by Macy Farmer
Dreamlike State
The Magic of Black Forest
Macy Farmer
Dreamlike State
The Magic of Black Forest
Macy Farmer
Copyright 2012 Macy Farmer
Third Edition
Edited by Jenny Needham and Brittany Carrigan
Published by BookRhythm, LLC
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the work of the author's imagination, or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, locales, or events is entirely coincidental.
Any trademarks, service marks, product names or features are assumed to be the property of their respective owners, and are used only for reference. There is no implied endorsement if we use one of these terms.
Dedicated to my big sister, Lynn. You have taught me that any goal can be met as long as I reach for it. I miss you every day. XOXO
Special thanks to:
My friend, Melissa Torrissi, your encouragement, honesty and ability to make the impossible happen gave me the strength to finish and publish Natalia’s story. You’re an inspiration to us all.
John, my husband, I couldn’t have achieved my childhood dream without your love and support. I love you.
To Bradley, my muse, without you there would be no Magic.
Beth, thanks for reading every version created of The Magic. Honesty is what I sought and you gave it tenfold.
My mom and dad, for your endless advice, encouragement, and support. And, for answering my late night calls when I needed to talk through the editing process. I love you both.
My friend, Heather McAuliffe, thank you for your hard work, guidance and critiquing skills. I couldn’t have come this far without you and Christie.
Thank you Jenny and Diane of BookRhythm and their editing team. Your encouragement, guidance and honesty have made me a better writer. No words could express my gratitude. ((Hugs))
Brittany ‘The-BookNerd’ Carrigan, you ROCK! “Just sayin.”
I’d also like to thank Trudy, Linda and Margie.
Prologue
Dreamlike state.
Unable to escape.
Whether I am driving in my car or at work, my mind continues to return to my dreamlike world; a place where all fantasies can come true, a place to escape from reality. My reality, unlike most, is unusual. I have a gift, or at least that is what my parents call it. Sometimes I see things before they happen. Oh and I can see someone’s inner thoughts when I touch them. But those aren’t the only reasons I feel the need to escape. It feels like something or someone is missing from my life. In my world, I can be anything and anyone. More importantly, he’s there, my true love… making it hard to focus on reality.
Chapter 1
It’s strange how your life can take a tragic turn for the worse. One minute you’re living a normal life, well in my case semi-normal, and the next it’s turned upside down. Life as you know it is never the same again.
Troubled with my parents' recent death, most of my waking hours were spent within my own private thoughts. I have no siblings, so apart from my dog Seager and my best friend Melissa, my mother and father were my only family. As if losing them wasn’t bad enough, I had a premonition just moments before it happened. There was no time to pull the cell phone from my pocket and call and warn them. Unable to prevent their deaths, regret and remorse were weighing heavily on my mind and even heavier on my heart.
The horrific vision unfolded in my mind during a meeting at work. Every terrifying detail has been permanently burned into my memory. My parents were driving home, returning from a morning of shopping. When they first appeared in my mind, they were laughing and smiling, so I didn’t mind the interruption. My mother’s laughter brought a smile to my face. Like with everything about her, her laughter was delightfully charming. My father was holding her hand and telling her how much he loved her. His smiling eyes suddenly turned fearful, as did mine I’m sure, when we saw a Trailblazer racing out of control towards them. Squeezing my mother’s hand, fear immediately turned to sorrow. He knew. They both knew.
When I heard my mother’s voice, it was as if she’d been standing right next to me. “Natalia, we love you.” Her last words ripped right through me, tearing my heart apart.
The dreadful vision showed a series of heartbreaking images and a rapidly unbroken view of what was about to happen.
Their light had just turned green so they started on their way. They were almost through the major intersection when the other driver went through a red light. The truck swerved around another vehicle before losing control and slamming into the passenger side, her side, of their Impala. A loud crash followed and echoed in my mind. The impact killed my mother instantly. The seatbelt snapped and her now lifeless body thrust violently against my father, crushing him. The magnitude of her body hitting his caused him to jerk the steering wheel, sending their car to cross over the opposing traffic lanes. The driver’s side of the car slammed into a light pole while the rest of it wrapped around the pole. The front window shattered and exploded outwardly.
My father, blood pouring from his open head wounds, gasped his last breath moments before I witnessed the light in his eyes fade to black.
The premonition lasted only a few moments but seemed longer.
My blood-curdling scream, “NO,” put an end to the ugly vision. I jumped to my feet and knocked my chair backwards, causing it to hit the floor with a loud thud. To hide the grief and falling tears I covered my face with the palm of my hands. Panic and concern were heard in the whispers of those sitting around the conference table. The whispers drifted to silence as loneliness and sorrow slowly suffocated me.
Being that we were a small family, my parents and I, we were very close. Even when we weren’t together, I could still feel them around me. It was a very comforting feeling. Now, I no longer felt their presence. Instead, I felt alone and heartbroken. I stood there sobbing uncontrollably, mumbling over and over again, “Not them please not them.” Trying to will the truth away.
A set of hands rested on my shoulders from behind. My arms dropped to my sides revealing the hidden tears and sorrow. I looked around the room and found all eyes were focused on me. Some were crying while others stared as if I’d lost it. I realized quickly that my co-workers were, unknowingly, watching me as I witnessed my parents’ tragic death happening right “before my eyes.”
Without actually seeing her, I knew it was Rhonda, my supervisor, who held my shoulders. Gently she turned me around. Worry and concern radiated from her. “Nat, are you okay?” Was she not a witness to what had just happened? Who asks such a question after witnessing such an event?
To avoid drawing more attention to my situation, I forced myself to take a deep breath and get a grip on my emotions. The last thing I needed, especially now, was for people to know that I have visions of the future and telepathy skills.
“No. I have to go.” I stepped around her and headed out the door. She followed me closely, but before she could say another word, I put my hand in the air, saying, “I can’t.”
Gathering my purse and keys, she watched as I fought to keep my tears at bay. “I understand. Please call me if you need anything.” No one, except for my parents
and Melissa, knew that I had visions. How could she possibly understand when she didn’t even know what just happened? I told her I’d call her later and scurried out the door.
I knew what I had to do, where I needed to go. Instead of waiting for the dreaded call, I started my truck and went to where I knew my parents' bodies would be taken -- the morgue at the hospital. By the time I get there they will already be in the morgue, waiting for me to claim them.
In the hospital parking lot, I waited inside my truck and tried again to regain control of my emotions. My chest felt heavy, making it hard to breathe. My body shook violently as I heard my mother’s last words repeating over and over in my mind. It took over an hour before I had the strength to enter the hospital.
Once inside, I searched through my hazy vision for someone to help me. Straight ahead, a sign read ‘Registration.’ I walked up to the woman who sat behind the counter.
“How may I help you?” Avoiding her eyes, I noticed her nametag.
“Hello Nancy, my name is Natalia Middleton. My parents, Joshua and Lillian, were just brought to the hospital.” On autopilot, I forgot to mention that they were deceased. Her nails were tapping on the keyboard when I stuttered, “Th-h-h-ey were in a car accident and are d-d-deceased.”
“My condolences.” I nodded my thanks, no longer able to speak. She started to give me directions to the morgue then stopped. Instead, she picked up the phone and requested someone to come and escort me. Without waiting for her to tell me what to do next, I sat down and waited for my escort.
While waiting, I relived the nightmare. The sorrow in my father’s eyes when he realized there was no escape from meeting his fate. Then his gentle squeeze of my mother’s hand, as if to say goodbye to her. My mother knew, somehow, that I’d hear her. Without a shadow of a doubt, I knew it was her way of saying goodbye to me. Again, my father’s last breath flashed in my mind. The hole in my heart ripped open wider, deeper, as I realized that my father’s last breath carried the words, “Me too.” I grabbed hold of my chest before bending over my lap in a poor attempt to ease the undeniable pain.
A voice in the back of my mind told me to be strong, that my parents needed me to be, now more than ever. Wanting to do so, I sat up. My eyes met those of a police officer whose face was sullen, his eyes filled with sympathy as he walked towards me and I stood to greet him. Not thinking, I reached out my hand to introduce myself. The moment his hand took mine, I saw him. The kind, gentle man enjoyed his job. Since he was a boy, he had always wanted to be a cop, to keep the criminals off the street. He loved everything about his job… Except this part.
“Hello, I’m Officer Gibbs. My sincere condolences for your loss.” Gently, he took my arm and guided me down the hallway. “We were just about to call you.” Without releasing his grip he paused. He looked down at me through narrowed, quizzical eyes. His mouth opened slightly before closing again. He wondered how I knew about my parents and wanted to ask about it. Luckily for me he changed his mind. He decided that it really didn’t matter how I knew. All the mattered now was that I was there.
His thoughts shifted as we began to walk again. He widened the gap between us and dragged his feet slightly. The dreadful task of having to witness me identifying my parents’ bodies slowed his pace and left him feeling apprehensive. It pained him to watch as strangers mourned the loss of their loved ones.
When he guided me from the elevator, the dreadful thoughts turned to disgust and anger. Knowledge that the other driver had been drunk, four times over the legal limit, raced through his mind. “Senseless,” he told himself. For a brief moment, I felt his anger as his hand tightened around my arm. What I saw in his thoughts angered me, too. I stared up at him with a questioning gaze. Just as I was about to ask him about it, he stopped. I followed his gaze. Above the door we stood in front of read, ‘Morgue.’
Before entering, in order to prepare me, he went through the process of identifying the bodies. No words could ever prepare you for something like that. It was the hardest thing I've ever had to do. I knew I would never discuss the details with anyone.
Even though I knew it was not possible, I still hoped that it wasn’t them, that my vision was wrong. But it wasn’t. My predictions of the future don’t always come true. They are subject to change based on the decisions made up to that point. Sometimes the decisions we make seal our fate or that of those around us. This monstrous premonition befell moments before it actually occurred. With no time to react, it sealed their fate. Visions, such as theirs, were almost always accurate.
The words came out as a whisper when I confirmed that they were my parents. Their faces and clothing were still covered in blood. I stood between them and held their hands in mine.
A few moments passed before he said, “They didn’t suffer.” No, they didn’t suffer, physically, but they knew that they weren’t going to survive. That caused them mental anguish, so they did indeed suffer while the end of their lives unfolded before their eyes.
Many other things flashed through my mind. All were sarcastic or mean. Before opening my mouth and blurting out profanity, I remembered that none of it had been his fault. He didn’t get behind the wheel intoxicated, race down the highway so fast he lost control of his truck, crashing into my parents' car, crushing and killing them. He didn’t deserve my rude and angry words. The drunken bastard did. Turning towards him my eyes swollen with tears, “Thank God.” Again, my voice a whisper.
His hazel eyes stared into mine before they narrowed in sorrow. Again, he took a hold of my arm and guided me out of the room. The concern he felt was sincere. I heard him wonder how I could possibly drive anywhere with my body trembling like it did. His thoughts had me looking down at my hands. Trembling was an understatement. I literally shook where I stood. It wasn’t until we were outside, when he asked me if I needed a ride home. Politely, I declined his offer saying, “I’ll be okay.” Of course, I lied.
A few minutes ago, I didn’t want to leave. Now I couldn’t leave soon enough.
“Do you have anyone you need to call and help you make arrangements?” It’s not the cop in him that has him asking these questions, it’s his heart. With his hand still gripping my arm, I saw a memory of when he lost his mother. He had no idea what to do. Memories of his wife, then girlfriend, taking him by the hand to help him through the hardest days of his life had him wanting to help me the same way. The officer credits his wife for his not only being a good cop, but for more than that, a better man. She taught him how to be a thoughtful, kind man. The love he felt for her radiated through me. For a brief moment, I felt no sorrow, just warmth and appreciation.
Like myself, my father had no siblings. As for my mom, she didn’t talk to or about her siblings, so I don’t really know any of my aunts and uncles. My grandparents were also deceased.
To ease his sorrow and need to assist I replied, “Yes I do.” Melissa. She’s my best friend, the closest thing I have to a sister. Just in case I had any questions, Officer Gibbs insisted that we exchange telephone numbers. Afterwards, I left.
The sadness consumed me, making the ride home slow. All I wanted at this very moment was to get home to Seager.
I believe Seager sensed something bad had happened. Instead of greeting me with cries of joy, he whimpered sadly as he followed me to my parents' room. To comfort me he laid down beside me in their bed as I cried for what seemed like days. Between my sobs, I told him my parents weren’t coming home. He licked my hand and whimpered. After a few hours, I forced myself to get up and call Melissa.
“Melissa, are you busy? Can you come over?” The words rushed out. Melissa and I grew up together; we knew everything about each other. We’ve known each other all our lives. Melissa and I grew up together, so to my parents, she was like a second daughter. This will devastate her as if they were her own parents.
“Sure. Why? What’s up?”
“I’d rather tell you when you get here. When can you come?”
“You sound upset. I’ll be th
ere in five minutes. Do your parents need me to pick up anything?”
“No.” My voice cracked. “Please hurry.”
I was crying again when Melissa let herself in. “Oh no, Natalia, what’s the matter?”
The words struggled to come out. My voice cracked and shook as I said, “M-my parents d-d-died.”
She gasped with disbelief, and then ran through the house looking for my parents, screaming their names. I knew exactly how she felt and couldn’t bear to hear the fear and sorrow in her voice, so I covered my ears and started humming. After she couldn’t find them anywhere in the house she paused and looked at me. Her eyes pleaded for me to say it wasn't true, to tell her it was some sick joke we were playing. I shook my head and cried. She ran out the front door to see if their car was in the driveway. Of course it isn’t because it’s at a wrecking yard, totaled, being held for the investigation.
Slowly, she walked back into the house clenching her chest. She looked like I felt. “This can’t be true. Natalia, what happened? Please tell me.” Tears started spilling from her eyes.
“They were killed by a drunk driver,” is all I could say.
She sat down on the sofa and wrapped her arms around me. Neither of us spoke. Instead, we hugged each other, rocking back and forth, sobbing uncontrollably and finding comfort in each other’s company as we shared our grief.
Melissa broke the silence. “I’m going to call my parents and have them come over here. You’ll need their help.”
I didn’t want anyone else to know, it made it too real. However, I knew she was right. “Okay,” I sobbed.
When her parents arrived, I explained the horrible accident, leaving out the gory details, and the fact that I saw it in its entirety a few seconds before it happened. Melissa’s mom knew I needed help with the arrangements, so without hesitation she took my hand and said, “Don’t you worry about a thing tonight, sweetie. Let’s get you to bed and we can make all the arrangements tomorrow.”