Shadows of Reality (The Catharsis Awakening Book 1)

by Christian Martin Jr.

  Alie smiled. “Well, the dreams were reoccurring and seemed so real and that’s when I figured I might be losing my mind with all the pent-up stress. Taking my sister’s advice helped a lot.” Alie looked at Matt with unfeigned compassion that he could almost physically feel.

  “Matt, please try writing some stuff down. You carry a lot on your shoulders and I can see it weighing you down at times. I do care, and if you ever need someone to talk to, I’m here for you.” Alie reached out and touched the back of his hand. Matt placed his other hand over hers and looked down at their fingers, now clasped together, and simply nodded.

  “Thank you,” he said.

  11

  A SPIRAL NOTEBOOK

  Winter continued its swift descent as the gold and reddish hues of the autumn season disappeared from the aspen trees. Each day the sun sank further into the southern latitudes and the nights became colder. The winds forming off the Continental Divide began to blow harder and swept the remaining stubborn leaves from the aspens.

  Matt finished his morning routine and decided that he would simply stay inside for the day; he was finally feeling somewhat rested. Three days off in a row was a rare treat. He was still ruminating about his meet up with Alie. How refreshing, was the only way he could describe it to himself.

  He considered her advice. A release. A mechanism other than running. Was there such a thing? Matt mused. The last death he worked began to seep back into his thoughts. While staring out of the picture window of his living room, his skin tingled with goosebumps and his breath quickened as his mind brought back the vivid images…

  He was the first responder to arrive at the crash site. He surveyed the highway prior to jumping out of his patrol truck. Strands of fibrous rubber, shards of plastic, and metal chunks, of what was once a high-end racing motorbike, was now strewn across the highway without rhyme or reason.

  Matt grabbed his trauma bag from the driver’s door panel and leapt from his truck when it lurched to a stop. He ran, high stepping through the debris, to a small group of motorists who had stopped and gathered around something, or someone, near the edge of the road.

  “Excuse me! Sheriff’s deputy,” Matt announced as he pushed his way through the dozen or so bystanders. He noted as he quickly scanned the immediate area for any hazards, they were all looking down into the culvert.

  A young man lay in a pool of his own blood, gasping for breath like a wounded animal; a few feet away stood a metal delineator post with blood on it. Matt assumed the man had tangled up with the post upon impact, which left his chest and neck flayed wide open.

  He knelt down next to the young man. Blood mixed with the gravel on the highway’s shoulder made it slippery and he found himself sliding into the young man’s side. The man looked up at Matt as he gasped once more.

  “It’s gonna be okay, buddy,” Matt calmly said with a smile, at the same time, furiously tearing the trauma kit’s protective seal open and retrieving a combat gauze from inside.

  He grabbed the dressing and flipped the accordion folds loose. Matt scanned the entire area again, then looked down. Without thinking, he had already donned his black nitrile gloves before kneeling down, and now was applying pressure with the gauze to the dying man’s carotid—his breaths coming less frequently now and shallower.

  A spew of red mist showered Matt’s forearms from the wound that was too large for the gauze he applied. Sirens suddenly pierced his hearing as an ambulance rumbled up behind him.

  “Hang in there, buddy,“ Matt calmly told the young man. “It’s all good, the cavalry’s here.” He smiled at the young man, attempting to transfer hope while looking into his wide, panic-stricken eyes. Matt looked over his shoulder to the paramedics who were wheeling the gurney up next to them…

  Tears formed and everything became a blur. As the memory faded, he remembered hearing a paramedic mention agonal breathing—those last, labored breaths of a dying man. Matt hung his head and he saw the first of a handful of tears drop from his eyes and plunge into the carpet as the vividness melted away.

  Oh God, I need a release, Matt silently pleaded. A release and a fresh wind to blow across his parched soul; a relief of the pent-up tension from dealing with the worst of human suffering.

  After a sigh, he slowly walked to his desk, wiping his eyes, still feeling the effects: physically shaken by the needless and reckless death. He picked up a spiral notebook he had used to jot down ideas for work or projects around the house.

  Matt sat down on a warm spot on the living room floor: the sun shinning through the window created a cozy place for him to settle into. He opened to a blank page in the notebook, mechanical pencil in hand, and he gazed at the blue horizontal lines on the white sheet of paper. His mind had gone blank like the page he was staring at.

  Ah jeez, how the hell do I do this? he thought—not at all amused at the fact he had already hit a wall and he hadn’t even started to write yet. After a few moments thinking about what Alie had told him and how it helped her, he started with the thing he was most frustrated about; the thing that seemed to cause the most annoyance in his life: the lack of communication with Trish.

  Speaking with Trish the other night was mind-boggling. How hard is it to simply listen?! Opening up to someone with a very sacred part of your life who is preoccupied with their own thoughts is like throwing your beating heart to a dog that sniffs at it and then walks away.

  Matt stopped and read what little he had written. It dawned on him: this wasn’t just a problem, it was a major need lacking in his life that somehow affected everything else. He contemplated his deep desire to have a companion he could relate to. Someone who would truly listen and be a reliable sounding board; someone who really listens, asks questions, and gives relevant opinions, and has some genuine empathy.

  His thoughts began to drift. How easy it is to talk to Alie. She really seems to listen. Then a mist formed in his mind. A glimpse of Alie drifting by on the grassy knoll, the elder that she had called Yeor standing next to him, and a castle in the background that seemed to grow large before him. “That’s it,” Matt said quietly, and began to write again.

  I saw the castle in my thoughts and in my dreams. Magnificent! Tall towers on either side. The outer walls are white—breathtaking. They must be at least 30 feet tall.

  I see a large iron gate in front. The top of the gate is rounded to fit snuggly into the rock wall. Another large gate behind that. As though it was made out of a huge tree, for this second gate appears to be one solid piece of wood. Thick too. Maybe a foot solid.

  Matt reread this several times. He felt a small rush of excitement. Excited that he was able to get some things out that had been hidden under his shell.

  The courtyard beyond the second gate is full of freshly cut green grass. Some gardens with flowers and shrubs and vegetables. Then steps, another level in the castle, and another wooden gate. Then a smaller courtyard. The smells of flowers and the shrubs are wonderful. Beyond, more steps. Another level. Another wooden gate, or is this simply just a heavy door?

  He stopped writing as he journeyed through the castle. A castle he felt so familiar in. He knew he had walked through it before. Déjà vu? As he wrote down what he saw, the dreams of nights past became clear and his memories began to awaken.

  Beyond the door there is a long hallway that leads to the heart of the castle. At its core, above the other levels, guards stand at another set of doors that open inward. A great door, the front and back are hand-carved with a forest setting with deer grazing in the midst of trees. It looks 3D. The deer appear to jump out at me.

  Then a short hallway. Another set of guards, who for some reason acknowledge me as ‘Sire’. They stand before yet another large hand-carved door. Magnificent to behold. Dragons, trees, a small wooden chest, swords and warriors all interwoven and carved into the grain of the wood.

  Adrenaline pumped through his veins in anticipation as he stood before the door. A guard bowed slightly and opened it. He entered. It was th
e very heart of the castle: the throne room. A large space with two enormous fireplaces, a small banquet table, the throne itself, and a small hand-carved table next to it.

  It was like standing in the Holy of Holies. The sanctum sanctorum. Not a privilege handed out to just anyone—only the chosen. Even if one with the right bloodline approached the great outer door, it was no guarantee of passage past the guards who were the very elite of these warriors.

  I stand amazed in the throne room. I looked back over my shoulder at the great door that I just walked through. The guard who tended to it gave me a nod of deference and quietly closed it. I feel at home. Like one who has been away for a while, and now, finally home…again. A thought immediately struck me like a lightning bolt…

  To open up your heart to someone, to make yourself vulnerable to another human being, is akin to opening all of the castle’s gates and great doors, and telling the guards who watch over your heart to allow that person to pass. Allowing them into the most sacred part of your life.

  This is a Royal privilege. If someone opens their heart to you, count it an incredible honor. Do not treat it lightly, for if you do, you may find yourself outside the castle’s walls and never allowed entry again.

  Sadness came over him as he finished writing. It felt like a violation of sorts, but it all made sense now: why the walls had come up between Trish and him. And yet, at the same time, it was a relief—visiting the throne room was indescribable. The guards, the great doors, the rock walls, the throne, and thoughts of Alie and Yeor. All at the same place and time. He knew he had seen it before in his dreams. He had experienced it before.

  He was home.

  12

  THE UPPER CHAMBER

  Matt placed his spiral bound notebook on Alie’s dispatch console. He had come into dispatch 15 minutes before the end of her shift and asked her to read it. He was as excited as a schoolboy ready for recess, all the while looking for approval from his teacher. Matt sat down next to her and leaned forward a bit.

  “Jimmy, you don’t mind taking over a little bit early, do you?” Matt asked the relieving dispatcher.

  “No problem-o, Sarge,” Jimmy replied with a smile.

  “Thank you, sir.” Matt then turned to Alie. “It’s not much but I wrote a little bit on my days off like you suggested. Just wanted you to read it and tell me what you think.”

  Alie grinned at Matt. She tucked a strand of hair behind each ear and then turned her attention to the notebook, opened the cover, and began to read. Her smile enlarged somewhat as her eyes moved across the page. Alie suddenly stopped smiling; she looked up and peered at him for several moments.

  “What?” asked Matt. His brows lifted in a sudden rush of apprehension. “Did I write something wrong?”

  “No, it’s just…” Alie looked down at his notebook and placed her finger on the line that described the great door. “I’ve…Matt…” she looked back at him, “I’ve been here…to the same place.”

  Matt was speechless. He began to feel something else now. Something in her voice, her body language, it stirred something deep beneath the surface.

  “Matt,” she lowered her voice to keep their conversation private from Jimmy, “I’ve been to the throne room many times…many times with you!” Without reading any further in his journal, she described the details of the throne room to him. Matt stared at her in disbelief.

  “I don’t understand this at all, Matt,” Alie said. “All I know is that since I’ve been writing in my journal, my dreams have become more vivid. It’s like I live there just like I live here.” Alie sat back, looked at the ceiling, and exclaimed, “God, I can’t explain it!”

  “What’s that?” Jimmy asked.

  “Oh nothing, Jimmy, sorry.” Alie sat forward again and resumed reading Matt’s notebook. Jimmy mumbled something and returned to scrutinizing the dispatch screen.

  “Hey,” Matt whispered to her, “I had the most crazy dream last night.”

  Alie finished reading his journal. “Yeah?”

  “I was in front of this castle.” Matt pointed to his notebook. “It was night. The air…it felt…” Matt looked into her eyes, “fresh and light. Everything…kind of how you just said, ‘vivid’…”

  “Okay…” Alie raised both eyebrows in anticipation.

  “Yeor just appears out of nowhere. We talked about something, but I don’t remember what. I look up toward one of these towers…” Matt’s head tilted a bit to the side as he continued, “…and…you were there looking down on us. You waved and before I could wave back I woke up.” For several moments after he stopped speaking, they gazed into each other’s eyes, locked in an unseen exchange of emotion—a rip current pulling them into unseen waters.

  “I know—I saw you looking up and I waved to you on purpose.” she grinned.

  His eyes were drying out when he finally blinked several times; he took a deep breath, sat up in his chair, and continued to stare at her.

  “Matt, I know this sounds crazy,” She lowered her voice again to a barely audible whisper as she leaned closer to him. “But I think we’re in each other’s dreams…at the same time.” Her gaze was unwavering. “Sometimes, I walk up to the top of that tower when I’m in the castle. There’s a room up there, I just love the solitude and peacefulness of that place.”

  Matt unconsciously nodded slowly as she spoke. He remained speechless as he looked down and then back into her eyes, taking in everything she was saying. Trying to decipher every input of his senses, attempting to grab hold of the thing moving inside him that seemed to point him down a path that he knew he had already been down—but how?

  “There’s an upper chamber in each tower,” she explained as the excitement grew in her eyes and voice. “But that tower and room you saw me in, I can look out over the whole plateau, and it’s just beautiful. Matt, it’s so peaceful. The whole place is an absolute wonder.”

  Matt sat back and gave up on the internal struggle. Always trying to control everything, he thought. He smiled slightly and exhaled while he sat back in the chair. His body felt as though he had just finished some sort of exhausting physical labor. Looking down at the front of his uniform, he simply said, “Wow.”

  “Wow is right,” jested Jimmy, who was looking at them both quizzically.

  Alie turned to Jimmy, closed her eyes, and stuck her tongue out at him. Jimmy gave her a playful raspberry in return, which caused Matt to laugh out loud.

  “Don’t worry, I only heard ‘wow,’” Jimmy assured them, smiling as he returned to his computer screen.

  Alie giggled as she sat back in her seat. “I feel so refreshed in the mornings after I have those dreams…ha…or visit there.”

  “Well…” Matt began as he fully smiled at her, “maybe I’ll see you there again tonight.”

  Alie pinched a nip of hair, looked down briefly, and returned his smile while placing the strand behind her ear.

  Matt stood in complete darkness, but not in silence. The clash of metal hung in the air like the day he had his vision while running up the Gulch Road, and it seemed to rumble on into the distance like thunder.

  Movement to his left. The sensation of cloth touched his right arm. Darkness. A clicking noise came from behind, a sound that reminded him of childhood when he would take a playing card from his Dad’s poker deck and fasten it with a clothes pin to the spokes of his bicycle. Matt turned around to face the rapid clicking. It grew louder as it came directly at him with great speed. Anxiety grew as it approached. The darkness cloaked the approaching object. He attempted to step aside, out of the path of whatever was coming at him, but his feet would not move. Whatever it was, it was almost upon him. The noise it made caused Matt to flinch, and he instinctively raised his arms in self-defense.

  In the darkness, from his right side, Matt saw a black shadow swing at him. A thin, crescent line that flickered with a glint of silver along its edge. Fleeting recognition of a creature’s sword. The attack began.

  The blade dug deep into Mat
t’s upper right bicep. The blade might have cut his arm off if he hadn’t flinched in time and spun to his left away from the attack. He slammed his eyes shut from the pain; tiny glistening spots shimmered and streamed in view, funneled to the center of his vision; he lost his balance and he began to fall.

  Continuing to spin to his left, he thrust out his hands to catch himself only to find that there was no longer any ground beneath him. Falling and spinning through the darkness, unable to find any bearing as to where he was. He grabbed at the air around him. Panic seized hold of his senses. This must be a dream—but it was too real.

  Matt tried to scream, but couldn’t. Darkness turned to swirls of gray mist and tendrils of white gossamer clouds that sprung upward in his wake as he plummeted. The air around him felt warmer as he descended. There was nothing Matt could do. His pulse thundered from the adrenalin that flooded his system, and it should have caused him to blackout, but he remained fully aware.

  He fell through a thin layer of clouds, and the mist around him cleared. Below, he could see the castle and plateau that he had seen before in his dreams. Matt tried to rouse himself from this nightmare before he hit the ground, but to no avail.

  Even in the horror of falling, for some unknown reason, he saw Yeor and several warriors on the ground; black horses galloping, and chaos all around the plateau. The creatures appeared in the first courtyard within the castle walls. Alie looked out from a stone-hewn window in the upper chamber—the same chamber she told him about just hours earlier.

  Fright filled her countenance. Terror filled his mind. The ground rose quickly. He closed his eyes; the muscles in his neck tightened as he continued to fight against the air.

  Thwack!

  His body slammed into a thick mound of straw. He lay on his right side, the wind knocked out of him, he couldn’t tell whether his eyes were opened or closed. He blinked several times, but it didn’t change anything he saw, or didn’t see—bright minuscule spots exploded in his vision again like glitter blowing from somewhere behind him, swirling around his body, and flinging out in front of him to an infinite point straight ahead. His body went numb, and Matt slipped into unconsciousness.