’s every chance that I deserved some of that, but it’s difficult to explain how quickly one mistake can become the only thing people associate with your work.

After that, I started obsessively double- and triple-checking everything. Sometimes I would finish a set of photographs and immediately go back through them, picking them apart just to make sure I hadn’t missed anything.

I kept beating myself up over that single mistake, and I’m sure it started to show in the quality of my work. But I couldn’t risk making another one. I couldn’t risk losing any more business.

What had once been my passion slowly turned into something closer to obsession. I stayed up late going through every image in painful detail, looking for anything that could remotely be considered a mistake.

Before long, those late nights turned into all-nighters, and the all-nighters turned into genuine insomnia.

I would lie awake in bed replaying the photographs from the day, mentally sorting through them over and over, trying to decide whether they were good enough to send to the client or whether I had overlooked something again.

It didn’t stop when I closed my eyes either. Even when I finally managed to fall asleep, I would dream about photographs. Sometimes I was still at the computer, going through thousands of pictures that all looked the same. Sometimes I dreamt that I was back at the wedding venue, holding my camera, completely surrounded by people waiting for me to take their picture.

Even after waking up, I couldn’t shake the smiles on their faces.

I don’t know whether this is stress, guilt, or exhaustion, but I can’t convince myself any longer that it’ll pass on its own.

Sincerely,

Milly Tyler

CONSULTATION NOTE

Patient: Milly Tyler
Date: April 24th, 2007
Subject: First consultation; partial transcript of tape recording; initial thoughts

START OF TRANSCRIPT

Since I sent you my application letter, I haven’t been sleeping much.

I’m only bringing this up now because of how badly it unsettled me.

That morning I was especially on edge. More than usual.

I was walking past a bridal shop. You know the kind, big front windows, mannequins in wedding dresses, everything arranged to look elegant and expensive. Something in the window caught my eye. I could’ve sworn I saw movement.

One of the mannequins had been posed like it was mid-dance. Not stiff exactly, more like a ballerina frozen in place. I remember thinking it looked strangely graceful for something that wasn’t real.

I stepped closer to the glass and just stood there staring at it for a moment. I kept expecting it to move again.

I don’t know what came over me, but I suddenly felt this overwhelming urge to photograph it. Maybe because that’s what I do when something catches my attention. Maybe because I wanted proof that I wasn’t imagining things.

So I took my camera out of my bag, stepped back, and raised it to my face.

When I looked through the lens, it wasn’t dancing anymore.

It was standing directly in front of the glass.

Its arms were at its sides. Its head was tilted ever so slightly, like it was looking back at me.

I startled and stumbled backwards. The second I lowered the camera, it was back in the same dancing pose as before.

I remember just standing there, staring at it, trying to tell myself I was tired. That I hadn’t been sleeping. That exhaustion was making me see things that weren’t there.

But my hands were shaking by then, and I still lifted the camera again.

This time it was even closer.

Right up against the glass.

And it had my face.

Or something that looked enough like mine to make my stomach drop. It was smiling, but not the way a person smiles. The mouth was stretched too wide, like it was trying to imitate one and getting it wrong.

I turned and ran at that point. I kept running until I got home, and I didn’t touch my camera or look at a single picture for the rest of the day.

END OF TRANSCRIPT

Following the initial consultation, a partial transcript of Ms. Tyler’s account of the reported daytime episode has been attached to this file for reference. In person, she presented as exhausted, tense, and visibly embarrassed by what she had described. She remained coherent throughout and did not appear confused, though she repeatedly downplayed the severity of her own distress by attributing it to lack of sleep, work-related stress, and guilt over the original professional error.

The attached transcript is notable not only for the vividness of the experience described, but for its specific content. The episode did not take the form of a vague visual distortion or generalized hallucination. It centered on display, self-presentation, and a reflected likeness altered in a way that appeared deliberate and hostile. Given the patient’s occupation, recent humiliation, and increasing preoccupation with visual scrutiny, this may still fall within the range of stress-related perceptual disturbance. Even so, the symbolic consistency is difficult to ignore.

There are elements here which bear limited resemblance to an earlier case involving insomnia, shame, and an unusual fixation on reflective surfaces. The overlap is not exact, and I do not believe it would be appropriate to draw a stronger conclusion at this stage. Still, the recurrence of these particular features is concerning.

As in at least one prior presentation, the patient’s fixation appears to be feeding the sleep disturbance rather than merely resulting from it.

For now, I have advised continued sleep tracking, reduction of unnecessary image review where possible, and close monitoring for any further waking disturbances, particularly those involving mirrors, windows, cameras, or other reflective materials.

Follow-up in two weeks.

SLEEP DIARY

One quick note before I read these. The diary entries I’m about to go through are only partial transcriptions. The dates skip ahead in places, sometimes by several days, sometimes longer. That could just mean Renwyck only copied what she thought mattered. But with these files, it’s hard not to wonder what got left out.

Wednesday, April 25th, 2007

I can’t believe I told Dr. Renwyck about what I saw in the bridal shop window. I’m surprised she didn’t prescribe me antipsychotics.

This whole sleep diary thing is stupid. What am I even supposed to write? That I’m seeing ghosts in broad daylight?

Talking about it didn’t help. If anything, it made me more anxious. She told me not to fixate on photographs so much anymore. Does she even realize what I do for a living?

I have to analyze them. If I don’t, I might just lose more clients.

Maybe I should just give this a proper shot. Best case, it helps. Worst case, I waste a few pages proving that I was exhausted and nothing more.

I did what she suggested yesterday. I didn’t touch my camera, and I certainly didn’t look at any photographs.

I picked up a pizza, came home, sat on the couch and watched TV until it was late enough to try and get some sleep.

I slept in bits and pieces. Every time I drifted off, I found myself back in front of that shop window. The mannequin was there each time, frozen mid-dance. Whenever I woke and fell asleep again, the dream just started over.

Ever since that day I’ve been having that same dream.

Dr. Renwyck said that dreams are often built from overlapping memories, and that the mind can form strange associations between them during sleep.

For example, when I was younger, I used to dream of becoming a professional dancer, but health issues always seemed to get in the way. So maybe the dancing mannequin is drawing from that somehow.

But I didn’t dream about the mannequin first.

I saw it in the window before any of this started.

Or maybe I’m tired enough now that I can’t even trust myself to remember which came first.

Sunday, April 29th, 2007

Slept terribly again last night. Same dream as before. The dancing mannequin.

This week has been busy. After losing work over that mistake, things finally seem to be picking up again. At least I’ve got that going for me.

Still, I need to stay on top of quality control. I can’t afford to slip up like that again.

And today proved that all too well. I was going through the pictures I took at a fundraiser on Friday evening when I noticed a few photographs that didn’t belong.

The first was just a picture of an empty corridor. Nothing obviously strange in it, just the marble floor, the pillars, and the lighting from the far end of the hall.

What unsettled me was that I don’t remember taking it.

I also don’t remember that corridor ever being empty.

The second out-of-place photograph had been taken in the ballroom. At first glance it looked like a normal atmosphere shot, people talking, laughing, drinks in hand, nothing unusual.

What unsettled me was a man standing on the far side of the room. Despite the distance, despite the crowd between us, he seemed to be staring directly into the camera.

I tried zooming in on the man, but it only made the picture worse. Not clearer, just worse. The image started to degrade the way digital pictures do when you push them too far. But even then, I couldn’t shake the feeling that he was looking straight at me.

I checked the timestamp on both pictures, and they were exactly where they were supposed to be. Which means that at some point, I must’ve taken them.

I kept trying to remember it. Walking through the room, moving between people with drinks in their hands, changing angles, looking for moments worth capturing. All of that is clear as day, but I just can’t remember taking those pictures.

In the end, I told myself what I’ve been telling myself a lot lately. That I was tired, distracted and making a bigger deal out of it than I should’ve been.

Still, I can’t shake the feeling of that man staring at me.

Sunday, May 6th, 2007

I’m exhausted. This week was incredibly busy again, and I’ve slept even less than usual.

Yesterday was another wedding, and of course that was the theme of my dream last night.

I dreamt of the venue, everything perfectly in order, exactly as it should be. I was taking pictures of the guests when I suddenly felt like the walls were closing in on me.

I stepped out into the hallway to get away from the people and spotted a door at the far end of the corridor marked EXIT. I stepped outside, expecting to end up in the parking lot.

Instead, I found myself on a street I didn’t recognize. I looked around for anything familiar, but all I saw were buildings that were too tall and too close together.

I remember looking up, expecting to see the sky.

There was nothing there. No darkness, no clouds, no stars. Just nothing.

I woke up and didn’t fall asleep again after that.

I kept thinking about it while going through the wedding pictures today. I was already tired and irritated and definitely not in the mood to be editing, which is probably why I didn’t spot it the first time I went through them.

One of the outdoor shots, taken in the garden of the venue, had part of the street visible through a large iron gate.

The angle of the picture was strange enough on its own, as if someone had been pulling on my arm, trying to get me to photograph the gate instead.

Beyond the gate was that same street from my dream, with those same much too tall buildings.

And above them, there was no sky.

I stared at that picture for so long my eyes started watering. I kept telling myself it had to be the lighting, or the angle, or some problem with the exposure. Something explainable. Something technical.

I haven’t deleted it yet.

I’m going to show Dr. Renwyck, to prove that I’m not crazy.

Wednesday, May 23rd, 2007

I almost didn’t take this job.

I spent the entire drive there thinking about turning around, making something up, saying I was sick, anything. But I need the money, and cancelling this close to the date would’ve only made things worse.

The wedding itself was normal. Or at least it should have been. The ceremony ran late, one of the groomsmen was already drunk before the speeches, and the venue coordinator seemed on the verge of a nervous breakdown for most of the evening. In a strange way that almost helped. It felt more ordinary. Less polished. Less like something waiting for me.

I kept telling myself that was a good sign.

I was careful the entire night. More careful than I have ever been. I checked my settings constantly. I reviewed shots whenever I had a free second. I made sure I knew where I was standing, what I was pointing at, what was behind people, what was reflected in the glass.

By the time I got home, I was exhausted, but I still started sorting through the photographs straight away.

At first it was the same as before. A few pictures I didn’t fully remember taking. A few expressions caught at exactly the wrong moment. Nothing I couldn’t explain away if I tried hard enough.

Then I found the image.

It had been taken during the reception, somewhere between the first dance and the speeches. The bride and two guests were in the foreground, laughing about something, and behind them was the edge of the ballroom near one of the side doors.

There was a woman standing there.

At first I only registered her as part of the background. Someone half-hidden, someone waiting to pass through, someone I must not have noticed on the night.

Then I realized she was looking straight at the camera.

I zoomed in.

Even with the loss of detail, even with the image starting to break apart, I knew what I was looking at.

It was me.

Not a reflection. Not someone who looked a little like me. Me.

Same hair. Same dress. Same face.

Only I don’t remember standing there, and I couldn’t have been standing there, because I was the one holding the camera.

What makes me feel sick even now is the expression.

I wasn’t just looking at the lens.

I was smiling.

Not normally. Not the way I would smile if someone caught me in the background of a photograph.

It was the same stretched, pleased expression I saw in the shop window.

I closed the image immediately, then opened it again a few seconds later to just to make sure it was still there.

It was.

I don’t know how to explain this anymore.

Tuesday, June 12th, 2007

I haven’t slept properly in three nights.

Not properly. Not enough to dream all the way through, not enough to wake up feeling like I was ever really gone. Every time I close my eyes, I either see that same smile or I find myself standing in front of another camera, waiting for something behind it to take me apart.

I’ve stopped checking mirrors unless I absolutely have to. Windows are worse at night. Even the black screen of the television makes me uneasy now if I catch it from the wrong angle.

I made the mistake of going back through some older galleries this morning. I told myself I was doing it to reassure myself, to prove that I have been getting worse and not that this has always been there. That was stupid.

I found myself again.

Not in every set. Not in every picture. But enough.

Once near a doorway. Once half-hidden behind a guest with a champagne glass in her hand. Once outside, just past the edge of the frame, as if I had only just stepped out of view a second too late.

Always smiling.

Always looking as though I knew something the real version of me didn’t.

I don’t know anymore whether those photographs were like that the first time I opened them. I don’t know if I missed them, or if they changed, or if I’m so tired now that I could convince myself of anything.

I had to force myself to get ready for today’s booking.

For a few minutes, while I was packing my bag, I found myself staring at the camera strap in my hands and thinking about ribbon. About costume ties. About all the little satin things they used to pin and fasten at recitals when I was younger. I haven’t thought about any of that in years.

I used to think I would dance.

Now I spend my life documenting other people trying to look beautiful for a fraction of a second.

By the time I left, I was already certain I shouldn’t be going.

I knew that before I even got there.

It was another wedding, another venue, another room full of faces I was expected to capture and sort and deliver as if any of this still feels normal to me.

I was already tired when I arrived. By the time the reception started, I was shaking badly enough that I had to keep adjusting my grip on the camera so no one would notice.

At one point I stepped off to the side of the room to check a short series I had just taken. Nothing unusual about that. I do it all the time. A quick look, make sure the focus is right, make sure nobody blinked, move on.

The first few pictures were normal. Guests near the bar, people talking, one of the bridesmaids laughing at something out of frame.

Then I got to one where I saw someone standing in the background near the far wall.

At first I only looked at the face.

I thought it was a guest who happened to look a little like me.

Then I went to the next picture.

She was closer.

Not much. Just enough that I noticed it immediately.

I remember my thumb hovering over the button for a second before I pressed it again.

Next picture.

Closer.

Still in the background. Still smiling.

Next picture.

Closer again.

By then I wasn’t just looking at anyone else in the frame. I wasn’t even seeing the wedding anymore. Just her. Just me.

Every time I moved to the next image, she was nearer to the camera.

Nearer to me.

One frame had her between two guests, half-obscured, head tilted slightly, smiling as if she knew exactly what I was about to see next.

Then she was closer again.

Then closer.

And closer.

And then she was right in front of the lens.

So close her face took up almost the entire frame.

My face.

That same horrible stretched smile, like it had been pulled too wide by someone who didn’t understand how one was supposed to look.

I don’t remember what happened after that, not properly. I know I made some excuse. I know someone called after me. I know I left equipment behind and had to go back for it later, or maybe someone returned it to me, I honestly can’t remember.

I just know I got out of that building.

I got to my car and locked the doors and sat there trying not to scream.

I don’t think I can do this anymore.

PATIENT RECORD ADDENDUM

Patient: Milly Tyler
Date: June 16th, 2007
Subject: Addendum following welfare check; attached police report

Ms. Tyler failed to attend her scheduled follow-up and could not be reached by phone afterward. Given the nature of her recent presentation, the severity of her sleep disturbance, and the increasingly distressed content of her written entries, I requested a welfare check at her residence.

Ms. Tyler was found deceased in her apartment following that welfare check. I am at a loss for words regarding the condition in which Ms. Tyler was found. Detective Raynor responded to the scene and has since provided a copy of his report, which has been attached to this file.

At a follow-up appointment, she also provided me with a printed photograph taken at a recent wedding assignment, the same image referenced in her diary entry dated May 6th, 2007. I have retained this item and logged it as A-2. The photograph depicts a section of street visible beyond the venue grounds. The surrounding architecture is inconsistent with the known location of the event, and the absence of any visible sky above the structures is difficult to account for as a simple technical error. I do not believe the image should be dismissed outright.

I have not yet been able to review the remainder of the photographs taken in the weeks preceding Ms. Tyler’s death.

I need to speak with Detective Raynor and see if I can get the rest of those pictures.

File Closed.

Attached to this addendum is a scan of a police report.

NOREN POLICE DEPARTMENT
MAJOR CRIMES DIVISION
INCIDENT REPORT

Case Number: [REDACTED]
Reporting Officer: Detective James Raynor
Date: June 15th, 2007
Location: [REDACTED], Noren
Incident Type: Welfare Check / Suspicious Death

On June 15th, 2007, I responded to the above address following a welfare check requested by Dr. Susan Renwyck after her patient, Milly Tyler, failed to attend a scheduled follow-up and could not be reached.

Ms. Tyler was found deceased in the center of her living room.

The apartment itself showed signs of escalating distress. Photographs had been pinned and taped across the walls, with additional prints, negatives, and exposed film scattered throughout the room. The most significant feature of the scene, however, was the position of the deceased.

Ms. Tyler was suspended several feet below the ceiling in open space, held up by numerous lengths of photographic film and negative strips stretched throughout the room at multiple angles. There was no beam, hook, fixture, or other visible support capable of bearing her weight. No single anchor point could be identified.

The materials involved should not have been capable of supporting a body. Several strands were too thin, too fragile, or too poorly secured to function as load-bearing supports. Others appeared to remain under tension despite being attached to surfaces or objects that should not have held. Even taken together, the arrangement was inconsistent with any ordinary means of suspension.

The deceased had been positioned in a deliberate pose resembling a dancer mid-motion. One leg was bent and raised, the other extended downward with the foot pointed. Her arms were held outward in a curved posture that did not appear consistent with natural collapse under suspension. Of note, the deceased’s face bore a pronounced smile, fixed in a manner that appeared deeply unnatural in the context of the scene.

I am stating this plainly: the scene did not make physical sense.

Near the body, officers recovered a Polaroid camera mounted on a tripod and pointed directly at the deceased. One photograph was still partially ejected from the camera when the scene was entered. The image depicted Ms. Tyler suspended in the same position in which she was found.

At present, I have no ordinary explanation for how that photograph was taken.

Scene was secured pending medical examiner arrival. Camera, photograph, and additional photographic material were collected for evidence.

Det. James Raynor
Noren Police Department

CONCLUSION

A city with no sky again.

What gets to me about this one isn’t just what happened to Milly Tyler.

It’s that the last part of her file doesn’t come from Renwyck.

It comes from Detective Raynor.

He’s been there before. He’s seen the bodies. He’s the one who keeps showing up at the end of these files, after everything has already gone wrong.

But this feels different.

Raynor’s report doesn’t read like speculation. He outright admits that nothing in that apartment made any physical sense.

I don’t really know what to do with that.

The photograph is the part I keep coming back to. Not the ones from Milly’s diary. The Polaroid. The fact that there was apparently a photograph hanging out of the camera showing her already there, already posed, already smiling.

I don’t have a better explanation for any of this than the people in these files did.

[pause]

And then there’s that other case. The one from 2008. The one Renwyck marked DANGEROUS and AVOID in red marker, like she didn’t even want to touch it.

I haven’t opened it yet.

I think I need a little more time before I do that.

NO FURTHER MATERIAL RECOVERED
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