It’s my inner Stephen King…
PS. not a true story…..?
“It started when I was about ten years old. I lived in a small country house, down the street about a mile from town. You know, south of Bad Axe. My dad bought the house from a farmer who said he just purchased the land a few years ago. Figured the old place could be used by someone and he could use the extra cash from it’s sale. He didn’t remember anything about the previous owners,
Dad and Mom worked for a farmer, a few miles down the road, and Dad couldn’t afford much. The house wasn’t very nice. There was a basement that was cold and wet, and two floors above. I got to sleep upstairs, where there was no heat or running water. Mom and Dad slept downstairs. There was a small bathroom next to their room.
Like I said, it was old and dirty, but Mom was so happy. She told dad she could clean the house and make it into a good home, Dad bought the house with all of his meager savings, and he would have to pay the farmer twenty dollars a month for five years to pay the balance.
Back then, I could care less where I slept, as long as the bed was soft. At ten years old I was a hell raiser. Well… not really. I was actually kind of shy and spent a lot of time with my mom.”
The doctor reached for Harry’s arm and said, “Sir. We only have an hour and your walking us away from the problem, again. Now tell me more about the dreams you have been having.”
He jotted another note on his tablet as Harry continued, “It started with a vivid dream I had one night. In the dream I was burying a dead body behind our house. When I woke, I remembered the dream but then I forgot… then one night I woke up and I was standing at the back window, looking down at the back yard.. I was suddenly aware that this was more than just a stupid dream.
Of course I went back to being the obnoxious kid I was, figuring it was just growing up. Everyone has crazy dreams. Hell… I am as normal as all my friends!
The dreams didn’t stop… and now they were being mixed up with some dandy sexual ones. But the ones I remembered were those that repeated. I figure those dreams must mean more, otherwise, why would you dream them over and over again.”
The Doctor nodded to continue. “Go on, but keep on topic.”
Harry smiled and gazed toward the window. He could see nighttime approaching. “It got so I hated to sleep. I would ask to go with my friends and fight mom to let me stay overnight. I would have killed to end those dreams and to never see another dead body.
I finally told my best friend Judy about my dream problems. She laughed and said I was nuts.
“Honey,” Judy moaned, “You could never… kiss… kill anyone. You just act all macho, but you’re a big teddy bear, deep down.”
Harry raised his voice and turned to the Dr. “I never told another person, until today. It’s been my dirty little secret.”
Dr. Jahosbad smiled and softly said, “And I appreciate the courage it’s taken for you to open up like this. I am sure I can help you in this matter, Harry. In fact, your condition should respond to several forms of treatment, most of them like the one we are having today.”
The doctor checked his notes and jotted something down. He smiled and said, “Please continue… I sent a message to my staff and family that I will be late… tonight. We are having good progress. If we spend another hour long session, we may have a breakthrough, yet tonight. So, Harry, please continue your tale.”
Harry took a deep breath. He was getting tired and wished the doctor would end soon. He smiled at Dr. Jahosbad, and continued, “The dreams didn’t come around as often as I grew older, but when I was in high school I was so scared that dad or someone would dig a hole where I buried a body. I fact I convinced dad to put a new septic tank to the side of the house instead of the back yard. I directed the contractors to avoid some of the burial plots.
I had to think really hard when mom insisted I bury her dead cat where a young girl lay underground. I carefully tried to remember where I buried that little box I put her in and I directed my shovel with great care. I was just to the side of the girls burial box, I could feel it scraping against my shovel, but mom didn’t notice.
“Mom, are you sure I have to bury it here?” I begged. Mom never saw a thing, but I was sweaty and cold and wanted to die. How could I be killing these people. I was just a stupid teenager, not so good looking, not so smart, and not lucky with girls.
Then the greatest thing happened. High school came around and I knew I had to get away or die, so I studied hard, earned great grades and got a full ride to the University of Michigan. I left for college and those dreams were only a sad memory. No… Those dreams were gone, but I started having new ones. I was afraid that someone would dig up behind my parents old house and find the bodies I buried there as a kid. I was afraid I would be exposed for what I did as a kid and I would have to go to prison.
It was difficult having those memories. As time passed I thought less about the bodies and graves behind my parents little house in Bad Axe. Even if they did dig up the yard it wouldn’t matter. Dad and Mom were hardly ever there. They moved to Caseville and just kept the house for a hunting place. See there’s a really nice stand of old woods out behind. And Daddy made enough working in the factories to buy that land for Hunting.
So I worried less and studied hard. I got my law degree, I became a great coverup artist… I could hide any fear, doubt, or pain I had. I just put those fears behind me. You see, Doc… There are always going to be more of them in the future… and damn it… I was headed for the future.
“When did you marry?” asked the Doc.
“About three months after I got my own office at the law firm I met Kathy. I had an accident an met her in the ER. She was a doctor. Not a psychotherapist… no… she became a family doctor. We got married on a Friday and our honeymoon lasted ’till the following Monday when we both headed back to work. We were so busy we didn’t even take the time to have a family.
I think she blamed me for that problem. I was good in bed and I wanted sex all the time, but I never really produced much sperm. She understood and got me some medication to try. But I have a feeling I was… you know… shooting blanks.”
Dr. Jahosbad laughed. “I love your quaint play on words. So while you were in your childless marriage, were you faithful? Be honest. I can’t help you if you don’t tell me everything.”
Darkness filled the window, but Harry couldn’t tell how late it so he checked his cell phone for the time. The doctor reminded him not to use the phone and Harry slipped it into his pocket. He took a long sip of water, and cleared his throat.
“Don’t worry, Dr. I heard the question. I’m just thinking my words carefully. I guess it’s both what I should tell you and what I don’t want to tell you that’s causing me to rethink this whole situation. I know you doctors all try to tie our problems with how our mom’s and dad’s raised us.
Well… no I was never assaulted. No I never fantasize about killing while having sex, and no I don’t want to sleep with my dead mother. I know, it’s crazy talk, but that’s how I’ve felt all my life. My wife thought I had a split personality, the way I was with her sometimes. And you know, that’s my biggest fear. Could I be awake now, but a killer in another life? Is that what happened when I woke up looking out the window? You know? I was dressed and there was dirt on my shoes.
“Do you know what I’m asking?”
The doctor reached out and took Harry’s hand. “Sir, we will find that out soon enough. You do not show the classic signs of split personality. In fact, I already hypnotized you and I could not reach another personality. That is not saying he isn’t there… hiding from us all.”
Harry looked puzzled at the doctors statement. “When did that happen?”
“Last week, at our introductory session. I often use hypnosis to find out if there are any underlying conditions I need to be aware of. I did find that you are not the person you present to the world and these repetitive dreams are more than just dreams. They are memories.”
“You mean… you think I killed all those people! Don’t you? Come on, you can tell me what you think. I know… it’s true… I had to have killed them, but why don’t I remember killing them? It’s always just the burying them that I remember. It’s like I wake up, find the body, and bury it. But then I wake up, and ask myself if it’s just a dream.
“Harry, there is always a reason, and if we dig deeper, we’ll find it. I don’t think you wanted to sleep with you mom or dad. No, that’s not the type of problem you have. The doctor watched for Harry’s response. There was none. . . .
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