Make That Two

I woke screaming. My room was dark and the fleece blanket that had been covering me slid to the floor. My door opened and Dorian came in.

"What's wrong?" he asked, turning on the overhead light. "Are you okay?"

I crossed my arms over my chest. It hurt to breathe.

"N'Lea?"

"Promise me you won't go home tonight."

"Why?"

"Just promise," I whispered, images of Dorian's bloody body flashing in my mind.

"I want to know why, N'Lea."

I saw a woman approach Dorian's room and I shivered. "I'll tell you after your appointment."

"Okay."

Then he left, closing my door most of the way.

The image of his bloody face would not leave my mind and I held the Fear points on myself. It was only nine-thirty. Dorian would be done with his client about ten-thirty. I continued to hold the Fear points until my chest no longer hurt. Climbing off my table, I pulled out a new client form and put it on my clipboard.

How was I going to explain to Dorian that he shouldn't go home because of my dream? Never before had they been about people close to me. They had always been about me or a complete stranger. Slowly I walked around my office. I checked my flower essences to see if I needed anything. Nothing. I made sure my manuals were organized before changing the sheet on my table. I had enough sheets for my clients that day, but I would need to do laundry when I got home.

Returning to my desk, I pulled out the notebook I used to record my dreams in. I added this latest one to the ones I had already recorded. At first I had thought these dreams to be just like my other dreams—symbolic for me in some way or just bizarre processing dreams. But then the pain started to accompany them.

A few days ago, I had turned on the T.V. in the morning as I was getting ready for work. The news was on, talking about a woman who had been found dead in a ditch. When they showed her picture I sat hard on the couch. It was the woman I had dreamed about two nights before. The ditch was the same and though the news report didn't say how she died, I knew. She had been raped then strangled to death.

Setting my pen down, I covered my mouth and closed my eyes. I felt sick and I was tired. I pulled out some dried apple chips and set them in a small dish before pouring water over them. I turned on my Ipod and let the soft music fill the silence of the office. Today might be a long day. Tears filled my eyes as I yawned. 9:45am my little clock read. Folding my arms, I rested my arms and head on my desk. I was tired but I would not be going back to sleep. The minutes ticked by slowly until I heard Dorian's door open and his voice bidding his client goodbye.

Dorian let my door swing open before he leaned against my desk.

"So, what's up?" he asked.

"You shouldn't go home tonight," I replied.

"Why shouldn't I? I promised Shaunese we'd have some quality time together."

"She'll kill you."

"What? N'Lea, you know Shaunese. She would never…."

"I watched her, Dorian. I watched her stab you." Chills ran down my spine and I crossed my arms across my chest. Little pricks of pain stabbed through my chest where Shaunese's knife had gone in.

"Are you okay?"

"I don't know. Promise me you won't go home tonight."

"I'll give it some thought." Dorian straightened to leave.

"Did you see the news report a few days ago about the woman who was found dead in a ditch?" I asked.

Dorian had his hand on the door handle and he stopped. "What about it?" he asked.

I handed him my notebook of dreams, opened to the night I had dreamed about her. He took it. His eyes scanned the words and he moved to the chair and sat down. He read for a while, never looking in my direction.

"How did you get this?"

"In a dream."

I stood and went to my tuning forks. I picked up Central Vessel and Heart. Hitting them together, the sounds resonated through the room. I could feel Dorian's eyes on my back as I hit the tuning forks together again.

"And your dream about me?"

"It's the last entry," I replied. I hit the tuning forks together once more and hung my head.

Dorian turned the pages before I heard the notebook fall on the floor. I turned and Dorian's hands were shaking.

"Dorian, are you okay?" I asked.

"I'm not supposed to read it," he replied.

He locked his fingers together and lowered his head. I put the tuning forks back in their stand before going to Dorian's side. I placed my hand on his wrist and he turned to me.

"These are the kinds of dreams you have been having over the last two weeks?"

"Yes."

"How often do they come?"

"Every night."

"Have all of them come true?"

"I only know of the one."

"Okay." He opened his arms and I leaned over and embraced him. "Thank you."

"You're welcome, Dorian. I'm sorry."

"You have no reason to be." Then he left my office, closing his office door behind him.

I put my notebook back in the drawer before going back to my tuning forks. The room still felt a little off. I picked up the Governing Vessel and Stomach forks. Hitting them together, I made a slow circle around my table. The tones sounded like they came through a tunnel to my tired mind, but energized me. I only walked around the table once before putting the forks away. Then I left my room long enough to wash my hands before my first client came.

She was a new client, referred to me by a friend because of the changes he had experienced. I hoped that despite my lack of sleep, I would be able to maintain space for this new client. There was a light knock on my door before a young woman entered my office. I could venture a guess she wasn't older than 18 or 19. Her cheeks were flushed red and her eyes bloodshot from crying.

I explained my work to her as she filled out my new client form. Then we started the session. We worked for just over an hour on her fear system to address a recent trauma in her life. I was glad to see her much improved as she left my office. I hoped as she finished processing and releasing the part of the trauma that we'd addressed that she would see the improvement also. I walked her out to the main doors before bidding her goodbye.

Dorian was standing in his doorway when I returned to my room.

"First time client?" he asked.

"Yes," I replied.

"Are you feeling any better?"

"A little. I'm getting my second wind. I hope it gets me through the rest of my clients."

"How many more do you have today?"

"Three, maybe four. It will depend on if Janie gets stuck at work or not."

"Okay."

Dorian looked at the floor then straightened to enter his room.

"Is something bothering you, Dorian?" I asked.

"Just thinking."

"Alright."

I entered my office once more and changed the sheet on the table before checking my email. There weren't any client emails, so I would check it again later. As I logged out, one of the news reports that MSN posted caught my attention. A man had been found stuffed in a small closet. I clicked on it to read the article. As I started to read, another of my dreams flashed through my mind. I pulled my dream notebook from the drawer and scanned through the entries. Something about it I swear I had seen before, but where was it?

Flipping back to the first entry, I resumed my reading. Dorian stepped into the doorway to ask me a question as I found the piece that corresponded to the article. The speculations the police had about how he ended up in the closet were nowhere near to what actually happened. Grabbing a pen, I made a note of the date and the article title.

"N'Lea?" Dorian asked. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"Make that two," I said softly.

"Two?"

I nodded and covered my mouth.

"Two what? Dreams being true?"

I closed my eyes a moment then dropped my hand down to my desk. "Yeah."

"Maybe you should report it."

"I'm not sure how well that will go."

"If these people are dying, N'Lea, then maybe you can prevent their deaths."

I shivered despite the warmth of the space heater and rubbed my hands up and down my arms. "I'll give it some thought."

Dorian gave me one of his 'are you serious?' looks before leaning against the door frame and folding his arms.

"Was there something you needed?" I asked, wanting to change topics.

"Shaunese called and was wondering if you wanted to come over for a movie night."

"I would like that. We haven't watched a good romantic comedy in a while."

Dorian sighed and rolled his eyes.

I chuckled. "I'm teasing, Dorian."

"I know," he replied, smiling. "7pm work?"

"Yes."

"Alright."

Dorian left the doorway and went back into his office.

I slowly ate my hydrated apple slices before taking a few sprays of Post Trauma Stabilizer and clearing my thoughts to be able to hold space for my next client.