| ____________________________________________________________________ Dreamer's Reality I can still remember the accident. Two years ago, Saturday, April 9th, I was driving us home from an almost enjoyable evening at our favorite pizza restaurant. I mentioned I would be working double shift every night the following week. I had agreed to fill in for a buddy who was taking his vacation. The news did not set well with Elizabeth. My wife quietly exploded with anger. She did not like the fact that I put in so much overtime. Of course, I had to work to keep ahead of our numerous bills. The money Elizabeth made from her substitute teaching was not enough. I had to put in more hours at the plant. Our son sat in the back and quietly played in order to ignore his bickering parents. Whenever Elizabeth and I began to argue, Donnie usually drifted into his room, the garage or outside to concentrate on more pleasant stimuli. Rarely did he concern himself with the quarrels of his Mom and Dad. That night, Donnie had won a super hero action figure by playing several ticket vending games at the restaurant. After receiving the toy, we left the restaurant to discover a storm approaching. It had started with a drizzle, then progressed into a downpour. The weather seemed to dictate the mood inside the car. Elizabeth continued to suggest I would rather spend my time working than spend my time with her and Donnie. I countered with the thought that Elizabeth would rather I spend my time at home and help the repo-men haul all of our possessions to the repo truck. Although Elizabeth and I had always made an effort to keep our spats as quiet as possible for Donnie�s sake, I had developed another trick for our time in the car. I adjusted the �FADE� in order to send all sound to the back speaker. Then I would pop in a CD. This would conceal our voices from Donnie while allowing Elizabeth and I better audibility. That night, as I reached to the CD container on the visor, the car suddenly swerved. I had hit a puddle of standing water or something like that. The car hydroplaned. I lost control. We hit the guardrail and flipped. We landed upside down in the grassy median. The continuing rainfall had caused the ground to become soft and slushy. The car sunk in. But that was two years ago. Now, I am sitting on my bed. My son is leaning back against my left side. My wife is on my right with her head on my shoulder. We are watching television. Donnie is laughing at the cartoons. My wife and I are laughing because he is laughing so hard. This is our life now. Happiness together. Always together and full of joy. It�s like a dream come true for me. I decided to take life less seriously. If the bills got paid - hooray! If some of the bill did not get paid - oh well! Life is more than �make bills/make money/make more bills/make more money�. The accident had persuaded me to live for life�and my life was my family. During this time, I had taken several of my songs and sent them to various bands. Although I spent several hours in my study with a digital recorder recording these songs myself, I had lost the desire to perform my songs in my own band. I was proud of my music, but I just did not want to go out on the road or spend hours in a recording studio. I would have much rather let others who enjoyed this lifestyle perform my songs and let me have a share of the royalties. I found luck with Gypsy Soul. Their drummer, Nigel Robertson, had listened to three songs I sent to the band. He was impressed, as was the others in the group, and agreed to use the songs on their upcoming CD. This project became a bestseller. Two of my songs hit the top ten during the last year. I received enough from royalties that allowed me to quit my job at the plant and stay at home. Now, I continue to write and arrange music. Elizabeth still does substitute teaching, but only out of desire, not out of necessity. Donnie, only five, has yet to enter school, so we spend the majority of our time together. My wife kissed me on my right cheek, then asked, �Albert, do we have time to do something together tomorrow? The weather is supposed to be nice�the weatherman said it should be in the low eighties. Do you think we could do something?� �Sure,� I nodded, �I don�t have anything pending. I don�t have a deadline to meet. What did you have in mind.� Donnie spoke up, �We should go to the lake and feed the ducks. I like feeding the ducks. They�re funny.� Elizabeth smiled as she agreed, �I think that�s a good idea. We�ll take some food for us, too. I like feeding the �Donnies� more than the ducks. But I guess I�ll let Donnie feed the ducks, too.� She reached around me and ticked Donnie�s stomach causing him to giggle as he drew his knees up to his chest as if protecting himself. �Sounds good,� I chimed in, �We�ll make it a picnic at the lake tomorrow. I like that idea, too. You�re a smart cookie, Donnie.� Donnie asked, �Are cookies really smart?� I snickered and tried to explain, �That�s just an expression, Donnie.� �Oh, I see. I like cookies, though. Do you think I could feed the ducks cookies? Do you think ducks like cookies, Daddy?� �I�m sure they do, Donnie. But, there�s only one way to find out�we�ll have to take some cookies with us on our picnic tomorrow.� �Oh boy!� Donald exclaimed excitedly, �I get to feed ducks tomorrow!� Elizabeth asked Donnie, �Do you remember what your Daddy said is the fastest way to make tomorrow come?� Donnie grinned, �Go to sleep tonight.� I congratulated, �That�s right, Donnie. You remembered. You�ve got a better memory than I do.� He asked, �Is that because I�m as smart as cookies?� I laughed and answered, �It sure is, Son. You�re even smarter than cookies. You�re smarter than all the cookies in the cookie jar.� ******* As I slept, the dream came again. I found myself in the small room. It seemed to be no larger than 20 x 20. I was on a mat which was atop a shin-high ledge along the right of the room. A small combo sink/toilet unit was in the corner of the left side. The entire room was covered with what seemed to be thick padding�even the floor. The padding was light blue. The ceiling was also painted in light blue. The one light in the middle of the roof was dim and almost ineffective. On the front wall was a small� probably 6 x 6 or less� window. As before, I had a compelling to urinate. I stood from the bench-bed and shuffled to the toilet. After nature�s business, I returned to the bench. I noticed the tray at the foot of the mat. On it was a sandwich and a banana. Sometimes it was a sandwich and an apple. Other times it had been an orange or celery. Strange as I thought it was, I always ate. I had attributed this to being hungry in my sleep, so I would dream of eating as a way of combating the feeling. After all, I was famished when I woke in the morning. I loved the large breakfast Elizabeth would cook. But, for now inside the dream, I ate the sandwich and banana. When I first began to experience this particular dream, it would usually end there. I would eat, then lay back down on the mat. After that, I would wake up. Recently, however, these dreams had begun to last longer. The dreams also introduced me to� �Albert.� It was him! The man seemed to materialize right before my eyes. He had often called himself Doctor Soloman Patrick. He was a short, plump man, maybe early fifties. He was balding. He spoke softly and serenely. He seemed so gentle in all is mannerisms. In fact, he would have been innocuous and harmless had he been a real person. But here, in my dream, Doctor Patrick was an evil pestilence invading my sub-conscience and threatening my sanity. He was a devil in angel�s clothing. His timid characteristics were only a mask for his wicked intentions for me. I rolled onto my side and faced the padded wall. I closed my eyes as the dreadfully calm voice continued speaking to me. �Albert, can you hear me? Can you respond to me today? Would you like to talk to me today?� I tried to shut him out. I tried to force his voice away. I tried to wake myself up. �It�s me, Albert�Doctor Patrick. I�m here to help you. Do you think you could talk to me today, Albert?� I said nothing. I did not respond. I did not acknowledge the doctor. I did not face him. I did not listen to him. I placed my hands over my ears, kept my eyes closed and pressed my face into the padding. I tried to will myself awake. �Albert, can you hear me?� The voice seemed to change. �Albert?� The voice was changing. �Albert.� The doctor�s voice faded as Elizabeth�s voice strengthened. �Albert, wake up. We�ve got a picnic date to keep. The weather is turning out to be beautiful. It�s going to be a perfect day.� �Everyday is perfect,� I proclaimed as I pushed my way off the bed, �but not because of the weather. Everyday you and Donnie and I can spend together is a perfect day.� �You�re so sweet, Albert,� Elizabeth said as she followed me to the bathroom. She took off her robe and opened the closet door. As she searched through her clothes, I noticed she had lost even more weight. She was beginning to look as she had when we first met. She had a very nice, slender, hourglass figure. Her playfully curly hair was golden blond and her face was bright and smooth. Her blue eyes were crystal clear and sparkled�especially when she laughed. I managed to comment, �You�re beautiful.� Elizabeth looked to me and smiled, �Thank you, Albert. I�ve been trying to get back into shape. I want to look good for you.� �Well, you already looked good to me. But now, you�re�you�re�� I never completed that statement. Instead, I went to Elizabeth and took her in my arms. I began kissing her passionately, then we melted in each other�s embrace onto the floor. I made love to Elizabeth right there in the closet: Uninhibited love. Feverish and erotic. We made love as we had when we were newlyweds. ******* The weather was indeed perfect. Donnie continued to feed the ducks. He had planned on feeding them cookies, but decided to use the more customary bread since Donnie wanted the cookies for himself. Elizabeth and I sat on a blanket watching our son tossing the pieces of bread into the water. We laughed when Donnie became excited as ducks would race to a bread piece and the first arriving duck would snatch up the morsel of food. Sometimes Elizabeth called out to Donnie and warned him not to venture too close to the water. Donnie would obediently take several steps back away for the bank. I continued eating the baked chicken, macaroni and rolls which Elizabeth had prepared the previous evening for our picnic. Also, I could not wait to dive into her cherry pie! She had developed into a wonderful and impressive cook. Every meal was gourmet. Everything tasted exquisite. Donnie trotted back to us to get more bread. Elizabeth handed him a few slices. As Donnie headed back to the ducks, he called over his shoulder, �Come on Mommy. Come help me. It�s fun. Come help me feed the ducks, OK?� I laughed and said, �Go on, Elizabeth. It might be fun. Go help him feed the ducks.� �What about you?� �I�m about to eat me a piece of your pie. After that, I�ll come down, too.� Elizabeth popped up and followed our son. I cut a large slice of cherry pie and placed in on my paper plate. After six large bites, the piece of pie was gone. It had tasted better than I had expected. I sat the plate aside then laid down on my right side to watch Donnie and Elizabeth play. The breeze was slight. The sun was warm against my face. I found myself stretching out as my wife and son drifted away. Before I realized, I had dozed off. During my nap, I found myself trapped in my dreams. I was in the padded room. The light was dim and the air was chilled and dusty. I was on my side, facing away from the wall. I looked toward the small window. There he was! Doctor Patrick and another stranger talked quietly. The stranger wore white clothes. He was a large man. He remained rigid against the wall next to the window. Doctor Patrick turned and noticed me. He walked slowly to me as he began his soft oration. �Albert. Albert, its me, Doctor Patrick. Can you hear me, Albert? Would you like to talk to me, Albert? I think you and I really should talk to each other. Can you respond to me, Albert?� My answer was no! I most certainly did not what to answer him. I shut my eyes and rolled over quickly to face the wall. I tried to shut his voice out. I placed my hands over my ears. I tried to force myself to wake up. I even called out for Elizabeth. I was hoping I would call out to her in my sleep and she would come to me and wake me up from this nightmare. As I said her name, I heard my voice sounding scruffy and weak. It was no louder than a whisper even though I could have sworn I was shouting. I pressed myself into the wall trying to get as far away from the doctor as I could. I felt Doctor Patrick�s eyes burning into my neck. I knew he was coming for me. I knew he was getting closer. I held my breath trying to hear how close the doctor was. I listened, but I did not look back. I continued to hold my breath. I lay still. I did not move. My eyes popped open. I felt sweat across my forehead. I was gasping for air. I felt the cool breeze against my wet face. I was staring across the pond. I saw the ripples moving hypnotically across the surface of the water. I could hear the ducks quacking. I could hear Elizabeth and Donnie laughing. I was at the park. I was on a picnic with my family. I was awake. ******* On the drive home, Donnie slipped off to sleep in the back seat. I took this opportunity to tell Elizabeth about the recent dream during my nap. After hearing my story, she commented, �I thought you were only having that dream every once in a while�and never during a simple nap.� �I know,� I responded truthfully, �I�ve never dreamed during a nap. But, the dream has been more frequent. I don�t know what it means, but I know it scares me. And I know that doctor scares me, too. I don�t know what it is about him, but there�s just something about him that scares me to death.� �Maybe you could talk to a psychiatrist or someone who studies dreams. Maybe someone could tell you what your dream is trying to tell you: Is your dream a warning or an omen? Or is it a repressed childhood experience? Maybe an expert could help you find out.� I thought aloud, �It�s just that the dream is so real. I remember everything like I was actually at that place. I know that sounds crazy, but I almost feel like the dream is real.� Elizabeth replied seriously, �Albert, don�t let the dream get the better of you. You�re stronger than the dream. Fight it off, Albert. Don�t give in to the dream. You can beat that dream�whatever the dream may be or whatever the dream may mean, you�re in control. You�re stronger than the dream.� We rode the rest of the way in silence. The dream had been troubling enough, and now I was disturbed by the strange warning from Elizabeth. I wanted to ask her why she cautioned me in that manner and used those particular phrases, but I did not ask. Something inside me prevented me from making such an inquiry. Instead, we rode the rest of the way home in silence. ******* After carrying Donnie to his bed, I decided to turn in myself while Elizabeth tidied up the kitchen. I removed my clothes and donned my lounge pants. Then, without pulling back the covers, I lay atop the bed on my back and stared at the ceiling. The fan overhead turned at the lowest setting which made the dark blades form a visible, circular shadow above me. I found myself concentrating on the center of the swirling shadow. Suddenly, the swirling shadow of the twirling fan blades were no longer there. In its place was the small, dim light. The light barely illuminated the blue padded room. I continued to look straight up. I was too afraid to look around because he might be in the room with me. When I began having these dreams, there was no doctor. Eventually, however, Doctor Patrick began to appear more regularly until he seemed to be in every dream. I lay still hoping I would not attract any attention to myself. Still, Doctor Patrick spoke. �Albert? Do you hear me, Albert? We need to talk. I want you to respond to me, Albert. You need to understand what is happening to you. I need to make you aware of what is happening to you. You must understand�you must understand. Do you hear me, Albert? Can you respond to me now? I have to make you understand. If you continue this way very much longer, Albert, you will not be able to distinguish between fantasy and reality. You are confusing actuality and imagination. If I do not reach you soon, you may spend the rest of your life in a state of delusion. Albert, I must reach you and make you understand.� I closed my eyes and tried to wish the doctor out of my dream. I tried to wake myself up, which had become increasingly difficult. I placed my hands over my ears and tried to shut his voice out. �Listen to me, Albert,� he continued gently, �I need you to hear me. Listen closely to me, Albert. What I�m trying to tell you is very important. It could be a matter of life or death. You won�t be able to last very long in the state you�re in, Albert. You can not function in this state. It will take its toll on you and you will suffer to the point of illness. You could very well suffer beyond the point of recovery. Do you understand what I�m trying to say to you, Albert? Do you understand what I�m trying to tell you? Do you hear me, Albert? Can you hear me? Can you respond to me, Albert?� I refused to acknowledge him. I refused to let him in. I blocked him from my mind. I struggled against him with all my might. I fought him, just as Elizabeth said I should do. I refused to give in to Doctor Patrick and his frightening words. And yet, I could not find the strength to wake myself up. I was trapped inside my nightmare. �You must listen to me, Albert. Stay with me, Albert.� I tried to call out for Elizabeth. �Listen, Albert,� Doctor Patrick said, �I know this is hard for you to understand, but Elizabeth is not here. Elizabeth is gone. Elizabeth and Donald are gone. Do you understand me? I know this is difficult for you to hear, but your wife and son are not here.� I felt tears flowing down the sides of my face. I called louder for Elizabeth. I pleaded for her to come help me. I begged her to wake me up. Doctor Patrick continued quietly �Albert, you have to stay with me. You have to understand what I�m telling you. I need you to stay with me. I must make you understand. Listen to me, Albert. Stay with me and listen to me.� My struggling and crying finally consumed my strength. I felt drained. I was exhausted. My body was weak. I drifted away�away from this dream and away from Doctor Patrick. Finally�mercifully�I awoke. I was in my bed staring at the fan. The bedroom was lit with the morning sun beaming happily through the windows. I was back home. I had come back to reality. I was free from that dreadful dream once more. Yet, the silence in the room was eerie. I stood and called for Elizabeth. No answer. I shot up and began a frantic search throughout the house. I shouted, �Elizabeth! Donnie! Where are you? Where are you? Please, answer me!� I ran to each room and looked everywhere. I opened every closet and shoved aside all clothes and boxes and storage bins. I sprinted to the garage. I ran outside and search the yard. I went to Donnie�s playhouse. Elizabeth and Donnie were nowhere to be found. �Where are you?� I cried, �Donnie, my son! Please�where are you? Elizabeth, answer me! Where are you? Please come back. Don�t leave me. I need you.� I went back inside and cried. I felt as weak as I had during my most recent dream. I stumbled to the sofa and flopped face down and wept. I continued crying until I did not have enough energy to stay awake. As I continued to cry, I felt myself drift off into sleep. The terrifyingly gentle voice of Doctor Patrick attacked my ears once more. �It�s almost time for me to leave, Albert. I need you to understand that I will be back again and again until I can reach you. It�s for your own good, Albert. I�m trying to save you, Albert. I need you to understand that. I�m not your enemy. I do not mean you harm. I�m actually trying to save your life. I�m trying to save you from a life of empty existence. I know it�s hard for you to understand me, Albert, but I must reach you to make you understand. I am determined to make you understand. �Albert,� the doctor continued, �Next time you dream, I will come to you. You will see me in your dream. I will be present within your dream and I will be as real as everything in your dream. You will regard me as present within your dreaming consciousness. You will acknowledge me there and you will treat me as if I were real. When you slip into your next dream, Albert, I will come to you and you will be able to acknowledge me there.� After his warning, the atmosphere in the padded room was deadly silent. I thought I had heard Doctor Patrick walking out of the room. I lay still and kept quiet trying to listen for the doctor. My eyes remained shut just in case he was still with me. I did not want to see him and I did not want him to know I was awake in this dream. I could hear silence. No breathing next to me. No movement. Just the quietness of the cool, still air of the padded room. I hoped and prayed the doctor was gone. I woke when Elizabeth and Donnie entered through the front door. I sprang up and ran to them. I grabbed Donnie and lifted him into my arms. While holding him tightly with my right arm, I stretched my left arm around Elizabeth and pulled her to me. I embraced them and began sobbing. I hugged them tightly as I continued to cry. Elizabeth seem genuinely confused when she asked, �What in the world�s wrong, Albert? What�s the matter?� I answered between my weeping pants, �I couldn�t find you earlier. I thought I lost you. I looked everywhere for you, but I couldn�t find you. Where were you, Elizabeth? Where did you go? I couldn�t find you or Donnie anywhere and I searched and searched everywhere.� �Albert,� Elizabeth comforted as she explained, �me and Donnie went to Mother�s today. Don�t you remember? We were going shopping today. I told you about it all last week. Don�t you remember? Me and Donnie were with my mother.� Suddenly I did remember. I could not understand it, but, all of a sudden, I could remember Elizabeth telling me she wanted to go shopping with her mother and she was going to take Donnie so he could visit with his grandmother. For some unknown reason, I had completely forgotten this when I had awaken from my nightmare� �That�s it,� I said quietly, �That explains it.� As we both eased our embrace, Elizabeth asked, �What are you talking about? What explains it�and what does it explain?� �That retched dream. I had another one of those bad dreams. It was so real, and when I woke up, I was disoriented because the dream was still so fresh on my mind. The dream was so disturbing that it messed up my thinking and I thought you and Donnie had gone.� Donnie spoke up, �But we did go, Daddy. We went to Grandmommy�s.� �I know, Donnie. I realize that now. I just had a bad dream and it scared me a little.� Elizabeth wondered, �Could stress be making you have these dreams?� �I don�t know what would be stressing me,� I confessed, �There�s nothing pressing me or worrying me. I�ve never been happier with my life. I don�t know what would be�� Elizabeth broke in and speculated, �Maybe you�ve been worrying about the new songs you�re working on for Nigel and Gypsy Soul. Maybe you should take a little break. Why don�t you consider taking us all on a vacation. It might do you some good to get away and relax�really relax.� �That sounds like a pretty good idea,� I admitted even though I did not really feel un-relaxed, �I�ll call Mrs. Hawkins and ask her what the deadline for my song submission is. I�ll have her check our finances, too, and I�ll be able to determine what we can spend for the vacation. I�ll be able to determine where we can go for our vacation.� Donnie sheepishly suggested, �Disney World?� I laughed as I felt relief seeping its way back into my life, then nodded to Donnie. �Maybe so, Son. Maybe so.� �Yeah,� he cheered, �We get to go to Disney World! Disney World! Yeah!� For longer than I could calculate, I stood there in the doorway with my family in my arms. ******* The day seemed normal. I was working on a song project in my study as I had done many mornings. Due to the enormous success of their latest CD, Nigel and the band thought it best to follow up with a new album in order to sustain their succeeding momentum. I felt honored and privileged to have contributed three songs to their chart topping CD. Nigel and Gypsy Soul had requested a new song or two from me for their new CD. I would be taking Elizabeth and Donnie to Disney World next week. I did not think working on songs two or three mornings this week would put too much pressure on me. After all, I enjoyed creating music. I felt it more relaxing than stressful, despite what had been happening to me recently. �Albert,� the voice shattered through my thoughts. I looked behind me. Doctor Patrick stood at the back wall. He seemed as quiet and reserved yet frightening now as he had always been when he made his visits in my nightmares. For the first time, I responded to him. After all, this was no dream. Doctor Patrick was invading my reality. �What are you doing here?� �What do you mean, Albert?� �I mean,� I snarled at him, �what are you doing here? How in hell did you get in here?� Calmly, Doctor Patrick asked, �Where is �here�, Albert? Where are we?� Without much thought to his question, I replied, �You�re in my study room�in my house. I want to know what you�re doing here. How did you get in here? Did my wife let you in?� �Albert,� he restarted almost tenderly, �I want you to stay calm and listen to me for just a moment. What I have to say to you may be very hard for you to understand. And it�s going to be very difficult for you to accept, but I think this is necessary for your recovery. �So let�s begin: Albert, this in an experimental procedure. I call it �Post-Sleep-Suggestion�. It�s basically the same thing as �Post-Hypnotic-Suggestion�. You see, Albert, when you dream, you seem to be keeping yourself in a hypnotic state. It�s as if your sub-conscience had assumed control of your reality and your conscience has reverted to the role of dreams and illusions. You believe your dream is reality and you believe reality is your dream. While dreaming in your near hypnotic state, your body actually functions to a certain extent�basically, your physical body is acting out some of the actions of your dreamed actions. For instance, when you dream of typing on your computer, you actually sit up on your mat and maneuver your fingers as if you were sitting at a computer and typing. When you dream of eating, you perform that act even though there is no food in front of you. Your body even goes through the motions of hugging and kissing your wife and son when you dream of doing so. And, Albert, you talk to them. You talk in your sleep. I�ve listened to you talking to your wife, Elizabeth, and to your son, Donald. I�ve learned a lot about them just from listening to you. �I theorized that when you were in this dream state, I would be able to communicate with you more effectively because I will be entering what you consider as reality, whereas before, you considered me and reality as part of your dream. You were unresponsive to me those times because you considered me as the main character of a nightmare and you wanted nothing to do with me. But now, you�re willing to confront me since I�ve come into your reality.� I've actually learned more about them from listening to you than I've learned from talking to your family. �Now, I don�t expect you to fully understand everything I�ve told you, but I do think you�re ready to face the truth. I think you�re ready to begin understanding what has happened to you. To start with, Albert, I am going to ask you a few questions and I want you to try to answer them to the best of your ability. Just answer them as best as you can.� ******* My mind was reeling. I was confused, and yet I seemed to be on the verge of an understanding that frightened me. I wanted to fight off this impending revelation, but it seemed to be stronger that my power to resist. Doctor Patrick loomed over me and threatened me even though he was unassuming and passive. When Doctor Patrick resumed, I had the disturbing sensation of my whole world around me being chiseled away. �Albert, do you remember April 9th?� I ineffectively tried to counter with, �It�s only March, Doc. We�re not in April yet.� Calmly, Doctor Patrick clarified, �I�m talking about April 9th of two years ago. Do you remember what happened that night?� �Yes,� I reluctantly surrendered, �the accident: It was raining and I hit a puddle of standing water or something like that. My car hydroplaned and I lost control. We hit the guardrail and flipped.� �What do you remember after that, Albert?� �Just being in the hospital recovering from my injuries. It seems like I was in there for a while.� �OK, Albert�this is very important�what is your first memory of your wife and son immediately following the accident of April 9th?� I tried to recall everything. I bounced off every recollection stored within my mind. I tried to squeeze out anything from my memory. Yet, despite all my efforts, the earliest memory I could come up with seemed to have taken place several months after that treacherously wet night. I answered, �I was sitting in bed with my son leaning back against my left side. We were watching television. My wife was at my right side, resting her head on my shoulder. She and I were laughing because our son was laughing at the TV show. I can�t really remember what we were watching, but I suppose it was cartoons or something like that. Whatever it was, it made Donnie laugh and Elizabeth and I were laughing because he was laughing so much.� After that, Doctor Patrick asked, �You can�t remember anything between that time with your wife and son and the time of your accident?� �I remember being in the hospital recovering; but that�s all.� �And you don�t remember your wife or son visiting you in the hospital, do you.� �No.� �But now, during the two years after the accident, you seem to spend most of your time together with your family. You do not remember them during your recovery, but all of a sudden, you�re spending every day with them. Would that be a fair assessment?� Hesitantly, I ceded, �It certainly seems that way.� �Do you have an explanation for that, Albert?� I answered quickly, �No!� �You spend all your time together, correct?� �Yes�pretty much�I don�t see where you�re going with this Doctor. I don�t see�� �It was not that way before the accident, was it, Albert?� �What do you mean?� �You did not spend all your time with your wife and son, did you?� I sighed, then replied, �No, I didn�t. We didn�t spend much time together at all.� Doctor Patrick nodded, yet frowned almost sympathetically, then asked, �What changed, Albert? How is it that you�ve been able to spend all your time together as one happy family unit when, before, you were constantly working and could barely spend a whole day together?� �I gave songs to Gypsy Soul. They recorded three of my songs on their last CD. I get royalties off their earnings, and, as you probably know, their CD was a big hit. I�m making enough money now to afford to be able to stay home with my family.� �And do you know exactly how much money you are making, or do you have someone else in charge of your finances?� �Why would you ask?� �Because you�ve never talked about how much you make� only that it�s enough. And I�ve heard you talk about your agent and financial advisor who you claim is in charge of your finances. You know her as Mrs. Hawkins.� �Yes,� I said confused, �Mrs. Hawkins. She�s my agent who works between me and Gypsy Soul. She also handles my finances. She pays the bills for us and pays our taxes so we don�t have to worry about it. You know her?� �Yes, I know her: Kimbra Hawkins.� �That�s right. Her name is Kimbra Hawkins.� Doctor Patrick continued, �Actually, I know her quite well. But, I know her as one of the nurses who tends to you from time to time during the week.� �I don�t�don�t�� I stuttered against the attack of possible truths, ��I don�t believe you.� Doctor Patrick paused. He approached me and sat in a chair next to me. He smiled at me as if reassuring me or as if to put me at ease. Then he continued and evoked more fear within me than I had ever felt before. �Albert, I need you to do something for me. I know what I�m about to ask you to do will seem strange and maybe even impossible at first, but I need you to really try to do it. OK? Now, Albert, I want you to open your eyes.� I tried to force out a laugh as I scoffed �What do you mean? How would I open my eyes when my eyes are already open? Why would you tell me to open my eyes when you can plainly see my eyes are open because I�m looking right at you.� �I know how this sounds to you right now, Albert, but I need you to try. Please, Albert, try to open your eyes for me. Just try to do it. Open your eyes.� As farfetched as it seemed, I did try. I forced the lids of my already open eyes to raise up. My eyes seemed to be opening. Even though I was looking around at my study and everything inside the room, my eyes were opening. My eyes opened. The study began to fade away. My desk dissolved. My papers, musical instruments, recorded song discs and my file cabinet drifted away. My brightly lit room and white walls slipped into oblivion. I stared at the ceiling of the padded room of my dreams. I was not sitting at a desk. Rather, I lay on the mat atop the ledge that served as my bed. To my left side, I noticed the window was actually part of a door. I had not noticed this as a door before because its padding was so finely flushed with the padding of the walls on either side. Standing by the small window was the muscular man in the white uniform of an orderly. I noticed his name stitched on his shirt above the right breast pocket: N Robertson. I asked in a whisper, �Nigel? Nigel Robertson?� Mr. Robertson nodded with a near sorrowful expression, then resumed his rigid stance. Also to my left, I could see Doctor Patrick sitting beside me. I felt tears rolling down my cheeks . The sobbing began forcing its way out. I cried because I realized I was back in reality. �Albert,� Doctor Patrick began again, �tell me what you remember now. What do you remember about April 9th, two years ago?� �The accident: It was raining and I hit a puddle of standing water or something like that. My car hydroplaned and I lost control. We hit the guardrail and flipped. We landed in the middle of the median of the highway. It was dug out like a ditch, so we were upside down in the mud and water. I don�t know how long we where there. But then, I remember being laid on my back across what seemed to be a stretcher. I saw flashing red and blue lights all around me. I could feel rain falling on my face. I also remember voices, but I could not make out much of what they were saying. Someone yelled that there were others in the car. I wanted to help out and tell them my wife and son were in the car. I wanted to do something to help get Donnie and Elizabeth out, but I could not move or talk. I could not do anything but lay on the stretcher. It was as if I were paralyzed. I heard someone call for the �Jaws-of-Life� and told them to hurry because there was a child trapped inside the car. I thought I might have heard him say, �She�s already gone�we need to worry about the kid�get the �Jaws� down here�� but I can�t be sure about anything I heard that night. I even thought I heard one of the members of my ambulance team say, ��all we could help was one�� but I can�t be certain of that, either. �I remembered waking up a few times while in the hospital room. I don�t remember a whole lot about it, but I do remember the one day my mother and step-parents were in my room. My mother held onto my hand and told me Elizabeth and Donnie didn�t make it. I remember telling her she was wrong, but I don�t know if I said it loud enough or strong enough for her to hear me. After that, I can�t remember anything else until the day I was sitting on the bed with Elizabeth and Donnie. And from then on�� From then on, I dreamed and accepted my dream as my waking life. In my sleep I lived a dreamer�s reality. And now, I have been awaken. Doctor Patrick was no longer the evil nemesis of my nightmares. He was my psychiatrist whose purpose was to bring me back to reality and sanity. �Good, Albert,� he said, �Now you�re ready to deal with your loss�and you�re ready to begin to heal. You won�t be alone, Albert. You have family who are concerned for you and who care for you. They�ve been ever hopeful that you would recover. And I�ll be here, too. I�ll be here with you to help you. Together, we�ll help you make a complete recovery. I�m looking forward to our time together, Albert. I think we�re ready for your return to reality.� ******* That was a little over a year ago. Doctor Patrick is really a gentle soul. He seems to truly love helping his patients. I have a lot of respect for him. He has spent countless hours counseling me and trying to help me cope with the loss of my beautiful family. I�ve actually enjoyed our time together. He has done so much for me. During my earlier days at the facility, Kimbra Hawkins would sometime be the nurse who brought in my food tray and cleaned up my room. While she performed her duties, Nigel Robertson would stand guard inside my room as he did when any staff member entered a patient�s room. During these times, Kimbra and Nigel would talk to each other. Kimbra usually asked how Nigel�s band was doing. Nigel�s band, Gypsy Soul, played at various jazz nightclubs around the city. Nurse Hawkins had actually seen Gypsy Soul perform a couple of times and always gave Nigel praise for the band�s sound as well as Nigel�s drumming abilities. I had even promised Nigel I would attend one of their gigs in the future once I was discharged. I told him I wanted to see the band who performed my songs in my dreams. It was strange that I had never heard them play in my dreams�and even stranger that I had never even heard one of my own songs during my dreams. And, perhaps by the contributions of these peculiarities, I was genuinely interested in Gypsy Soul. As I said before, I have a lot of respect for Doctor Patrick. I had shown him much progress and I think he was truly proud of his efforts in my case. Because I had improved so much quicker than anticipated, I had been given more privileges and more freedom within the facility than the majority of the other patients. I moved around the floor and chatted with others and made quite a few acquaintances throughout the section. Doctor Patrick was impressed with my accelerated recovery. He was even more impressed with the ability I showed him to cope with my loss. The leniency toward me made it especially easy to slip behind the desk one day while the staff rushed to an emergency at the end of the hall. A patient had attacked one of the orderlies and the employees responded in order to assist in gaining control of the patient. While this incident continued, I had slipped behind the desk and found several capsule bottles lying on a table under the medicine lockbox. The nurse who was separating medication for that night�s distribution had apparently rushed to help her coworkers and had not taken time to replace the medicine inside the box and lock them up. I grabbed several bottles and read them quickly until I found those I wanted. Before the final room check of the night, I sat on the edge of the mat atop the ledge that served as my bed. I took the contents of the bottle and began swallowing the tables three or four at a time. In all, I took approximately seventy pills. I was sure the sedative ingredients would be effective. I lay back on the mat and stared at the ceiling. The room was brightly lit. The walls were white and clean. This room was such an improvement to the padded blue room I had been in before. Yet, I regarded this room every bit as much of a prison as I had regarded the first room. I could not really be certain this room, this facility, this building was reality or my dream. I was unsure if Doctor Soloman Patrick was my psychiatrist or just an imagined character in my dreams. I could not be sure if Nigel Robertson, a drummer in a local, unknown jazz band, and Kimbra Hawkins were an orderly and a nurse on my floor, or if he was the drummer of a famous band whose chart topping CD contained three of my songs, and she was my agent and financial advisor. But, as I watched the white walls disintegrate, I could be sure of one thing: I am sitting on the bed with my son, Donnie, leaning back against my left side. My wife, Elizabeth, was at my right side resting her head against my shoulder. We were watching television. She and I were laughing because our son was laughing at the TV show. Maybe we were watching cartoons. Whatever the program, it made Donnie laugh and Elizabeth and I laughed because he was laughing so much.
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