Self-Defence

Abused in childhood, not by her father- he hadn't been around to do it- but by a father surrogate? A teacher or some other trusted adult?

Other men in the dream- melding with her father because he had hurt her in another way?

I thought of her waking up on the kitchen floor.

The helplessness of the position.

Victimization.

Or maybe none of the above.

I wrestled with it a while longer, got no further, and went back inside. Remembering the radio broadcast I'd heard in the car, I flipped TV channels till I found a news show. Something about Eastern Europe; then Shwandt's face appeared, leering, over the anchor's left shoulder.

'Police in Santa Ana are investigating the mutilation slaying of a young woman, still unidentified, whose body was found, stuffed in a trash bag, by the side of the Santa Ana Freeway early this morning near the Main Street exit. Sources close to the investigation say the slaying bears striking similarities to the serial murders for which the Bogeyman, Jobe Shwandt, was recently sentenced to death, and the possibility of a copycat killer operating out of Orange County is being considered. More on this breaking story as details emerge.'

Too much bad stuff, time to sweat it out of my system. Pretending my knees were eighteen years old, I took a hard jog on the beach. When I got back, the phone was ringing. My service with Lucy, again.

'Dr. Delaware? I'm… calling from work. I had a… bit of a problem.' Her voice dropped so low I could barely hear it. Noise in the background didn't help.

'What happened, Lucy?'

'The dream. I… had it again.'

'Since this morning's session?'

'Yes.' Her voice shook. 'Here. At work, at my desk… God, this is so- I have to talk softly; I'm at a pay phone in the lobby and people are staring. Can you hear me?'

'I hear you fine.'

She caught her breath. 'I feel so stupid! Falling asleep at my desk!'

'When did this happen?'

'Lunch hour. I was brown-bagging, trying to catch up. I guess I nodded off, I don't know, I really don't remember.'

'Had you taken any sort of medication?'

'Just Tylenol for a headache.'

'No antihistamines or anything else that would make you drowsy?'

'Nothing. I just… fell asleep.' She whispered: 'It must have woken me up- I found myself on the floor, my legs… the dream was still in my head, reverberating. Right in the middle of the office! God!'

'Are you hurt?'

'Not physically. But the humiliation- everyone thinks I'm crazy!'

'Were there a lot of people around when you fell?'

'Not when I fell, but right after. It was lunchtime; a whole crowd was coming back and saw me on the floor! I ran to the ladies' room to straighten up. When I got back, my boss was there. He never comes into the staff area. The look on his face- like what kind of nutcase do I have working for me!'

'If he's worried about anything, Lucy, it's probably that you'll file a worker's comp suit.'

'No, no, I'm sure he thinks I'm some kind of bizarro. Falling asleep in the middle of the day- I excused myself to the bathroom again, went down to the lobby, and called you.'

'Come over, let's talk.'

'I- I guess I'd better. I'm sure not in any shape to go back up there.'

***

I called a neurologist in Santa Monica named Phil Austerlitz and told him I had a possible referral. When I recounted what had happened, he said, 'You're thinking narcolepsy?'

'She's got a troubled sleep pattern. Some childhood enuresis.'

'But nothing chronic in adulthood.'

'It just started five months ago. While she was a juror on the Bogeyman trial.'

'Sounds more like stress.'

'That's what I think, but I want to cover all bases.'

'Sure, I'll see her. Thanks for the referral. Sounds like a fun one. I've been dealing with brain tumors all week. People our age or younger. Must be something in the air.'

***

She rang the gate bell just after five. Her hair was tied back in a ponytail and her face was drawn. When I took her hand it was limp and damp.

I gave her a glass of water and sat her down. She took a sip and put her face in her hands.

'What's happening to me, Dr. Delaware?'

I touched her hand. 'We'll find out, Lucy.'

She tightened her mouth. 'It was different this time. This time I saw more.'

Taking a deep breath. And another. Sliding her hand out from under mine. I sat back.

It took a few more minutes for her to compose herself. 'Remember the grating noise I told you about? What I thought might be sex? It had nothing to do with sex.'

She leaned forward. 'I saw it. They were digging a grave- burying her. The grating was their shovels hitting the rocks. This time, I was closer. Everything was clearer. It's never felt this real before. It was…'

She put a hand over her eyes and shook her head.

'I was close enough to touch them- right behind them. It felt so real.'

'The same men.'

'Yes. Three of them.'

'Including your- including Lowell.'

She bared her eyes and licked her lips and stared at the floor. 'He was one of the diggers. Working hard- huffing and puffing. They all were. And cursing. I could hear their breathing- harsh, like runners. Then they put her in, and…'

Her shoulders started to shake.

'I started to feel myself transforming-my soul leaving my body. I actually saw it, fluttering like this thin white feather. Then it entered her body.'

She stood suddenly.

'I need to walk around.'

Pacing the room, she covered the width of the glass doors, then retraced her steps. Repeated it twice more before returning to her seat.

She remained standing, both hands on the chair back. 'I could taste the dirt, Dr. Delaware. It felt as if I was in that grave… I tried to shake the dirt off of me but I couldn't move. It kept coming down on me- stuffing me. I thought: This is what death is like, this is terrible; what did I do to deserve this, why are they doing this to me?'

Her eyes closed and she swayed so low I jumped up and caught her shoulder. Her body tightened but she didn't seem to notice me.

The sound of the tide rose up from the beach, like a swell of applause. Suddenly, her breathing quickened.

'Lucy,' I said.