Dust cover being read by Tulika Dugar and Alan Johnson
Dust cover being read by Tulika Dugar and Alan Johnson
The opening scene takes place in a grocery store parking lot in August where there are numerous vehicles parked and many people shopping. It wasn’t a chance meeting though it was meant to be brief and appear accidental. The setting is in a small city in The Bible Belt. It was an extroidinarily hot afternoon and there were no clouds in the sky. Three people greeted each other. Two knew each other previously, the young doctor and the informant, and the third person, his wife, was being introduced, even though, she was not invited, the doctor brought her. The doctor’s young children were with other family members as it had been planned, but not his wife.
The story dialogue begins with the young wife asking the female informant,
“Who are you and who are they? You have told my husband so much bullshit?”
The informant, double agent for whomever replied, “I don’t know, but can tell you sincerely, they are not lovely, nor are they kind.” She looked down in somber explanation and then looked up into the eyes of a questioning young wife.
The double agent stared at her. She said, “I didn’t seek your husband out; they did.” She further added, “Guard your children. Never let them out of your site.” She looked away into a distant stare. She remembered her own children’s disappearances twenty-two years ago, even though, they returned changed somewhat. She would never forget the horrors and memories that would never go away. Her children told of her about men who did terrible things. Such horrific details she could not bare to listen to them. Each child taken at different times and by different people. She reflected for a moment about her own childhood and those men cloaked in black hoods and were taller than anyone she had ever seen. Their faces had been hidden from her, but she didn’t want to see. She hid under the covers on many cold nights.
The doctor’s wife said frantically, “Who the hell are you? What do you want?”
The female agent hesitated before she responded as she thought. It wasn’t that she was withholding information from the insisting young wife. No, but she was truly unsure of who she was or is to “them,” or anyone. “I am not sure of who I am, or why, or how I came into their services not by choice.”
“That makes no sense! What do you mean, you don’t know? Surely you know something? You’re lying.” The young wife was trembling as she was angry, frightened, and determined to understand the craziness of what she had just heard. “And, what do you mean when you say, guard my children? Are you threatening our family?”
The atmosphere was somber. The electricity of the moments before fell when the informant raised her hands and gently moved them slowly up and down from over head to lower than her hips settling and calming the air. The young wife at first thought the informant was aggressively posturing, but a few seconds later realized the movement was certainly not generated to cause any physical harm.
The female informant said, “I’m not here to harm you. I don’t have any hardcore answers. I’ve searched for those answers all my life. I can only tell you the little that I know. But, we must find a safe place. A place underground and protected. We’re being tracked. They must not see that we connected. And, I hope it’s not too late.”
The young doctor of medicine spoke up. He had been silent because he was as confused as his wife. “Where do you suggest that we meet?”
The informant said, “Go to your office Monday and work just like any other day.” Then, to the young wife she advised the same. “I will arrange the place and the connection.” She told the doctor, “I will call for an appointment and will tell you then the particulars, but know your office is not safe. They will track and listen to us. You can not write a note to me there in my presence or speak of this. Understand? You will not call me and I won’t call you unless it’s for an appointment.”
He nodded yes.
The informant said, “We must break this meeting up, now.”
“He said, “Will this be soon?”
“Not sure. It could be awhile. We have to leave some gaps in time. They’re tracking us even now,” she responded quietly.
The young doctor’s wife said, “This is crazy.”
The informant nodded in agreement. “I’m going now.” She gets in her old white 2005 Honda Accord and starts the engine. She opens the car window on her way out and says loudly to the young doctor’s wife, as to be heard, “It was so nice to meet you.” She drove out of the parking lot.
The female informant takes the little amount of cash from her piggy bank, she takes the money and speeds of to The closes discount store. At the back of the store she purchases three cell phones. One for the doctors wife, one for the doctor and one for herself and places them in bubble wrap in a large envelope. She puts only the doctors name on it and tightly licks the glue on the envelope and presses it tightly. She also included the instruction for the cell use to each other only. Use it as little a possible. All regular medical calls were to be by appointment and by going through the secretary, just like normal. She left the store and drove to pick up her grandson who is getting out of summer day camp. The boy is ten.
“Grandma, where are we going?” This wasn’t their usual way to go home and he had friends to play with so he was in a hurry. “Why are we going this way?”
“No worries. We have to drop off papers at the doctors office.” She pulled up in front of the front door drive. She handed the boy the envelope and said, “Tell the receptionist this is for him and open as soon as he can” So, the boy did just what he was told.
“Now can we go?” He was whiny and put out that he was delayed as he got into the car.
“What did the receptions say? Did you her that the doctor was waiting for her records and they were important?” The female informant asked her grandchild.
“They were nice and said, “Who sent it? And, I told them, you did and you said it was important.” The kid was sighing as he had things to do. “Can we go now?”
She, the female informant smiled at the boy and drove away wondering how soon the phones would be delivered and will he open the package then, and would the secretary loudly announce who brought them? She ruminated about this. Should she call him to be certain he got the?
The receptionist hand delivered the packages to the doctor when he was sitting in his office. He said, “What’s this?”
The receptionist said, “Oh Mrs. Smith, you know the kind of crazy one, said you were expecting these.” She smiled as she stood in the door waiting and watching him open the notes as she was told by the boy. “I sure hope her grandchild won’t be that looney.”
The doctor stopped opening the package and said, “That’s okay. I’ll open the latter. We have work to do.” He arose and put the envelope on his chair and scooted it under the desk. He shut the door behind him as it automatically locked. He then took the envelope and carefully opened it and looked at the two phones. Man, she’s serious about this craziness. He put them in his briefcase and the note in his shirt pocket.
Later he made his first call to the informant. He was alone in his car and he soon pulled over on the side of a dark road hidden under trees where it was safe. He called the informant.
“I thought you said this would happen later? What’s going on?” The doctor’s voice was hostile, angry, but on the other hand ~ He called her.
“Glad you called so quickly. We have work to do.” The informant was short and to the point. She walked outside away from her home just in case her voice was transmittable from inside her home. She took a leisure walk as far as she could and stopped.
“What do I have to do with your delusions?” Firmly, he insisted an answer. “Leave my family out of your charades, you understand me!”
“Trust me, your family is in danger, doctor.” The informant bounced back at him. “Your wife shouldn’t have come Sunday, so why did you bring her?”
The doctor was silent, then he said, “Because, in case you were hitting on me, then she would see and intercept this bizarre fabrication. I should have you arrested for stalking.”
“So, why don’t you?” She was silent.
“I’m not sure.” He paused, “Perhaps, I’m interested in your tales of cloak and daggers, your mysteries of God knows what.”
The informant listened, “Go on. Any more , hmm?
“You talk. Your turn. Explain your business.” The doctor fell quiet. “And, to add, the phones. A little over the top, for a twisted sorted game, I’d say.”
She didn’t hesitate. “Did you see the laboratory notes in the envelope?”
“No.” He responded.
“I put two reports from my distant past and one of a recent test. Both under the name of Mrs. Smith.”
“Okay. Tests of what kind?” He reached for the envelope on the car seat next to him and opened it.
“Lab tests with my DNA. You will notice that both tests have 1% Neanderthal and the old test has 2% unknown DNA and the latest has 3.5% unknown.” The informant waits for him to answer.
“Wait a minute let me look.” He ruffles with the pages. “You know DNA is not my expertise.”
“Just look.” She shot back quickly.
“Yes, I see, but still I don’t know what this means, I don’t do DNA.” He’s disconcerted with her for insisting him involuntarily into matters he is unlearned.
She sighed having her own frustrations with his lack of concern or understanding.
“What do these reports have to do with me? I ask you again. Stop with the vagueness.” He insisted.
She thought, “I want you to have labs drawn on me again, then on your self.”
“What? That’s absurd. Why should I carry on with your delusional mystery?” He continued to look at the lab reports and her DNA. He recognized the lab values were not matching and are increasing and thought, why? “Why do I have to test mine? Why am I relevant to your search?”
“I will be in this week and you will draw labs on me under the name of Mrs. Smith, right?” She restated her request.
“Yes, come into the office Wednesday noon. No one but the staff will be around. I’ll just tell them it’s for labs that had to be drawn at noon. But, mine… not sure.” He gave clear instructions to the informant and took control of her craziness.
“Okay, Wednesday at noon, I’ll be there, but if my labs are remarkable then you will draw yours?” She took control again.
“Okay. Deal. But, what does your DNA have to do with mine? We’re not related.” He hesitated, “Are we?”
“Well, yes, in away we are.” She said, “I’ll see you Wednesday.”
They hung up and she walked back to her house. It started to thunder. Rain was coming soon.
He was busy the early part of the week. The young doctor didn’t have time to think about the strange phone cal except the last words the crazy Mrs. Smith, the odd informant said, “Well, yes, in away we are.” And, this bothered him. These words got under his skin. What exactly did she mean?
“Hello Mrs. Smith.” The young doctor unlocked the door to the clinic. “Come on back.”
The informant Mrs. Smith was directed to the phlebotomy room. “Our phlebotomist is on her lunch break so if you’ll allow me to do it, then I’ll have it done in no time.” He was friendly and spoke loudly so the staff could hear him and think nothing about a noon lab draw. After all, the doors were shut at exactly noon. He had all the vials, the tourniquet, the needles and the centrifuge ready. “May I get you a coke or coffee?”
“A coke would be good. Thank you,” She responded.
“Before you drink the coke,” after he handed it to her, “Let me swab your mouth for DNA. We’ll do it every way we can to get comparisons. Okay?”
“Yes, that’s fine.” She seemed glum and was quiet, but decided chit chat would be best in case she was tracked into his office and was being listened to. “How has your week been?”
The doctor, nodded his head, “Here make a fist” as he had placed the tourniquet on her upper arm, “The week has been quite unusual. The office has been busy as all get out.”
She smiled. “Unusual?”
“Oh, nothing too crazy.” He chuckled under his breath.
“I see sarcasm, doctor.” She sighed. “I hope everything is back to your normal routine?”
“Absolutely. Things couldn’t be better.” He cut it short. He was beginning to sweat. He blew a vein. “Dam-it. I have to use the other arm.”
“Dam-it? Do you always talk this way around clients?” She acted upset. “Calm down. I don’t have all day. I have to go back to work soon.”
He shut up and put the tourniquet tightly on the left arm. “That should do it.” He was successful and unsnapped the cord. “There you go. Finished. The labs will be sent out after lunch.” He escorted her to the door and opened for her. “I’ll call you with the results, Mrs. Smith.”
“Make me copies. I will pick them up.” She turned quickly not to show any familiar behavior in case they were being watched. Off she went in the old white Honda.
The doctor walked into the office and sat down at the computer. He added a drug screen and a BAC to the labs. This way he would no if the woman was drunk, on drugs and her DNA which he was now curious of.
He wanted to ask Mrs. Smith for her real name, but thought about the fact that having too much information was irrelevant and would involve him even farther than he wanted. Nope, he answered his curiosity.
Two weeks passed by and he had not thought about the labs or Mrs. Smith. After all, he was a busy doctor with many patients and his wife surely would have him involved in more social activities than he wanted. So, the thoughts of those two dilemmas were simply dismissed.
Mrs. Smith, the female informant, laid low and never once called him on the cell phones or contacted his office. However, she ruminated about the findings and wondered why he had not contacted her about the results. She bit her nails and chewed them off, but she was silently waiting.
Another Wednesday two point five days later:
The fax machine was shooting out labs as it usually did at any doctors office. The lab tech took them off the machine and delivered the results to the prospective doctors. She put values into the young doctors box on the outside of his door where he would see them and read them. He did just that and noticed in the pile of fifteen or more pages the name Mrs. Smith. She had several of the fifteen pages. He closed the door behind him and sat to look them over. The first one was the drug screen. It was negative of any substance then he looked at the BAC. No alcohol present in her blood system. “Damn she’s clean a a whistle.” He flipped through to the DNA results. And sure enough the swab of the oral mucosa results were conclusive to the last results she had. 3.5% Unknown and 1% Neanderthal, he whispered to hime self. He didn’t know any DNA specialists, he didn’t know what this meant.
“Amy,” he yelled.
“Yes, doctor.” Amy poked into his office.
“Find a local DNA or Genetic engineer, doctor or someone I can send a DNA consult out to.” The doctor ordered right now and Amy got right on it…
She called around and found a Doctor not far away. She wrote his number and address down and took it into the young doctor.
He placed a call and was able to get through to the doctor when he identified himself as a doctor.
“Doctor DNA, this is the young doctor, and I wanted to ask about normal and abnormal DNA percentages. Could you tell me if 3.5% is unusual in oral mucosa for a normal human level?
Could you tell me where I can look such information up? A reference perhaps?” The young doctor asked collegiately.
The elder doctor replied after he cleared his throat, “You say 3.5% doctor?”
“Yes, that’s right, 3.5%.” The young doctor clarified.
“That can’t be right. test again. The lab is wrong. Can’t be.” And he was certain in the tone of his voice, the young doctor was mistaken.
“No, this is the second recent result. They are the same from two different labs.” There was a silence between the two men and the fund doctor said, “Well, I’ve taken up enough of your time. Thank you, anyway.”
“Yes, he added those two results are wrong. Your patient would not be human, sir. Well, good day, call again if you need me.” The elder doctor thought the question was odd and the response that two different tests from two different labs verified the same 3.5% values and this was more than interesting, indeed. He wished he had gotten the young doctors number, but he didn’t. He asked his secretary, but she had gone for the day, as usual.
The young doctor hung up and wished he hadn’t called the consulted doctor. But, he waited for the staff to leave saying good bye then he attempted to draw his own labs as he promised. Finally after stabbing himself three times was able to get them, four vials, in an upside down manner on the arm. He put them in the refrigerator and with a label the lab staff told him, after an inquiring call, for a miscellaneous practice draw. No charges, no questions, just a practice. He made two copies for the informant as he promised. He put them in the brief case, and sped off to the tree area on the side of the road where he could call her. Meanwhile, his wife called and asked why he was late?
“You forgot we had a diner party tonight? You’re late.” She demanded that he answer and she demonstrated her anger of missing such an event.
“Sorry, working late and I’ll be thirty more minutes. Go on without me.” He was sweet to her placating her for now.
He pulled the car over under the trees off the side of the road. There was no one around. He made his call on the cell phone the female informant, Mrs. Smith provided.
The phone rang several times. He did not leave a message. The messages had not been set up. Mrs. Smith thought that would be best, no messages to be traced. He began to drive home and when he arrived the house was empty. His children were staying with his inlays for the night. He didn’t feel like attending a dinner party so instead he poured a Jack on the rocks. He sat in a comfortable slouchy chair in the dark and thought of what the labs meant to him. What did Mrs. Smith mean when she said they are related?
His private cell from Mrs. Smith rang. It was her. He answered quietly. “Hello.”
“I’ve been waiting for you to call, well? Any results?” She jumped into the labs without any surface conversation.
“Yes, I have them. And, your two copies.” He shot back at her.
“Well, what do they say? Did you make me copies?” She was eager to hear the results that she was certain concrete as she thought.
“They are conclusive to your other labs. 3.5% unknown in oral mucosa.” He paused.
“I want the copies. Where can I meet you?” She hurried not wanting to miss the results or to allow time to prevent her from getting them.
“Not tonight. I’m too tired. Come to the secretaries in the morning. They will be there.” He again took control as that was his nature.
“No, not at your office. Bump into me tomorrow at the store just like in August at Mid-day. We can greet and pass the envelope like everything is normal.” She was in control.
“Okay, but meet me at 2pm. I have meetings until then. Oh, my wife has come home. Got to go.” He hung up the cell and put it in the brief case.
“Hello honey. Why didn’t you come. Everyone waited for you.” She was tall and red headed like Maureen O’ Hara and fiesta like her, as well.
“Too busy. I just got home.” He swirled the bourbon in the glass.
“Well, you should have called to let us know to eat without you. Is that bourbon? Are you drinking alone in the dark? That bad, huh?”She could interrogate with her lean body and red hair better than an FBI agent. “What could be so imperative to a family care doctor?”
He rolled his eyes at her sarcastic put-down of being only, in his mind, a family care doctor? Geez, what does a man have to do to get recognition and respect? Damn her.
Early the next day he got a call on the private cell. He was on his way to work and alone driving in the rain.
The informant female says, “It’s not a good idea to meet you at 2pm. Is there any way you could meet me now? Do you have the labs reports with you?”
“I have them with me. I’m close to work and have only a few extra minutes. Where?” He responded quickly.
“Park your car at the grocery and walk to the post office. Go through their backdoor. I’ll walk there and be there in ten minuets.” She hung up.
He was early that morning with thirty minutes to spare. So, this plan of hers would work. Driving the car to the grocery and parking it he then got out and walked as if he were going into the store, but he walked the sidewalk to the post office where the most office boxes were and walked out the back door. She was standing there in the rain.
“Well, come inside, out of the rain.” He insisted.
“Just let me have the results.” She put her hand out and he gave her the labs reports.
“If you have any questions call me later. I gotta go,” he said. There were people starting to come in and he felt unusually uncomfortable to the beautiful grandmother informant, Mrs. Smith. “What’s your real name by the way?”
She didn’t smile. “It’s not a game doctor. This is not a flirtatious meeting or coincidental rendezvous, understand?”
The young doctor had to check his emotions. She was right, he was feeling like this was a scandalous rendezvous and he was rather enjoying himself. He forgot this was a bazaar story about wild DNA and a weird woman. The mysterious excitement was taking him into a fantasy of types.
“You’ll need to watch your pheromones, doctor. This is serious. By the way, did you draw your labs?” She raised a doubting eyebrow at him.
“Yes, yes I did.” He retorted. People were coming into the post office. It was 8:05am. “I got to go. Late now. When my labs come in, I’ll call you.” He left in the rain from the front door and followed his path to the store and then his car. As far as he knew, no one saw him. He felt sneaky and ashamed for feeling flirtatious, for enjoying a life of increased adrenalin. He never felt that way before…
The young doctor went about his work and social functions and left the flirtatious misinterpretations behind. After all, Mrs. Smith was a grandmother and not a normal stereotypical woman who would be considered as a rendezvous for a primary care physician. So, he carried on as usual.
The grandmother informant, Mrs. Smith was about the business as usual, too. Only hers were menial and mundane while in the office. However, after 5pm, it was the usual adrenalin rush she had experienced since she was a child. Once in a while they would visit her at night. The clock usually said 3am or close. They were not consistently on time, but they gave a few minutes on either side of 3. However, she was older now and their visitation numbers and times to visit were fewer, thank God. She did believe in God or a supreme power. She had to believe because something always saved her from their grip.
It was for the reason of monetary purpose that the informant did astrological forecast for extra money and for the fact she loved astrology. She finished a woman’s chart who lived in Oregon and noticed intently that this woman had similar coordinates as herself. It was later in central time as Oregon so she called the woman for clarification. The phone rang and the woman picked up.
“Hello,” she said.
“Yes, hello,” the informant had a Southern drawl from being and living in The Bible Belt for so long. “This is Lottie the astrologer and I need to clarify your information, is now a good time?”
“Oh yes! Now is great.” The woman answered.
There are unusual themes in your astrological readings and I need to verify your birthdate and time of birth Is it 1952? And, were you born at 7:58Am in Portland, Oregon?” Lottie asked.
“Yes, that is correct.” The woman replied.
“Okay, good. So, I want to explain that in 1952, October 10th, The Constellation Ophiochus was arising in the Eastern sky. This is rare to occur and we know the zodiac has 12 houses, but in your case 13… Lottie waits for a response.
“Very insightful,” the woman replies. “Do go into more of this. I’ve never heard of a 13th house in The Zodiac.”
“Sagittarius is in the twelfth house and is also your ascendant and it is also sitting near the constellation Ophiochus or Asclepius . This would say you are a strong believer in a force much greater than most other men. Your Chiron is also near the ascendant and close to the constellation Asclepius and would indicate you are a healer. Are you a health employee?”
“Yes. I am a nurse.” The woman proudly answered.
“That would explain Ophiochus/Asclepius in your chart on the horizon at the time of your birth,” Lottie explained.
“I’m not aware of that name or custom.” The nurse responded.
“I’ll send it as a text. Look it up. The myth goes like this. The constellation on the horizon at the time of your birth would be in the eastern sky. Asclepius was then coming up or arisen. You could then, identify with the constellation as your birth home if you thought that we are all star children and connected spiritually. It is reported that Ophiochus/Asclepius is your DNA home or where your descendants came. You are from that Constellation and nearest star to you at the time of birth would be the home of the star that your family came. That is where your spirit came from, if you believed that’s a possibility and wanted to know more, there are references to this information.”
The woman closed down. She was somewhat shocked and refuting the ideas. “Oh, that’s silliness,” she responded and laughed. “That’s not feasible. No, can’t go there. I’m Christian and star children and aliens are not anything that I take any part of. Astrology is just fun. That’s why I did this reading with you. Can’t do the other.”
Lottie shut down, also. “Well, if you need me for future reading please contact me. You now have my number. She realized that she wasn’t going there and wasn’t interested. Perhaps frightened by the idea that we came from alien life forms.
“Well, good night Lottie,” she said her goodbyes.
“Goodnight.” And, Lottie hung up disappointed because the woman was clueless. She saw no reason to forward the woman any further any information.
Lottie, Mrs. Smith or the female informant sat on the couch thinking about the phone call with the woman in Portland. Recollecting their conversation it provoked dismay and anger because the woman said that her astrological read was indeed, “A joke between Christian friends who chose the same birthday and decided together to do a test. They would send the same birth information to three of four astrologers to see if they all came up with the same natal horoscope.”
Lottie had explained to the woman, “I don’t use computer generated charts and interpretations. My interpretations are original and I personally sift through the data the information provided.”
This didn’t impress the woman in Portland. The woman was certain that all of the reports were simply conjured from “a demon.”
Lottie was disappointed, but she went on and gave it any more thoughts.
The thunder came again. Lottie lost power in her home. She lit candles. It was soon to be her birthday. She too was from Asclepius. It was on the eastern horizon at the time of her birth.
She thought about the doctor and his birthday. “Could his birthday say the same. How could I get his birth information without seeming bizarre? After all, the doctor was living in The Bible Belt and he may hold the same belief system as the woman in Portland? Well, he already thinks I’m bizarre enough. It can’t hurt anymore to ask.”
The thunder boomed overhead. It shook the house. I hate nights like this.
Lottie hated nights like this one because they, whomever they are, would sometimes pay her a visit and since she was on a quest to find information and other human victims were more than likely angry with her. For these reasons she feared they would come, Lottie expected them soon, possibly tonight. There was no absolute telling about their arrival except it would be between 2 and 3AM.
Lotto’s adrenalin was high. She felt it rising. She had to work in the morning and knew with her norepinephrine this high, sleep would be hard to fall into. She took a Xanax and used the dose by a half.
She marveled at the coincidence of having an appointment with the young doctor. The previous doctor moved out of town and for this reason she was absorbed into the new young doctors patient list. The first appointment two years prior she had with him was normal, and without any odd or strange feelings. He was a doctor and there was no signs or odd occurrences that pointed to any connections with him. Lottie thought about the first time she had an eyebrow raising experience with him.
It was when she had her second appointment to see him. He neared her to listen to her chest, suddenly a vibrational shock happened, they both felt and jumped. They blamed it on static electricity. However, Lottie saw it differently, but she drew no conclusions or conjured anything from her imagination. But he had something else that captivated her. His eyes. They were blue and sometimes green and the pupils changed rapidly. The way he glanced at her for a split second, his pupils and her own met. It was hard to explain to a normal person. It was not flirtatious or romantic by any means. No, it was like two railcars latching together conjoining to become one. Clink. She felt it. They matched. Another piece of the puzzle had been found. Lottie was certain that the young doctor was the one. Could his birth have the same coordinates as hers and since he was a doctor would certainly be interesting to investigate. If he was also born with Ophiochus on the horizon than this could only mean that he is the link, the one person who would help her. After all, he would be helping himself and his children. Asclepius would be his origins. The Serpent Bearer, the healer.
She knew she was imaginative and had to check on occasion, if things were real, or psychotic. Not once had she been diagnosed with psychosis, but when psychologist and doctors examined her, they simply said, “It’s in your imagination. You’re quite creative, aren’t you?”
She had to agree with them on the creative description. That is a fact. She was imaginative, but high levels of norepinephrine could usher epinephrine synergistically. Her mind was going that night, all of the what if’s, could be this or that, and so forth, had her in a whirlwind. The Xanax Thank God was kicking in… Her mind began to slow down and she went to her bedroom, took her clothes off, laid in bed and drifted off to the land of no thoughts or adrenalin. She loved that place.
The thundered rolled all night. Though it was now distant, it still reverberated the small house.
Lottie slept soundly, snoring in and out with the cool breeze of October. Her windows had opened and she was not startled, nor moved. Sleeping as soundly as one could, she had no cares. No lights were on and only shadows from the lightening and trees danced on her walls. This never frightened Lottie as she was use to terrifying images and these were natural and she hadn’t a care about how they played out violent themes on her walls or had ghost faces appearing in the mirages of shadows. The images carried on as she slept undisturbed.
Standing tall, hidden in the corner an entity stood, watching her. No facial expressions it had and time was of no concern by the looks of the thing. Its finger arose from its side cloaked in a black robe and it pointed at the clock. Time stopped then as she slept.
Bright lights everywhere. Not Earthly, by any means, they illuminated the cold metallic room, as she laid on a slate slab. Cold with vapor rising, humidifying the room, Lottie opened her eyes. She knew this place all too well, it was a place of torture and a place of hell. She screamed, “NO!” Paralyzed without restraints, as usual, and her mouth muzzled by invisible sources, her screams were not heard by anyone or anything. She hoped God heard her and would send angels to free her. Eyes were wide open, breathing in and out through her nose, she looked around as far as her peripheral vision could go, she felt movement, and from ten feet or more she saw shadows.
This time there were no instruments used on her body, no sounds that broke her ear drums, there was filling the space of tall figures of whom she saw no faces. They surrounded the slate slab where she laid, and permeated her body with mental messages. Threatening her to stop her investigations, to stop visits with the doctor. They showed her the room next to her as the walls separating vanished and in the next room were two children. The children of the doctors, lay.
Silence is golden it’s been said.
When God talks to you, the body and mind come into one unit of sheer joy during the synchronization of the two separate parts of a person. Some have called this meshing of energies, “Goose bumps.” Anyway we see or experience God’s communication, it is an awe inspiring moment and during that moment life seems to stop. Life matters no more because the coming together or the meeting of our minds to God’s is beyond words, expressions or explanation. When it occurs, time dissipates and what is or remains, is a moment of pure clarity with The Mind and thoughts of Gods.
So weirdly, at age 62, I dreamed, last night that I was pregnant. I felt terrified because, I knew, after experiencing child labor two times in my earlier years, I wasn’t physically able to birth this child that I was carrying. I looked down at my belly. It was huge! The skin around my umbilicus was tight and round. It was a 9 month pregnancy round. I looked up at God who said nothing, but He continued to work like a grand old surgeon does. And then, my first birth pang began. Horrified and vulnerable to His plans, I had no choice, but to surrender. God let them start. The thoughts of not only did I realize that I couldn’t physically give birth at 62, but the mental and emotional aspect for parenthood and raising another child was beyond my capabilities. The energy needed was greater than my reserves. I whispered back to God and said, “Please, no, I can’t do this.”
It, the birthing process, began anyway. God did not stop this birth. He didn’t speak to me, nor have eye contact. His internal presence and His will was understood by a fearce impression of I know that I know and there are or were no if this, and that, nor any whining persuasions using the words, but God.The horror of it all was before me and I knew what I had to endure His plan no matter what. I said, then, Knock me out! And the next thing I saw was an epidural needle. They placed it in my back after they rolled me to the side. I fell deeply asleep.
I awakened this morning at 0400, as I usually do, and remembered nothing, but that I felt happy. By the time 0600 came the memories of this dream began to creep back. I noticed my abdomen is unusual feeling. It is at this time, I realized that God whispered something to me in the night hours. Something occurred. I must wait, listen and heed as His whispers are revealed.
I suspect He has told me, that no matter how big the circumstance appears, I will go through it and even if I do not understand all things, it must happen. For our ways are not His. Trusting Him is the only way. There is no negotiation, no complaining, no pouting, no refusal at this stage of the game of life.
While dreaming in the midst of a stormy night, booming lights from the electrical bolts slashed dashing across the walls of my bedroom. I hid my eyes from the frightening waring images made from the shadows.
Miserably, I disdained my life and I, thankfully, welcomed sleep. I hated everything that God gave me and the thunderstorm came to punish me. I was certain that His wrath deliberately chastised me. Surely the grim reaper stood close to my bed. I felt his ominousness cold breath. The rumbling thunder and magnetic energy surrounding my lying body, ushered me into a sleeping journey back into time..
When sound asleep, suddenly, I heard in the distance ~ “the sounds of war?” Bombs and the shaking of the tin shelter where I hid crammed with others, whom I didn’t know. Oddly, they knew me, and there we hid tightly pressed together.
“I must have travelled back in time?” I thought.
They spoke in a foreign language. It was Polish. Everything was gray there, including their battle worn faces. The wrinkles bore sad lines of desperation. Their bodies were almost skeletons. And, I wanted to run, but when I started to leap, they held me.
Then, screaming, “no! Let go of me! Please!” I escaped only to see armed men coming my way! I caught my breath. There, in the dark of the night I saw a sign which hung swaying in the freezing rain and blustering wind. The metal sign creaked “Warszawa, 1943.” I knew where I was… The horrors of death were everywhere. Bleakness and freezing weather, trapped innocent victims.
The enemy soldiers started to grab me, but ~
I prayed that God takes me somewhere else other than WWII, Poland.
So, He granted my wish.
Rolling in the dirt, in fear of The Nazi’s, I was thence transported somewhere else in times past. Here the air was humid and the smell of death and blood permeated everywhere. Flies, fleas and moans came from dying men were everywhere.
I heard, “help me. Please, won’t you help?”
A man lay there in the brush. He was in gray and I was in blue. By his side a rebel flag was standing next to his bloody broken body.
“Where are we?” I asked.
“You don’t know?” He puzzled at my daze. “Mississippi.” He looked at me as if I was mad and he had disdain on his face, even though he was dying.
So, I reached out to lift him away from the fighting as all good men do. It was then, that I noticed my skin was dark. I was a large Negro man. I, aghast, thought, I’m in trouble now. Here I am, “a colored man,” centered on a battlefield in The Civil War. They will kill me. I will die. Now, more panicked than ever, I surrendered to my fear. How then, my old life seemed kind and benign in comparison to Warsaw and Mississippi.
I petitioned God’s help. “Grant me my own life, once again.” Sobbing from the deepest part of my being, concluded that he did not grant my request.
Then He transported me, again. I found myself sitting on a piano bar singing loudly. There was a sign hanging across the wall of the smoke filled bar. It swayed back and forth as the room seemed to move erratically. The sign said, “Welcome Molly Brown.” The crowd applauded and I smiled, warningly. The spotlights were in my eyes. A second passed. I noticed the calendar displayed on the wall said, “4.15.1912.” Gasping. “I’m on the Titanic.The night it sinks.” I whispered with dread. I knew, soon these lives and Molly Browns would be recorded in history. They were unaware and I was petrified. The iceberg floats before us. It will sink this ship and most of the applauders will soon die. Mortified of knowing the fate, I froze.
If I could change the course of history in Warsaw, the battlefield in The South, and on The Titanic, I would. If there wasn’t any goodness within me, then my travels changed me. All three places taught lessons: thankfulness, empathy and compassion. “God, I know, I understand. I’ve been selfish and unappreciative of the mundane circumstances in my “pathetic” life. I’ve been blessed all along and so ignorant.
With the final confession, I awakened in my own skin. It was my room and correct time…
My worldly travels were enlightening and my lesson? i will not murmur, grumble nor whine ever again.
A diffusion of The Moon’s beams permeated my sleeping room.
It surrounded my shades and light cast brilliant energy awakening me.
Three in the morning, but I arise and stumble to the invitation to come and see.
Up from slumbering within my warm covers, to the coffee maker, oh, just a cup.
Leaving from inside, and going out, the moon’s rays cover the sky.
The stars now hidden, upstaged by The Moon, it was simply ~
The Moon “simply” lucidly wanted to play.
Oh, how lovely you are …
Now, may I go back to sleep?
Last night I dreamt a dream of someone I know very well. The name I will with hold.
The person visits me while sleeping. He shares his disappointments in his life’s journey. I remember listening for a long time to his challenges, his failures, his obstacles he never overcame.
I wasn’t sure what his expectations of me were or are, but in some way, I let him down. He is a dependent soul and expects women to carry him through life emotionally and financially to the point of draining the helping soul. He verbalized his frustrations regarding me. How I misunderstood his life and all the dynamics that simply are and there will be no changing, what is.
I never speak. But, I listen. I felt sorry for him. Sorry that he never achieved the lessons of fathering or the lesson of being a gentle man.
After listening to all his sadnesses, he turns and walks away. Watching him walk with a slight limp leaning to the right and see him dressed from the back. He is wearing an old man cotton shirt that is neatly tucked into his pants that has a brown leather belt. He walks down a lonely road by himself. He disappears while walking.
I looked at the road that he walked. It then, looked like an oil painting. He was gone and just a painting of the old country road in oils laid on the frame.