Dorothy Allison - A Psychic Story

by A Psychic Story (lit)

  Dorothy looked her in the eyes. "I see you were molested by your father when you were ten years old."

  Vicaro turned white. Lydia gasped.

  "I was nine," Lydia whispered, not sure if a correction was necessary.

  Dorothy stamped her foot. "Sometimes I'm a year or two off, but I didn't know the exact time of birth," she said in her proud defense. Now Dorothy knew that she had a believer in Lydia Kurscics; she could tell the woman all about her son.

  "I really feel for your kid, Lydia. That's why I've got to find him. We also have to do something with you," Dorothy said. "I know you have no place to go now. Right?" she probed.

  Again Lydia was surprised. "You're right. I had an awful fight with the man I've been living with. I have no place to sleep and no job." Tears flowed down her cheeks.

  "Well, just relax and we'll get some nourishment into those bones. You can stay right here until we find you a job. I've got plenty of room," Dorothy said spontaneously. "Woman need protection from men in the world," she said to Vicaro. "That's why there should be more women cops, so that women can be understood by the law, too."

  Dorothy looked at the clock. It was 11:45 and she expected company for lunch. She placed a pile of small white onions on the Formica table, handed a knife to Lydia, and said, "Chop, sweetheart, we've got no more time to waste." Lydia moved in that afternoon and shared a bedroom with Justine. It was not until the end of March, two months later, that she finally left the Allison house.

  The following Saturday, January 23, Dr. Ribner warmly received Dorothy and Vic. Dorothy at once sat in the lounge chair. No long explanations were necessary. They all knew their roles. Dr. Ribner had already been briefed as to the previous week's progress.

  "Doctor, I've been seeing lots of crazy things this week. I don't know why, but the world seems to be sleeping in my head." Dorothy dropped her head against the leather couch.

  "We'll see what happens today," Dr. Ribner said as he adjusted the clamp to Dorothy's ear, regulated the dials, and lowered the shade.

  "You're certainly looking well, Dorothy," the doctor said. "Maybe all those people rummaging around in there," he pointed to her head, "help keep you beautiful and thin."

  "You know something," Dorothy smiled and looked at the doctor, "I think you're blind as a bat. Is this what psychiatrists do, tell funny-looking middle-aged women they're beautiful? Next tune you'll probably tell me I look like Sophia Loren," she laughed.

  Dr. Ribner blanched slightly at Dorothy's bluntness and decided he'd better get on with the questions. In moments he had her hypontized.

  "Where do you see the boy?" he asked.

  "He's not moving right now. He has been moving for awhile through the pipe. Yes, he has been flowing freely."

  "Is he the only thing you see?" Dr. Ribner asked.

  "No," Dorothy replied. "I see chunks of ice and little things, like garbage, moving around."

  "Dorothy, do you think the boy is in the stream, or in a large river?" Ribner asked.

  "Oh no, I'm sure it's not a river. I think he's in the sewer. But that's not where you're going to find him," Dorothy assured them.

  "Where will we find him?" Vicaro asked.

  "I've already described it to you. Where I saw him the first time. Wherever that is."

  "Are you sure?" the officer pursued.

  "Of course I'm sure," Dorothy sounded piqued.

  "Why can't we find him there now?" Vicaro asked.

  "Because he's not there now," Dorothy snapped. "You haven't even figured out where I'm talking about, to begin with."

  Dr. Ribner felt Vicaro was pushing too hard, so he intervened.

  "Dorothy," he said calmly, "relax for a second. Try to get a feeling of how long it will take Michael to get where you say we'll find him."

  Dorothy's face was calm. Her entire body was limp as she searched for the moment the little boy would be discovered. The image of the little boy floating through the pipes faded in and out as other images blurred through. She remained quiet for a moment, trying to discern what was happening.

  "Dorothy," Dr. Ribner called to her softly, "is something wrong? Are you seeing other things?"

  "Yes, I don't know what, though. I've seen it before, recently. But now it's getting a little clearer." Her breathing quickened.

  "What is it? Michael Kurscics?"

  "No. Completely different," she said.

  "What are you seeing?" The doctor moved closer to her.

  "I see a kitchen. A huge kitchen with pots and pans all over the walls and huge counters. With a kitchen like that I could feed an army." She paused for a moment.

  "I see a ship, too. A big ship like I saw coming into the city. There," she said, as if pointing to something all could witness. "I can't make out the letters on the ship. It's big black script. Not English, or anything like that. The letters are funny, like Greek letters.

  "There's a dark man in the kitchen." Dorothy paused again. "Now there are a lot of people. People dressed up. Some of them have cameras. Pictures are flashing all around."

  "Do you recognize any of them?" The doctor's voice was more excited.

  "The faces aren't too clear. Wait a second," she held her breath. "I'm getting an image of someone." She strained for a clearer focus. "He looks familiar to me, but I can't see him clearly."

  The room seemed consumed in a single breath, as Dorothy traveled through dimensions measureless to them in order to see. Both men sat transfixed.

  "Who do you see?" Ribner gently probed.

  "Kennedy," she said. Dorothy's voice was almost a whisper, as if she weren't positive of her vision. "I see one of the Kennedy boys. I don't know which one. Wait," she screamed. "Now I see two Kennedys."

  "Which Kennedys?" Vicaro was anxious.

  "The Kennedys!" Dorothy exclaimed. "What other Kennedys are there? I see both Robert and Teddy Kennedy. I think they're in trouble. At least, I feel that one of them is in serious trouble."

  "Trouble? What kind of trouble?" the doctor asked.

  "I'm not sure. I see a kitchen and a dark-skinned man. I feel he's the trouble. The dark man. If we find out who he is, then we'll know. But," she stopped for a second, "I think someone else in the kitchen might harm them, too."

  "Know what?" Vicaro prodded.

  "How should I know? I can't even tell which one is in real trouble."

  "The ship, Dorothy, is it near the kitchen? Or is the kitchen on the ship?" the doctor pursued.

  "No, they're two different places. I feel the ship is nearby. Here in New York. I see the writing is big on the side of the white ship."

  Dr. Ribner considered the information for a moment, mentally scanning his familiarity with Mediterranean languages for one similar to Greek. He was Jewish and familiar with Hebrew script.

  "Is the dark-skinned man connected with the boat?" he asked.

  "I feel he is," Dorothy answered. "Maybe he came to this country on that ship. Maybe his parents did, I don't know."

  "Does he work on the ship? Is he a crewman?"

  "He's working for the United States, I feel."

  Ribner looked at Vicaro. Both men looked surprised. Neither knew exactly what to do with the information. The doctor motioned to Vicaro, asking him if he had any further questions.

  "Dorothy," Vicaro queried, "will Robert Kennedy be the next President of the United States?" President Johnson had just announced his decision not to run in the forthcoming election, and Robert Kennedy was a likely candidate.

  Dorothy shook her head from side to side. Her eyes were closed, and she seemed anxious. She saw a newspaper headline, the word "Assassinated" across the top.

  "No, no, he won't be President." Her breathing had quickened, her hands were holding tightly to the armrests. "I fear he'll be dead before then."

  "Dorothy," Dr. Ribner intervened, "try and relax now. You're probably recalling President Kennedy's assassination. Let's try and focus on Michael Kurscics for a moment, then we'll talk about this later. Okay?" he said f
irmly, not wanting a response.

  A minute later Dorothy reported she had the boy's face before her.

  "Once again," Ribner led her, "try to sense how long it will take us to find Michael Kurscics."

  "February seventh, around one-twenty in the afternoon," she said as If she had just checked her appointment book. "That's when we'll find him."

  The two men were again excited, even stunned by her prediction.

  "February seventh, around one twenty in the afternoon," Vicaro repeated aloud as he wrote it down in his notebook.

  "That's right," Dorothy responded. "That's when someone will find Michael."

  Vicaro looked at Ribner. "Now," he whispered, "if we only knew exactly where."

  Dr. Ribner rose, lifted the shade, and looked out over the neighborhood buildings toward the west. "Okay, Dorothy, when I count to three, you will awaken and remember everything."

  "Wait till I tell Justine I saw the Kennedys," Dorothy jumped out of the trance. "She won't believe it." She looked at Vicaro and the doctor. "Well, what are you thinking? I think we should get in a car and see if I can find that ship. What do you think?" Dorothy challenged them.

  Both men looked at Dorothy. "I know what you're thinking, and you don't have to be psychic to see it. I'm not making this up. I see what I see," she shrieked. "I've got a house full of junk that needs to be cleaned. I don't have time either."

  "Okay," Dr. Ribner moved toward his desk. "It's fine with me. I don't have an appointment until five, so we have plenty of time. Are you willing?" he asked Vicaro. "After all, it is your car."

  "Sure," Vic snapped to his feet. "We've got to do something. I think I'll make a report of this, just in case."

  Dorothy was in the waiting room already, wrestling with her new coat. "Report!" she exclaimed. "We've got to tell the FBI, or someone."

  "I think we're a little premature, Dorothy. We should have at least one more session to see if we can get more information. You haven't exactly spelled out very much," Ribner suggested reasonably.

  "We'll see," Dorothy replied from the elevator.

  Two hours of driving up and down the West Side Highway produced no clear identification of a ship. Dorothy did recognize the script on a large freighter, though. The doctor thought it was Egyptian.

  Vicaro's patience wore thin, so a date was made with the doctor for the following Saturday in Nutley, at Dorothy's home.

  On Saturday Dorothy spent the whole morning feeding her family and straightening the house.

  "There's a very important doctor coming here with Officer Vicaro, so I don't want to hear your voices anywhere. You can go over to a friend's house and stay all afternoon," Dorothy told Justine and Paul.

  The prospect of finding the little boy excited Dorothy. By the time Ribner and Vicaro arrived, she had worked herself into a frenzy. Boxes of pastries and piles of canned goods were being hurled into their proper quarters when Dorothy heard the doorbell. She had successfully booted everyone out of the house. She went to the door with hands full.

  "Dorothy, we've interrupted you," the polite doctor took her hand.

  "No, no, come on in. I've been expecting you. I just never seem to get my work finished. My children always seem to be needing more and more, instead of less and less."

  The two men entered the house, and Dorothy gave the door a light kick with her foot. Ribner saw the baby grand piano and ran his ringers over the keys.

  "One of my sons plays beautifully," she told them. "One day he'll study at Julliard."

  "Dorothy," Vicaro interrupted, "do I hear whistling somewhere?"

  "Oh, it's the water boiling," she said, and disappeared into the kitchen. She called to them from the stove. "Come on in here. You've got to have a little nourishment first."

  The two men proceeded into the kitchen. Dr. Ribner noticed a painting on the wall of John F. Kennedy walking in a celestial field in shirt-sleeves. Next he noticed the astrological calendar on the wall. "What does today look like?" he asked her.

  "Well, my chart is not very good today. There are definitely signs for caution in my chart," she warned them.

  "I know you are a Leo," she said to Ribner. "It's not the day for you to make a total discovery, either."

  He smiled. "I suppose you're right. There's a lot of illness in my family right now."

  "We won't find the kid today, but we'll get closer. You two finish this and we can go to work," Dorothy poured more coffee.

  As the second cup was downed, Dr. Ribner explained the virtues of using sodium amatyl, or truth serum. Vicaro had suggested the use of the drug. Dorothy felt a new jolt of anxiety at the prospect of being injected with anything, especially truth serum.

  "This way," Dr. Ribner explained, "I can control the level of hypnosis more closely. If you're being blocked, perhaps we can break through."

  "Break through my brain, that's what you'll do. Well," she sighed, "here I go again."

  Dr. Ribner erected the IV stand in Dorothy's bedroom, and her right arm was bared for the injection. She lay on her bed, nervous and squeamish at the sight of the medical equipment. Now she felt terribly alone in her own home. She had sent her family away, and now she longed to hear their footsteps.

  "Count slowly backward from a hundred," Dr. Ribner said, pressing the needle into her arm and regulating the drip-by-drip movement through the clear tube. Dorothy's mind seemed to soften, the Outer world easing away as she relaxed.

  "Dorothy, how are you?" Dr. Ribner began the inquiry.

  "I feel okay. A little heavy around the eyes, but I'm okay."

  "Good. Now, let's concentrate on Michael Kurscics. Do you remember where you saw him last?"

  "Yes. But I don't think he's there now. I see his little body, and it's not moving. Last time he was moving."

  "What about above him?" Dr. Ribner asked.

  "I see the ITT, the school, and a hill. I think there are three pieces of lumber on that hill. It's a pretty steep incline."

  Vicaro remembered the details as being similar to Dorothy's original dream. For the first time she seemed to be returning to the site she described almost two months prior. Vicaro was hopeful.

  "Is there any sort of hardware store in the area?" the patrolman pursued.

  Dorothy thought for a moment, as her inner eye telescoped the area in search of details, symbols that would identify the location.

  "Yes," she said calmly. "I see a lumberyard above the hill."

  "Can you see the ITT building from the hill?"

  "Yes, but it's further away from Michael Kurscics."

  As she said his name, her body began to tighten and contract. Dr. Ribner and Vicaro watched her reacting to some inner vision, not knowing what to do. Dr. Ribner let another drop of liquid enter Dorothy's vein, in the hope of calming her.

  Her body relaxed for a moment. Drops of perspiration speckled her forehead. She was warm and felt nauseated.

  Michael Kurscics's eyes opened before her, as if he were looking straight at hers. Eye to eye, Dorothy felt her stomach ache, her neck muscles tense, and her jaw clamp down.

  "The eyes. I see his eyes and they're haunting. I feel like he's trying to tell me something. What a pitiful sight. I feel him. I see him. He's stuck. How he wants to move. He needs to move. Oh, my stomach," she gasped, bending in half.

  Worlds of strength and psychic power combined in Dorothy's being as her body reacted both to the emerging child and to the drug.

  She felt her head spinning, distancing her from the other world where the two men stood in suspense, not knowing what was happening. She was at once the seer, the mover, the little boy, the dead body. She was both the inertia and the movement.

  Dorothy's flesh was hot and perspiring, A fear pervaded her consciousness that she would not have the strength to move the little boy. As she merged with the universe and the little boy, she felt a rush of waters and energy overtake her, the flow of which carried Michael Kurscics nearer to his final resting-place. Dorothy knew her entire being had given way
to the child, that every part of her body, physically and spiritually, was drained. She felt a sudden burst of fluid as though she was giving birth.

  In her delirium she whispered to the two men, "He's free now. He's moving toward the place he'll be found. Oh, God, help me. What has happened to me?" and she slipped from consciousness.

  The doctor checked her pulse and breathing. She was excited, but everything seemed normal. He looked at her face. She looked like a mother who had just given birth.