COSMIC DRAFT

 

 

   A terrifying scream tore through the room with the force of an erupting volcano. My first waking actions were to fling myself from the bed and then tap my head, none too gently, on the corner of the night table. Putting a hand out reflexively to stabilize, I found only air and flew. I lay there on the floor stunned, bathed in sweat, vibrating like a rummy without his bottle. I could clearly feel a speeding heart, while the side of my head became the source of a brilliant light show, like a clear winter night in the country – only a hell of a lot closer.

   "Jeez, not again!" I swore, rubbing my hazy palm across a wet brow, accidentally touching the most recent injury. With the help of my favorite bed, I did manage to stand but a spinning room forced me to sag back onto the mattress and close unfocused eyes, ordering the vertigo to cease immediately.

   Yeah, right. As if.

   Several seconds later, my eyes slowly opened. Rubber legs propelled me down the short hallway to the bathroom. As had become the norm of late, the walls took a beating as I ricocheted from side to side. I stuffed the plug into the sinkhole and turned the cold water onto max. While waiting for it to fill, I glanced into the mirror, dreading to see the image. Troubled brown eyes stared back, puffy with dark bags underneath. I idly noticed the multiplying lines of worry across my forehead, most from the recent past, before I reached down, turned off the faucet and plunged my entire head into the brisk water.

   After several seconds, I came up for a few quick breaths before diving back in. From experience generated over the last three and a half months, it usually takes a good half dozen dunkings to bring me totally back from wherever I'd been. As the water drained from the sink, I massaged my face dry with a towel, gently probing the ugly purple swelling just below my right temple.

  Dammit, enough was enough!

  I threw the towel at the laundry bin and walked, much more steady now, to the kitchen.  Spying a half-full bottle of cheap white wine in the refrigerator and a tall flute nearby, a few seconds later I was guzzling deeply, like an animal at an oasis. My mouth and throat burning, I stopped to catch my breath and refilled the glass. Replacing the bottle, I sauntered into the living room, wearing nothing but my Hanes and a frown, and took up station behind my small oak desk.

   I sipped the cold wine as the computer booted up and in seconds had logged in to my email account. I was searching for a message I'd received some time ago from a psychic. She'd left a short cryptic letter telling me to contact her immediately. Initially, I'd assumed she was after my money, but little over a week ago I'd made a horrifying discovery. I was mortified to realize that the date on the email coincided exactly with the start of my living hell.

  I call it that, but I'll let you be the judge.

   In the space of a month I was fired from my job of 15 years, my new wife left me for another man without any explanation, I was let go from a volunteer coaching position, and then found to be ineligible for Employment Insurance benefits. Not to mention friends who no longer return my calls, a brother who keeps his answering machine on 24/7 so he doesn't have to speak to me, nightly rides through horrifying dreamscapes and, of course, hallucinations.

   That's right. Hallucinations.

   My doctor subjected me to a battery of tests after which I don't think I'll ever quite cough the same again. His prognosis was that my physical health was poor. Wow, big surprise there. And is it just me, or does everyone routinely get a vitamin booster the size of a banana right in the ass? His eventual question regarding my sleeping patterns prompted a huge mistake when I let slip that my reflection in the mirror had tried to speak to me.

   You can imagine how well that went over with him. It was as though he couldn't get away from me quickly enough. I vehemently rejected his offer of tranquilizers but we agreed on some Chinese herbs. He had also urged me to seriously consider getting some psychiatric help in the tone of a father mildly rebuking a son and had then raced from the consulting room as though Cerberus was snapping at his ass.

  I pulled up the file with Madam Sara's email address and then quickly tapped out a brief but plain message: "Contact me soonest. Situation becoming impossible to handle. I hope to hell you know what I’m talking about." I typed my name at the end, and then hurriedly added my telephone number, pressed the send button and then acknowledged my ISP's message that the email had been sent successfully.

 

There were nagging doubts that perhaps there was a cleverly hidden blood clot or perhaps a big hit of acid left over from wayward days floating around in my brain. If not, there was every chance that I would need a lifeline to keep from going over the edge. The edge of what I could not yet explain or understand.

   I stood and stretched, unable to stifle the unconscious groan that escaped suddenly parched lips. Going ten rounds with Billy Blanks and losing would probably have left me in better shape than my present condition, mentally and physically.

  The telephone rang, shattering not only the early morning silence, but a good portion of my remaining nerves as well. I picked it up hesitantly, noting that the wall clock read 3:15am. Before I could say a word the deep, sultry voice of a woman spoke.

   "You took long enough to reach me. Has he tried to make contact?"

   "Who is this?" I demanded, but deep down I knew the answer already.

   "We don't have time for games, John," she growled. "I'll ask you only once more. Has he tried to contact you?"

  My mind was working at hyper speed and I could feel adrenaline's chill fingers playing my spine like a xylophone. I took a quick stab and

blurted, "In the mirror, you mean?"

   "Yes," she replied in a satisfied tone. "And your dreams? How much can you remember?"

   I had to pause briefly before answering for two equally disturbing reasons. The first is that I'd developed almost a phobia when it came to discussing something as embarrassing as nightmares  with people I knew and that goes double for strangers. An if I was to be completely honest, although I could only recall blurred images merging in an eerie half-light, the ones I did scared the living shit right out of me.

   I finally managed to croak, "I can't remember much, mainly just disjointed images."

   "Good. That means there's still time."

   My curiosity overshadowed my discomfort and I hesitantly asked, "Still time for what?"

   "Explanations would be pointless at this stage so I need you to trust me. Can you do that John? If you cannot find trust, I will be unable to help you."

   I intuitively recognized a lifeline when I saw it and wasted no time with a quick and adamant reply of yes.

   "Good. Now it is imperative that you leave your residence immediately. That won't lose them but it will slow them down." Madam Sara gave me quick directions to an address in Chinatown and then, with a quick "Good Luck," she was gone before I could ask even one of the other mixed bag of questions clouding my mind. 

   A Diamond cab dropped me off about a block from my destination. I was considerably calmer by then and took a moment to inhale a few deep breaths and realized quickly my mistake. Even at this early hour, many of the lights for businesses were on up and down the street, shopkeepers were out sweeping storefronts, unfurling awnings and exchanging muted early morning greetings. All of these images were overshadowed by the constant rank odor of rotting vegetables, fish and old grease.

    I walked quickly for several paces before I was struck with a massive wave of vertigo. Stumbling forward, I was shocked further to find that all sound around me had ceased. Long jagged shadows cast by numerous objects seemed to slowly stretch and stir. I glanced at the traffic, which appeared to slacken and then hold in place. I had only time to acknowledge that none of my senses except sight were functioning before I was robbed of that as well.

   When I next opened wary eyes, my hand was turning an ornate brass knob on the door to a glass-fronted store proudly bearing the name "The Seer's Shoppe" in grand copperplate lettering. Strangely, having shopped in this section of Chinatown on numerous occasions, I could not recall ever having seen this place, somewhere inside seemed to say in passing, but I barely noted it - my mind seemed to be in a deep freeze.

   The solid oak door opened inward at my urging and a first uncertain glance was of a crouching gargoyle, ready to spring. I halted in mid stride, shaking my head to try to clear it, and then slowly realized it was just an image on the far wall. The lights came on dimly and I had no time to glance around before a middle-aged woman appeared, a pleasant smile lighting her features. For the first time in a very long time I began to relax. Something about this woman had a strangely calming effect on me. It certainly helped that she appeared to be the universal image of a grandmother with her gray hair tied in a bun and wearing baize slacks with a yellow cardigan. Over the rim of golden pince-nez on a string, dove blue eyes regarded me warmly.

   "Greetings warrior. We've been expecting you," she said simply, before entwining her arm in mine and leading me toward the back wall.

   “Do I know you?” I asked hesitantly, curious at my reaction to her and sensing what I could only describe as familiarity.

   She flashed a brilliant smile in my direction as an answer before guiding me down the aisle, the grinning gargoyle seeming to stretch as a door opened silently in the middle of its body.

   What I saw as we stepped through caused me to gasp in disbelief; we were standing at the edge of a sizeable garden, with a variety of plants, shrubs and trees in a rainbow of colors. As much a feast for my eyes, the fragrances that massaged my sense of smell were like food to a starving man. The most shocking aspect though, was that, overhead, two orange noonday suns hung suspended amidst a violet-colored sky.

   My guide smiled understandingly and patted my arm gently, "I have that same reaction every time I come here, dear." 

   I had no time to think of a response before being seated on a bench in a somewhat cool shaded area, under what appeared to be a leafy oak, a perspiring glass of white wine staring invitingly at me from the nearby circular dark table.

   "Madam Sara will be with you shortly. It has certainly been a pleasure to see you again," she said smiling, before she bowed slightly and left my paradise through another hidden door, located somewhere under a sleepy willow. I took a sip of the sparkling sweet wine, curious at what I had just witnessed and experienced and yet felt very little anxiety. As I looked around absently, a feeling of calm descended on me. I must admit I looked at the wine and wondered.

  A soft rustle of silk was the only warning I had before my heart tried to have an out of chest encounter. Standing before me was a radiantly beautiful redhead, about 6' tall, dressed in a flowing rose-colored gown, a soft blue shawl caressing slender shoulders. The gentleman in me came to the fore and I automatically stood and reached out a hand. A warm tingling shot up my arm and through my body as she enveloped my hand in both of hers, looking deeply into my eyes. An overpowering feeling of intimacy overtook me followed closely by embarrassment, and a grin turned my face to the likeness a bashful schoolboy.

  Staring at her, I thought that the acid in my head had suddenly returned with a vengeance, as her outline seemed to shimmer and coalesce. After a moment it was gone and she turned and guided me gently back to the bench and we sat. Feeling somewhat ill at ease, I took a long swallow of the wine, hoping to organize my jumbled thoughts and emotions.

  It was she who broke the silence, preceded by a smile that would rival any summer sunset. “It is good to see you once again, although at present you wouldn’t remember. I'm certain you have many questions but I fear our time is short.”

  My mouth finally made an attempt at speaking and blurted, “What is going on? What the hell is happening to me? And how did you know when to contact me?”

  Her face turned kindly as she settled back, the fabric of her gown whispering over casually crossed legs. Regarding me for long moments with hands clasped gently on her lap she spoke. “Tell me, do you feel ever feel as though your life is being systematically taken apart, piece by piece, through no apparent fault of your own?"

  My jaw dropped and I damn near chipped a tooth on my wineglass. I had only dared to think like that; to hear her verbalize one of my deepest fears was unnerving in the extreme. I nodded dumbly and she beamed an understanding smile at me before pausing to admire the midday suns and the soothing purple sky, through golden brown eyes.

   "There has been a war raging in the far reaches of this and hundreds of other dimensions, as you understand things, since the beginning of time," she began and then looked pointedly at me. "I am eternal and exist out of time, as you might perceive it. I am merely a guide, a helper if you will, but you are a most powerful warrior."

Page 2