by Amanda Paris
This was getting interesting. Was I actually a “wise woman” in my dream? I scrolled down until I found a section called “The Ordeal.” The “ordeal by water,” a test to see if the accused was a witch, was widespread only during periods after the thirteenth century. Then that couldn’t be it, I thought, frustrated. I was sure I’d identified a link between my fear of water and my dream.
I scrolled down the page and saw a footnote to the article. It noted the likelihood of events happening before recorded history actually documented such cases. So it could have happened, I thought, scrolling back up to finish reading the article. I wanted to know about the ordeal in case it did link to my fear of water.
I read that if the accused woman was suspected of witchcraft, they just threw her into water. If she floated, she was a witch. If she sank, often drowning, she was innocent. I shuddered. Those weren’t such good odds since the poor woman would likely end up dead either way.
I sat staring at the screen, trying to piece together the fragments of the dream I’d had. I thought I knew why they came for me. They were going to test me through the ordeal. I could feel myself panic, the same response I had when my head was submerged, and I began to shiver, as though I was actually beneath the water. I couldn’t breathe for several seconds. When I felt my hands starting to shake, I focused on the photograph by the computer of me with Mom when I was younger, remembering a happier memory of us at the park to combat the anxiety that threatened to overtake me.
Calm down, I told myself. It’s just a dream. You’re freaking out for nothing. It worked. I quickly shut off the computer and climbed back into bed, but sleep eluded me.
****
The next day was Saturday. I helped Aunt Jo finish painting the dining room in the morning. Having the afternoon free, I decided to do a little research in the library. Just as I suspected, there was nothing there about Damien, Montavere Castle, or the Black Knight; I thought it more likely that I’d have to go to England for that.
I considered researching witches, but part of me didn’t want to know anymore about what they’d done to them long ago. It somehow seemed too real for me. I asked the librarian to direct me to the section on psychology. I had decided to look up dreams and their meanings. If I couldn’t understand what I was dreaming about, perhaps I could try to find out why I had these nightmares. I also considered that, if I could unlock my mind, I could discover more about the people in my dreams. It was frustrating to think that everything I wanted to know was already buried somewhere in my mind, if only I could access it.
The first book I found explained the history of dreams, using terms from Carl Jung and Sigmund Freud that were interesting but not exactly what I was looking for. I didn’t think my dreams were about a traumatic childhood experience, but I did think that my subconscious was definitely playing a large role in what I saw. I scanned the shelves, letting my hand trail the book bindings until I came across one title, Paranormal Hypnosis: Uncovering Your Past Life. I stopped there.
Intrigued, I pulled the book from the shelf, not entirely sure if this was what I wanted. I didn’t think it could hurt just to see what it said.
I flipped through the chapters and finally turned to look through the index in the back. I let my finger trace the topics until I saw it: “Dreams and Past Life Experiences,” pages 200-238. Okay, this looked interesting. Maybe I’d been reincarnated from some former life. It was creative, at least.
The chapter opened by explaining that the patient under hypnosis often remembers his or her past life through dreams. I read one intriguing paragraph twice.
****
Patients become more agitated and easily distracted by their recurrent dreams, which intensify until the patient seeks help, often through hypnosis, when they remember their past life. Through hypnosis, patients can resolve conflicting events or emotions from their past or redress wrongs. They can access loved ones, even from hundreds of years ago. Because their past life hinders their present one, they must settle whatever happened to progress in their present lives.
****
I was intent on reading the rest of the chapter when I heard my name being called.
Through the space between the stacks, I could see Zack and Annie with two students from our history class.
“Hi,” I whispered, waving to them. Annie was getting up to come over, and I hastily shoved the book back on the shelf, a little self-conscious.
“What are you up to?” she asked.
“Oh, not too much, just doing a little research for our history project,” I answered, not looking in the direction of the book I’d been reading.
My answer was not entirely false. We did have a history project coming up, and I was considering doing one on the Middle Ages, realizing as I said this that I wasn’t looking at history books. I wasn’t even in the history section.Fortunately, no one was paying attention that closely.
“Didn’t sound like you needed to do too much research in class,” I heard Zack say through the stacks.
I blushed.
“Just ignore him,” Annie said, rolling her eyes.
“Seriously though, why don’t you come sit with us?”she offered.
“What are you guys up to?” I asked.
“The usual. Zack’s pretending to study. Jessica’s copying Eric’s homework, and I’m trying to decide whether to stay or get a burger,” she answered, sounding bored. “I’m leaning pretty heavily towards the burger,” she said, yawning. “Wanna come?” she asked.
I decided to take her up on the offer. I was tired of keeping this to myself. I knew I’d sound crazy, but I wanted to talk to somebody. And Annie believed most anything.
Annie happened to glance down and noticed my hand.
“Hey, nice ring! Did I miss your birthday or something?”
I hadn’t worn the emerald Ben gave me to school yet precisely because I didn’t want to answer these questions. But Annie was my best friend.
“Ben gave it to me,” I whispered, not wanting the others to overhear.
“Emily!” Annie squealed out, assuming, I think, that it was some sort of engagement ring.
“Shhh!” we heard. The librarian looked sternly at us from behind her large, red-rimmed glasses.
“Let’s get out of here. There’s something I want to ask you, anyway,” I whispered.
“Okay, let me just get my things,” she said, hastily gathering her bag and books.
I decided against checking out the book on past lives. It was probably a stupid idea anyway.
A few minutes later, we arrived to a small diner nearby and ordered. Once the waitress left our table, Annie leaned over, saying in her most confidential voice: “Okay, tell me everything.”
Even though I had dismissed the idea about hypnosis in the library, I couldn’t seem to shake the idea that maybe my dream was connected somehow to a past life.
“Do you remember that dream I had a little while ago?” I began.
The waitress interrupted us to bring our food. That was quick, I thought, and then realized we were almost the only people in the restaurant.
“Um, yeah,” she answered, munching on fries. “Wait, this isn’t about Ben?” she asked, pausing mid-fry.
“No,” I replied, shaking my head.
“Oh,” she said, her face falling. Of course, she’d thought I had a great story to tell about the ring.
“So anyway, like I was saying. I’ve been having these dreams,” I said, trying to turn the conversation back on course.
“Yeah, about the hot guy, the knight,” she said through a mouthful of burger. She was definitely more interested now.
“Shh! Not so loud. Do you want the whole restaurant to hear?” I asked nervously.
She looked around and gave me a questioning look.
“There’s nobody here but that old man in the corner, and he can’t hear anyway,” she said, confused.
That was true. The man looked about ninety and sat quietly doing a crossword in a corner booth drink
ing coffee. I could see he had hearing aids, and I knew that I was being paranoid.
I gave her a very rough outline of the dream but hesitated to tell her my speculations about witches and past lives.
“Is there more?” she prodded.
I decided to take the plunge.
“Do you think it’s possible to experience a past life?” I asked.
“Like reincarnation?”
“Something like that.”
I told her about the book I’d found on past lives in the library.
She sat back, thoughtful as she munched.
“A past life. Hmmm. Maybe,” she finished.
“You think I’m crazy. I can see it in your eyes. I should see a shrink. Or at least Mrs. Anderson,” I said a little despairingly. Maybe I was crazy.
“I think it might be a little beyond the school guidance counselor,” she said, laughing as she polished off the last of the fries. Annie could eat anything and still remain impossibly skinny.
“What would you do?” I asked.
“Honestly?”
“Of course.”
“Go see one of the para-whatever hypnosis people that you read about in the library,” she said, shrugging.
To her, it was simple—if you have an issue, take care of it. But I wasn’t so sure.
“Where would I even find one?” I asked.
“Where else? The yellow pages,” she said.
Annie stood up, went to the bar, and asked the waitress for a phone book. But what were the chances of a paranormal hypnotist living in DeLand?
She flipped through the “P” section while I voiced my concern on the remote possibility of finding anyone who was a paranormal hypnotist.
“You never know. Florida attracts all kinds of crazies,” Annie replied.
I laughed. She was right. Even here, we had our fair share of freaks. I stopped laughing when I realized I was in definite danger of becoming one of them.
“Here it is!” Annie said enthusiastically. I knew then why I’d told her. Not only was she my best friend, she was easily excitable. I guessed then that what I’d really wanted was someone to tell me to go for it all along, to see some kook who could unravel what was becoming an all-consuming mystery to me.
“Ramona Reynaldo, Psychic and Paranormal Hypnotist,” Annie read out in triumph, copying the address on a napkin.
“It says that walk-ins are welcome,” Annie said, pointing to the ad. Why hadn’t I ever heard of her?
“You have got to be kidding,” I said, “Let me see.”
Annie handed the phone book over to me.
There she was, only a few blocks away. I looked at my watch. Two p.m. Her ad said she was open until three on Saturdays. I didn’t have much time.
Annie looked at me, a grin on her face.
“What are we waiting for?” she asked.
Chapter Four
"Darkness Falls"
I said to my soul, be still, and let the dark come upon you
Which shall be the darkness of God. As, in a theatre,
The lights are extinguished, for the scene to be changed. With a hollow rumble of wings, with a movement of darkness on darkness,
And we know that the hills and the trees, the distant panorama
And the bold imposing facade are all being rolled away—
T. S. Eliot, “East Coker”
The sign out front had the picture of an open palm and read: Ramona Reynaldo, Psychic and Paranormal Hypnotist. The neon red “open” sign flashed at us as we walked in, and I nearly turned around to leave the moment we crossed the threshold. She had crystals of every sort hanging from the ceiling, what looked like strange witch costumes tacked to the walls, and books with titles like Finding Your Inner Demon on display shelves.
The woman I took to be Ramona came out through a beaded doorway when we entered the store. She had long, dark hair, a black, low-cut dress, and a massive amount of eyeliner. Altogether, not exactly the picture of a professional, but then, I wasn’t sure what I was expecting.
I looked over at Annie, who picked up a crystal and held it in the light.
“That’s the earth spirit, Arian, whose vibrant spirit finds release in the prism of shining light,” Ramona said, coming forward.
Annie stifled a laugh.
That was it. I turned to leave, despite a strange sensation that had come over me.
Ramona stopped me with an intent look on her face.
“I can help you,” she told me quietly.
I really looked at her then. Behind the black eye makeup and all that hair, I believed her. She had a kind face, and while I’d never given any credence to psychics, I felt drawn to her, the same way I was lured to the white dress we’d found in the mall.
She had penetrating blue eyes that seemed to see into my soul. I looked at my sneakers, hoping to avoid her intense gaze.
“Come back without your friend,” she told me in a low voice so that Annie wouldn’t overhear.
I nodded my head and turned to walk out, Annie following me.
“Did you see that?” Annie began, laughing.
“Yeah,” I said. I didn’t want to talk about it. I’d felt the strangest tingling when I saw Ramona—not danger or fear, precisely, but definitely something.
Annie poked fun at her in the car, but I wasn’t really listening. Before I dropped her off at Zack’s, I asked her not to tell anyone about our visit this afternoon. She looked at me, laughing.
“Chill out, Em. You’re so uptight lately. Who cares if we went to see some crazy person anyway? We should’ve stayed to have our fortunes told,” she said, examining her nails. I laughed in spite of the weird feeling that I belonged in that store, that it would be the key to unlocking whatever mystery lay behind my dream.
Zack greeted us at the front door of his parents’ small bungalow on the outskirts of town, his seven small brothers and sisters yelling loudly behind him.
“Are you ready for the intense experience of Zombie Zoo?” he said, sounding like a sports announcer telling us to prepare for the match of the century. Dylan, his one-year-old brother, came to the door and pelted us with a mix of pureed carrots and oatmeal.
Annie rolled her eyes.
“I should have brought my homework,” she complained.
“And some wipes,” I added, laughing as I scraped the mashed food off my shoes. But my mind was back in Ramona’s store.
I didn’t linger to watch the movie with them. I was anxious to find out more about Ramona’s offer and, truthfully, too eager to see if she really could tell me what was becoming an all-consuming mystery. Maybe she could settle the past life question once and for all.
I made my way back to town, but by the time I returned to the store, her “open” sign was no longer blinking at me. I took a chance and tried the front door.
Ramona was standing in exactly the same spot as she had been when I left.
“I knew you’d return,” she began.
Of course. She was psychic.
“Let’s get started,” she said, waving her hand for me to follow her.
“But you don’t know why I’m here,” I said.
She raised a painted eyebrow and gave me a look that said need you ask?
I followed her through the multi-hued, psychedelic beads hanging from the door that led to the back of the store. She directed me into a sitting room that looked remarkably clinical. It had only a small settee and chair, with none of the crystals or other junk that decorated the front room.
“Please have a seat,” she said politely, indicating the chair opposite to her.
She sat across from me, her intense eyes staring into mine. I became uncomfortable again. It was as if she stared straight into my soul.
“Now tell me,” she began, breaking the silence.
“I thought you already knew,” I retorted, cringing inwardly at the sarcasm I heard in my voice. Ramona ignored it, focusing instead on reading my face.
“I know generally why people come
to seek me, but the details are often not, shall we say, crystal clear,” she finished, breaking out into laughter at her own joke.
I stared at her, not knowing where to begin. A few uncomfortable moments passed.
“I’ve been having these dreams,” I finally began.
“What kinds of dreams?” she asked, leaning closer to me. I was beginning to feel more than a little uncomfortable and inched back.
But I knew it was now or never. I took a deep breath and began, soon finding a rhythm. I told her everything I could remember, not just the brief sketch I’d told Annie but also my suspicions about a past life. It was actually a huge relief to tell someone about my fears. I had told Annie a basic outline of my dream, but not the way it affected me. With Ramona, I held nothing back.
When I’d finished, she continued to stare at me, not saying anything.
After another few uncomfortable minutes, I cleared my throat.
“Um. I don’t exactly know the protocol here, but…”
“I’m just trying to read you,” she interrupted.
“Read me?” I asked.
“Yes. It’s always easier if I can read your future.”
“No, wait. I’m not here for a psychic session or whatever. I want to understand my dreams, which seem to be about the past,” I explained.
She smiled then, an eerie, half smile.
“The past, the present, the future—they’re all connected. By seeing your future, I may be able to help you solve the riddle of your past.”
I hadn’t thought of that.
“Do you need my palm or anything?” I asked. Who knew what kind of etiquette was required with psychics?
She laughed loudly at this.
“I don’t play games, and I’m not just a reader of palms. Besides, your eyes show your future, not your hands.”
“So what do you see?” I said, a little breathlessly.
“Two paths are open to you. One is distinct, happy, a very clear future.”
That sounded promising. Despite my not having come in to have my fortune told, I was intrigued nonetheless.
“What else do you see?” I asked her.
