extending outwards towards me. Her mouth moved oddly out of time with a voice that came through with a pure, soft tone of clarity.
“You are the key… break the cycle… bring freedom home for the four of you”.
Bolting up right, I shielded my eyes from the overhead light that immediately began to fluctuate in its intensity. Looking to my watch, it read four fifteen but at that instant, I remained uncertain at which end of the day I was at. Crawling from my lethargic comfort of the bed, I leaned towards the window and pushed the curtain aside. My sight fell into pitch blackness as not even the far street lamp held illumination.
Finding the flashlight, I willed myself out of the room and found it took huge amounts of physical effort to move my drained body on-wards. Stepping into the pre-dawn outdoors, my weak beam passed at the empty swing that gently drifted freely within an otherwise frozen environment. Pushing through the thick overhead bush while grabbing at the mixed vegetation of tall grass and thin tree limbs, I pressed forwards to the base of the steep assent up into the rocky terrain. Though exhausted, I was feeling unrestricted primarily due to Frank’s absence.
Pausing and being partially supported by the frail limbs of a nearby tree, I remained completely still, listening for any sound other than that of my heavy breathing. Glancing skyward, my eyes followed upon the belly of a soft cloud line that kept hidden any chance of the faint moon light from ever reaching the dark floor below.
Scaling further ahead, I could now make out the black silhouette of the massive boulder that sat precariously on an angle to the downward slope. Finding a rest spot just out of the way from its protruding belly, I was eager to satisfy my curiosity before the first hint of day light was to comb across the heavens of the eastern skyline. Passing the faint beam of light across the thick dry underbrush showed a density that was packed so tightly around the edges that for a time I thought it an impossibility to move forwards.
Backing down the trail, I closely scoured both to my left and right to see if I bypassed the intended entry point. With out finding any such pathway, I pressed back up to my initial perch and with urgency began to pry and pull at some of the dry and dead low laying organic matter. To my surprise, what started out as the removal of small clumps of dried, heavily packed ground covering, soon had me reaching in for much larger pods of standing grass. Working with both hands, I continued to systematically set the dislodged foliage out of the way until my path seemed to be hindered by just one standing dead tree.
With all the branches of the old tree having been cut clean off, the large girth of it trunk led down to the wiry veins of it’s dried out root ball. Like a spindly hand reaching out to be grabbed, I dropped to the dirt floor and utilized the towering boulder as foot hold leveraging point. As I pulled at the log sideways with a continuous jerking motion, a slow but definite roll to an eventual dislodge was taking place.
I was questioning not only Franks reasoning for being here but by the strength and effort it was taking to complete the task at hand. With one final pull, the large wooden body folded another quarter turn and in doing so, exposed in its place, a narrow passageway.
Casting the dim hand held light forward, I sat looking into the well-defined narrow alleyway that skirted between the boulders solid gray mass and its opposing green wall of vegetation.
Standing to my feet, I merged in sideways and inched my way around the hard gray surface. No more than ten meters later, I found myself standing behind the boulder at a small clearing that remained visually sealed off from outside view in all directions. Kneeing in closer, I threw the weak beam over the top of the neatly planted colorful assortment of Franks flower patch. The arraignment was crafted with meticulous care and pruned free of any dead or dying parts. Switching off the light, my vision was just now able to barley focus upon Frank’s large floral display, as the suns light was beginning to reflect its glow off of the mornings low cloud cover.
Wondering my eyes over the wider clearing, I noticed, leaning against the low curve of the boulder wall was Franks shovel. With a closer inspection it was revealed that the backside portion of the planted flower bed had been uprooted and discarded off to one side. Extending just beyond the point of the flower bed and leading right up to and practically just under the large boulder, a decent sized section of loose soil and large rocks had been excavated and apparently was in the process of being reorganized to another area.
Getting down on my knees, I inspected further the void left near the inside curve of the rock face. Questions were being tossed silently as the pieces of the moving puzzle were racing around to find their place. What was here that Frank was so preoccupied by?
Reaching for the shovel, I took a few stabs under the shadowed low overhang at the hard pack dirt and realized I was connecting onto a rock bed that covered a much broader area then first imagined. Reaching under with my open hand, I attempted at dislodging any of the stones, but after just five minutes of digging, I quit all efforts primarily due to increased resistance encountered.
Getting to my feet and setting the shovel back to its original place; I looked up and followed the one long illuminated cloud line that seemed to have been especially prepared for the path of coming sun.
Pausing for a moment before leaving the secret clearing, I looked upon the simple yet well-kept display that Frank was tending to and let my mind comb freely over the unfolding series of events that had led to this point. From The Reminder to the supernatural events, the dreams, the kids throwing rocks, and now this, the deeper story here was reeling all itself individual parts together and leading quickly to a point of revelation for all involved.
By midday I was told by the doctors that Frank was going to be ready for pick up by five in the afternoon. He did mention that he thought it was premature as he wanted to run a few more tests, but went on to add; Frank was putting up quiet a fuss and wanted to be discharged at the earliest.
I was just leaving my meeting with Tom where we both came to the agreement that my replacement was in order. I would remain on staff for just enough time till the new therapist was ready to start, which was in about a week’s time.
Meeting out in parking lot, Sharon and I hopped into her jeep and set out for lunch. She held an air of urgency that could barely be contained evident by the way her eyes darted frantically about. Arriving at her favorite out door cafe, she flowed a step faster than the moving crowd while catching the eye of the near by waiter who signaled us to an open table.
“First I want let you know from my professional point of view what my findings were from our session together. Well basically you told me you never knew your mother, right”?
“Correct”.
“From everything that happened in that regression I can say you did know your mother but don’t remember it primarily because you where to young. Now leading up to your black out, I am not sure when the minds defense mechanism set in to prohibit you from understanding further the information coming forth, but just so as not to leave anything out, I will give you my assessment from the start. First of all, the fact that this painting can have such a profound affect over you as to send you into the nightmarish regression anytime you look at it, well it goes without saying that obviously this image or something about it is able to trigger deep repressed memories. These memories being relinquished are exposing a vital link between you and your mother. That aside for now, your sudden realignment into the fetal position gives indication right off that your child self is reacting. It’s the voice and the body language that clearly illustrates that infant trauma has been part of your past. Your post traumatic stress stems from an occurrence that happened in your earliest years of child bearing, so early you can’t recall it origins. The challenge we are facing is that you where at such an early age when the trauma did occur, it will be quite difficult to further extract and understand the exact details of what you had actually experienced”.
Pausing for a time, Sharon greeted the waiter as he stepped forward and placed our meals down in front of us. Slipping him a few one dollar notes, her brief smile faded as she redirected her attention back to us. Dropping her head and recollecting her thoughts for a time, Sharon took a big breath in to slow things down.
“Look, the regression is not why I wanted to get together today”.
Reaching for her glass of chilled water, she took a long sip, then relined back into her chair while continuing to look me in the eyes.
“Peter, I had a strange encounter today with Annie. She seems to have you on the mind as of late”.
With out looking up, I wanted to hear all of what she had to say before I divulged any information relating to Annie and my encounters with her.
“Go on”.
“During her time in dream state, she went on mentioning details of a place she was visiting, which wasn’t that out of the ordinary until I kept hearing her refer to a tree swing. It just caught my attention because of the one I had seen out side your home. I stepped in close and it was as if I was on a guided tour as she went on to describing the very same details I picked up on when I walked through your front lawn area. She was describing all the flowers that bordered the brick foot path but she seemed overly impressed by the swing”.
Taking a bite of her salad, Sharon’s hands began expressive gesturing before she could resume her speech.
“Then this is where it gets weird. She is speaking as if to an old friend and is chatting up on details of how good the new carpet looks and how the drapes now look the better for the house as a whole and then there is the painting”.
In a hushed voice, Sharon leaned in and released from her eyes a look that obviously had her still trying to absorb her encounter.
“Peter, she described the painting in exact detail. The umbrella and the eyes, even the gold frame went into detail. Who ever her imaginary friend was she was speaking with, it was apparent they both agreed it was a great job. Is there something here I don’t know about, I mean how strange is this”?
Backing away from the table, I felt a chill crawl up throughout my body as I was attempting to gather myself. Leaning in again towards the center of the table, I remained for the time in hard disbelief of what I was hearing.
“Is this coincidence…is there such a thing as coincidence? Sharon, I had an encounter last week with Annie at the clinic where she called me by name in a clear and concise manner. She mentioned she would help me find what I was looking for. And then last night…I dreamt about her as well…last night”.
Sharon froze while staring back with a look that held the tiniest bit of sarcastic disbelief, but was soon replaced and smothered over with more a deepening glare of intrigue and concern.
“Peter, why didn’t you speak about the incident at the clinic before? Never mind that for now, in what manner did the dream state encounter occur and where did your dream seem to take place at”?
“I was at the clinic. She was in her bed sitting next to Frank…who was in a bed next to her. It was very surreal and freaky or should I say Frank was…he seemed mesmerized while looking right at me. Not happy, not sad, just blankly starring with no expression. She on the other hand, she seemed warm and inviting and spoke to me again but this time said something in regards to… breaking the cycle of the four”.
Collapsing back into the comforts of the chair, I had lost any appetite for eating. For a moment my distraction became the groups of peoples all gathered around there separate little tables. The atmosphere presented was light and in complete contradiction with the conversation we were having.
“Is there a known body of scientific observation that has covered this? I mean this individual has been placed outside society because of her inability to relate to the outside world, but it’s suddenly evident that she has consciously pierced the lining between realities…and is sharing with us a possible route of contact here that we are just barely able to comprehend. Is it possible that she is in fact accessing her dreams consciously, that is…does she actually have the ability to direct herself to where and when ever she chooses in dream state reality? I mean do you… really believe this is the case, especially for her”?
“As I have eluded to in our passed conversations, my ongoing studies in the fields of dream analysis show in fact that patients with practice do have the abilities not only to initiate dream time but can in fact dictate and mold the details within their lucid dream experience. This control seems to give some patients the ability to return and reenact the same dream settings time and again. Whether or not on a subconscious level, Annie is actually controlling and creating the experience, will take further research and time to find out. I am afraid we are at the mercy of collecting data as quick as she will relate to us. Like I have said, Annie has for sometime been very verbal with her experiences, but as far as trying to piece together any of it…it would almost mean that she would need constant observation in order to find weather there is a linking pattern. But as of this point, the bazaar correlation between what is happening between both your worlds is oddly strange to say the least”.
Sharon was right about the need for closer observation but the chances of dressing Annie’s room up with recorders was surely not going to go over well with Tom, but maybe considering how strange and exciting the occurrences taking place were, I thought I could influence Sharon to at least apply more time with the patient.
“What are dreams? I mean you have said that she seems to babble randomly about places and people but what if in fact these places and people do exist and she is truly having those given experiences? I mean we all have them; I have been having them, those dreams that seem so real. Who is not to say that while in sleep state, we all venture off out into the great unknown to experience other aspects of life, only to return to this reality and to forget most if not all of what we had just experienced? How else can we explain what just has occurred. If she in fact does have this ability to induce dream state…and is in fact relaying these experiences back to us from the other side of the veil…is this a reality that I am being exposed to as well”?
“What are you getting at Peter”?
“You came to the conclusion that some traumatic event happened when I was young. Might it be possible through learned self induced dream time, to somehow observe…”?
Just then, the waiter broke my train of thought but looking up, I could tell Sharon held intrigue for the direction I was moving my thoughts towards. But I could also see that we were venturing into an area that was going to take hours and hours of observation and again it came down to time.
“Peter, I…have to think about this…”
“Think about what? Like it or not, we are now involved and evidently invited by a patient who seems to be pointing us into something that could be an exciting breakthrough for us as well as the field of parapsychology, what’s there to think about”.
“It involves taking so much time with her Peter… you are dealing with a lot of mental interference as well”.
“Meaning what”?
“Meaning that I already need two me to deal with all I have going on presently. Adding you to my patient list is beyond reach at this point. Look, I can feel your excitement and I do agree that there seems be something worth pursuing here, and while I am not totally dismissing your abilities to be able to investigate and have a personal role in this phenomena…for one, although Annie has something seemingly special going on, collecting data from her during her waking hours is virtually impossible. And besides, as mentioned earlier, I just don’t have the time for a full out study on the subject”.
Dropping her head and conceding, Sharon sat with her eyes closed knowing she had entered into an arena in which she could now not walk away from.
“Look, what I will do is continue my closest possible observation with Annie. I can’t promise you the time you are looking for… I am really sorry”.
“Sharon, you just told me she described Franks place, the painting and with out ever being there? I see her at about the same time, we think...”
Falling silent, I was again deep in the fascination of where my mind was taking me. Simultaneous dream state experience where by two separate entities designate at a given location of agreed choice, amazing if possibly true. Bringing myself back, I caught Sharon staring with an intrigued amusement, one that revealed the slightest of precaution concerning the stability of my character.
“I believe this deserves a closer look and as far as time, I have got a lot of it, especially for this. The only other thing I will ask of you is to please be in contact the moment you observe Annie about to slip into sleep state”.
I arrived at the hospital just after four pm and to my surprise Frank, seated in a wheel chair, was already waiting impatiently out in the hallway. Not appearing particularly warm, his whole attitude was one of haste and wanting to get out of the hospital as quick as possible. Once we where cleared by the nurse, I helped manage him out to parking lot and into the car. It was evident that the mild stroke had hindered his motor skill somewhat, signs of this showed in his slowed speech and less responsive movement to his left arm. Even that being the case, he still had the strength to pull himself from his chair and work himself onto the Dodge trucks bench seat.
“Damn wheel chair, they said it should be some time before I can manage without it. I am hoping he means by next week. Never get old Peter boy, it is no fun”.
Pulling into the driveway, I had already made preparations for Frank to be relocated down stairs. While it was apparent he could nimbly stand on his own, getting up and down the steps was out of the question. Having him down stares made sense also for the fact that the floors where mostly dressed with an old wood finish that would aid in Franks freedom of mobility while having to be in his wheel chair. While one aspect of his impairment was largely due to the fall resulting in badly bruised ribs, that coupled with
