“I am interested in a book on dreams.”
“Well, you have come to the right place,” the lady said as she beckoned Delphina to the back of the store, her white gauzy skirt flowing around her feet as if she were floating. “Here are books on dream symbols, and here is another section on history and cultural meanings of dreams. Are you looking for general information, or do you have a specific question?”
Delphina’s courage waned. She should have spent more time online rather than traipsing across town to a new age store. It seemed ridiculous to put into words why she was here: to look for a book to take her to a mansion by the sea. It made perfect sense in her head and in the drowsy hours of the night.
Noting hesitation, the clerk said, “I believe that dreams tell us stories of lives we’ve led, of lives we are living, and of lives we hope to live. Time really doesn’t have a place in dreams.”
Delphina remained silent, unsure how to respond.
“There are plenty of books for entertainment. I am happy to recommend lightweight books that are great for quick glimpses, but I also have recommendations if you want to delve a bit deeper. We have a little something for everyone.”
The door chimes signaled the arrival of another customer. The saleslady excused herself for a moment to greet the newcomer, bringing Delphina a much-needed moment to gather her thoughts. She pinched the bridge her nose, hoping to quell the burning sensation that would soon lead to tears.
She saw the customer making her way up a back staircase as she apologized for running late for the appointment. The saleslady assured her not to worry and said something about “confluences of life come together at the right moment.” Delphina wondered what kind of appointment she had in a place like this, perhaps a psychic or tarot card reader? Whatever it was, she figured that making an appointment took far more guts than buying a book on dreams.
The saleslady returned, smiling and wide-eyed, ready to help her.
With rising confidence, Delphina mustered her professorial tone and said, “I had a dream recently about dead birds. There were hundreds of them strewn across a lawn.”
“What did the birds look like?”
“Black birds. Crows, I believe.”
“Have you had this dream before?”
“Not with birds, but yes, I have dreamed about the location since I was a child, and it always fills me with anxiety. It’s a mansion by the ocean. The water is calm, so maybe it is a bay, but I know the ocean is near. Well, on second thought, I don’t know how I could know the ocean is near,” Delphina said, eyes turning away as she second-guessed herself.
“And you say you have had this dream for years.”
“Yes, for as long as I can remember, but it is occurring with greater frequency lately, and while I have never been in the house, I am getting closer. And there is a little boy … I feel very connected to the boy.”
Delphina paused, gripping the bookcase with her right hand and catching her breath from her racing heartbeat. It did not take long for her initial hesitation over sharing the story to give way to an unforeseen outpouring of emotion. She was overcome by the revelation that her interest in the dream was just as she said, a deep-felt connection to the boy, to a son. She felt the saleslady’s hand lightly touch her forearm. As she opened her eyes, she followed the gesture to sit on a reading sofa at the back of the store. Several minutes passed as the two sat in silence, the only sound a siren as an ambulance made its way down the street. Delphina felt the siren’s vibrations in tandem with her heartbeat. Even if there was a recovery, the siren offered a blunt reminder of the fragility that holds our lives together.
“Birds can be used to send messages.”
“Messages? What kind of messages? From whom?”
The clerk paused, her eyes focused but with a touch of hesitancy. Now she was the one who seemed unsure.
“From a soul you knew in a former life. I am sorry if this frightens you, but it sounds like you need resolution. We live in patterns—one lifetime’s lessons and unresolved matters spiral into the next life.”
Delphina noted how the concepts of patterns and order had continued to resurface throughout her life. And from a bird’s-eye view, patterns could span vast reaches far beyond that of a strawberry or a bluebonnet.
“I have a book to recommend, as well as a contact to share,” the saleslady said, making her way to the register.
Delphina took a deep breath as she watched the lady return with a knowing smile, book and business card in tow.
“This is the contact information for a regressionist.”
“You mean a hypnotist?”
“Yes. It’s someone who can help take you back a lifetime … or two … or more,” she said with a laugh.
“PLEASE DON’T BRING THAT BOOK, for God’s sake,” Victor said as he opened the door to help Ainsley from her booster seat.
“But if the lines are long, it will be good to have something to look at,” Delphina replied, her hand gripping the book on reincarnation.
“Why not look at us. Talk to us,” Victor scolded.
She nodded in resignation, knowing she had to focus on the present moment. Her psychiatrist dismissed her inquiry about a past-life regression, maintaining that indulging in such a fantasy would take her down a rabbit hole far worse than what she was experiencing. He told her he wanted to see her weekly rather than monthly, especially in light of his renewed attempt to adjust her medication, hypothesizing that her insomnia and depression could very well be related to early premenopause. She left his office feeling crazy and old.
She nodded to Victor and left the book in the seat of the car, her mind focused on last night’s dream. She was on the property, walking on the sidewalk to the front door, keeping an eye on the boy standing in the upstairs window. She looked away at the sound of a bird flapping its wings only to be startled that the boy was standing next to her when she turned back toward the house. She instinctively reached for his hand but screamed when she noticed it was covered in wrinkles and blue veins protruding like a constellation. She screamed in real life, startling Victor upright in bed. She was up for the rest of the night, walking the backyard and counting the hours until dawn.
As they stood in line to enter the zoo, Delphina made her best attempt to enjoy the moment. She left it to Victor and Ainsley to call to the animals, making funny noises they hoped would elicit a reaction. Always a few steps ahead or behind, she studied the patterns of fur, feathers, and skin. Looking into their black eyes, she thought back to every pet she had owned, knowing that they knew the secret for a calm heart—the secret she needed to know.
Victor grabbed her hand when they were in line to feed the giraffes, “Please be with us,” he said, looking forlorn.
She nodded but turned away, understanding neither her overwhelming sensation to cry nor her continued desire to search.
They left the zoo and meandered to the reflection pool in front of Hermann Park. An ice cream truck pulled in to the roundabout, much to the delight of her daughter. Victor and Ainsley made their way to the truck while Delphina sat in front of the reflection pool, the slight breeze creating ripples on the water. It looked so deep, but she knew it was only a few inches, an illusion. Her heart picked up its beat, tears beginning to stream down her face.
“Mommy! Look what I got!” Ainsley screamed, running to her, waving a giant rainbow Popsicle in her right hand.
“Stop, Ainsley! Victor!” Delphina shouted as she saw the children’s train making its way around the bend.
Ainsley skipped over the tracks to her, making her way to her mother with more than enough time, oblivious of her shouts.
“What in the hell are you doing, Victor? You need to hold her hand!” she yelled. “Something could’ve happened!”
Glances followed, trying to determine the cause for the commotion. Victor stood in front of her for almost a minute, allowing the train to pass behind him with the families on board waving to everyone along the way.
“This is ridiculous!
You need to get it together, Delphina!” he shouted, much to her surprise. “You need time alone.”
“No, Victor. I’m sorry, please, I’m fine,” she replied, tears continuing down her face.
“You are not fine,” he said, pulling her by the elbow farther away from Ainsley. “And it is not good for you to be around Ainsley when you are like this. What in the hell has happened?” he questioned as he looked over to his daughter sitting by the edge of the pool, blue and green juice dripping onto her hand.
“It’s the nightmares. It’s the boy,” she wept.
“Walk around for a while … go to the Japanese Gardens,” he commanded as she nodded quietly. “We will be by the swings. C’mon, Ainsley.”
Ainsley walked over and gave her a kiss on the cheek as she grabbed Victor’s hand.
“Salty,” she said, smacking her lips from her mother’s tears as they walked toward the playground.
Delphina put on her sunglasses, something she considered to be a good investment from a recent Neiman’s excursion with Jane. She had been crying more and more lately. Wearing designer frames acted like a shield. She knew it was a false confidence, but it gave her fragile appearance more of an aloof, well-heeled effect. Better to be considered a snob than a basket case, she figured.
She took the long way to the playground along Main Street, walking parallel to the train tracks and wondering why she had decided to take that particular route. The train rattled by again, filled with children waving excitedly to her, the only soul on the odd path. Her eyes met the face of one of the mothers who had seen her having the moment with Victor earlier by the reflection pool, the woman offering a sympathetic smile and wave. She made a mental note to return the favor one day when she would witness a falling out between spouses, a better move than her usual one of turning away.
The breeze kicked up its force, the coolness tingling across her cheeks sticky from tears. A moment later, a cacophony of car horns came on the heels of a car screeching across the lanes of Main Street, prompting her to turn back to see if everyone was okay. As Delphina’s eyes adjusted to the scene, her eyes landed on the brick wall that encased the exclusive pocket of homes tucked away just north of Rice University. She bolted across Fannin Street to Main and stood at the gate to the private road, seeing that on the other side of the brick wall was a large house shrouded in oak trees. And when she allowed her mind to peel back the years to a time when the trees were saplings and the grounds were simple, she realized she was looking at the house from her dreams.
“UNBELIEVABLE,” SHE REPEATED, THE ONLY WORD she could say, craning her neck out the window as their car pulled back onto Main Street. “Drive by again.”
“Love, if I drive by again, they will call the Houston Police Department,” Victor said, offering a sarcastic wave to the security guard now standing in front of his car parked squarely in front of the gate, staring stone-faced at the suspect Audi on its seventh slow drive past the gate.
“Just once more, please,” Delphina pleaded before glancing back at her daughter, asleep in the car seat with clothes soiled from the joys of that afternoon, completely oblivious to her mother’s emotions.
Victor reluctantly made the U-turn, affording Delphina a few minutes to reflect on interconnectedness and impermanence, concepts that had appealed to her philosophically but were now ushered to the forefront of her reality. While she accepted theories of reincarnation, the idea of energy and vibrations finding like ones in the next cycle, she had never wondered about her own past lives. Her spirituality remained distant, disparate from the cycle.
“Do tell,” Victor prompted, her familiar lip biting meaning her mind was racing.
“Tell? I’ve been dreaming of that house since I was a little girl. You know this!”
“Yeeessssss … but there’s something more,” he said with raised brows. “What else are you thinking?”
Delphina paused, looking ahead to see the house coming into view again.
“That the house just might hold the secret to cure my anxiety for good,” she replied, her heart welling with hope at the thought of a remedy.
DELPHINA
Autumn 2014
“YOU ARE IN AN ELEVATOR. Select a floor.”
Delphina obliged, imagining herself in an elevator, staring at the buttons. “Sixteen. I will go to the sixteenth floor.”
She imagined the initial pull setting the lift in motion, the soft purr of the elevator making its climb. Her stomach gave a tingle when the sixteen lit up above the doors.
“As you exit the elevator, you will see a long hallway with doors on each side. Walk down the hallway, and select a door to open.”
Delphina felt tears welling in her eyes. Rather than trying to hold them back, she allowed herself to weep softly as she made her way down the hall. She stopped at the second door on her left and opened it.
“I see two children, a girl and a boy,” she said before whispering, “It’s the boy. He’s my boy … and he’s with an older girl.”
“What are they doing?”
“They are on a sofa, faces downcast. There is something wrong, but neither of them are speaking. The boy is resting his head on his sister’s thigh, sucking his right thumb while pulling on the front of his hair with his left hand.”
“What is the girl doing?”
“She’s been crying. Her face is stained red. She has a sprinkling of freckles across her nose.”
“What else do you see?”
“There is a circular table with a lamp, an old-fashioned lamp with a porcelain top. Next to the lamp is a pair of gold-rimmed eyeglasses. Small, circular frames. They are delicate and belong to my husband.”
“How do you know?”
“I just do,” Delphina replied with confidence.
“Do the children know you are there?”
“No. They will not look up.”
“Is there anything else to note in this room?”
“Just the pain of the children. Something terrible happened.” Tears cascaded from the corners of Delphina’s eyes. She was overcome by the urge to wrap her arms around the children, to draw them close to her heart and become one again, but she began to feel the pull to return to the hallway and go to another room.
Delphina resumed her walk down the hallway, apprehensive about which door to select next. She paused, pressing her hand on the cold, brown paneling. She turned her head back toward the hallway and continued walking. She decided to try a door on the right side this time.
“I’m ready.”
“Open the door. What do you see?”
Delphina opened the door to see two ladies in a powder room, a dark-haired woman looking at a blonde woman through the mirror. Delphina stood behind the blonde; it was a quick image of three women standing in a line facing the mirror, all looking at one another’s reflections.
“It’s an extravagant party. There are mostly men in the library, men who have been drinking quite a bit. It is smoky from cigars, and the men are very loud, laughing and drunk in their tuxedos.
“The dark-haired woman, wearing a silver-sequined gown and elegantly made-up face, appears at the door to the room. The other ladies in the hallway see her expression, and they whisper quietly before turning away. They feel sorry for her.
“She’s staring at a man in a white jacket with gold-rimmed, circular eyeglasses. The glasses I saw in the previous room. A red-haired woman in an emerald-green dress is rubbing his shoulders.”
“Who is the man?”
“The dark-haired woman’s husband. He’s my husband. I’m in the house by the water.”
The tears that had been cascading slowly throughout the regression began streaming from her eyes. She did not hold back her tears this time, giving in to her emotions with full abandon.
“I turn to leave, but no one tries to stop me. The attention is on the fight with the red-haired woman’s husband; people are trying to break it up but then get caught in middle. He’s screaming my name.”
�
�What’s your name?”
“I can’t make it out, but I know it is my name. I walk down the sidewalk leading from the front door to the street, where I see my driver waiting. The lights are streaming from the windows, and I can see people inside, but there is no evidence of the fight. The people are blocking the windows, watching the spectacle.
“We are turning along the roundabout in front of the Hermann Park reflection pool. I begin to weep. I miss him.”
“Do you return to the party?”
“No. I am at home now sitting next to an African-American woman. She wraps me in her arms and shushes me like I’m a baby, rocking me back and forth and stroking my hair with tears in her own eyes.
I hear a knock at the door. She answers for me while I curl up on the love seat, heels kicked off and runs in my hose. The clock just struck a quarter after two in the morning minutes before. It’s 2:19.”
Delphina wailed, pounding her fists into the bed.
“What is it?”
“The police are at my house. My husband died. He crashed a car as he raced home to me.”
A minute passed as Delphina continued to cry.
“I’m so sorry. So very, very sorry,” Delphina mouthed.
“To whom?”
“My husband,” she whispered before continuing. “And he said he’s sorry, too.”
Delphina absorbed the scene in silence. She sat with him on a bench resting under the swaying limbs of a pecan tree. He had a perfect face, one bearing neither bruise nor gash from the night, his eyes sending the message, You will always be my love. It was never your fault. Our son needs you now.
What about us? Delphina asked the man with the gold-rimmed eyeglasses.
We had our time and will have it again. Look for our son.
Delphina came to with her face soaked in tears and sweat. She reached up to free her blouse, the perspiration clinging the cotton to her breasts as if she had been doused with a bucket of water. Opening her eyes, she looked around the modern office so far removed from the garden she had been in moments ago.
“I NEED YOU TO HELP me find my son.”
Drops of Cerulean: A Novel Page 36