Dreamscape

by Rose Anderson

  “And that was my main reason for calling. There’s severe weather on the way, high winds, hail...”

  “Oh, that sounds bad. Should I close the louvers?”

  “Don’t bother. There’s nothing to do about hail anyway. Victorians dealt with hail, too. If we lose some panes, we lose ‘em. We’ll just replace them again like they did.” The chance of hail they were calling for did have him a little concerned. He hoped it wouldn’t be an issue for the atrium. Good-sized hail could take some of those panes out if they hit the glass just so. They’d finally finished replacing all the rusted louvers and dozens of broken windows, and he’d hate like hell to start all that work over again.

  “Good point.”

  The phone muffled suddenly as if Ben held his hand over the mouthpiece. “Sorry, Janice was talking. Hey, how’d you like to get in the car and drive over here…she was thinking about putting some pizzas in for dinner and wanted to know if you’d like to come over.”

  Seeing through his offer, she declined. “Tell her thanks, but not this time. Don’t worry, I have the cellar if I need to take cover.”

  He tried again in his most tempting voice. “She dresses them up with extra cheese and mushrooms and all that good stuff…”

  She bit her cheek. “Yum. But really, I’ll be okay here.”

  “All right, but if you need anything, call me.” Ben told her. The cellar still gave him the willies.

  “You know I will. I even call for directory assistance!”

  He laughed. “Lanie, the other reason I’m calling, is to ask a favor.”

  Without hesitation she said, “Sure, what can I do for you?”

  “I’d like to bring my dad here when the house is done. He’s never seen the inside, and I know he’d love the place with the built-in cabinetry, gingerbread and all those spindles.”

  “Ben you’ve been great helping me with everything.” Lanie smiled. “Of course, you can bring the entire family over if you like!”

  He chuckled. “I wouldn’t do that to my worst enemy.”

  She offered, “Why don’t we plan on lunch some Sunday when the house is done? How does that sound?”

  “That’s perfect. He’s gonna love it. Thanks, sweetie.”

  “No, thank you. I don’t know how I could have gotten through this immense project without you and your family.”

  “Our pleasure, kiddo. Oops. There’s the rain. Gotta go roll up my truck windows.”

  “Bye, Ben.” Ben Danowski had to be the sweetest man on the planet, followed by every other man in his family. She made a mental note to compliment his father for raising such a fine bunch of sons.

  “See you tomorrow, kiddo. Bye.”

  Jason sat on the three-step stool in the corner, listening to their conversation. He remembered when the porch caught on fire. That had been the first night Margaret was able to see him without him trying to be seen. He’d scared the hell out of her. He thought about that from time to time and determined it was due to the electrical static in the air as a storm thundered past. Though he never put stock in the fad at the time, mediums and psychics with crystal balls were all the rage in the larger cities. More than one spiritualist in his day likened the soul to the invisible forces of electricity and magnetism as both were comprised of charge and current.

  Lanie peered out the kitchen window. The night seemed even darker with the approaching storm. Thunder rumbled in the distance, and jagged streaks of lightning occasionally flashed behind the clouds. The back door opened and slammed into the wall with a crash. Letting out a squeal, she rushed to close it. The sound of shattering glass came from the other room. Rushing there, she found a vase of hollyhocks knocked to the floor. No time to see to that—this storm was moving exceptionally fast.

  The next several minutes saw her dashing through the house closing windows and wondering all the while just how many there actually were. It also had her thinking central air was something to consider after all. Finished with all three floors, she let out an exhausted breath then remembered the cupola windows. She’d opened them that morning to create a draw that would cool the rest of the house.

  “God damn it.” Lanie ran back down the three flights to the kitchen where the stairway to the topmost part of the house was. Now panting from her efforts, she nearly tumbled down the extremely narrow stairs twice. By the time she made it to the small, octagonal tower room suddenly the sky broke loose and hail pummeled the copper roof in a deafening roar. Taken by surprise, she ducked with her arms protectively over her head.

  The elemental scene captured Lanie’s imagination. Four flights up, it was as if she were inside the belly of the storm feeling at once fascinated and fearful. Lightning flashed all around her, and the heavy, rain-struck glass and copper sheeting made a sound reminiscent of the roar of Niagara Falls she’d heard on vacation as a teen.

  A thought came to her then. What if the lightning rods weren’t in good working order? Thinking it best to leave her lofty crow’s nest and head to a safer level of the house, she turned to leave and saw a man standing there.

  “It’s you,” she whispered awestruck.

  Jason nodded in the flickering light.

  “I can see you.”

  He smiled.

  Lanie swayed on her feet, feeling lightheaded.

  Jason rushed forward to catch her.

  Lanie’s eyes grew huge as she said in awe, “I can feel you.” With that she promptly fainted and fell into his arms.

  * * * *

  Summer birds were now singing their twilight song, and Lanie woke with no clear notion on how she came to be on the floor. The last thing she remembered was the deafening roar of the hail on the cupola’s copper roof. No, the last thing she remembered was coming face to face with a ghost. So Jason Bowen really did haunt this house. Catching glimpses of some movement out of the corner of her eye all these weeks wasn’t a figment of her imagination.

  She’d heard the stories as a girl, those playground conversations of how the ghost of Jason Bowen killed kids whenever he appeared. Early on she’d wondered how crazy stories like that ever got started and had decided it most likely came from parents wanting their children to stay away from abandoned houses where they could get hurt. The recently identified Jason Bowen was the man in her dreams, the same man she’d had a crush on since her late teens. Lanie sighed wistfully. There was no future in loving a ghost, none at all.

  Deciding a long, soaking bath was the perfect solution for the helplessly lovelorn, she opened the windows to the storm-clean air and headed downstairs to do just that. The instant Lanie turned on the bathroom light the bulb blew with a pop, the surprise of it eliciting her squeak. After turning the water full-blast to hot, she went rummaging through the built-in bureau drawer for matches with which to light the scented candle on her nightstand. Setting it on the top of the toilet tank, she undressed then turned to the mirror to pin up her hair.

  The upper portion of a man projected upon the steam as if it were a movie screen. Her mirrored reflection clearly showed him standing just behind her, his form outlined in blue light. She whirled around but found herself alone. She eyed the mirror again. There really had been a man’s face visible for an instant before it evaporated. And although the image was brief, it looked like Jason Bowen.

  Lanie shook her head. Now that she knew exactly what Jason Bowen looked like from his portrait and photograph, was she going to believe she was seeing him around every corner? “Yeah, wishful thinking.” She had to admit Dr. Jason Bowen had a presence, at least to her sleeping mind he did. If her imagination was a fraction of what he was truly like when he lived, then Mmm mmm mmm. Steeped in her flight of fancy, she spoke as if the figment of her imagination stood there in the flesh. “I was hoping you’d keep me company while I took a bath…” Taking a fanciful stab she added, “Jason.”

  Standing nearby, Jason blinked in disbelief. He focused his mind and appeared an instant later in the kitchen. No, this wasn’t his time, the modern appliances
proved that. He appeared a split second later back in the doorway to her bath and found her in the tub with her eyes closed. Deliberating if he should speak or not, he reasoned she wouldn’t have used his name if she didn’t know he was there—an invitation to her bath no less. The male part of him replied, “Yes, I’m here, Lanie.”

  Seeing the instant change in her expression, Jason’s logical mind half expected her to shriek and run bare-assed out of the house.

  “Oh, my god.” She said the words under her breath and sunk deeper into the water.

  He sat on the commode, not quite knowing what the hell had just happened. In fact, he found her reaction to him perplexing. For all appearances she acted like she knew he was there. She called him by name yet went rigid when he replied. Fear perhaps? He hoped not. “You were jesting?”

  “Where are you?”

  Jason materialized sitting on the closed toilet seat. The stunned expression on Lanie’s face making him feel apprehensive, he begged her silently, Please don’t run away.

  Chapter 14

  Lanie rubbed her eyes and looked again. Jason Bowen was identical to his photograph and portrait in form and coloring. Aside from that, she couldn’t say he was exactly there. His body wasn’t exactly defined, not transparent, not exactly translucent, just not altogether there. But there was a sort of substance to him as well as an edge of pale blue aura bright enough to glint off the porcelain sink directly across from where he sat. She couldn’t believe what she was seeing. “You’re real.”

  Jason laughed, the sound rich and warm. “I was once.”

  “I mean, I’m really seeing you. You’re not in my head.”

  “No.” He smiled, “I’m not a figment of your imagination, Lanie. I am sitting here.”

  “Jason Bowen?”

  He bowed his head. “At your service, ma’am.”

  The formal intro did it. Suddenly feeling more naked than she was, Lanie stammered. “Uh…I–I think I’d like to get dressed.”

  After all this time he could hardly admit to her there wasn’t an inch of her body he hadn’t already committed to memory. Instead he told her, “Of course, I’ll leave you to your bath.” With that he evaporated right before her startled eyes.

  She dried off with shaking hands. She wasn’t particularly afraid, unnerved a little perhaps, but not afraid. It was more seeing the man she’d dreamed of for years that had her a little disconcerted. Lanie winced, remembering her clothes were in the other room and she hadn’t brought the folded towels upstairs before the rain came in like gangbusters. Grabbing two rolled washcloths from the basket under the sink, she patted herself dry then, peering around the doorframe to be sure she was alone, she hurried to get dressed.

  Jason invisibly sat on the bed waiting for her to ask him to appear again.

  Peering both ways down the hall before she left her bedroom, Lanie headed to the kitchen. Thinking chamomile tea might calm her a bit and allow her to think rationally, her trembling hands set the kettle on for tea.

  “Are you here?” she asked the room.

  He instantly appeared in the chair directly across from her.

  She blinked. The kettle whistled shrilly. Startled, she jumped. Without thinking, she poured two cups. Her words came out in a rush when she realized she had poured a ghost a cup of tea. The words jumbled. “Oh, I’m sorry, I thought, uh, I don’t know if you, would you like some tea?”

  “Thank you, no. Alas, I’m unable to imbibe.”

  “God, I don’t believe this,” she muttered as her mind flew over the small, odd incidents over the past month. There were things she attributed to being only her imagination getting the better of her. Were they? Or did the ghost sitting across from her have something to do with them? “Have you ever knocked things over or moved them?”

  He chuckled. “I must admit that I have.”

  “A spoon and a vase of flowers? Moving my tack hammer?”

  “The spoon and hammer were my doing. The storm blowing through the opened window is responsible for the other mischief.”

  “And the cabinet door?” She turned her head to the cupboard behind her.

  “A test, as it were.” Jason nodded. “I was concerned I’d frighten you if you knew I was here.”

  She didn’t know how to take that. “Have you been here the whole time then? I mean, since I moved in?”

  “I’ve been here for a hundred and twenty-three years.”

  Her mind in a whirl, she thought of all the times in the last month when she’d acutely felt a presence, his presence. It was there when she cooked, there when she cleaned. Her heart began a staccato beat in her chest. The presence was there when she bathed, there when she dressed, there in her bed next to her. Her first night here she thought she’d seen a man disappear from the edge of her bed. The night she returned to her bed after days sleeping on the sofa she imagined him in bed with her and that imagery made her feel safer. It wasn’t her imagination. He had been in the house with her. There were other things, intimate things… Uncomfortable asking those questions, she asked instead, “Do you plan on staying?”

  He gave her a most charming smile. “Of course, this is my home.”

  Needing to know, she asked about the night of her attack.

  “I did not end that man’s life.” Seeing how that answer seemed to put her at ease, he added, “I will not deny my outrage over what he did to you. Had it been possible, I may very well have killed him.” He passed his hand through the teacup as if it were a mirage. “Lacking substance, there was little I could do.”

  “He was yelling, I assume yelling at you. What did you do to make him leave me alone?”

  “I simply materialized, and he ran. Max was a bully to anyone he perceived as weaker than himself, but a coward at heart.”

  “Max? You knew the man?”

  “I’ve been watching Max vandalize my property for twenty-one years. You knew him as a young ruffian...”

  Her eyes grew large in understanding. A painful memory came to the fore. Get lost, you stupid bitch. Go look in the garbage cans for your stupid mother. Max the boy flung the barb, then pushed her onto the jagged rocks and kicked her. Him? How had she been so blind as to allow him into her house? How had she not recognized him of all people? From that day forward there were other instances of abuse. The last time they pinned her to a wall and groped under her clothes. As clear as if it happened yesterday she heard the oldest boy’s words in her ear and felt the familiar wave of nausea she’d experienced for weeks after. When you gonna grow some tits, you stupid cunt? She remembered, too, that Principal Martino had heard every word and stopped them from taking their foulness further. The boys had a four-month detention, and her foster parents bought a new house in a new school district across town. Her throat got tight and her mouth watered as her queasiness bubbled to the surface. She desperately needed to leave the room. “I’m sorry. It’s been a very long day…”

  He rose from his chair, concern thick in his voice. “Are you all right?”

  She shook her head, not meeting his eyes. With that, she ran upstairs and promptly vomited in the toilet.

  Jason followed and found her looking in the mirror with her toothbrush in her mouth. “Lanie?” As he was used to being invisible in her presence, her name materialized before he did.

  She smiled feebly in the mirror. “Sorry about that. I wasn’t feeling well.”

  “I could see that. I’m thinking a recollection turned your stomach.”

  Ignoring that, she asked, “You scared them away that day, didn’t you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Thank you. What a bunch of terrible boys they were. Not all of them, but four were real monsters. The others just went along.”

  “Any man of low character—and in my time a boy that age was considered a young man—any man who would abuse a woman or a girl should be incarcerated. As should any that stand by and watch it happen.”

  His ghost talked just as he did in her dreams. Setting her toothbrush down,
she turned and told him sincerely, “Thank you for that day, and thank you for chasing him away again.”

  He gave her a short nod. “I’m glad I was able to assist, Lanie.”

  “Well, I’m going to turn in.”

  Jason stared at her a moment, not comprehending her meaning.

  “What I mean is, I’m going to go to sleep now.”

  “Oh, of course. I shall see you tomorrow.” He smiled. It was a gorgeous smile, and it made her belly feel warm inside.

  She returned it with her own. “Good night, Jason.”

  “Good night, Lanie.” With that, he evaporated into thin air.

  “I can’t believe I’ve been talking to a drop-dead gorgeous ghost,” she murmured to herself as she undressed and climbed into bed.

  Flattered, Jason stood at the side of the bed contemplating. Their one-sided relationship had changed with her full awareness of his presence, and this was a doubled-edged sword if ever there was one. There’d be no more warmth to hold at night and certainly no further forays into his baser side, though in his opinion he had done admirably keeping those at bay. The indelible recollection of her warm, silken thighs opened to him and the pleasure he’d brought to her dreaming made him hard. No, not tonight. There was a moment downstairs where he considered wooing her, but to what end exactly? It wasn’t as if he could offer her a life with him. He had no life to offer. Jason looked at her sadly.

  She rolled in her sleep, her luxurious hair fanning out across her pillow. The sheet had slipped off, and her breasts lay bare, their rose-tinted nipples soft and inviting. What he wouldn’t give to have her for his own, to love her. He sighed. He did love her. And, damn him, there was no future in it. He was dead. The thought came to him then. They did have the past. As long as she dreamed of his time he could love her there. Pouring his essence into her synapses, he told her softly, “Dream of me, love.”

  Chapter 15

  Lanie’s travels that day had precluded any opportunity for meals, and she vowed not to make the same mistake twice. It was all she could do to keep from gobbling down the tasty fare like a pig at a trough.