The Heaviness of Knowing

by Sharolyn G. Brown

  “Okay, well, I’ll take care of the Board. You need to leave now. I’ll walk you out.”

  Eyes everywhere watched them as they left the design lab.

  “Lauren,” Lucas said, “I always thought we had a relationship that was closer than that of just a superior and subordinate. I mean, we don’t spend time together outside of work, but I always thought you trusted me enough to talk to me when you were having a problem, especially one that could affect your work. I know you’re a private person, and I respect that. But you should have told me you were having trouble sleeping.”

  The elevator arrived and she got on. Unfortunately, he got on with her, still talking.

  “Hopefully your neurologist can get you straightened out. If not, remember I’m more than willing to call any specialist you may need. And this isn’t just TomGen Tech talking. This is me, Lucas. I’m concerned about you. Your work is extremely important to me, and I’m willing to do whatever needs to be done to ensure you have the support to complete it.”

  Listening to him and his constant droning had intensified her migraine so much she was holding her face in her hands as a buffer of sorts. Once the elevator made it to the lobby, Lauren practically jumped out.

  “Bye, Lucas. I’ll let you know if I’ll be able to come to work tomorrow,” she told him without turning to face him as she speed walked through the lobby.

  “Email me tonight! I need to know what the neurologist says,” he yelled, following her outside. She placed her work bag in the trunk of Kyle’s car and then got in.

  “Baby, let’s just leave before I hurt him,” Lauren told Kyle as she fastened her seatbelt. He only shook his head and drove away, leaving Lucas standing on the curb, watching them go.

  CHAPTER 13

  Lauren sat in the uncomfortable, faux leather chair near a window with her head leaning on her hand such that it covered her eyes. The slats of the window’s blinds were angled towards the ceiling, and thin slivers of light were reflecting on it. The sunlight combined with the overhead florescent lights were making her head hurt worse. And she had not realized worse was possible. Kyle reached over and patted her other hand as it rested on the arm of her chair.

  “I think I hear people talking outside the door. It shouldn’t be long now,” Kyle whispered, as if they were in church or a library and not just her doctor’s office.

  She nodded her head, with her eyes still covered by her hand, in response. Shortly thereafter, she heard the same voices she assumed Kyle must have heard. The voices stopped just as she heard the click of the door latch. Lauren raised her head and looked to see who was entering. Her neurologist, Dr. Jackson, and an unknown female walked through the door. The female was an older black woman with honey-colored skin and jet-black hair streaked with white pulled back into a tight bun on the top of her head. She had glasses hanging from a chain around her neck. Dr. Jackson stopped before going to sit behind his desk and addressed them.

  “Good morning, Lauren, Kyle. I’d like you to meet a colleague of mine, Dr. Estella Olivier. I’ve asked her here to discuss the results of your tests.”

  Dr. Jackson moved back and allowed the woman to come over to Lauren and Kyle and greet them.

  “Good morning,” she said to each of them as she shook both Lauren and Kyle’s hands.

  While they were meeting the new doctor, Dr. Jackson had taken a seat behind his desk. Dr. Olivier walked behind Dr. Jackson’s desk and stood beside him since there were no additional seats available.

  “When I was reviewing the results of your functional MRI or fMRI, I saw the following anomalous activity.” He punched a few keys on his computer’s keyboard, and a picture showed on the television screen to Kyle’s right. “This is the scan that was done while we asked you to do things like try to sleep, to meditate, to recite passages, etc. As you can see, this area of your brain, your prefrontal cortex, has signs of activity.” He pointed to the brightly colored areas on the screen.

  “Is this a bad thing? Is something wrong with my brain?” asked Lauren.

  “No, it’s not bad,” Dr. Olivier answered. “It’s anomalous, as Dr. Jackson said. When you were asked to try to sleep, this area”—Dr. Olivier pointed to the same bright yellow section of the scan—“should have dulled in color, indicating a decrease in activity. But it didn’t.”

  “Also, your parietal lobe, shown here,”—Dr. Olivier pointed to another, more central section of the brain scan—“ is larger than in the average person. Which, again, is not indicative of a problem; it’s anomalous and the reason Dr. Jackson called me.”

  Dr. Olivier took two business cards out of the front pocket of the white lab coat she was wearing and handed one, each, to Lauren and Kyle. Lauren dropped it, unread, into her purse that was on the floor between her feet as she continued to stare at the screen.

  “I specialize in studying people with larger than average parietal lobes. Generally, people like this, like you, Lauren, have no trouble sleeping and have a higher number of dreams per night that are very vivid. So the fact that you aren’t sleeping is contrary to what we would expect based on these scans.”

  “So what does all of this mean?” Kyle questioned as he took Lauren’s hand in his. “It’s been two days since she was able to sleep. And she has a migraine that is resistant to her normal medication. What do all of your scans say you should do about that?”

  Dr. Jackson spoke this time. “For now, they don’t show what we should do next. However, they have helped us rule out traumatic brain injury as a cause. Beyond that, we will continue searching for why this has happened and find a way to treat you, Lauren.” He made eye contact with her and smiled. “Dr. Olivier and I have discussed your case, and we believe that going forward, I will treat you with medication and she will simultaneously treat you using her therapeutic methods.”

  “What do you practice?” Lauren asked.

  “The card she gave us says she’s a psychiatrist and licensed hypnosis therapist.” Kyle read the card like he was uncertain as to whether he was reading the words correctly.

  “Yes. I’m a psychiatrist specializing in the use of hypnosis as a therapeutic technique.” Dr. Olivier was silent after she answered.

  “Hypnosis? Like, tricking someone into thinking they’re a duck or something?” Kyle questioned. It may have been Lauren’s imagination, but she thought she could hear condescension in his voice.

  Dr. Olivier chuckled. “No. That’s how hypnosis is portrayed on TV and in movies. But that’s not real. What I do is a legitimate form of treatment that is capable of helping some patients. Though it is just one of many tools I use.”

  Kyle turned away from Dr. Olivier and focused on Dr. Jackson. “Dr. Jackson. Is this really the best course of action?”

  Dr. Jackson got up from his seat and walked around to the front of his desk, where Lauren and Kyle sat.

  “Yes, it is. Even though we don’t know why Lauren can’t sleep, the fact that she can’t sleep is serious enough. I’m not trying to scare you, but sleep deprivation can be fatal.”

  “Fatal?” Lauren asked, interrupting Dr. Jackson. She and Kyle gripped one another’s hands tighter.

  “Yes. Fatal. After a certain amount of time, a person suffering from prolonged sleep deprivation will first exhibit symptoms of confusion and memory lapses. Then, as the person’s condition worsens, he or she will start to suffer hallucinations and tremors in his or her extremities. Next, the hallucinations will get worse, and he or she will suffer symptoms similar to psychosis and begin to lose control of his or her emotions. Finally will come seizures that will eventually kill the sufferer.”

  Lauren blinked her eyes rapidly to clear the tears gathering there.

  “I wish I had better news for you, but that’s what we”—he gestured to himself and Dr. Olivier, “—are trying to prevent.”

  Kyle put his arm around Lauren’s shoulders and pulled her close as tears slowly ran down her face. He rubbed her shoulder, comforting her, as he held her.

&n
bsp; “You’re going to be fine, baby,” Kyle said reassuringly. “Dr. Jackson and Dr. Olivier have a plan. Let’s trust it to work.”

  Lauren only nodded, her head still buried in Kyle’s chest. This all seemed so overwhelming.

  “So, what’s next?” Kyle asked on her behalf.

  “First, I’m going to prescribe three medications for her to take. One is a eugeroic. It will promote alertness and counteract some of the fatigue and other side effects of sleep deprivation. The other two are stronger migraine medications that will hopefully stop the headache. Second, I’m going to continue working to find the cause of Lauren’s chronic insomnia,” Dr. Jackson answered.

  “Meanwhile,” Dr. Olivier interjected, “I’ll be working with Lauren and approaching this issue from the psychological angle. Between the two of us, I believe we can help you, Lauren.”

  Kyle carefully pulled her away from his body, and then kneeled on the floor in front of her chair. He gently raised her tear-streaked face until she could look into his eyes, and then grasped her hands in his.

  “I know it sounds bad. But we have a plan. We can do this, baby. Don’t give up on me, okay?”

  She leaned forward until her forehead was touching his. She sniffed repeatedly before answering. “You know I don’t know the meaning of the word quit,” Lauren said, her voice breaking as she spoke.

  “Good,” Dr. Jackson said as he walked around his desk and sat back in his chair. “I’m writing the prescriptions now. We’ll have them sent to the pharmacy you have on file.” Dr. Jackson began typing on his keyboard again.

  “And I’m going to see you as my last appointment today,” Dr. Olivier stated. “Starting tomorrow, I’ll meet with you at 7:00 AM each day until we get you better, Lauren. Kyle, you’re more than welcome to sit in on the sessions, with Lauren’s approval. Although I find the patients are able to relax more when it’s only the two of us.”

  Lauren cleared her throat and removed her hands from Kyle’s. She used her sleeve to wipe away some of the tears. “That works for me. You can drive me to her office and pick me up today, Kyle. Tomorrow, you can drop me off on your way to work and I can catch a car service back home.”

  Kyle nodded slowly. Neither of them spoke as Dr. Jackson continued typing. Lauren waited in silence, her fears continuing to grow unchecked.

  ***

  Now sitting in Dr. Olivier’s office, Lauren couldn’t seem to get comfortable on the sofa she had selected as her seat; every few minutes or so, she would shift positions.

  “You can move to one of the armchairs or the chaise lounge if the sofa’s uncomfortable, Lauren. This chair swivels so I can face you no matter where you sit. I’m not going to use hypnosis today. Today’s session is just for us to talk and to get to know one another a little better. The more comfortable we are with each other, the more productive our sessions will be,” Dr. Olivier instructed from the ocean blue modern chair in which she sat.

  Lauren continued to fidget until, finally, pulling her legs in and sitting with them crisscrossed seemed to work. Her back was straight and her arms were crossed and held tight to her body. “Okay, what do you want to know, Dr. Olivier?”

  “Well, first, please call me Estella. And I simply want you to tell me what sleep is like for you normally. For example, do you usually have a hard time falling asleep? Is your sleep usually restful? Are your dreams vivid? Do you remember them? Things like that are what I want to know.”

  “Okay.” Lauren took a deep breath and tried not to behave like she thought this wasn’t possibly a waste of time. If Dr. Jackson thought this was a valid treatment, she didn’t doubt him. But she had never put much stock in therapists.

  “Normally, sleep comes easily for me. If I can stop the millions of thoughts I seem to always have right before bedtime from running through my brain, I can usually go to sleep pretty easily.” She uncrossed her arms and let them rest on her thighs. “The only time my sleep doesn’t feel restful is if I have less than four hours or if I have several nights of less than six hours. That’s what’s crazy about this migraine. Usually they’re triggered by my not getting enough sleep. I’ve never had one that started with no warning and kept me from sleeping.” She shook her head from side to side as she leaned back further into the sofa’s cushion and continued. “As for my dreams, I always dream. Practically every morning I wake up with the memory of them, but I usually forget them as soon as I get out of bed and get started with my day. The only time I don’t remember dreaming is when I have to take medicine that makes me drowsy, like cough syrup or something like that,” Lauren concluded.

  “The way you’ve described how sleep is for you normally is typical for people who, like you, have larger than average parietal lobes. Before this incident where you stopped sleeping altogether, had your sleeping or dreaming changed either in quality, or amount, or intensity?” Estella asked.

  “No, not that I’d realized. I mean, I’ve been pushing myself at work. I’m working a lot of overtime, so I get home late most nights. But I would sleep in on the weekends to catch up on my sleep and to avoid migraines.

  “Also, I had begun meditating. Nothing like with chanting or anything. But I would close my eyes and try to think of nothing and allow my mind to wander. It seemed to be a good way to clear my head. Occasionally, these weird scenes would play out in my head and I’d just let them. They seemed relaxing.”

  “Weird? In what way?” Estella leaned closer to her.

  “Well, recently I was meditating during a mid-afternoon break at work. And I saw this woman with dreadlocks who had a bizarre helmet on her head with all of these wires attached. She didn’t do or say anything, she just lay in this reclined chair with that thing on her head. Oh, and it was attached to a machine that was beeping.”

  “Then what happened?” Estella asked, still leaning forward with her elbows on her knees and her hands clasped out in front of her.

  “Nothing. I just kind of floated there and she lay in that chair. It seemed kind of peaceful. After a while, I left the scene and went about my day. Do you think the odd visions I see during my meditating could be connected to why I can’t sleep now?”

  “I’m not sure. Did the woman seem familiar? Was she someone you recognized?”

  “I don’t think so. The helmet she was wearing covered most of her face. But I don’t think I know anyone who has dreads. Should she be someone I know?”

  “Not necessarily. I was just curious. The fact that you’ve been meditating may make my job easier. What I do is similar to meditation. But we’ll get to that later. As for the scenes that you see when you meditate, well, I’m not surprised. You have an enlarged dream center. So it stands to reason that when you begin to meditate, you may slip into a sort of dream state and that’s why you see this woman. She’s part of a waking dream.

  “You mentioned that you’ve been working late recently. How long have you been pushing yourself at work?”

  Lauren looked up, trying to think how long it had been since she started working six days a week. “About six months or so. I have a really big project deadline coming up. There are all of these smaller project deadlines that aren’t being met, and I have a manager who wants to take an active role in watching my progress.” Lucas’ face crossed Lauren’s mind. She closed her eyes and shook her head.

  “Sounds like you have a stressful job. What is it you do? Dr. Jackson mentioned you worked in the technology industry but didn’t give any details.”

  “I design computer chips for TomGen Tech.”

  “Wow. Impressive. TomGen Tech is usually involved with pretty cutting-edge stuff. And you’re a designer for them? Describing your job as stressful is probably an understatement.”

  A soft chuckle escaped Lauren. “Oh, and I’m not just a designer. I’m working on one of their Special Projects. One the Board of Directors wants completed. And I get to do all of the work while my manager gets to take all of the credit. And even when I try to step up and assert myself, I get overlooked lik
e I’m invisible. I—” she stopped and looked at Estella. “Are you thinking stress is the reason I can’t sleep? That my stupid overbearing manager is why I can’t get any rest?”

  Lauren’s doubts about the effectiveness of therapy started to resurface. Could talking to this woman really help her?

  Estella leaned back in her chair, increasing the space between them. “No. I don’t think stress alone is the reason. I think you can’t sleep because something has happened to you. The questions I’m asking about your job are to see how well you fit the profile of the patients I study. For example, during the course of my research, I have found that people with enlarged parietal lobes can be generalized in one of two categories: the first category is people always leading us into tomorrow, by designing technology and equipment not yet in existence. Real high achiever types. And the second is people bringing the stragglers along by making sure everyone sees the benefits of moving forward and adopting these discoveries.”

  Lauren leaned back into the sofa’s cushion again with her arms across her chest.

  “Let’s leave your job alone for now. How much do you know about Dr. Carl Jung?” Estella asked.

  “I think we studied him in my intro psychology class in college. Didn’t he think all dreams meant something? Or was that Freud?”

  “You’re likely thinking of Freud, but Jung did study dreams also. However, Jung thought our dreams not only represented our desires and wishes, but that we could use our dreams to tap into a collective unconscious shared by all people. That’s what my practice is based on, the collective unconscious and how it interacts with our personal unconscious or our dreams. Does this make sense to you?”

  Lauren rolled her eyes upward and shook her head from side to side. “Honestly, no, not really. I guess I get that you think my dreams are important, but this personal and collective unconscious is kind of out there.”

  “No worries, we can pick that up tomorrow. For now, all I need you to understand is whatever has changed to make you go from sleeping well and having vivid regular dreams to not being able to sleep or dream at all is something I truly believe I can help you with.”