“I walk the path of stone toward the stairs. On either side of me is the mist. I can hear things in it.”
I watched Josephine’s face. She appeared more than just relaxed. She was comfortable with her surroundings. “How do you feel?”
“I feel fine, thank you.” The response was automatic. “I know this place. I have been here before.” Josephine paused for a long time, her head twitching back and forth. “Where are you?”
“I am right here, Josephine. Right by your side.”
“Not there. I need you here. You promised. The Stairs are just down the path. I need you with me.”
My frown matched hers. I didn’t understand. I put the light enhancer on the table and reached out to cover one of her hands with my own. “I’m right here, Josephine.”
She flipped her hand over and grabbed me by the wrist in a grip stronger than I expected. “There you are. Come. We need to go. There is something I must do.”
I winced as the light above Josephine’s head shone bright in my face. Then gravity shifted and I was falling through a rainbow of colors. Before I could cry out, my falling body shifted and I was flying. I could see Josephine’s hand on my wrist, but nothing else of her. All around me colored light pulsed and shimmered in undulating waves.
Gravity reasserted itself as my head spun and the world tilted sideways. My body, crouched forward as I had been sitting on the edge of the chair, stumbled forward in an effort to keep me from falling. The chair was gone. Josephine grabbed me by the shoulder. It kept me from tumbling to the ground, but not from banging into the hard wall that hadn’t been there moments before.
Dazed, I pulled back from my patient and the wall. I stared. I was not in my office anymore. I didn’t know where I was. I hugged myself, blinking and gasping, trying to make sense of what had just happened.
We were in a stone corridor without any windows or doors. The air was fresh with a faint tinge of wetness. It reminded me a little of the asylum, but the smell was wrong—wetter, loamier. I looked for the lights, saw none, and wondered how the hallway was illuminated. The walls were cool and moist to the touch. More importantly, they were solid.
It was impossible. The wet chill, so familiar and so different from the normal atmosphere of the asylum, told me otherwise. All my senses told me I was here, in this new, unfamiliar place.
Josephine stood halfway between me and the darkness at the end of the hallway—a hallway that hadn’t been there before. One I didn’t recognize. “Where are we?”
She tilted her head and gave me the kind of look you give a particularly slow student when the answer is obvious. “The Dreamlands, of course.”
I walked to her, noting that she no longer wore a dress. Instead, she wore the kind of thing a working archaeologist might wear in the field—pants, boots, shirt, gloves, belt with canteen, and a vest. Everything had changed. I was still in my usual work attire—long skirt, blouse, warm suit jacket, stockings, and sensible shoes. I was the same as before. “I don’t understand. I, we, were in my office.”
Josephine let out a slow breath. “We don’t have time for this. I have a task to perform.”
“What task?” My mind spun, confused. We’d just been in a therapy session in my office. How had we gotten here?
“Once we get down the Stairs.” She turned and walked down the corridor.
I rubbed my face and looked again. The stone corridor was still there. I followed her at a slower pace, grappling with this turn of events. Perhaps my foray into anomalous thinking put me into a similar hypnotic state. Perhaps, that was what was needed with Josephine’s case. I struggled to put myself back into the doctor’s state of mind, to regain my equilibrium.
“Josephine, describe what you see.”
She stopped and turned to me. “You see what I see. Don’t you?”
“You mentioned mist before. I don’t see mist.”
“Oh. Well, there is a stone path. It is black and worn, but not dusty. All around us is mist and shadows within the mist. Above, there is a purple sky with blue-purple clouds.” She gestured to each area as she spoke. “What do you see?”
I took a slow breath, working hard to remain calm—or to at least appear to be calm. I would not panic. I had my patient’s mental state to consider. “I see a long stone corridor that leads into darkness.” I pointed down the hallway. “It’s cool and damp here. I don’t know where the light comes from.” I watched her with a keen eye to see what her response would be to the fact that I disagreed with what she said was around us.
Her response was not as I expected.
Josephine laughed and clapped her hands together with delight. “That is the Dreamlands. It is a bit different for everyone. Still, you see the same path I do, leading in the same direction. That is enough for now.” She turned away and walked toward the darkness.
The farther she went, the more the darkness receded. I could almost see a door at the end of the hall. As I moved to follow her, a small hand touched my arm. Behind me was a child in tan shorts, white shirt, peach tie, and a tan jacket. He also wore black knee socks and black shoes. “What can I do for you?” I asked.
“You understand that you are making a huge mistake, yes?” The child gave a contemptuous sniff. “That woman is hysterical. If you follow her, you will fall into her delusions.”
“Miss Ruggles is my patient, Dr. Mintz. I will do what I believe is best. Right now, it is a joint hypnotherapy session.” Eying the spoiled child, part of me understood this version of Dr. Mintz was my subconscious fighting against the surrealistic turn the therapy session had taken. Dr. Mintz was jealous of my skill and my ability to help my patients without torturing them, and so my mind had transformed him into the form of a petulant little boy.
“You will regret this,” he warned.
“No, I won’t. If you’ll excuse me, I’m very busy.” I turned from the child and felt the door close behind me. Josephine stood there with a smile.
She gestured before us. “The Seventy Steps of Light Slumber.”
Though we had not moved, the corridor was gone. We were on the edge of a cliff at the top of a set of steep stairs. They were wooden and interconnected by stiff wires that kept them still as they hung in the air without a visible means of support. It was a straight line down to an island landing, also suspended in mid-air.
On this landing, there was a huge gate that spanned the width of the rocky platform. Gold-bronze and glimmering, the gate reached skyward and appeared to go on forever, disappearing into a roiling darkness above that reminded me of storm clouds. I looked down and saw the cliff edge we stood on jutted out over nothing. Not darkness. Just nothing. It was all my mind could compare it to. My stomach flip-flopped. I stepped backward.
“Time to go, Doctor.” Josephine beckoned before she took to those fragile stairs, the only touchstone above the chasm of nothingness.
I looked down to the landing again. This time, I saw two robed figures—one in red and one in black—standing before the gates. Each held a huge weapon at the ready.
Chapter 5
I have never been one to refuse a challenge. To show weakness or uncertainty in front of my peers in college was to admit weakness—something I could not afford to do in that competitive world. This has served me well in my professional life. Unexpectedly, this stubbornness and unwillingness to acquiesce assisted me in my efforts to learn how to lucid dream. When faced with an impossible situation, I learned to accept what I saw and to seek out specific cues to my state of being—awake or asleep.