When Worlds Collide

by Charles Blair

  Although most don't have a game-plan, especially therapists, Patrick did. Before Patrick arrives and conducts his session, let me explain how one can find their purpose. Envision sitting at a desk with a piece of paper in front of you, pen in hand, you draw a horizontal line; let's say four-inches in length. On the left, at the beginning of the line, write the letter B. The letter B stands for your birth. To the right of the line, write the number thirty. The number thirty is a representation of your age when you were to find your purpose in life. However, please keep in mind, the number thirty is only a bench mark for the conversation, because it's different for everyone. Hypothetically, in a perfect world, you have a strait path towards your purpose without any obstacles in front of you. Nevertheless, throughout the journey of life, road-blocks appear. For some, there's a road-block every half-mile, and other people, there's less. Conversely, these road-blocks detour our travels, moving us further from our destination, which is finding our purpose. On your drawing, scribble a round blotch on the line that blocks your direct route to age thirty, and ultimately your purpose. From the round blotch, draw a line straight down that is several inches long. This line is a representation of your unknown path in life, and as you can see, it's not in the direction connecting you toward your purpose. At the end of your new path, scribble another round blotch, representing a second detour. From this detour, draw a line traveling left on your paper. As you can see, your travels are leading you in the opposite direction of your purpose. This is the reason why Patrick believes people are lost, not necessarily sick. Unfortunately, there isn't a direct express-way connecting you back to age thirty, or your purpose. What needs to be done, and many refuse, one must retrace their detoured path, re-experiencing life's roadblocks that are probably traumatic, and metaphorically plow through them, until that individual reaches their original path. Granted, they may be behind schedule when they get there, but at least they're traveling in the right direction. And once they are; they'll run directly into their purpose.

  The same concept applied to me; I was traveling in the wrong direction. Patrick's plan, whether short-term or down the road, wasn't to tell me my purpose, but to guide me back through my obstacles, giving me direction to understand my role in this world. Given the fact I had many obstacles to overcome, I wasn't completing my journey overnight. That's why Patrick estimated he'd discharge me within a year's time frame. Although I didn't want to be at Mountain Springs for another year, Patrick was correct. If we went on a crusade together, I wouldn't want you to ask, how long is this going to take? Because if you asked, my answer would be, “Shut your mouth and start walking; you'll be able to answer your own question when we get to our destination.” With my session starting any minute, I wondered what road-block Patrick had in mind to talk about. I had a pretty good idea.

  *

  After three soft knocks on my door, I heard Patrick ask, "Shawn, its Patrick. Can I come in?"

  "Yes,” I replied, as I stood up from my bed to shake his hand.

  Patrick wheeled the chair from the desk to the foot of my bed, and had a seat. In the meantime, I sat on my bed, facing Patrick. Not wasting a moment, Patrick sympathetically said, "Shawn, I'm sorry Elizabeth died. I can't image how hard it must be overcoming such a thing, but I'm glad it's out in the open, so we can begin the healing process."

  Trying to bury my sister's death for months, I was lost for words. Yet, I had to be courageous and work through my issues. Softly, and unsure of myself, I said to Patrick, "I thought I could go on living a lie, but I'm starting to realize I can't."

  "That's a good thing Shawn."

  From the depths of my soul, I wanted to tell Patrick who I murdered before coming to Mountain Springs, but I couldn't, so inadvertently, I confessed, fragmenting the details, "Patrick, I'm hiding another secret."

  Without hesitation, Patrick said, "I know you are; I don't know what it is, but the truth will come out. However, for now we must discuss the day Elizabeth died."

  Patrick's method of discussion was a bit unorthodox. I'm not sure what label to slap on it because there probably wasn't one, but Patrick's intervention was a cross-breed of hypnosis, relaxation techniques, and an intentionally induced flashback. Either way, like I said, I'm not exactly sure what happened and I probably never will, but it worked. Patrick relaxed me to the point, where otherwise; I'd never able to process Elizabeth's death. Here's how it all went down.

  *

  Patrick had me lie on the bed, flat on my back. I was positioned with my head at the foot of the bed, near Patrick's chair. To aid in my comfort, Patrick had me place a pillow under my head, as if I were preparing to sleep. Patrick turned off the main light, but allowed the light on my desk to shine, probably so he could see his notes. I wasn't nervous about the situation, because I figured it was a natural practice to relax someone, before they discussed a traumatic event. Relaxing and waiting for Patrick's prompts, he commenced his plan.

  "Today we aren't traveling into the astral plane, but we are traveling into your mind to witness Elizabeth's death."

  I told you I wasn't nervous, well, that changed. Talking about Elizabeth's death was one thing, but actually re-living it was a totally different story, if you catch my drift.

  Besides facing the truth, I was physically comfortable lying on the bed, when Patrick said, "Shawn I'll need you to relax your arms by flattening them out to the side."

  Silently, I arranged my arms exactly how Patrick requested.

  "Perfect," Patrick said, referring to the positioning of my arms. “Next, I'll need to control your breathing by inhaling through your nose, and exhaling through your mouth."

  After providing Patrick with several example breaths, again, Patrick said, "Perfect."

  Last but not least, Patrick made a simple request, "Now; you must close your eyes and try to sleep."

  "Not a problem," I replied, thinking; a nap would be nice.

  About ten to fifteen minutes later, I was half asleep, when I faintly heard Patrick say, "I'm going to begin counting backwards from fifty, and with each passing number, you will become lighter, and eventually you won't feel the bed underneath you."

  The countdown began...

  Fifty, forty nine, forty eight, forty seven, forty six, forty five, forty four, forty three, forty two, forty one, forty, thirty nine, thirty eight, thirty seven, thirty six, thirty five, thirty four, thirty three, thirty two, thirty one, thirty, twenty nine, twenty eight, twenty seven, twenty six, twenty five, twenty four, twenty three, twenty two, twenty one, twenty, nineteen, eighteen, seventeen, sixteen, fifteen, fourteen, thirteen, twelve, eleven, ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one.

  Patrick wasn't dishonest, I literary didn't feel the bed underneath me. The sensation I had was like no other, and mind you, this is coming from an astral projector. What felt like an eternity after Patrick finished his countdown wasn’t. I heard Patrick speak; however, his words weren't penetrating through my ears, because Patrick was inside my head.

  Shawn, I want you to squeeze your left hand. I want you to visualize everything in your life that has upset you. I will be counting backwards from ten, and when I'm finished, I want you to release the tension in your hand that your mind stirred up. Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one.

  Minus the twitching from my right hand, my body was still. I was a weightless cloud in the sky, carelessly drifting to another location. And again, from inside my head, I heard Patrick speak.

  Shawn, I want you to squeeze your right hand. I want you to visualize everything in your life that has brought you love and happiness. I will be counting backwards from ten, and when I'm finished, I want you to release the bliss from your hand that your mind has stirred up. Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one.

  Again, I was still. This time my left hand was twitching, but the pulse exited from my fingers quickly. I was an astronaut without gravity. I couldn't see anything inside my mind, except for solid black. Patrick was silent,
but I knew he was with me. Therefore, I wasn't scared, but I was a little apprehensive because I wasn't sure what to expect. There's a distinct difference between the astral plane and the depths of your own mind. To be honest with you, depending on your experiences, the psychological world is much more terrifying than the spiritual realm.

  As I floated through what seemed like an endless black-hole, a slice or a rip in existence appeared before my eyes. And with an expedient burst, I thrust through into another world. However, it wasn't another world; the dimension I entered was a place I avoided like the plague, my own memory. Once I entered, I felt the slightest pressure on my forehead; it was Patrick placing his hand on me, trapping me inside of the experience that rattled my cage.

  "Shawn, can tell me what you see?" Patrick asked, only a fraction of a second after locking me inside of my mind.

  Although Patrick wasn't witnessing the place in time where I was, it felt like he was there. During this time, I forgot that my body was safe and sound at Mountain Springs. Hovering like a ghost in the astral plane, I was watching, not only myself, but a re-run of the morning Elizabeth died.

  Flabbergasted at the event taking place, I hesitated before answering Patrick.

  He asked again, “Shawn, what do you see?"

  "Well, I see myself waiting outside next to my mother's red car." I answered, as I tried solving how Patrick was accomplishing the time-travel experience without astral projection.

  "Alright, you're waiting outside, what happened next?"

  "I waited for several minutes, and then Elizabeth and my mother walked out of the front door and into the car." I explained, not wanting to go any further.

  "Keep going." Patrick responded immediately, not giving me a choice to back-out.

  "Okay, I sat in the front seat; Elizabeth hopped in the back, and of course; my mother was driving." I said, reluctantly, bracing myself to witness Elizabeth's death.

  "Good job Shawn, hang in there, you're doing great."

  "We were in the car for about five minutes, several miles down the road, when I reached up to pull down the sun visor, because I wanted to use the mirror." I explained, as my heart thumbed dangerously fast.

  "Alright Shawn, keep going." Patrick replied, as he guided me through hell.

  "I was looking at my reflection, because I wanted to look nice for picture day, and suddenly, through the mirror, I saw Elizabeth contort and convulse in the backseat." I confessed, hoping Patrick would bring my mind back to Mountain Springs.

  "You're almost done Shawn, be strong." Patrick said, nearing the end of the nightmare.

  "Because I was scared to turn around, I continued looking through the mirror, and saw Elizabeth's frightening body movements get worse as blood began oozing from her eyes, mouth, and nose."

  My courage was spent, and unable to take any more, I screamed, "Patrick, bring me back, now!"

  Patrick must have heard what he needed, because my conscious awareness beamed back to Mountain Springs. And when it did, my body sprung, as I sat up in my bed. Totally pissed-off, due to the unnecessary torture Patrick put me through, in my opinion; I screamed. "God-damn it; I didn't sign up for this shit!"

  Understanding I released my own negativity onto him, Patrick didn't respond. Nonetheless, I was still up in arms. Patrick's physical demeanor was completely opposite than mine. I was a rabid dog in a cage, and he was a cuddly kitten sleeping on a couch. He had already closed his notebook, which frustrated me more, because I knew something clicked inside of Patrick's head. Quite frankly, I wasn't upset because Patrick manipulated me into re-living Elizabeth's death; I was irritated at myself. I was guilty because I indirectly released my secret. I’m pretty sure that was the case, but I wanted to find out for sure.

  Beating around the bush, probing to see what Patrick knew, I asked, in a snappy voice, "What was the purpose of this crap?"

  Nonchalantly, Patrick responded, "Shawn, there were two purposes, the first purpose, was to guide you in the right direction, hoping you'll find your purpose."

  "So, what was the second purpose?" I asked, waiting to see if Patrick knew more than he should.

  As Patrick stood from his chair, he looked at me, smiled, then answered my question, "My second purpose, was to give you an opportunity."

  "What kind of opportunity?" I asked, as Patrick walked toward the door.

  "An opportunity for you to lie,” Patrick answered, as he left the room.

  Chapter 22

  WALKING CONTRADICTION

  "I'll have the shrimp Alfredo dinner with a side salad, please." Joy said, as she closed her menu.

  "What dressing would you like for your salad?" The waiter asked with a friendly smile.

  "Raspberry vinaigrette please," Joy responded, returning the menu to the waiter.

  "And for you sir, what would you like?" The waiter asked, as Patrick closed his menu.

  "I'll have the same thing, except; I would like Catalina dressing for my salad." Patrick said, before thanking the waiter.

  Patrick and Joy were dining at their favorite Italian restaurant, Cortoni's. For Patrick and Joy, this was their first date-night since I inaugurated my attempt at a second chance. And because they recently reunited, I backed off the spiritual communication. I figured; Patrick and Joy needed to rekindle, and strengthen their bond before the ultimate sacrifice. Cortoni's was a fabulous establishment, and an excellent place to unwind. Although their prices were steep, the food was outstanding. Besides the crying baby at the table next to them, the atmosphere at Cortoni's was perfect. They were engaged in conversation, laughing, and carefree, just as they were before I entered the picture. Regardless of the fact, I've been lying low; my plan wasn't quite finished. I communicated everything I needed, but now it's up to Patrick to tie the loose ends together. He was close, really close, but if he wanted my spirit vanished, at least from the darkness, he had to help her.

  Throughout the past few days, Patrick and Joy talked about everything, except me. Joy felt my hovering presence and knew I was there; but then again, she ignored me, and definitely didn't mention it to Patrick. Ever since I lured Joy from her mother's house and back to Patrick, she didn't want to get involved. Patrick, on the other hand, when Joy wasn't around, would carry on conversations with me. For all the flies on the wall, they must have thought; Patrick is one crazy son of a bitch. Patrick didn't hear me reciprocate, but I did. Every word Patrick said to me, I heard, and responded. Patrick went as far as saying goodnight to me. Crazy concept, and yes, it's alright to learn from me. Two people, Patrick and I, literally from two different worlds, and yet when understanding each other, a relational knot can be tied. I wish, honestly wish; society would understand the point I'm trying to reach. However, it seemed like Patrick wanted to keep me around, like a lost dog without an owner. For Joy, she was more of a cat person, but like most people, when coming in contact with an adorable puppy, Joy wouldn't be able to resist.

  Forty minutes later, and several bites remaining for both, Patrick and Joy had full bellies.

  "Wow that was delicious." Patrick said, before wiping his mouth with a napkin.

  "Yes it was." Joy replied, drinking the last sip of her water.

  "Dinner is on me tonight." Patrick said, pulling his wallet from his pocket.

  Joy allowed her man to purchase dinner. Responding to Patrick's generosity, she said, "Thank you sweetheart, but I would like to leave the tip."

  "Not a problem."

  The waiter with the friendly smile, received Patrick's credit card, as Joy reached her hand deep into her purse, and pulled out a ten-dollar bill for the tip.

  Waiting on the server to bring back the credit card and receipt, Patrick asked Joy, as she slid on her jacket, "Where are we off to now, princess?"

  "Actually, I was thinking; we could go to Bell Street Shopping Plaza, there are several items I want to get." Joy answered; during the same time, the waiter returned Patrick's credit card.

  While signing Cortoni's copy of the receipt, Patri
ck responded to Joy, "Sure, a little shopping trip would be great."

  Pulling into Bell Street Shopping Plaza, Patrick noticed the excessive amount of cars in the parking lot, as did Joy.

  "Wow, it's busy." Joy said, surprised to see so many people out and about.

  "You're right; I haven't seen it this occupied in a long time." Patrick replied, searching for a spot to park.

  "Sweetheart, we can always come back another time." Joy said, giving Patrick the option of going home.