I shook her hand and nodded politely. “Hello, Dr. Lee.” I decided that if she was going to be all business like, so would I.
She pulled a chair over to my bed, and got out a pad and pencil before she spoke. “Dr. Yang explained to me that you have a rather unusual head injury.”
I replied, “Yeah, I guess you could say that.”
She looked at me and asked, “What have your symptoms been since the injury?”
“I’m getting headaches,” I answered.
Dr. Lee cleared her throat and continued, “What else is happening?”
“I’m seeing colors,” I replied.
Dr. Lee was starting to look exasperated. Good. Showing emotion made her seem more human. “Tess, could you please get into more detail with me. I don’t want to have to pull everything out of you.”
I wanted to ignore her, but I finally answered, “The visuals started after I woke up from the injury. The first time I experienced them was when my family came here to visit. My aunt and my cousins had colors surrounding them, particularly around their heads.”
“Does this apply to anyone you see?” She asked.
I should just come right out and tell her. She’s probably wondering if I see colors around her. “Yes, I see colors around anyone that I’ve had contact with since the injury. Just so you know, I see blue/green colors around you,” I asserted. I think I took Dr. Lee by surprise.
‘Tess, there may be more than one possibility, but I can only think of one that makes real sense to me. This is a very unusual case. I can’t remember ever hearing of something like this.” Dr. Lee had her hand on her chin, her eyes on my face. “I hope you don’t mind, but I find this fascinating. I’m aware you must be feeling some distress about this unusual ability you have.”
Talk about clinical! I guess I grabbed her interest, anyway. At least that’s something. At that point, I asked her sarcastically, “If you get a spare moment, perhaps you could explain to me what the heck is happening, and how I can stop it?”
She smiled sheepishly and said, “I’m sorry. I am a doctor, but I’m also a scientist. My specialty is paranormal brain activity. I would say that your abilities fall within that category. It is of great interest to me, but of course, you’re looking for an explanation.” I nodded in agreement.
“I brought my laptop so that I can access my current research,” Dr. Lee commented, as she placed her computer onto my bedside table and turned it on. “It would be helpful to refer to my files for accuracy, or, if you have additional questions.” She continued searching through files on her hard drive. “Here’s the correct section. I knew it was in here, somewhere.” She turned to me and asked, “Are you ready?”
“Yep, I’m all ears,” I replied.
She turned back to her computer. “I believe that you’ve acquired what’s been called ‘The Third Eye’ by some.” She paused for a second before proceeding, going over the material, before telling me, “There’s a gland in your frontal lobe called the pineal gland. It’s about the size of a grain of rice, located near the center of the brain, and tucked in a groove between the two cerebral hemispheres. The pineal gland has been known as ‘the organ of inner vision’. As she said that, she raised her eyebrows, and then continued, “It’s likely that your pineal gland was pierced by the sharp metal pin, which then stimulated the gland in some way. Some people theorize that such stimulation can lead to the enhancement of psychic talents, including the ability of reading auras. Does this make sense to you so far?” she looked over to me with her eyebrows raised.
‘Well, it sounds like this metal pin entered a gland in my head that in turn may have triggered an unusual response. I didn’t get the last part,” I admitted.
“An aura is an energy field that surrounds human beings. The true aura of a person is supposed to reflect what’s inside of the person; who they are as an elemental being. You might say that the aura is supposed to reflect what is truly in their soul. It sifts through a person’s superficial facade of manners, customs, habits and the lies they may tell. Some readers of auras also claim that aural colors and shapes may indicate an extreme emotional instability.”
“What’s an aura again?” I asked.
“Let’s look up the exact meaning. It says, ‘An invisible breath, emanation, or radiation; a distinctive but tangible quality that seems to surround a person’.” She turned to me, “Does that answer your question?”
I asked, puzzled, “I’m seeing all these different colors around people. Are auras supposed to be different colors?”
“Different colors are supposed to signify different qualities. For example, pink might suggest that someone is very loving. A flash of bright red may signify extreme anger. It is also believed that auras colors such as black may point to serious health issues affecting major organs.”
I looked at Dr. Lee in astonishment. “Are you saying that when I see someone’s aura colors that I’m seeing the real inside person, not the phony nice act that people put out there, or the ‘look at how tough I am’ act?”
She chuckled, “I forgot that you’re in high school, the time of ultimate posturing. Adults of course, wear a veneer of respectability, whereas adolescence is a time of mutual peer rebellion and detachment from figures of authority.”
I looked at her like she was crazy. “What the heck are you talking about?”
“Oh, I’m sorry. I am getting off track. You are very mature for your age. I was using psychology jargon.” Dr. Lee actually looked chagrined.
“I can’t stand that kind of talk,” I remarked. “Anyway, I have another question. You mentioned that some people can read auras? I presume they didn’t have an accident like I did. How were they able to read auras?”
Dr. Lee looked over her material and then answered, “Actually, there are old writings that indicate your accident has not been the only one to have activated the ability to see auras. Those writings have not been documented, so we don’t know if they’re very truthful. However, it is believed that some people are born with the ability to read auras. There are others who claim to have trained themselves to read auras through practice and meditation. Again, this has not been scientifically validated.”
“What about some of the colors I see? For example, I see a clear blue/green around you. What does that mean?” I asked.
Dr. Lee referred to her research and replied, “The colors are associated with many different traits. Clear green is frequently associated with healers. Seeing that you’re in a hospital, you’ve probably seen a few people in here with a green aura. Bright blue is associated with someone who’s down to earth, calm and purposeful. Dark or muddy colors usually indicate something undesirable, such as an immature ego, a negative emotion, or the presence of a serious ailment.”
“How can I find out about other aura colors that I see?” I inquired.
“If you’d like, I can make a copy of this article for you. There are also some good books on the subject which I could recommend. They’re based on research. Don’t read just any old thing on the internet. Some of the material out there on psychic ability is very speculative. Be aware that any information on psychic phenomenon, in general, will not be precise. It is an inexact science.” She turned to me and asked, “Does this information ease your mind at all?”
I glared at her, “Are you serious? Do you know how this could impact me? How can I shut the darn thing off? That’s what I need to know. Can you imagine going around and seeing people as they really are, all the time, especially the bad stuff? I have to say that I’m really good at reading people by looking in their eyes. I make a point not to see into people because I don’t want to know what’s really going on with them. I worry about people, even strangers. It would be such a heavy load to carry around all the time. I couldn’t stand it.”
Dr. Lee smiled at me with sympathy in her eyes. “I’m sorry, Tess. I know I’ve gotten a little carried away with all of this. I have to remind myself that we’re talking about your life. You just ma
de a very eloquent case for learning how to shut it off, at least periodically. Before we go onto that, I would like to comment on something you said about being able to read people by looking into their eyes. Unique abilities such as that are commonly linked to other special gifts; one leads to another. In other words, you may have been susceptible to acquiring the ability to read auras because you already have natural insight. Anyway, that’s neither here nor there.
“Let’s get to your big concern, which is how to shut it off. I’m afraid I’ll have to use an educated guess for that. Unfortunately, turning it off isn’t usually the problem. Most research involves how to enhance reading auras, not stopping it. You’ll probably have to train yourself to turn it off through trial and error. I suggest that when you see someone and their aura starts to appear, immediately think about something that will grab your thoughts, such as your favorite book, or something you want to do later in the day. Do not look in the person’s eyes or think about them. Switch your mind to something else. When the aura appears, don’t look at it; try to completely ignore it. This will be a gradual process. Once your mind understands how to slow it down, you can then use the same technique to block it. Once you learn to block it, you may be able to see the aura or stop it at will.”
I was trying to absorb everything she’d told me. I’ve noticed that since talking with Dr. Lee, her aura has disappeared. Now that I’m thinking about it and watching her, it’s flowing back around her. Perhaps her ideas will work. I sure hope so. “Thanks for your help, Dr. Lee. I’ll try using your suggestions.”
“By the way, Tessie, I have a good friend who’s a psychiatrist at Yale New Haven Hospital, in Connecticut. I did my psychiatry residency with him. If it’s all right with you, I’ll contact him and tell him all about your case. If you need to consult a doctor when you get to Connecticut, he will be available. In fact, he would enjoy hearing of your experiences. Take my card and call me, or send me an email and I can set things up. His name is Dr. Harris.”
I stuck out my hand to take her card but I knew I’d never call Dr. Harris. I’m sure he’d LOVE analyzing my every thought. Thanks, but no thanks.
Dr. Lee started to close up her computer when her eyes lit up. “Tess, there is one more bit of information about auras that I wanted to tell you, but I had forgotten. It is quite interesting. Would you like to hear it?”
It looks like she’s about to salivate. Do I have a choice? “OK, go ahead.”
“Well, I don’t know if it is true or not, but it’s certainly an intriguing piece of research. I’ve studied paranormal activity as it relates to the different major religions of the world. There are some Eastern religions that believe in auras; however, they view them from a different perspective. They believe that people live many lives for the purpose of spiritual evolution. We’ve been discussing how the color of a person’s aura is a reflection of their one and only present life. These Eastern religions believe that the clarity, brightness and color of an aura reveal the age and the evolutionary progression of a person’s soul over their many lives.”
I raised my eyebrows. “Over their many lives? They believe that people live many lives? Now THAT sounds crazy!”
9. Arrival
The next day I was released from the hospital. We stayed overnight at a hotel near the station and boarded the train the next morning. I think Aunt Amy was concerned about how I would feel, being on the train again, but I was OK. I was already worried about how much this stop had cost her, between the hotel and the hospital. I didn’t want to add to her worries by asking her to pay for bus or plane tickets in order to get to Connecticut.
I was more concerned about seeing auras all over the place once I was out of the hospital. I knew that would’ve driven me crazy, so I donned a pair of dark sunglasses when I left the place and they definitely helped. I was also trying some of the techniques that Dr. Lee had mentioned, such as ignoring the auras and focusing on other things. That seemed to be working, too, at least some of the time. I was also super tired so I ended up sleeping much of the time we were on the train. It seemed to take forever to get to our destination, but finally we arrived.
We got to Hartford and took a taxi to my grandmother’s house in Woodley. My cousins and I have never been in this part of the country before. The highways and office buildings don’t look that different from Colorado, but the houses and the landscape are very different. It’s very green and there are beautiful large trees everywhere. There’s also something about this area that seemed familiar to me. I can’t exactly put my finger on it. “Aunt Amy, are you sure I’ve never been to Grandma Edwina’s house before?” Even as I was asking her, I knew it wasn’t possible.
“No, you’ve never been here,” she answered. “I haven’t even been here myself since I married Frank. He didn’t get along with Grandma Edwina, so I stayed away to keep peace in the family. It’s over 13 years since I’ve been back.”
The closer we got to Grandma’s house the more I felt that odd sense of familiarity with the general layout of Woodley and some of the old homes. For example, I knew before it came into view, that there was an old Congregational church next to a bridge on the way to Grandma’s. Why would I know that? I didn’t say anything to my cousins or my aunt because they think I’m strange already. Maybe I’ve seen pictures of the town while looking at photos of Grandma Edwina’s house. That doesn’t sound right, but nothing else made sense.
As we were riding down the road that Grandma lived on, my uneasiness grew. This was creepy. We passed an old red house that truly I felt I had been in before. I even pictured a large fireplace with a cast iron pot hanging over it. I’ve must’ve seen something like that in a history book.
My Grandma Edwina turned out to be a bit of an eccentric. She lived in a large, old white colonial with a big barn that had two hex signs on it. The taxi pulled around to the rear, so we went in through the porch that ran along the entire back of the house. I immediately loved the porch. It was screened in, and had a wooden glider and a strung up hammock. Grandma met us at the door, wearing an old straw hat, worn jeans and one of those Irish knit sweaters. She was very tan, but somehow you knew that she was not the type to lounge around in a beach chair sipping on martinis. She probably got her outdoor color driving around a tractor or using a post-hole digger or something like that.
Her gray hair was in a braid tied in a knot at the back of her head. Her sharp blue eyes were a striking match to her bright blue aura. Her aural color was so dominant I had difficulty shutting it off. Words came to mind when I contemplated the true meaning of it: ‘true blue’, purposeful, impatient, no nonsense, loyal and generous.
She stood there for a minute and studied each one of us. I had the feeling she saw us for the refugees we were, evacuated from our own family war zone. She finally nodded, quietly said her hellos, and hugged each of us in turn. I knew she was glad to see us but she just wasn’t one to waste words. My Grandfather Myron had died around 12 years ago, so she was used to being alone. She probably wasn’t much in the habit of talking.
Grandma Edwina finally turned to my aunt, “Sorry to tell you, but I didn’t feel too badly about Frank; never liked the man.”
My aunt responded, “I know how Frank was. Some things are just better left unsaid.”
Walking through Edwina’s house was like entering another century. Never mind that Grandma didn’t own a computer. She didn’t even own a TV set! She said she had a television once, but she didn’t like the noise it made, so she got rid of it. Said it was “an utter waste of time”. Grandma’s only concessions to communication with the outside world were one old dial telephone and a radio.
Other than the porch, the best room in her house was the library. The high shelves were filled to the ceiling with old books. It had this cozy little sitting area with a cushioned window seat overlooking the garden in the back yard. Grandma said it was called an ‘alcove’.
Her house was very quiet. Silence is rather foreign to me and I’m usually not
too comfortable around it. Being a teenager, I’m addicted to the mindlessness of lots of noise, media noise, talk noise, any old noise. After all, you don’t have to think about things when there’s lots of noise going on. In Grandma’s house, other than our occasional comments, all you could hear were her clocks, tick tock, tick tock, and on the hour, ding, dong, ding. Imagine hearing clocks ding! Somehow, hearing the tiny sounds of clocks tick tock and the hourly ding, ding made me feel serene. I don’t think I’ll miss all that mental clatter, at least not for now.
Grandma’s father died when she was a little girl. Her mother, Theresa (my namesake) decided to turn this place into a rooming house at that time as a source of income for her and her children. For that reason, there were plenty of fully furnished bedrooms. Granted, they were a little outdated with creaky high beds, wide oak floors and furniture made of solid wood. What made them old fashioned was what made them charming. There were quilts on the beds, flowery wallpaper and doilies everywhere. It looked like there was only one electric plug per room. That’ll be interesting! Upstairs was one of those old fashioned bathrooms with a pedestal sink and a giant claw bathtub. Grandma did mention that she had a shower installed ten years ago next to her downstairs bedroom that we could all share. That will take some planning.
Each of us got to pick our own bedroom which was pretty cool. I managed to get what I call the Jane Austin room with purple/blue flowered wallpaper, an ornate side table with an oval mirror and an antique rocking chair. Eve got the room with the high canopy bed (and a stool to get up on the bed!) and real lace curtains. Annie got Auntie’s old bedroom with an antique spindle rope bed and one of those big old wooden radios. My aunt chose a small room downstairs that used to be Grandpa’s study so she could be near Grandma. We unpacked and settled in quickly, as there wasn’t much time to prepare ourselves. Real life was coming up on us fast. We were starting Woodley High School tomorrow morning.
A Girl Beyond (War of the Witches Book 2) Page 4
