Everyone at one time or another experiences some type of weird occurrence and finds a way to deny or dismiss it—unless of course it persists, and then that’s a problem.
Well, I have a problem, which is why I see Simon Becker, my psychologist.
I’ve been seeing Simon off and on for the past three years and he’s very considerate and will often fit me into his busy schedule if I tell him I’m in trouble.
And that’s why I’m seeing him today at 5 pm after his regular hours.
I find myself sitting again in his office overlooking the lake as twilight deepens into darkness. These mid-January days of thaw and freeze are unpredictable as my moods, undefinable as my anguish.
“Winter twilight,” Simon whispers from behind me, “I love staring at it too. I find it relaxing.”
“I can use some peace right now,” I say, turning to look at him.
“Going through a rough patch, are we? What’s going on in your life, Mark?”
I shrug, lifting my hands in a gesture of helplessness, or is it surrender? I don’t know.
“That’s the damnable thing—nothing major is going down—just a nuisance suit from my neighbour—a court petition to grant access through my land to the Bruce Trail back of my house.”
Simon nods and sits back in his swivel chair. “You sure that’s all?”
“Oh, well I did see a ghost on my stairs—does that count?”
He shakes his head sadly. “Now, don’t go simple on me, Mark—talk about the ‘ghost’.”
I shift my posture and look off into space trying to recall the scene in my mind’s eye.
“I was at my lawyer’s and came home. I lit a fire and was relaxing with a glass of wine when I saw motion out of the corner of my eye. I turned my head just in time to see a dark figure gliding up the stairs. I followed and checked the upper level but there was nothing there.”
He looked at me narrowly. “You’re sure it was a figure of a person and not a shadow?”
“No, I’m not sure of anything at all. I’ve been anxious the last few days and been having flashbacks—horrendous things, and now this—it all seems connected.”
“So, you’re self-medicating with booze, trying to stay calm?”
“Something like that. I think anything that in any way reminds me of the past is taboo—I get instantly upset.”
He gives me a compassionate smile.
“I don’t think it helps being alone in that big house either—lots of associations there. You should get out, maybe have drink with your friend, Bill. Just don’t abuse that. But you need socialization, other human beings. What do you think?”
“I guess…I just don’t want to go back to where I was—you know, that deliverance ministry—devils around every lamppost—phantasmagoric visions…the usual, unusual, if you get my meaning?”
He nods, “ I get it—I think you’re past that now and that’s all behind you. You’re doing well, Mark. There are going to be occasional challenges depending on whatever’s happening around you. But by and large, you’re doing fine. Go easy on yourself.”
“Be my own best friend?” I ask sarcastically.
“Why not?” He laughs, “beats being your worst enemy.”
“Okay, Father Bennet—give me absolution and I’ll say my penance.”
“That’s not a bad idea either—try getting involved in your local parish. You don’t have to avoid everything religious—just toxic groups. Get out and meet people.”
"I’ll take that under advisement,” I say cynically, as I rise to leave.
“See Jeannie at the front desk for an appointment in two weeks, Don’t be a stranger.”
I give a small wave as I leave. I muse on his words…
Actually, being s stranger is preferable to the kinds of memories I’ve been having lately.
