Cat Dubois' Odyssey to Enchantment

by BoJenn

  The fire blazed again and the wood popped. The embers looked like firecrackers, and glowed more than ever before.

  “Hectus morpioio, Talisman Incas, Make me a bridge as fast as you think us,” Eleanor recited again, prompting Eleanor to join in unison, as they repeated the spell three times.

  “Someone must have been very happy to make the fire jump like that. That must be Thomas,” Cat noticed, but didn’t say aloud.

  “Catherine why don’t you address Thomas, and ask him to enter your dream and lead you to that time where and when he disappeared?”, Eleanor suggested.

  “Alright. Thomas, if you can hear me. I invite you to enter my dream. Come and show me. My memory is blocked. Please, come with me.” Catherine looked around the room not knowing where to point her voice, so she looked at the fire. “If you’re here and coming with me, show me another sign—something other than the fire.” Lovey started dancing around the room, wagging his tail and playfully playing with someone or something that could not be seen with human eyes. It was definite. Cat was sure that Thomas was there in the room and he’d heard her.

  “Come, Catherine, sit down. You may lie down if you would like to, and get comfortable.” Lovey jumped up on the couch next to her. Cat lay down, simultaneously taking her shoes off and curling on her side. The smelly pot’s fumes came toward her nostrils. Cat began to relax. The vapors circled her face as she laid on the couch. The scent penetrated her nostrils. Eleanor covered her curled body with the comforter.

  “Now, start taking your deep, gentle, cleansing breaths—in and out like a smooth wave. Take time here, as you’re resting, thinking of a warm day at the beach. So warm. Your feet are in the sand. The sound of gentle waves are moving in and out, in and out, all around you. It is time to go to the stairs. Do you see them?”

  Cat lifted her index finger for a second and then lowered it, downward, counting, “Seventeen… fifteen…eleven…all the way down until she was on the bottom step. “Step one,” she said, softly.

  Eleanor leaned over to touch Catherine's forehead. Golden energy lit the center of Cat’s brow. “You must try thinking of something good, dear. Don't be afraid. Everything is alright, and as it should be. Sleep, Catherine sleep… Now, think back to that summer day, back at the beach. What do you hear?”

  “The gulls.”

  “What else is there?”

  “Warmth, sand, and a breeze. The sea’s tide is higher. The waves are breaking bigger than before.”

  “Thomas. Do you see him? Is he there?”

  “Thomas.” Catherine, in a deep sleep, licked her lips as if she could feel the hot sun scorching them, as if she were there that day on the beach. They were dry and cracked from the blaze of the sun’s relentless rays, even on a three-year-old’s lips. She smiled like a little girl.

  “Thomas! Yes, I see him!” She saw the young boy, his honey-blond hair tousled by the breeze, lean, and wearing red swimming trunks that were too large. He was lily white with pink where the sun had bathed him, and he bore a few freckles running across his nose onto his cheeks.

  “He’s waving at me, ‘Hi!’. I waved back.”

  “Come here. Let’s build another castle,” he yelled while waving his arms and hands, signaling, “Come here, over here, now.”

  “I’m running to him. We have buckets and sand shovels.” The French nannies had been trying to put sunscreen on us, but we ran off.” Catherine started laughing. She sounded like she was really three or four years old. Speaking in her child’s voice, again, she said, “He looks like he’s glowing in the sun’s light. He has a halo all around him. He’s looking at me. But, it’s a strange look. Like sad in a way. A look that says “goodbye”.

  “Goodbye? You just met him?” Eleanor was puzzled.

  “I don’t know. I don’t understand.” Cat wriggled in discomfort and emotional turmoil.

  Eleanor placed her hand back on Cat’s forehead, saying, “Calm, calm, now. Take a deep breath. What happens next?”

  Cat’s smile changed, in a flash of a moment, to an expression of utter fright and panic.

  “Thomas—Thomas! Thomas!”, Catherine screamed.

  “Thomas, what? Tell me about Thomas. What happened to him?”, Eleanor prompted.

  “No… No … Thomas, come back! Where did you go?”, Catherine screamed as a child. Her screams were heartbreaking.

  “Thomas! Thomas! Thomas!”, over and over again, she wailed.

  “Catherine…concentrate…trust, trust. See the dream to the end. It will be alright…Please, tell me about Thomas. You must tell me! That's the only way I can help you, child.” Eleanor said.

  “He's gone!”, Catherine sobbed. “He’s gone. He’s just gone. He waved goodbye, then disappeared in the water. Where are you Thomas?” Cat saw the scene, vividly; she looked across the horizon, frantically searching for him. Her weeping couldn’t stop.

  “Tell me, dear. Please tell me what happened. Start from the beginning of what happened.” Eleanor’s voice was tender; all her emotions were with Catherine.

  Catherine’s voice was tense with fright, “The tides became bigger; they pushed him down. I had lost my black rag-dog, ‘Lovey!’; it was Lovey! He was caught in the undertow, for the second time that afternoon. The first time Thomas had said, “I don't know where that wave came from.”

  Catherine, seeing herself as the Little Elizabeth, now held her hands, clung to her chest. She was hugging her rag-puppy dog that had been lost but was now in her arms. She cried, “Thank you, Thomas!” She soothed and patted the rag-doll she could see in her dream, that she was holding. It was if she could feel the black cloth fur sopping wet, drenched by the ocean, but she had it once again and was holding it ever so tightly. Then Cat became silent.

  “Now,” Cat painted the scene again, “Thomas is looking toward the horizon, where a big ship had been passing by, but the ship is a long, long way away.

  “‘Perhaps it is a wake from the ship that keeps taking Lovey away,’ he said,” and Cat silenced again.

  “How old was Thomas then?”, Eleanor asked.

  “About 9 or 10, I think. I’m not sure. He seemed bigger than life to me.” Cat smiled of her fond memory of him. The way she smiled when talking to him, the way he watched over her—certainly he was the consummate great, big brother.

  Then Cat began where Little Elizabeth had left off. Her voice was Catherine’s now; she was looking at her past, but describing everything from an adult perspective.

  Catherine continued, “The tide rushed in and caught us, unaware, while we were standing in the ocean, not too far from the shoreline. I was just so happy to have Lovey back; and Thomas was proud and happy to see me smiling again. The water was below our knees. It was shallow and quiet. The waves were gentle, and slowly, and calmly went in and out. The breeze picked up a little, but it wasn’t harsh or anything out of the ordinary. We watched the ships going into port and out again; however, they were far off, miles away, almost at the horizon. The waves that started coming were wakes from those ships, I suppose, that came to shore much later. But, faster and faster, those waves picked up and became larger, much larger, and then higher and higher.” Cat raised her arms to measure the height.

  “Then, my stuffed dog, was swept away once again; and Thomas swam after it, again. It nearly drowned in the churning water, but he caught it by his fingertips and brought it back to me. I took the stuffed dog into the shoreline and stood on the beach away from the ocean’s depths.” Cat caught her breath for a second, and then began again. “As the seawater receded, it glistened. Shells of all kinds cast sparkling lights around, and the sand held its own radiance as the water pulled back. I watched the shimmers of light. All the sand, and the saltiness of the ocean, sparkled. I watched it, and not Thomas.” Cat sighed deeply. “I made a mistake then.”

  “Thomas called to me, ‘Elizabeth, back here! Come on! Let’s get back to making the castle. I’ll make the fort over here; you build the castle there, over there. Come on!’”


  “We played, as the nannies looked over from the bayside porch while sipping cold water. They yelled and signaled, ‘Watch the tide! It’s getting stronger. Move closer inland!’” Cat explained. “We did as they said. We started moving our toys closer to the sand on the shore.” Cat said, “I yelled back to them, ‘Okay!’ Then, Thomas yelled back, too, and he waved that everything was alright. But, as if their warning had been a premonition of what was to come, suddenly, without noticing the waves growing, and the wind picking up, a blast from a huge wave knocked young Elizabeth backwards, and inwards on the beach, where she hit her head on the stones in the dunes. Being close to the steps, now, of the walkway that led down to the beach, she knew she wasn’t anywhere near where she had been.”

  Catherine said, “I looked around from the ground. I, then grabbed the wooden safety rail, where I had been washed next to them, and pulled myself up. Sea water flushed in my mouth and nose. I coughed and gagged from the taste of it. Then, I gasped for breath and tried to recuperate by the sidewalk rail. When I could see again, gathering my strength, I stood there looking for Thomas. But, there was no Thomas.”

  “Where was he?” Eleanor egged her on in the story.

  “I wasn’t sure,” she said, so puzzled. “I was only 3 or 4, maybe. And, the nannies were not in sight. So, I looked along the water’s edge. Panicked then, I screamed, ‘Thomas, Thomas, where are you? Mother! Mother! Help! Someone help!’ My heart was racing and dread paralyzed me with fear. I kept calling, ‘Thomas! Thomas! Mother, Mother! Help! Help!’ Tears were gushing down my face. I looked everywhere a three to four-year-old would think.”

  Thomas whispered to Eleanor, “She did a great job trying to see, as an adult, where I had gone.

  Cat continued, “I thought maybe it was a joke he played on me. But, I wasn’t laughing. ‘Thomas, stop it! Come out!’” I looked at the dunes wondering where he had been washed to, but there was no Thomas. “‘Stop it!’ I screamed and cried at the same time. ‘Where are you?’”

  The nannies came, and my mother was behind them. “What?”, they all asked. “What’s wrong?”, they pleaded as they knew something was terribly wrong.

  “‘Thomas. I can’t find him’”, I told them, crying.

  “Where was he last?”, they asked.

  “I pointed to the spot, and told them, crying, weeping, ‘He was right there building a fort.’ But there was no evidence of a fort, for the enormous waves had washed it away.”

  “Where?”, they asked, demanding, all together. “Where?”

  “Right there,” I sobbed, pointing at the last spot I had seen Thomas.

  “What happened, child?”, the nannies asked. My mother was breathless, like me. She couldn’t talk or scream. She looked out to the horizon and started to walk out into the water, going aimlessly.

  I answered a thousand questions that day. “One more time I explained, ‘A big wave came and pushed me back to there.’ And, I pointed to the sea rail. Everyone looked everywhere. My mother and I stood looking out to sea for along time after that. But, there was no sign of him. Thomas was gone.”

  Eleanor spoke, hoping this might ease Catherine’s pain again, and also Thomas’ who listened, as well. “Everything in life comes and goes, and life itself never stops. It is perpetual. In and out, back and forth; it is as constant as the sun rising every morning, and the moon at night, that takes its stand on the stage of universal motion. But, human life changes; it takes on birth and death. However, life doesn’t die; but a name of the deceased, and who they were, will die, one day, without those who remember them, or who keep their memory alive. History may or may not preserve lives, but the oceans, like life and its movements, continue on, never stopping. It changes, but it never stops, just like souls.”

  Lovey pressed his body closer to Cat’s. She knew he came closer, and it signaled her conscious mind that Lovey was not by accident. He was not coincidental, and Eleanor had made sure he was part of the healing—although, this time, Lovey was alive and not a black rag-dog.

  “Is there any more to your recollections, dear? What happened to you and your family?” Eleanor prompted Catherine to continue.

  “The police came that day. They said, ‘Perhaps he’s playing a joke. He will be back. You’ll see. Just wait awhile, he’ll come back.’ They said that after they had asked me if he was mad for any reason? ‘No,’ I told them. ‘We were having fun building castles and forts in the sand away from the water. The waves came and took me and my rag-dog out to sea, earlier in the afternoon, before the big wave, and Thomas saved us.’ All the while, I held my little black stuffed animal tightly in my hands,” Cat sniffled. “But, Thomas wasn't there. He was gone. Missing. He didn’t return like the police said he would. In the sea's giant wave, he disappeared. Abducted. Gone forever. Thomas was never seen alive again, and his body was never found. Lovey was also gone, as in the coming days, so tragic, so filled with remorse, I threw the rag-dog out to sea to find Thomas. The sea took them both.” Catherine and Eleanor, both, stopped in silence, in reverence, for several minutes.

  The sea’s wave had taken Thomas, along with the three-year-old’s emotional life, and that of her mother, Catherine, too. It left only horrific memories behind—memories that her mother could not bear, nor could Little Elizabeth Catherine Dubois. Together, they stood at that shoreline for a year— waiting, watching and refusing to leave. They stood together, holding hands in reverent silence until they could bear no more.

  Tadhg interrupted Eleanor’s silence, as he had slipped into the session upon his return from playing golf, and wanted to summarize what he understood from the parts he had heard. He whispered to her mind so Catherine would not pick up that he was there.

  “I won't go anywhere,” Little Elizabeth said, coming back into Catherine’s memory, and through her voice, insistent on continuing the story. “Not until he comes home.”

  Catherine picked up the story to tell it from there. “My mother stood by my side always blaming herself, and I blamed me.” Solemnly, Cat could hardly finish her words. Her voice was almost inaudible, so overtaken with heartache.

  “A scream was heard that summer day. Four-year-old Little Elizabeth screamed into the mystical wind. She told the wind to find Thomas. Bellowing, into the breeze, her little heart begged, with vigorous might. The current carried her voice. It never ceased, until, one day, I heard it,” Eleanor explained.

  “The zephyr carried the message in search of Thomas. It traveled lifetimes, into where memories dwell, and it never ceased. In the dark space, of matter, it moved, seeking the answer to the child’s petition. It did not stop, until it found accountability. It echoed, in and out of woven petitions, spirits and prayers, asking, ‘Have you seen, the child, Thomas?’ And, even as an older woman, Catherine could not stop the determination of the inquiring storm, to find the answer to her childhood question. The mission of the wind, was to solve that petition. A request by prayer was sent that day, long ago, and that was when Eleanor came riding in on the wind.” Tadhg had recited Eleanor’s poem for Catherine. He spoke aloud, not to her mind.

  “Eleanor wrote it,” he added.

  Catherine delightfully accepted the magic of her prayer being answered.

  “Finally,” Cat said, with immeasurable gratitude. Yes, she had heard Tadhg, his voice and his message—crystal clear. She had heard Eleanor’s devoted poem, and listened with her heart.

  Then, she hugged Eleanor and said, “Thank you.”

  Right then and there, she continued to wail. Drowning in her tears, she was cleansing her soul.

  Eleanor said to all present, “Little Elizabeth Catherine would have spent her entire lifetime blaming herself for Thomas, if the Dubois’ had allowed her. But, with their help and therapy, her coping mechanisms slowly changed. In time, it would be as Thomas had never have existed. Soon, he never would have been at all—gone from all memories, time and existence.

  Eleanor hugged Thomas’ apparition, as her hands and arm passed around him.
But, there was a light glow from his brilliant aura that could be seen by those in the room.

  “Oh, my!”, Cat said aloud. “Thomas?”

  Eleanor gently smiled, and Tadhg continued. “The Dubois’ spent a small fortune helping Little Catherine and her mother to forget the tragedy. It worked. One child was saved from a lifetime of self-blame, with the replacement of thoughts, visions and dreams instilled into her young self. Soon, she had a new life, a pure fabrication created just for her. A completely fabricated illusion.” Tadhg had explained the part he understood as truth.

  Eleanor said, “It was then that the Dubois family moved to the hillside town of Glory Town, in the Appalachians. From Catherine’s uncle, her parents had arranged the purchase of the home on the hill, where Catherine would live out her life. Then, unaware of any other earlier life of her own, Little Elizabeth Catherine (henceforth, to be called by her middle name to aid in her rebuilding of her life) came with her mother and father to the United States of America.

  Catherine’s mother also underwent the same hypnosis to replace the tragic memories with fabricated ones, to overwrite the traumas. The psychotherapy worked well on Little Catherine, but her mother still fought the horrors of Thomas’ disappearance. She made a contract, between God and herself, that she would never bring up Thomas’ name to Little Catherine, or any other person in their new home. The Dubois’ then said goodbye to any life they lived prior to Glory Town. No one knew that Mr. Dubois, also suffered inwardly. Phillipe held in his pains, and didn’t speak much at all. He was a strong man, nevertheless, he hurt as deeply as his wife and daughter.”

  Eleanor sighed as Tadhg finished telling the history of the Dubois’, as he had uncovered in his research. “Once they had arrived in Glory Town, there was no mention of Thomas—there were no more thoughts about him—no speaking of him—no speaking of that horrible day. And, if anyone cried, they cried in private.

  “I didn’t know about their tears, and I forgot Thomas,” Cat admitted, broken with sadness. “I never saw my mother or father shed another tear. There was no Thomas, nor any talk of my older brother. They never visited the ocean or sea again. We chose to forget that day. So, in forgetting, Thomas became forever lost.” Cat said, “I’m sorry Thomas.” Cat couldn’t see him, but knew he was there when Eleanor attempted to hug his brilliant aura.”