“Peter… is here…will show you soon…”
Alarmed but captivated as she continued gazing deep into my eyes, I disengaged, back peddling from her bedside and pulled the door swiftly closed behind me, separating our contact.
As the guards led Mr. T into the room, I was already seated and in the waiting. With each passing moment containing new revelations, I was forcing myself to construct and place each incident within separate mental boxes so as the best and only way to handle all encounters that were coming in at a rate too quick to handle otherwise. But I was at the mercy of all that was going on around me. I couldn’t stop life from happening and was forced to charge forward as I knew now all was being prepared for a very certain unveiling.
Finding his seat and facing me directly, I instantly found myself feeling like that of the patient rather than the practitioner, as I was the one now looking to the corner for answers. The weight of stare had my emotional self-running hard for shelter.
“Well aren’t we looking distraught today? What’s wrong Peter? What’s got your little world turned upside down”?
Laughing out loud and enjoying the short-lived bliss, Mr. T sat reveling in his power play.
“You pathetic little creature, what’s wrong, you miss your mommy Peter”?
Stunned, my mind scoured for comprehension of how it was that he was able to refer to such an inquiry given what was currently going on. Just where was he coming from? The non-stop succession of events had me at this point loosing my ability to stay focused in the moment as my thought processes were jumping between and around trying to link and tie together all the trailing loose ends. Seemingly out of nowhere and all by impulse, I turned and began to spit out at the words as they came to me.
“Do you ever here voices in your dreams…”?
Throwing his bound hands to the heavens, Mr. T shook his head in hard agitation before speaking.
“Shit, do I ever here voice's”?
Laughing, he continued while leaning back, never losing his look of pure insanity.
“Damn it I am serious, do you ever here voices in your dreams. Do they talk to you; do they give you messages…”?
Laughing again he sat looking at me with pity while I looked back into his eyes for a shared answer he wasn’t willing to give. Deranged and never ending, his laugh continued to pierce and had me repelling backwards to the door. As the guard moved to break the lock, I turned to leave but knew I couldn’t as I reasoned this humiliation was leading somewhere. Standing with my face to the closed door, I gathered myself for pressing on when he abruptly stopped his laughter.
“Peter…how has Grace been these days”?
Spinning around, I could not control myself and began to approach the table all the while keeping my eyes locked in disbelief of what he just asked. Pushing back in his seat, Mr. T. again started to fall in to the same hysteria of laughter. Then, with an uncontrolled surge I charged at his neck demanding an answer. Falling to the floor with me on top of him, he remained unfazed and seemingly unaffected by the downward choke hold I had on him.
“How do you know her? How do know her”?
Grabbed by the guard and soon accompanied by staff members, I was pulled from the room while echo’s of the mad mans laughter continued to roll through the corridor. With a re-surge of disbelief, I attempted a second charge but was swiftly apprehended and sent to the floor smothered over with guards. With immediate orders from Tom, I was relieved from restraint and stood instantly in wrecked confusion.
“What the hell’s gotten into you Peter”?
Trying to regain control, my entire body was beginning to break down from emotional and physical fatigue.
“It’s O.K. Its O.K, I’ve got this”.
Never making eye contact, I just stared out into oblivion trying to bring myself back to center. Tom was having nothing of it.
“No it’s not O.K and we need to…Peter”!
Breaking from his presence, I reassured him I was going to all right and that I was heading home. Just before reaching the exit door of the clinic, I turned to Sharon whose eyes were dressing me over with a look of pure shock.
“Tonight at seven-my place”!
It was just before seven and I was close to calling off the evening’s engagement but I knew I had to press on with her help in what was unfolding. In the moments to follow, the sound of Sharon’s jeep arriving street side, had me hurrying to the front of the house.
Stepping though the open door, a surging hesitation boiled just below the surface as she soon appeared walking from the driveway on to the path that led to the downstairs entryway. Surprised by her attire for the evening, Sharon’s simple white mini dress, one that remained borderline revealing, was being lit up brightly in the day’s last trailing bit of sunlight. She casually walked towards me while taking note of the beautiful door surroundings.
“Hi Peter, what a stunning place you live at”.
Stepping close, her eyes of appeal tuned to remorse as she could clearly see I was on the verge of falling to pieces emotionally. But what else could she have expected? Lifting one hand from a purse that she held at her chest, she then gently rested it to my shoulder as an act comfort.
“Let’s go inside”.
Leading the way in, we stepped into the much cooler interior of the home. Impatient, I scurried aimlessly around while waiting for Sharon to initiate the session.
“So this is your home Peter, I must say, I really like the feel of its clean simplicity”.
Walking slowly around the whole of the living room space, she circled slowly and then came in close, looking for time into my eyes that had me feeling again that this all was maybe not such a good idea. She was attractive yes but under the circumstances of what had just unfolded on two fronts back at the clinic; I had next to nothing left to share.
Relocating to the kitchen, I automatically retrieved two wine glasses as although I knew the occasion was not calling for it, I also knew a drink would help take off the edge.
“Do you want something to drink”?
Standing to herself with her arms folded in front of her chest, she gently nodded in acceptance.
“I will have some wine, thanks”.
Pouring us both a glass, I again joined Sharon who had found her way to the end of the hall and was preoccupied by the painting on the wall.
“What an interesting piece of work, who is the artist”?
Handing her the glass of wine, I was struggling momentarily to discern as to whether she was reacting truthfully to what she was seeing before her, as I myself viewed the piece as a more childlike attempt at painting.
“Ah my land lord Frank…he lives upstairs and has…a few of his pieces hanging about. Why do you like it”?
Stepping in further, Sharon cocked her head to on side while taking in the details.
“What do you think he is trying to say here Peter”?
Joining her for a closer look and trying to cope with the situation, I did my best to appear interested while searching for some deeper motive for her apparent side stepping small talk.
“Honestly…I have not given this one too much thought, and well under the circumstances I…”.
Stepping back, Sharon leaned into my personal space while with her free hand she toyed with the charm that hung from her neck.
“Oh surely you know that every art piece gives a glimpse into the soul of that person who created it. I would say that at the time of this being painted, your land lord Frank was being over burdened or fearful of something of imminent consequence, hence the dark storm clouds over head. It seemed as though life was smooth sailing, given the calm waters here to the inside, but he was in expectation of all that to change”.
Re-engaging and taking a step closer to the painting, I suddenly wanted to hear her outside perspective as she now had my attention with her keen observation. With a sincere interest, she carried on with her personalized description of what she was seeing.
“These four boats represent objects of dear importance to him. Although this boat, the black one here, is something that he is ready to let go of or realizes he has no choice but to let it go of. The whole painting speaks to me about his process of letting go and moving on”.
Nodding in a slow agreement for a time, I stood absorbing her critique of his art and was caught up with the fact that, she had in a way, just summed up, with no forehand knowledge, the exact reason for me being back in California.
“That was great. I mean the ways you just did that… do you paint…are you an artist yourself”?
Setting down her glass on the near by table, Sharon stepped in close now taking on a look of concern.
“Peter, how are you doing? Hmm…you really gave every one a scare today. What exactly went on between you two in there”?
Looking to her, I knew she was sincere and wanted to help but for now I wanted to keep what was going on between Mr. T. and me confidential. Finishing off my wine, I backed away to get some distance.
“I need just abit more time with that one. I am getting to him but I just need abit more time. Do you want something more to drink”?
Acknowledging that she did through a simple yet provocative smile, she then excused herself to the bathroom as I made my way back to the kitchen. Closing my eyes while resting against the counter, the affects of the first glass had already created a settling mood. It was at that point that the feeling of being watched overcame me. Disconcerting not so much for the fact the hair on the back of neck was standing; it was more the lingering silence that annoyed.
Turning slowly to meet Sharon again, I anticipated she was readying herself for more of something other then talking. With the leading edge of my peripheral vision circling towards the doorway, a jolt of fear suspended my breath as I second guessed my senses. Petrified and losing my grip of the half-filled wine glass and with it the bottle, the sound of shattering glass filled the kitchen while I stood in shock just having been witness to the fleeting, faint vision of a ghostly figure. I wanted to move but remained frozen. All extremities were disabled while my mind attempted to discern whether my eyes were lying to me. Suddenly, Sharon pushed urgently through the same door.
“Peter, are you alright”?
Walking towards me, I continued to look beyond Sharon to the exact spot of my last vision. My acknowledgment of Sharon remained nonexistent as I brushed passed her and out into the hallway. Proceeding hypnotically forward to the doorway of the spare bedroom, I could sense again, as I always had, that something was different there. The calm nurturing room enveloped me in warmth not felt anywhere else in the house.
Sitting, I waited for something more, some type of further confirmation of what I just had witnessed. In silence I sat and was soon joined by Sharon who remained perplexed and continued to hit at me with a barrage of questions. I felt so vulnerable as the insanity of my world began to fall all around me.
Turning towards her and staring deep into her eyes, I fell into her embrace, collapsing into tears of confusion. The comfort of her hold and the caring voice all seemed to help in keeping me buoyant and away from an all out break down. And then with in an instant, I realized this space was not for the both of us and I just needed to be alone. Just me and the calming silence of this room. Pushing her slowly away, I switched on and into another gear towards self-motivated remedy.
“Sharon… just please leave, I need time to my self now. Please…”.
Standing and completely confused, she resisted briefly while asking for further explanations but soon turned to find her way out of the room as I completely shut her off and no longer acknowledged her presence.
For what seemed like a long, drawn out period of time, I sat motionless in a single spot waiting in anticipation for something to happen. Other then the sounds of Frank shifting his weight across the floor above, all with in my immediate environment remained at peace and within an air of quiet calm.
But quiet time suddenly came to an end when the old vintage dial up phone, hanging off the kitchen wall, came to life and began its piercing loud repetitive ring tone that instantly aggravating all senses. Charging through the dark hallway, I cursed loudly at the incessant disturbing sound. Now face to face with it, I couldn’t find it within me to pick it up. Who could it be? Who would be calling? Was it Frank?
Pivoting away from the clamor of loud ringing bell tone, I reached out instead into one of the overhead shelves, and clutched at the bottle of prescriptions. Like an only friend, a life line to me being able to keep some semblance of clarity, I held it close while continuing a slide down along the supporting cabinet face, to finally settle onto a seeping wet pool of the red wine and broken glass.
Swallowing down the pills, I remained like a stone in the darkness while the ringing continued to taunt me with its prolonged aggravating din. Followed by a short period of silence, the void was filled again with another round of ensuing mental misery. Round and round my thoughts followed suit with replaying observations involving the unmistakable connections linking my dream state with work, Mr. T and his withheld knowledge of Grace, and Frank and his apparition. Keeping my mind within these four walls, was it really possible that Frank had been trying to conceal the obvious all along? Were his mannerisms divulging his deeper relations to something here, that being a shared existence with a paranormal entity? Surely it would come to mind that at some point and time, the reality of what was going on here at 21 Sheer Oaks Drive, would come into question by me.
My mental fatigue had suddenly abated and a spark of momentarily new fascination overcame me. I wanted to proceed and communicate with someone, but with whom? Which one of these players was willing to communicate with me in these hours? Who was willing to give me answers to all these mounting mysteries? My dream state messaging seemed pure in intent and the one way communication was already in progress. But was it only possible to receive these messages, or was this a realm where by I to could also consciously interact?
Pulling myself from the wet floor, I moved towards the doorway as the phone came to life again. Pausing for moment, I faced the intruder, lifted the phone to my ear and spoke into the silence. Patiently, I waited and listened for a sound, anything discernible but all remained an empty space of quiet. With caution and care, I held the entity outstretched and away from me for a time, thinking it might somehow come to life. In the defining silence, I conceded to its victory over me but knew its game was somehow being played in my favor.
Returning back to the comfort and confines of the bedroom, I settled on the floor and leaned my back against the bed while stretching my body out towards The Reminder. Although the overhead light was off, I could still feel her presence looking over me and welcoming me back. Breaking through the building comfort of acceptance, my cell phone came to life.
“Hello Sharon”.
“Hi Peter, look I am just checking in and making sure your alright”.
As she spoke the overhead light suddenly popped on and began to work in short, broken spasms. Off one moment to on the next, before morphing into a surreal effect whereby a continuous flickering sensation created an almost blinding light show that seemed to bring the painting back to life. Courting a low voice, the calm that was present just a moment ago, was now replaced by feeling of increased anxiety.
“Sharon I am sorry for everything, it’s happening now, these strange happenings within this house…I have to go”.
Rising to my feet and detaching from her eyes for a time, a childlike smile spread across my face as I slowly extended my open hand out in front of me and became visually captivated by the illuminated strobe light dancing across my arm. Shutting my eyes, I leaned my face upwards, accepting the pulsating light that rained its psychedelic
