Chapter 8: Exposition
It took my eyes a moment to focus when my dream began. I almost cried out in terror when I realized that I was inside a psychiatric institution again. Something about this hospital seemed different, almost dated. I was standing in the corner of a large room filled with chairs forming a circle in the center that I expected groups were held in. I looked down and noticed that I was stuck in the strange specter form that I took when I first dreamed of Thomas.
A nurse wearing a uniform that looked like it belonged in the 1970's ushered patients into the room. She pleasantly waved them in while chanting “Group time everyone” repeatedly, in a melodic tone. The chairs filled up with patients and the last one to walk into the room was Thomas. He did look a bit better with more hair, less sunken eyes, and skin that fit him properly. Seeing him not chewing on human meat made a difference. Orderlies were practically forced to shove him inside the room. He was grumbling something that I could not quite make out. I wanted to move in closer to listen, but I couldn't move. Like the last time.
The nurse was a blonde woman who appeared to be in her early to mid 30's sat just outside the group with a clipboard. The orderlies each posted on a different corner. They created a box shape where they were standing just outside the circle, with the nurse in the middle of the top line of the box. That configuration seemed to resemble the candles that Monica placed around me before I went to sleep. I would have shivered at the use of weird mystical powers if I could have felt anything at all.
The nurse asked if people were having concerns and started the topic of the day. She wanted the patients to focus on a joyous childhood memory. No one seemed particularly interested in talking. It was when I took my eyes off the nurse that I noticed that the entire group was staring at me. One of the men with wavy gray hair pointed, then began raving, “How about we instead talk about the guy standing in the corner of the room?” I wasn't sure if there was a way to act nonchalant in my strange paralysis.
The nurse turned over her shoulder and looked where I was, then turned back to the group. “I don't see anyone there,” She said in a tone of mechanical sweetness. She then looked over to the orderlies and said, “Ron, Bert, Daniel, Sam. Do any of you see a man over in that corner?” They all shook their heads. One said, “No, Nurse Heimmer.” Another remarked, “I don't see anyone there.” She smiled warmly and said, “well, there you are Mr. Richardson.”
“Dr. Richardson,” He angrily corrected. She seemed to relish having authority over him and apologized insincerely. I could see Thomas' face contort with fury before jumping up and shouting, “I see him too!” The nurse seemed practiced in the phenomenon, but not readily able to dismiss it. The orderlies were visibly shaken. I guessed that the nurse thought it was some game that the patients devised, but the orderlies seemed to have a better handle on determining honesty. They knew the patients were experiencing what Dr. Sprinkles once described as a “shared hallucination.”
“Hopefully the apparition doesn't interfere with group time,” the nurse commented. She lightly cackled at her own joke. Most of the group was eager to try to focus on the nurse and avert their eyes from the specter of yours truly. Not Thomas. He started at me hatefully, as if I represented an offensive coffee stain on the white shirt that was his life. The group talk was relatively mundane, but Thomas and I remained locked in a supernatural staring contest.
The patients in the group complained about lack of sleep, seeing apparitions (I had a weird guilt complex about that one at the time,) being tormented by whispers, and seeing peculiar shadows. The nurse seemed hellbent on keeping the conversation in the bounds of standard topics one might expect at such groups. I couldn't tell what scared her more. The horrifying and vivid accounts of the patients, or the fact that rational explanations were at a loss to find. She seemed well trained and adept at concealing that fear.
She would try to chip away at the validity of their accounts by questioning what they saw. “There has to be a rational explanation,” became kind of her mantra throughout the group. There was a rational explanation, she just couldn't bring herself to accept it. I thought the group was going to conclude with one of the patients explaining his difficulty sleeping even while medicated, but then Thomas decided to steal the show.
“We all know what this is about! It is about the opening and use of the Daedalus Gates. Things are coming through, and they are infecting minds! Certain minds can't handle the pressure and cave in. Brilliant men, such as those in this room, adapt, and yet are constantly under attack from extra-dimensional forces!” He thundered, then quickly began panting. Thomas appeared to be calming down when the nurse probed his statement with the question: “Do you believe that it was your wife that had a weak mind?” She asked with the subtlety of a battleship firing all of its canons at once.
Thomas exploded from his chair and his eyes bulged out while he ranted. “You bitch! I will tear your head off!” The orderlies quickly circled him and began the process of restraining him. Thomas grabbed one of the orderly's arms and shattered it with his free hand. The beefy and red faced orderly howled out in agony. Thomas kicked and flailed as they threw him to the ground. “I'll kill you all! You're all dead!” He screamed in tormented fervor. The last thing he spouted before the syringe of medication knocked him out was, “You especially, JOHNNY!”
The dream passed as quickly as it came on.
I was filled with intense dismay that the dream was so short lived. I retained my wondrous ethereal form in the next dream that I was transported to. Or maybe it was a memory. It was a comfortable living room with two glasses of brandy on a round oak coffee table and a pair of easy chairs. It was Dr. Felter and Thomas, both sitting comfortably and chatting softly. This time Thomas seemed not to notice or pay any attention to me.
Thomas looked younger than before and his face didn't carry the weight of constant consternation. It struck me immediately when I studied his features. This was a Thomas before Gate Travel ravaged his soul. This man looked more human than I had ever seen him. Dr. Felter leaned in closer to Thomas and said something that I did my best to focus my attention on. “Thomas, the gates are a means to traveling, in ways that you wouldn't believe.” Thomas interrupted him. “You know the Shaman told us that your team meddled in the Weave or Fabric of Creation. He said the punishment would be severe and he would not help us.”
Dr. Felter rolled his eyes arrogantly. “It is not up to some indigenous peoples to make decisions about the course of science. We have precautions and technological advances that they could never have produced.” The doctor seemed to be trying to convince himself more than Thomas. Thomas thoughtfully disagreed. “If that were the case, they would not have had the successes in fighting the spirits off, and keeping our world free of malevolent forces.” Dr. Felter rolled his eyes again and sarcastically repeated “Malevolent forces,” like the superstitious prattle would never end.
I witnessed a nearly endless debate about whether it was worthwhile for Gate Travel to move forward to experimentation phases. Thomas' arguments were based in safety concerns, and Felter's arguments were grounded in the need for progress. What I really saw, was a man who thought everything around him was dangerous, and a man that simply wanted to make his prestigious mark on the world. They both seemed woefully out of touch with their own real interests. Or they played a clever game of hiding them.
The debate faded into shadowy abyss, and something spirited me away to another dreamlike memory.
I was inside a laboratory. It looked familiar. Yes, it was definitely the laboratory that I met Monica in, during one of my dreams. I recognized the many of the faces of the doctors from the first dream that I had. I could see Dr. Felter with a bottle of champagne and the other scientists with their flute shaped glasses preparing for some kind of celebration. They were hailing their success and praising their own hard work. The Daedalus Gate stood proudly for its own unveiling ceremony.
Thomas was present but not dressed in a lab coat like the rest of the group. He was dressed in a fine black suit and tie. I could even make out a fire arm tucked in his jacket pocket. I guess hanging out with Ralph was having an impact. Thomas' role as chief of security made sense, combined with the complaints that he voiced to Felter. The man made his living pointing at things and calling them dangerous. Thomas did not appear in a festive mood whatsoever. I would wager that he would like to have shot all the scientists and smash the Daedalus Gate with a claw hammer.
After the champagne was poured, Felter put the empty bottle in the center of nickel colored base of the teleporter pad. Almost out of nowhere, I could hear the nebulous voice of Monica calling out, “Get into the Gate before it's too late Johnny.” Suddenly, my body was free of its strange paralysis, and I hovered over to the base of the teleporter. Dr. Felter was punching commands into the machine's computer with the grace of jubilant drunkard. I guess he was already half in the bag.
I piled into the machine as the whir and churning began. The enclosure sealed around my incorporeal form and the champagne bottle. It was not the same sensation of Gate Traveling without a physical body incorporated. It was like being mid dream while still conscious that you were mowing the lawn. That was a terrible explanation. It was like a mind diverging and converging simultaneously. Dreaming two dreams at once might be a more accurate description (while still mowing the lawn.)
I was jostled from my sleep with the feeling of the warm summer sun on my body.
I was walking out the cabin in my underwear to where Clarence and Laurie were standing. I stopped mid stride with the sudden revelation that I was no longer in the dream world but at camp. Laurie had to hide her face from the outpour of laughter that fallowed. Clarence looked sympathetic and unfazed by my confusion. “Looks like he just snapped out of a sleepwalking situation.” Laurie's laughter was replaced by a bit of tenderness and an apologetic cooing sound.
I could hear the cabin door behind me and Monica called out, “Sorry Johnny.” Clarence and Laurie walked off to give us a moment. I walked back into the cabin and Monica explained that she miscalculated in the final portion of the dream. I recounted the dream, and she explained that she wanted me to appear right inside the teleporter during the final leg of the dream journey. Releasing me from the dream paralysis meant that I was released from the safety of sleep paralysis. She also explained that my clothes were left in the dream for a reason. I guess I could leave things sure as I could bring them with me.
That fact started an intractable train of thought that led me to ask Monica if she knew about my house burning down. She looked at me with deep pause and informed that she wasn't the only one who knew these tricks. Someone was manipulating my dreams. And I didn't know if they worked for Thomas or were warning me against Thomas. No matter how I sliced it, I felt like a puppet. A foul-mouthed Muppet who was cut from the Sesame Street lineup.
I glanced around the cabin for the champagne bottle. I kind of assumed it would come with me. When it did not turn up, I mentioned it to Monica. She explained that removing my spirit from the destination in the computer is a completely different process than simply moving a bottle from one area to another (or my physical body for that matter.) While the bottle moved, my spirit was sort of abducted from the desired destination. It was explained as the equivalent of jumping off a train mid journey. “What might really blow your mind, is the fact that the scientists needed to account for the spirit of the bottle when sending it to its destination,” She concluded matter-of-factually. I could scarcely believe someone could be so spaced out and scientific at once.
By the time I listened to Monica's explanations and got cleaned up, I was already late for breakfast. The folks working in the kitchen left me some lukewarm oatmeal. I guess this was becoming a regular thing. After eating, I checked the chore list and I found I was put on garden detail. I saw Dana chatting up Laurie outside the lodge in the garden supply area. They both waved over at me and I did the same back. I walked toward their direction and was told to grab gardening gloves, trimmers, bucket, and a few other supplies.
We traveled up the hill in another gas-powered cart similar to the one Ralph used. I thought that I heard that he was doing some work on traps dug around the outskirts of the camp. We zoomed over to the Lilac garden and began our clipping of Lilacs in the summer sun. I tried to make it a point to avoid talking to Laurie. I wasn't mad at her or jealous of Clarence, but some deep discomfort writhed within me anyway.
The work in the hot sun left me sweating profusely in no time at all. I declined to take a bandanna yet found myself rubbing the beads of sweat off my forehead with great frequency. Dana talked about the blooming season of the lilac (or Syringia Vulgaris,) its significance in the local ecology, and about a dozen other interesting facts. When I asked what the relationship between lilacs and Thomas was, she simply told me “Demons don't like them.” I fantasized about showering Thomas with the purple flowers like confetti, while he shriveled and screamed in abject terror. It was a hard mental scenario to take seriously.
As the sweat poured from me a couple hours into the work, I began to feel a bit woozy. Laurie asked if I was OK. She looked worried, but I tried to feign a tough guy act. Dana grabbed some bottles of water from the cart. I walked over to attempt to grab them from her. I could see her widen with concern as I staggered, fell on my back, and landed on the grass. I thought I just slipped and was still awake. I could see shortly after that I drifted into a brief dream.
I looked up and didn't see Dana at all. It was the face of Thomas. He was gnawing on a piece of uncooked meat with blood dripping between his teeth as he spoke. “I will see you Tuesday, Johnny.” I cried out in terror and fury all at once while trying to swing my tightly bawled up fists at his hideous image. I nearly hit a face, but it wasn't his, it was Dana's.
I blinked and refocused my eyes on Dana's face. It was a quick dream, or hallucination, or vision that stole my grip on reality. It was incredibly compelling, nonetheless. Dana hovered over my sprawled-out body and held some water over me. I quickly guzzled the water that Dana held over my mouth. “Slow down!” She said in a motherly voice as I could feel the water sloshing uncomfortably in my belly. I spent the next moments gasping, panting, and wiping the mixture of sweat and grass off my head. Laurie cast a worried look from in the lilac bed. It took me a while to finally stand off and for the shaking to stop.
I spent the next few minutes recovering and telling Laurie and Dana the short visit I had with Thomas. They both were deeply concerned by the news that I shared with them. The tension was interrupted by a white mini van rolling down the camp's windy narrow dirt road. I could hear Laurie call out to the van in excitement, “Vicky!” I saw the face of a young woman appear and poke out of the window of the slow moving vehicle. “Laurie! Hey Girl!” Laurie rushed over to the minivan while I continued the process of steadying myself.
The van skittered down the road and Laurie walked back beaming with excitement while still trying to show concern for my little episode. It was pleasing to see her happy. Laurie and Dana spent more time in flower bed collecting lilacs in plastic buckets. I sat in the cart sipping bottled water regaining my strength. Dana said that David had a plan of how to use them against David. I think it amounted to the manner in which one uses chalk in a summoning circle to invoke spirits. Not that I would do that. A circle of your own urine works just as well.
We finished our work and made our way back down to the lodge for relaxation before the evening time. I wanted to remain isolated and would have rather avoided Clarence and Laurie. Eventually they discovered me brooding in a clearing down one of the trails. I was sitting on a grassy mound, playing with an odd shaped twig. I sighed as they approached. Clarence opened the conversation, “Johnny, I know you are going through something, but I think you need to open up to us.” Laurie nodded emphatically in agreement.
I tried to avoid directly complaining about my fears that they were an item and I would be shoved to the backseat of this adventure. Laurie sat beside me on the grassy mound. “You once told me that you were glad we met. And that you were glad we were friends. Isn't this still true?” I gulped down the tangy vinegar that were my own words. Clarence had remained standing but now leaned into a hunched pose to appear disarming. “It is true. I guess I made something out in my mind that wasn't there.” I said in an attempt to be diplomatic.
Laurie leaned in and whispered, “it's OK that you feel that way. We have been through this struggle together and we still are. We need to stay focused.” I could see her thin pressed lips glistening in the late day sun. Even the slight layer of sunburn on her skin gave her a unique resplendent quality. I couldn't figure out if I wanted to kiss her or argue with her. My feelings of tense resignation must have been an impetus for Clarence to sit next to me as well. He clapped his hand on my back in a friendly way, but I still flinched.
“It's fine, if you two are an item.” I declared against my own sense of pride. They shared looks and Clarence got back up. “Hey, if you two want to talk this one out, I could help out with the bonfire.” He offered to my relief. We both said goodbye and she moved in closer to talk to me. “Johnny, there are things about Clarence that you do not know. There are reasons why you shouldn't worry about him and I. Just worry about yourself, and how things will go.” She paused thoughtfully before continuing.
“David told me that he spoke to you about a few things. He told me that you are really finding out a lot about Thomas.” She paused again. Her voice ushered warning with when she continued, “You are a lot like him, or so I have been told. Thomas assumed the worst and acted out against anyone who tried to tell him different. He became a pawn that spiraled out of control. One that they fear more than death itself.” I stiffened up a bit and replied in a sardonic tone, “Yeah. Besides the arson and cannibalism, we are two peas in a pod.”
Laurie cut me off with a fierce and stern glare. One of those glares, that informed me that I should drop the sarcastic funny guy routine. Her eyes sparkled with the convictions of someone who took my sanity more seriously than I did. I didn't know how to continue. She did. “I don't think we can kill Thomas or his men with silly tree forts and cruddy rifles. We need to beat him in the arena that fuels his power. His mind and his twisted spirit are the keys to shattering the control that the entity has over him.”
“Azmodariel,” I corrected. She seemed disgusted by the mention of that name. “It sounds like the mashup of two villains from a popular video game franchise,” she noted. Well, she did have a point. Sorry folks...she's got me there. Laurie gently waved away some insects that were buzzing by her head. She proceeded to push her brilliant auburn hair back into place. “I am sure the others will have some really interesting crap to say about the book you brought to me.” I felt a twinge of guilt for my murder impulses the other day. “Yeah.” I agreed and the thoughts left with the insects that buzzed around her head.
We spoke about a few other topics before heading back to the lodge area. We had some good laughs about the Omnipotence Paradox. She likened God to a, "Great Magnet in the Sky.” We also spent a couple minutes turning over stones looking for newts, worms, bugs, and other assorted oddities. It always pleased me to look at the variety of strange little creatures scurry, as their stone fortress was lifted. While watching a newt scurry away from our last stone turning, I felt a deep sense of empathy for it.
I found the bonfires were becoming an increasingly pleasant time for me. I was becoming more adept at memorizing the lyrics to the songs and enthusiastically sang with the group. When I first arrived at the camp, I am sure I would have been mortified by the present version of me. The pain of being a hopeless cynic is that you see anything remotely beautiful or jubilant as pitiful or campy. In addition to singing, we roasted spicy Italian sausages on the open flame with skewers. It was a delectable treat.
While in the midst of our last chorus of songs, I noticed that Monica was not actually singing along with the words of the song but chanting something else entirely. It was an eerie sight to see her rocking back and forth mouthing some unheard and unfamiliar words. I tried not to let it trouble me, but we had a strange kinship. I knew in some way, that the throes of her state would have significance in my dream state later tonight. Laurie picked up that the sight of Monica unnerved me a bit.
She asked me, “What do you think is wrong with her?” I focused my attention away from her inquiries and silently prayed that Monica could hold it together. My prayers were answered instantly. Monica lifted her head hopefully and begun resuming the camp song with the rest of the group as though nothing had happened. I sure wish nothing had happened, and I suspected that Laurie shared that concern.
The last song concluded, and I expected David would dismiss us to retire for the night. Instead, he held his hand up. A wordless gesture that silenced the group, and all eyes were upon him. David slowly tilted his head downward then back upward. Almost like a doctor about to inform you that your dear aunt's spider bite was actually terminal cancer. The crowd let out a collective gulp. He took a deep breath before spilling the news.
“We have word that our camp will be attacked sooner than I had anticipated.” Gasps filled the group, which caused David to raise his hand again to silence them. “Our best source tells us that he will be here Tuesday,” He darkly announced. I felt a strange uncertainty. The fact that this group's battle plan came from a heat stroke induced hallucination. “This means that we will need to increase the rate of our preparations. I am afraid that late afternoon tasks will be assigned.” I could tell that he expected resentful groans, but given what was at stake, no one seemed about to complain.
“As an added precaution, I would like the entire group to remain in the lodge and to avoid staying in your personal cabin. With one exception.” He looked right at me when he included that little addendum. I did my best to remain stone faced at his glance. I had no idea if it was common knowledge that my most helpful contribution to the camp was sleeping. The snapping and popping of kindling on the fire filled the brief silence. He continued explaining the importance of a buddy system. His chief aim in his speech was safety and solidarity.
He concluded his announcement with the reminder that if anyone see anything strange or out of place to report it to him, Ralph, or Dana. We were dismissed to go to the lodge. Laurie and Clarence were ahead of me and I heard her lamenting that her back was going to be so sore if she slept on the floor of the lodge. Clarence remarked that it was a “small price to pay for safety.” David pulled me to the side before my descent down the trail and motioned that we seek a more private location to talk.
I wanted to tell him that I left the stove on, and that a lengthy talk would be inadvisable. I had come to know that David sees through nonsense and snarky jokes. He led us right to the spot that Laurie, Clarence, and I had our last chat. He had a small LED powered lantern and sat it down in front of us. He politely gestured for me to sit on the grassy mound and he did the same. He and I sat for silence for a short period as we watched the shadows dance around the light.
“I happen to know that your dreams tonight will be your most dangerous yet.” He warned while still casting his gaze to the shadows. I turned and looked at him and he returned my gaze. “What do you mean by dangerous?” I said fully expecting that the worst things are to come. “Monica informed that Thomas knows that you are visiting his memories. He knows that you are seeking knowledge that could be detrimental to his cause. He has the means to lock you in a dream prison of sorts. The kind of dream that never stops. The kind of dream that becomes your waking reality.” Camp McCallister, where your wildest dreams turn into your worst nightmares!
He pressed the conversation on. “Mercedes gave me some solid information about how Gate Travel affects the psyche. While the body can move seamlessly and without error. The brain can become partitioned. Living in the world it inhabits and the world it left behind. What's more is the technology can be used on a person without them actually standing in the device.” He paused for me to absorb the details. “So, I may have been teleported before any of this began and not be sure of it. David gave a knowing smile and nodded blissfully.
We resumed staring into the shadowy void beyond the reach of his LED lantern. I deeply considered that the day in my house when I was tormented might be a completely different reality than the one that I remember being raised in. The thoughts of school yard anxieties, silly infatuations that proved fruitless, and bitter rivalries that all seemed so significant at the time...all seemed so parochial in hindsight. The things that seem like the greatest of tragedies always look the smallest when your world is turned upside down. David could see that my mind was headed in this direction, and it prompted him to continue his talking.
“Much like a house divided cannot stand, neither can a mind. My hope is that by fixing your mind, we can fix this reality. My motives for helping you and stopping Thomas are one and the same.” I furrowed my brow by his motives. He wasn't telling me something. “Thomas has wanted to destroy me and this camp for some time now. He wasn't able to access the grounds for certain... reasons. But since you have arrived, now he can. That said, you are in the unique position to make him vulnerable enough that it will be his downfall.” So that explained it; I was bait. But why me?
His offer of fixing whatever fractured my mind was tempting. Though, I still wasn't clear on what my role was in the upcoming battle. He still looked like he was holding back some information, and he noticed that registered with me. He pulled a small piece of chocolate out of his pocket and offered me some. I graciously took it and nibbled on it as he spoke. “What you are conscious of, in this world, alters where your dreams take you. What you are told affects what goes on in your dreaming mind. I can tell you about the danger, but I cannot tell you why it is dangerous.” He emphasized the word why to alleviate some of the concerns. It didn't help but I felt more understood.
He stood up and picked up his lantern. He offered his hand to me, and I took it. He pulled me up with more strength than I was expecting. I knocked some of the dirt free from my shorts and we walked back to the cabins. He offered me a rough hug before I walked up the small wooden staircase to the cabin. “Sleep well Johnny, we're rooting for you.” He tipped his fisherman's hat and made his way down the path to the lodge.
I could hear the sounds of Monica rustling around the cabin before I opened the rickety door. She was arranging the pillows and candles while I stood tapping my chin in confusion. I had no idea where to sit or where to go. My bags and clothes were gone from the cabin. I suddenly felt a strange jolt of irritation that someone had absconded with my belongings. It took me a while to figure out that the knife that I failed to throw in the lake was calling me. She put her finger over her lips to call for silence as I stood motionlessly watching her. I said nothing.
She motioned for me to lay down on a pile of pillows. I did so, while she glided over to me in a graceful motion and handed me another one of her patented amulets. This one looked like a length of hemp rope with three shells. The center one a flat oyster shell shape with two curled shells running on each side of it. There were small bits of sea glass separating the shells. A wave of comfort blanketed me as I laid down on the pillows. Monica brought over some of her foul tasting tea to help with my time in the dreams. I reluctantly swallowed a few gulps. The taste was revolting and the quivering it did in my stomach was not pleasant.
The churning in my belly and the sickening taste in my mouth followed me to slumber.
“Darlene, you have to eat something. It's been almost two weeks.” The voice that I heard was familiar. It was Thomas. I could hear the grunt of refusal return his pleading requests. When I materialized, I realized that I was in my specter form yet again. The woman, who I presumed was Darlene, looked upon my visage in horror. She looked like she was in her mid 50's with dark brown hair, ever so curly, with the occasional wisp of whiteness in it. Her age was betrayed by her current condition, sunken in eyes, and somber expression riddled with horror that never ceased. She appeared to be near catatonic. She was seated in a comfy looking easy chair while he remained standing in front of her.
I felt a misplaced guilt that I was adding to the condition that she was in. She tried to call out and point to me. Thomas denied the sight of me, though on some level he was aware of my presence. He got up from his seat and grabbed a vase from an end table. He then hurled the vase in the direction of my ghost, and it sailed right through me. I expected it to hurt or feel some sensation, but it did not. I heard the fairly stylish vase crash with a menacing smashing sound behind me. She wailed softly at the sight of her husband frantically and manically trying to disprove my presence. She was right, but Thomas knew this was no matter of being right or wrong.
Thomas managed to capture her attention and tried to spoon feed her what looked to be creamed corn. It was obvious that this man's taste in food ranged from the disgusting to the disturbing. She let the foul nourishment dribble from her lower lip and kept feebly protesting. He let out an exasperated sigh. He carried her off to bed and I remained watchful. The living room did not reflect the man who tormented me a while ago. His dwellings were humble and resembled a grandparent's home. Lots of antique furniture that wasn't purchased as antique furniture. He returned to the living room and sat in the easy chair that his wife was sitting in.
He had a book with him, and he opened the book. He began reading words that were in a language that I didn't comprehend. They sounded like a combination of Latin, Hebrew, and gibberish. I began to feel uneasy, like my ability to move was being granted to me, but not of the will of my own. He closed the book abruptly and set his gaze on me. He looked younger to me in this memory. There was a deep hunger in eyes. A deep anger and resentment that I could not place my finger on.
Suddenly, my specter took physical form. It was a moment of turning from translucent ghost to a briefly corporeal form. It was accompanied by a deep and searing pain. The pain felt like a burning fiery pain that radiated from my center outward. My specter returned to its previous form a moment later. I could hear the panicked voice of Monica screaming in my head, “Johnny, we have to get you out of there quickly. Try to fight it. Focus on something in the room, do not think about him!” I could see Thomas picking the book back up and running his finger along the page and he resumed his chants. Above his head I could see the specter of a present-day Thomas. His ghost had time traveled to aid his past self. This made the task of thinking about anything else exceedingly difficult.
On the wall hung an amateur painting of some daffodils that caught my attention for the briefest period of time. The stinging and burning pain that rippled through my body was becoming more pervasive. I tried to look at the picture further, but the chanting stopped, and Thomas began speaking to me in the common tongue. “Hello, my friend. I see that we are visiting places that we shouldn't be. My wife is not very well. And it is the likes of you, at the bidding of Harold Felter that are making her condition worse.” I tried to study the painted gold oak frame of the picture more clearly. I tried to visualize the daffodil that it was based off, in my mind's eye.
“Harold is using you. He thinks he can send people into the past to fix his messes.” I paused to listen to his embittered rant for a second too long. I could feel some weight or gravity of a thousand worlds pushing me down. Compressing my mass into a singularity, or that's what I'd like to describe it as. I couldn't speak. I desired to question him on what he was talking about, yet he knew the bait of information was distracting me. The pain had reached a burning crescendo that felt like I was vomiting lava. I looked at the daffodil once more. My concentration snowballed due to some unseen distraction that was eating at Thomas' attention.
The flower of the daffodil wasn't the last thing I saw before the world changed. The stems were.
I was inside one of the familiar rooms inside the psychiatric center. I was in the games room. There was a puzzle in front of me. It was a half completed puzzle of a yellow daffodil and the assorted pieces of the leaves were laid out in front of me. I nearly jumped out of my chair in a panic. “Why of all places, here?” I mumbled to myself. I was going to have to have a word with Monica. I looked at my arm and noticed it was completely fleshy. My hand was also missing its ruby shaped crater.
I looked around and saw familiar faces. There was Jeff, a lovable but unpredictable bipolar man, seated at the nearest table. Despite some familiarity one face in particular jumped out at me. It was Clarence! I darted over to him and said, “Clarence, what's going on? What are you doing here?” He shot me an incredulous look and disapproving gaze. “I've told you this before. I don't know you, and I don't WANT to know you. So please leave me alone,” He bellowed. The guards inched forward expecting violent outburst. I nervously inched away from where I saw him and went back to the puzzle. I should take this moment to point out that they were guards, not orderlies. They looked like they were working with the state in some capacity. (It makes a difference)
Completing that puzzle felt like a muddled mess of confusing thoughts, unsolved riddles, and a sickening feeling of being trapped. We were corralled for afternoon medications and group time. I didn't see any sign of Laurie there either. I just sat in my chair with vacant look on my face trying to figure out how this would end. How could I leave this dream and get back to the real world. What sickened me twice as much, is that without a Gate, I would have no means to do that. I was lost.
Diner was also a sickening charade, and it seemed like it would be back to the old routine that I was used to. I ate in silence, eyeing all of the other patients and guards dangerously. The staff seemed to know I was on edge and sent a stream of personnel to watch me like a hawk. I tried reading a book about the mating habits of the Aardvark to ease my mind, but it was an unsuccessful venture. So much seemed to be at this point in time. Night times brought the glimmer of hope I might wake up elsewhere.
It didn't. I continued the usual routine I had during my first visit. The doctor that I spoke to was a Dr. Lloyd. My first meeting with Dr. Lloyd was an unusual one. He claimed that he never heard of a Dr. Spr--Balakrishnan or a Dr. Felter ever working at the hospital and that I had been working with him and a few other names I didn't recall. It was extremely peculiar was that he kept referring to the “incident” which resulted in my extended stay at this hellish hotel. I had absolutely no idea. I felt arguing on the grounds of supernatural forces, sci-fi experiments, and government cover-ups would not bring me the desired results.
The third session with Dr. Lloyd proved interesting. “Johnny, why do you insist on hiding what your delusions from me. I know that you are not well and that you feel that you are being persecuted.” The man didn't know the half of it. “I think it's a sick world Doc. I am just trying to adapt.” He nodded thoughtfully and replied, “I think because you feel that way, is why you are a danger to those around you. In a situation where you were treated with medications and care, someone might not have gotten hurt.” I eyed him suspiciously. “Who did I hurt?” He sighed as continued, “Denial and regression are symptomatic of the damaged mind.” Whatever he knew, he was holding it back. I could see an apprehension in him that told me that he genuinely feared me.
“Try to think back to the day in July of 2017. What precisely do you remember?” He asked me in a cold tone with piercing eyes. I strained to think of something in particular, but all I remembered was a bizarre web seminar, trying to flee my home, and getting picked up at Walmart. I tried to convey all of the details as I remembered them so far as they seemed relevant and not otherworldly. He clearly noticed my avoidance of reanimated cat, car full of body parts, and unusual Walmart occurrences. It made my summary concise and obviously deceptive.
He leaned back in his chair while tapping a pen against his chin. I would like to think it gave him the self image of a judge about to pronounce sentence. “Johnny, I believe what you told me in the office several weeks ago. I believe you were being followed. Does that help?” (I did NOT remember this conversation.) I feigned a pretty convincing head nod of affirmation. “Who was following me?” I asked in an attempt to be clever. His lips curled up in a triumphant smile. “I believe you are dissociating. I believe you are trying to blur the events that happened on that incredibly cold July. I could be wrong.”
My blood froze at the mention of that “Cold July Day.” It brought forth a torment of nightmarish memories. I kept replaying the moments left unsaid to him over and over again in my head. He kept repeating his great astonishment at the weather for that July. He even mentioned a forecast for similar weather on the horizon for this week in the local area. He and his wife were going to stay home in case the worst happened. “In case the worst like; your precious family gets devoured by yellow eyed demons?!” I yelled angrily. He concluded our session there.
The days in the institution dragged by with no real change in routine that I could recall. There was no word from the outside, my dreams remained painfully blank, and my progress in group was noted as being “stagnant.” There were times at which I was certain I was seeing apparitions or wavy ghosts of some kind. They remained formless and always at the edge of my periphery. I avoided calling out or yelling in terror at times at the things that I had witnessed. I became certain that I developed a condition akin to the doctors who conducted the first Gate Tests.
Dr. Lloyd mentioned that I was making progress with him. I wasn't sure if he made that claim to bolster his own ego, or if he made that claim because it was true in some way. On my third session with him (that I could recall,) he suggested that I undergo hypnotherapy. He asserted that my constant regression into fantasy worlds could be halted by alternative therapeutic tools. That, and loads of pills. I had no alternative suggestions, and things here were becoming tragically boring. Avoiding Clarence was especially difficult for me.
Dr. Lloyd invited me into an office that I had never seen before. There was one of those typical sofas with the elevated head rest that you would expect to see in any movie involving hypnotherapy. I tensely approached the sofa. He gave a slight nod at my anxiousness and said, “Relax Johnny, everything will be fine.” His cool tone eased my nerves just a bit. I had no experience with being hypnotized and I did not know what to expect.
I laid down on the sofa and he approached a chair that he had place there prior to entering. He sat in the chair and pulled an odd gold pendulum from his vest pocket. He asked if I had ever been hypnotized before. I honestly told him, “No.” He said there would be nothing to fear and how it would work. Part of me was reticent to voice any concerns and part of me wanted to bolt off the sofa. He assured me that I would make it through the process unharmed.
I relaxed a bit more as he told me that I would start to relax more. I felt myself becoming more and more vulnerable to his suggestion. He said, “I will count down from 20 and you will become steadily more drowsy. When I say 1, you will fall asleep.” I agreed and the sensation of relaxation was growing and deepening inside me. My resistance was fading and I slipped deeper and deeper into drowsiness. My vision blurred and the word one was the last thing I heard.
Dr. Lloyd did not make me act like a chicken or cause me to do hand stands. It wasn't him standing in front of me when I woke up. It was Monica.
Monica had an extremely worried look on her face when I saw her. I slowly blinked my blurry vision away while she spoke. “Oh God Johnny! I thought you were never going to wake up. Thomas took control of the dream and sent you to a place I never thought I would find you.” She was practically gasping for air as she told me this. I tried to wipe the still-present taste of the foul tea concoction from my mouth before responding. “Yeah, I guess...I-” I was cut off abruptly by the thought. Am I really here?
Monica grabbed my hand in a pleading way, as if she were alluding to the fact she knew I was questioning my current reality. I fought through the haze of confusion and responded to her. “How did you find me?” She sighed distantly, then told me, “It is hard to explain.” There was a momentary pause. I explained to her my reoccurring dreams about being placed in a mental institution. She listened with rapt attention. She assured me again and again that Thomas was playing off my greatest fears.
“I think what Thomas knows about you, is that you are afraid that you are insane. You aren't insane Johnny. What is happening to you, to me, to everyone in this camp, is real.” I tried to take solace in this fact but I couldn't. The fact that what we were experiencing was real, demonstrated a far greater breakdown than one man's fractured sanity. “Yeah, I guess you're right,” I admitted. I wanted to talk to Laurie and Clarence and get an idea of what they might make of my confusing dream world. “What time is it?” I asked.
She hesitated before answering, “It's around 9 o'clock.” Long pause. “On Sunday.” This almost didn't compute as it was Thursday night when I had fallen asleep. The length of my dream had mirrored the time passed in reality. I did my best not present a strong reaction. “I couldn't have woken you, the process would have...damaged your mind,” she explained. I didn't get a particularly encouraging feeling from that bit of information.
I got up, stretched, and set on getting dressed. Monica exited the cabin and informed me that Clarence and Laurie were by the lodge waiting for me. I thanked her and set about getting ready. My body felt weakened by the extended duration of the sleep. I got dressed and walked outside. At the bottom of the short path that led to the lodge I saw Clarence and Laurie standing and talking to one another. I rushed down the path to greet them. I was met with big smiles.
“Johnny! We were so worried about you!” Laurie exclaimed in delight. “Good to have you back!” Clarence added joyfully. We all shared hugs. It was a definitely a postcard moment. One of those generic photos of random people you see in pictures frames at stores. “I still can't believe I slept that long,” I told them in both disbelief and somewhat shamefully. “It's OK,” Clarence replied with a wistful smile. “Johnny, I hate to say it but-” Laurie said. “You stink!” Clarence finished. “Better go get cleaned up then,” I said with a sheepish chuckle. A brief moment of silence followed. My stomach let out an incredible lurch. “Maybe a bit to eat first,” I blurted. We all shared a roar of laughter. I had to admit, I was so glad to be back with my friends that I quickly forgot about the lost time.
There was a huge plate of breakfast waiting for me in the kitchen. The cook introduced himself as Karl, told me that “such a rest, deserved quite the breakfast.” He babbled about the outrageous price of rubber bands in major retail stores, then recommended a website in case the need arose. [Website information not provided.] I would nod politely as I shoved in eggs, toast, bacon, cereal, and grits into my food hole. I finished my hot tasty meal and excused myself to go back to the cabin to get ready to wash up.
I was wary of the bathroom building after my last experience there, but it was actually a normal shower. No creatures in the drain today. It was a fine experience- washing off all of the accumulated sweat of a three day long night terror. I could hear the melody of the songbirds outside the vents of the outdoor bathroom building. Their chorus followed the beating of the water as it fell from the shower head. My breathing became labored in the steam momentarily and gasped out in protest to the strange pressure building in my temples.
I finished up the shower and it got dressed shortly after. As I did so, I noticed detail in the porcelain tiles on the bathroom floor. Little chips and imperfections that made this floor unique. Each chunk missing telling a story minute or grand. I felt like my entire perception was changing. The feeling of my shorts clinging to my leg, the wispy steam curling into the afternoon air, the smell of dust particles hanging in the air, and churn of my massive breakfast in my gut.
I walked back to the cabin with a damp brown towel tucked under my arm. I could see Clarence standing outside my cabin. “Hey Clarence!” I said enthusiastically. I was a bit elated and my heightened perception was the culprit. He looked over and nodded. I suspected by the direction of his nod that he wanted to follow me into the cabin for a talk. I walked up the steps. He followed quickly behind me. I threw my towel on the floor and turned to him and asked, “what's up?”
He drew a deep breath. I could feel the vibration of each muscle in his chest while he did so. “I think you should know that tea that Monica has been serving you, contains a powerful hallucinogenic compound.” He studied my reaction carefully, while I watched the light sparkle off of his deep brown eyes. “I feel sort of strange,” I admitted. He explained that I would be experiencing life at an unusually slow pace for the next few hours and to take it easy. One of those times where you experience every moment of your life in excruciating detail.
I felt sort of angry at Monica for doing that to me, but I understood that she had her reasons for doing so. “Dayton showed back up this morning,” He informed me, switching the topic a bit. That was good to hear, as I was deeply interested in speaking to him further. It is always good to get to know the man who saved your life a bit better. Or at least that seemed like the right thing to think at the time. “He wanted to talk to you a bit. He and Laurie were chatting all day yesterday. We were all worried about you.” Clarence's observation melted the doubts creeping up.
Clarence told me that I could find him inside the lodge patching up some holes that cropped up over the past winter. Clarence also brought it to my attention that he and Ralph were working together on that project. Apparently the two of them were guilty of causing more than a few laugh riots. I could only imagine their antics. Clarence informed me that he was going to practice shooting today, and that he would be at the range if I needed to speak to him.
I headed down to the lodge and greeted the stragglers along the way. It was a lovely day, just a bit cloudy with a cool summer breeze cutting through the heat. I entered the lodge and nearly died laughing. I saw Dayton holding the ladder while Ralph nailed a large board across the angled ceiling. Spray painted on the large board were the words: “Demons Beware!!!” Dayton looked up at me and with a big grin greeted me. “John-nay!”
I couldn't help but match his broad grin with one of my own. “Hey Dayton!” I enthusiastically replied. Ralph carefully descended down the ladder. He pointed with his hammer at the sign that he used to cover some rotten boards with. “Well, what do you think?” He asked in an amused tone. “I think they should definitely beware,” I added with a bit of mock bravado. Dayton chuckled lightly. Ralph broke up the mood and said, “I am going to go pick up a few things at the shed. Why don't you two catch up a little.” I agreed and Dayton and I walked on the porch of the lodge.
Dayton immediately began with an apologetic tone, “I am so sorry we had to leave you like that back there.” I was puzzled by his sudden change in tone. “It wasn't right that you had you had to handle all of those things alone. Me and Clarence didn't want to leave you like that.” I felt completely disarmed by his point of view, but I felt that he didn't have any reason to be sorry. Any reason whatsoever. “I think we all did what was best,” I responded in earnest. He gave me another one of his big grins.
Dayton plopped down on one of the wicker chairs on the porch that ran around the perimeter of the lodge. The chair crackled a bit under his massive bulk. He gazed off into the lake and let out a deep sigh. “Things have been getting all kinds of messed up around the hood where I live. Your friend wasn't the first wacko-” I cut him off and said, “He wasn't my friend.” Dayton shrugged harmlessly. He continued, “I have seen all kinds of things going on around my place at night. Shit that would make your skin crawl.” I gulped reflexively. “Like what?” I asked out of stupid curiosity.
“Garbage trucks moving through the city at all hours. Picking up strange bags. I didn't see it for sure, but I think they were hauling bodies out of the city. People were being snatched up, people disappearing without a trace, and all kinds of other shit.” I was having a difficult time processing the information that he just told me. I joined him in gazing at the lake after he finished that statement. A moment passed where we said nothing. He broke the silence and said, “I saw a couple people in the building that would have the strangest yellow glow in their eyes for a brief moment.”
A brief moment? I got a sickening truth splashed into my face. I kind of assumed that the yellow eyed possessions were a permanent affair. Maybe it was more like a condition where a person would be used temporarily. “What happened when you saw it?” I asked. He continued staring at the lake thoughtfully before he told me. “It would happen when someone got really angry, or like demented. It's kind of hard to explain, but bad things always followed it.” My suspicions that our world was passing into a nightmare reality were steadily becoming confirmed.
“I am not trying to scare you, but I really think that the whole planet is going to hell.” Dayton said, finally looking me right in the eyes. My spine tingled and the hair on my arms stood on end. “I think you might be right.” I said with a tone of veiled fear in my voice. Dayton sighed and repeated, “I am not trying to scare you.” I tried to show no visible reaction. “But I guess I did.” His mouth pushed into a sideways frown. We both resumed our view of the tranquil lake.
