“I understand,” she said, letting the concept sink in. “It all started a few months ago, when I dreamed that my fiancé, Ryan, was…making love to me.” She swallowed hard, then went on. “Ryan was killed in a car accident nearly two years ago. It was…it was a tough time for me.” She bit her lip. “I’ve thought about him a lot since then, even had dreams – but they were always clouded with sorrow.” He nodded, his silence encouraging her to continue. “Until that dream…the love-making dream… That was the first time I’d remembered him with joy. Pleasure, actually.” She could hear the light scratching of his pen on his notepad as he jotted down notes.
“The dreams continued, each time seeming more intense, more real. I don’t know at what point things changed, but I started feeling as if they were happening while I…was awake. And, more disturbingly, I began to feel that I wasn’t dreaming of Ryan…that I was with a completely different man.” She swallowed, fighting back the sense of guilt…the feeling that she’d betrayed Ryan’s memory. “Finally, it reached a point where not only was I completely awake during the experience, but I communicated with him…with my…my lover. He spoke to me – as clearly as you and I are speaking now – told me things about himself that made no sense. That he’d come from a realm of the undead, and he was visiting me because I am his…salvation. He says I can save his soul from damnation.”
She felt as if she was babbling but didn’t want the tide to stop – if she could get it out now, it might make things easier.
“My friend, Roseanne, is obviously worried about me. In fact, when I showed her…the marks he’d left,” she noticed the doctor’s brows raise slightly but continued, “she was convinced I’ve been the victim of a stalker. Someone who has gained access to my home and has been molesting me, maybe drugging me so that I think I’m dreaming.”
“And do you believe that to be true?” Dr. Von Ludwig asked, his tone studiously neutral.
“I don’t know what to believe, Doctor!” Her voice was a little tortured. “When they were just dreams, I’ll admit, I really enjoyed them. The sensations were so intense. And I…I haven’t had pleasure since...” her voice trailed off. “Since Ryan died,” she whispered. “I’m just so confused by it all. I don’t just imagine being touched by him. I can smell him…taste him…” She fought the urge to cover her burning cheeks with her hands. When she didn’t continue, he responded.
“A dream can be a very tactile experience, Becky. Not everyone realizes that, but in many instances, the dreamer may experience all the sensations they would associate with a waking situation. This is because the information is stored in your brain and can be accessed by the subconscious,” he explained, his expression earnest.
“Yes, that makes sense,” Becky said. “There would often be times when I could feel his weight on me so heavily that I felt like I couldn’t move, like I was being held down.”
Dr. Von Ludwig nodded again. “This, too, is a very common experience – sleep paralysis has been described by dreamers for centuries. It was described by many women – and men – as part of highly sexual dreams, which were often interpreted to be visitations by demonic presences who took advantage of them in their sleep. This is actually how the myth of the incubus or succubus was born.” Her eyes widened as he used the words – words Xander had used, but he continued.
“Actually, we all reach a level of sleep in which we may lose control of our bodies. Sometimes this leaves us with the sense of being paralyzed, or possibly ‘pinned down’ upon waking. As for the sense of being awake during your dream, this is also quite common. As your mind drifts towards a state of consciousness, you may well be experiencing ‘lucid dreaming’. Consider it a combination of sleep and wakefulness in which the boundaries of reality and dreaming become blurred.”
“I can see how that might have been happening to me,” said Becky, thoughtfully. “Although I don’t understand how I could have been left with marks on my body.”
“Rebecca, have you considered that you may have been…touching yourself?” he asked gently.
She blinked and swallowed hard, fighting back a wave of mortification. The words she’d been allowing to bubble out, now dried up completely.
“It’s a perfectly natural human behavior, Rebecca,” he was quick to add, “and certainly nothing to be ashamed of. Some might even consider it to be a form of self-comfort – especially after all that you’ve been through.”
“So, you’re saying that my dreams feel real because my brain wants to make sense of Ryan’s death and my need for comfort?” she asked.
“That could be one explanation,” he said. “It would be impossible for me to try to interpret what you’re going through without spending a lot more time hearing your story. I’m simply trying to reassure you that you’re not experiencing anything that hasn’t been experienced before by people who turned out to be perfectly sane.” He winked. “In any event, don’t overlook the possibility that you may simply be working through overwhelming emotions in a normal manner. That there isn’t actually a man in your life right now.”
Rebecca rubbed her forehead and then stared back up at him. Was he right? Was all of this a figment of her imagination? Was she inventing this ‘dream lover’ to fill the emptiness left by Ryan? Maybe she really did need help getting rid of the dreams.
Suddenly, a display cabinet holding several ceremonial daggers toppled forward and smashed to the floor with a crash that had them both leaping from their seats.
‘No!’ A sharp voice rang through her mind, and she bit back a little shriek.
“Good lord!” he exclaimed. She stood beside the sofa, a hand clasped over her mouth. “My sincere apologies, Rebecca, I can’t imagine how that happened.” He headed towards the toppled cabinet, gingerly avoiding shards of glass.
‘Tell him he’s wrong,’ the voice continued. Becky blinked in confusion, still focused on the doctor, who was carefully picking items out from the wreckage.
“Xander?” she whispered. Von Ludwig glanced up.
“Excuse me?” he asked.
‘Tell him I am real! You know I’m real!’ the voice demanded, seeming to echo somewhere in the depths of her mind.
“He’s real,” she said, voice still a whisper. “He told me to tell you he’s real.”
“You’re speaking to him now?” The doctor’s expression had morphed to one of grave concern. Rebecca nodded, yes. “Do you…hear him talking to you often?” he asked cautiously, making his way back to his seat and reaching for his notepad.
“But your cabinet—” she began, but he stopped her.
“It’s nothing. A maintenance issue, I’m sure. I’ll have it attended to. I apologize for the disruption,” the doctor soothed. “Tell me, do you often hear voices like this?”
“No,” she admitted. “Just his…and this is the first time it’s happened while I was talking to someone else.”
“I see,” he tutted, scribbling furiously on his pad, then pausing and looking at her intently. “Becky, I don’t want to cause you concern, but I think it might be useful for us to consider more options. I’d like to rule out the possibility of an underlying chemical imbalance. Would you be amenable to going through testing to rule those out?” he asked.
“Tests? For what?” Becky felt alarmed.
“Well…” he chose his words with care, “some conditions, such as schizophrenia, can present with hallucinations – auditory and visual.”
‘No! He’s wrong!’ The voice again. This time with an edge of rage. Suddenly, a blade flew from the shattered cabinet, pegging into the arm of the chair the doctor was seated in. The man shot to his feet again, his face pale.
“What the…!” His voice was colored with shock, eyes wide with fear. “How…?”
Becky paused, tilted her head to the side slightly, and then turned to look at him. “He says…” She hesitated as if trying to get her words right. “He says you bought that blade at an auction in Brussels – you believed it to be an ancient Scythian short
sword from the 6th Century BC.” She stopped again, then faltered before repeating the next words. “It’s a replica. A good one – it was created by a blacksmith in the late 13th Century AD. It was created for a man who, like you, had a taste for unusual weaponry.”
He stared at her, his mouth moving, but no words emerged. He stared down at the rough iron blade buried in the chair. Reached out to touch it, then withdrew his hand.
“How…?” he asked again, then lapsed back into silence.
She shrugged. “He told me. Xander.”
“Xander? Is he…?”
She nodded.
“He’s here now?” his voice quavered, and he glanced around the room.
“I’ve come to suspect that he’s here always,” she replied, a little cryptically, and he frowned. “He seems to be everywhere all the time,” she carried on. “Whenever I’ve thought of him, he’s been there. Although this is the first time he’s done something to make someone else aware of him.”
“This is most…most irregular, Rebecca,” Von Ludwig struggled to maintain his sense of dignity, but the exposed blade that had so narrowly missed his arm clearly had him shaken. “Is he…dangerous?”
Rebecca paused to consider the question. “I don’t know…I’ve never thought about it,” she replied thoughtfully.
‘Only to those who mean you harm.’ The words swirled around her head. She raised clear eyes to the therapist.
“He’ll hurt those who threaten me,” she answered.
“Well then, I will do everything in my power to ensure that you never appear in danger in my suite,” responded the doctor. He was suddenly warming to this case. “Rebecca, I do hope that you will be willing to return for further consultations. I have a feeling that yours is going to be a fascinating journey.”
She smiled and reached for her purse. “I’ll give it some thought, Dr. Von Ludwig. And please send me the bill for the damage…” She glanced over at the glass strewn across his rug.
“I wouldn’t hear of it, young lady! I consider it a small price to pay for the most exciting moment I’ve had in this room in my entire career,” he chuckled.
She smiled and headed towards the door, turning for one last question before she left.
“So, I’m not imagining things then?”
“Becky, I can’t tell you exactly what is happening in your world right now, but I can say with certainty that you are not imagining things. Unless we both are.” He reached for her hand and clasped it warmly between both of his own before she left. “Do come back, dear.”
She smiled and walked out the door.
‘If I’m going mad, then the doctor’s sharing the trip with me,’ she told herself as she left, feeling slightly less unsettled than she had in weeks.
Chapter Fourteen
After a day that she still could barely remember getting through, Becky left the office. She made a stop at the veterinary surgery to deliver more kitten homing posters, then headed for the grocery store to stock up on some basic food items. The appointment with Von Ludwig had left her deep in thought. She wandered up and down aisles at the store, randomly reaching for items on shelves and praying like hell that when she got home, she’d unpack actual food.
The drive to her apartment was equally fuzzy. She angled her car into the parking lot and popped the trunk, shoving the strap of her purse further over her shoulder so it wouldn’t slip down while she lugged armloads of shopping bags up the stairs. She reached for two, then a third, then shrugged as much as her heavy purse would allow and grabbed a fourth. The three flights of stairs were steep, and she didn’t feel like umpteen trips to get all her purchases up to her apartment.
Halfway up the first flight, she regretted her decision as one of the bags began to slip.
“Damn damn damn damn!” she cursed as the bag slipped completely free and landed on the step above her foot. A flurry of tins tumbled out and bounced down the stairs.
“Crap!” she muttered, resisting the urge to drop everything and make a grab for them. She knew she’d just end up having to scramble for all the rest of her groceries as they tumbled down behind the tins.
“When will I learn not to do that to myself?” she mumbled, ruefully, pushing a stray lock of hair from her face as she reached for the bag and began repacking the tins.
“Do what, sweetie?” a voice snapped her from her self-criticism. Her neighbor from flat 302 had popped his head around the top of the stairs at the commotion. “Oh lordy, domestic avalanche,” he chuckled, watching her herding cans. “Need a hand?”
“Would you mind, Ollie?” she asked. “I’ve had the longest day, and I’m completely bushed. The thought of dragging another load of bags up three flights of stairs makes me want to sit down and sleep right here!”
“With pleasure, darling,” he grinned, “it’s probably as close as I’m going to get to a cardio session today. God knows I can’t afford to pick up another pound.”
“Oh, Ollie, that’s such nonsense!” Becky laughed, glancing appreciatively at his spare frame. “You haven’t carried an extra gram of fat since you were a bouncing baby boy!”
“Bite your tongue, girlfriend!” he scolded her, flexing a beefy bicep around one of her bags. “It’s taken ten years of therapy to help me get over those awful years. The blue rompers, the bad hair, the sailor suits…” He rolled his eyes in mock horror, then added, “actually, I could probably make good use of a sailor suit now.” He winked, then went on. “Or maybe some of that tasty gladiator gear your new guy seems to favor.” He licked his lips and nudged her gently.
Becky choked and dropped a bag. She heard a sickening crunch as several eggs smashed in the bag.
“Good grief, girl! What’s up with you today?” Ollie asked sharply, staring at her.
“No…no, I…” she stuttered. “Um…gladiator?”
“Yeah, babe,” he answered. “You don’t think I hadn’t noticed that delicious chunk of man-heaven you’ve been ‘entertaining’ in your spare time, do you?” He watched as she frowned at her bag of smashed eggs in dismay. “Leave it, sweetie, we’ll come back with a mop,” he urged, continuing his path to her front door and waiting for her to arrive with the key. She prayed he’d change the subject, but no such luck.
“So, you gonna spill the beans?” He quirked a flawless eyebrow.
“Beans?” she stalled. Her mind scrambled as she put down her surviving groceries and fumbled the key in the lock.
“Don’t play dumb, darling, I live next door, and these walls are thin!”
“Ollie!” Becky shrieked and covered her face with her hands.
“Ollie what?” he laughed. “Don’t deny it – you’re getting yourself some. And from what I’ve seen – and heard – it’s a pretty fabulous ‘some’.”
“Ollie, no! It’s not like that…he’s not like that!” she babbled, still astonished at what he was saying.
When had he seen Xander? Was it even possible? She’d thought she was the only one who could see him, but then Bunny had said all those strange things – which she’d put down to the older woman’s slightly ‘fey’ attributes. And the doctor had definitely had an encounter of some sort.
But Ollie? It just didn’t seem likely. It didn’t make sense.
“What’s up, Becky? I didn’t mean to offend, you know that, right?” He suddenly looked crestfallen.
“Oh, Ollie, no, it’s fine!” she rushed to reassure him. “I’m just…just a bit embarrassed, that’s all.” Her flushed cheeks gave weight to her words. “I haven’t really…we haven’t…” She struggled for words. Each conversation she’d had about Xander had started with disbelief because he simply wasn’t real…
But Ollie had seen him!
He was real and had found a way into her bed, and she welcomed him with open arms. And more! She blushed again just thinking about it.
“It’s ok, Beck, I understand,” Ollie reassured her. “I know how it can be. You’re not ready to discuss it. Sometimes we have to wait until we’
re ready to make our relationships public.” His soft smile spoke volumes about how often he’d had to do precisely that.
“You’re right,” she smiled back. “We haven’t…we haven’t really figured out what direction our…relationship is taking, so we’re taking it slow. Keeping things under wraps until we’re both…sure.”
“Whatever is happening, hon, I think you deserve to be happy,” Ollie intruded into her thoughts again, clearly aware of her inner conflict. “Let’s go get the rest of those groceries before your milk spoils,” he said.
“Thanks, Ollie,” she smiled weakly and followed him back down the stairs.
***
Xander watched the exchange with narrowed eyes.
The mortal had seen him.
Not in a dream – even though that, too, shouldn’t be possible unless he’d deliberately gone to him. And not merely described in Rebecca’s words, as he had done with that fool doctor earlier. The man, Oliver, had seen him entering the apartment. Xander couldn’t think of a time that may have happened, but now, standing at the window of her little home, he wondered who else might be watching him.
It also occurred to him that if he could be seen, then his battle dress might not be the most inconspicuous clothing to be wearing. He shook his head. The mental image he’d always had of himself was becoming the one he was displaying to the world. A world which, inexplicably, was beginning to become aware of his existence.
Existence?
The concept felt so foreign. He’d subsisted on a spiritual level for so long he couldn’t comprehend the possibility of a life outside the spirit world. A life with Rebecca. Is it even possible? He dashed the thought away – it was impossible. There was no sense in letting the fantasy play through his mind. He was here to learn his lesson and to pay his price. The moments he spent with her were the shining gems that lit up his miserable subsistence, made it all tolerable. But to imagine that anything more was feasible…that would lead him to madness.
Saved By Her (Soul Searchers Book 1) Page 13
