Much Ado About Vampires

“There has to be more to her past life than mud, surely,” Terri said, munching on popcorn.

My stomach turned over. It was coming. He was coming. I felt it, felt the horror just on the edges of my consciousness.

“Are there any buildings or other structures around to give you an idea of what year you are reliving?” Barbara asked.

“Um . . . nothing on the left side other than forest. I seem to be standing on a dirt path of some sort. Let me walk to the top of this little hill—oh! Wow! There’s a town down below. And it looks like there’s a castle way up on a tall cliff in the distance. Lots of tiny little people are running around in some fields outside of the town. Cool! It’s like a medieval village or something. Think I’ll go down to say hi.”

“Excellent,” Barbara said. “Now tell me, how do you feel? ”

Sick. Scared. Terrified.

“Well,” my voice said, not reflecting any of the dream emotions, “kind of hungry. No, really hungry. Kind of an intense hunger, throbbing inside me. Oh great, I’m a peasant, aren’t I? I’m a poor starving peasant who stands around in mud. Lovely.”

“We are not here to make judgments on our past selves,” Barbara said primly.

“Geesh, Cora,” Patsy said, sitting on my feet. “Terri turned out to be Cleopatra’s personal maid, and I was one of Caesar’s concubines. You’re letting down the team, babe. The least you could do is be a medieval princess in a big pointy hat or something.”

I couldn’t . . . because of him.

Loathing rippled through me as my voice continued. “I have shoes on. Peasants didn’t wear shoes, did they?”

“Some did, I’m sure,” Terri said, stuffing a handful of popcorn into her mouth.

“Can you walk to the town?” Barbara asked. “Perhaps we can find out who you are if we know where you are.”

“Yeah. I’m going down the hill now.”

A low rumble from behind me had me clutching the cushions of the couch. “Hey, watch where you’re—oh my god. Oh my god! OMIGOD!”

“What? What’s happened?” Barbara asked, sounding suddenly worried.

She should.

“A woman with an oxcart just ran me over.”

“What?” Patsy shrieked.

“She ran me over. Her oxen were running amok or something. They just came barreling down the hill behind me and ran right over the top of me. Holy Swiss on rye! Now the oxen are trampling me, and the lady in the cart is screaming and—Jehoshaphat! My head just came off! It just came right off! Ack!”

I knew in my dream state that Terri sat staring at me, her eyes huge, a handful of popcorn frozen just beyond her mouth as she gawked at the words that came unbidden from my mouth.

If only she knew.

“Oh, my. I don’t—I’ve never had anyone die during a regression,” Barbara said, sounding stressed. “I’m not quite sure how to proceed.”

“You’re . . . decapitated? ” Patsy asked. “Are you sure? ”

“I’m sure, Pats. My head’s separated from my body, which is covered in ox hoofprints. A wheel went over my neck, I think. It . . . urgh. That’s just really gross. Why the hell do I get the reincarnations where I’m killed by two bulls and a cart? Why can’t I be Cleopatra’s concubine?”

“Personal maid, not concubine,” Terri corrected, stuffing the popcorn into her mouth and chewing frantically. “Are you absolutely certain you’re dead? Maybe it looks worse than it is.”

Oh, it’s going to get much, much worse, the dream part of my mind said.

Goose bumps rose on my arms.

“My head is three feet away from my body. I think that’s a pretty good indicator of death—good god! Now what’s she doing?”

“The ox?” Patsy asked.

“No, the driver. She’s not doing what I think she’s doing, is she?”

“I don’t know,” Terri said, setting down the popcorn so she could scoot over closer to me.

“This is very unusual,” Barbara muttered to herself.

“What’s the lady doing? ” Patsy said, prodding my knee.

“She’s trying to stick my head back onto my body. Lady, that’s not going to do any good. No, you can’t tie it on, either. Ha. Told you so. Oh, don’t drop me in the mud! Sheesh! Like I wasn’t muddy enough? What a butterfingers. Now she’s chasing the oxen, who just bolted for a field. Oh, no, she’s coming back. Her arms are waving around like she’s yelling, only I can’t hear anything. It must be the shock of having my head severed by a cart wheel.”

“This is just too surreal,” Terri said. “Do you think she purposely ran you down?”

“I don’t think so. She seems kind of goofy. She just tripped over my leg and fell onto my head. Oh man! I think she broke my nose! God almighty, this is like some horrible Marx Brothers meets Leatherface sort of movie. Holy runaway oxen, Batman!”

“What?” Terri and Patsy asked at the same time.

“She’s doing something. Something weird.”

“Oh my god—is she making love to your lifeless corpse?” Terri asked. “I saw a show on HBO about that!”

“No, she’s not molesting me. She’s standing above me waving her hands around and chanting or something. What the—she’s like—hoo!”

He was coming. He was just out of my sight, just beyond the curve of the hill.

He was death.

“Don’t get upset,” Barbara said. “You are in no personal danger. Just describe what you’re seeing calmly, and in detail.”

“I don’t know about you, but I consider a decapitation and barbecue as some sort of personal danger.”

“Barbecue?” Patsy asked. “Someone’s roasting a pig or something?”

“No. The ox lady waved her hands around, and all of a sudden this silver light was there, all over my body, singeing it around the edges. Oh, great. Here comes someone.” No! my mind screamed. Not again! Please god, not again! “Hey, you, mister, would you stop the lady from doing the light thing? She’s burnt off half of my hair.”

“This is the most bizarre thing I’ve ever heard,” Terri told Patsy. “You have the best parties!

“It’s all in the planning,” Patsy said, prodding my knee again. “What’s going on now, Cora?”

“The guy just saw me. He did a little stagger to the side. I think it’s because the lady tried to hide my head behind her, and my ear flew off and landed at his feet. Now he’s picking it up. He’s yelling at her. She’s pointing to the oxen in the field, but he looks really pissed. Yeah, you tell her, mister. She has no right driving if she can’t handle her cows.”

My heart wept at what was coming.

“This would make a great film,” Patsy said thoughtfully. “I wonder if we could write a screenplay. We could make millions.”

“Well, now the guy has my head, and he’s shaking it at the lady, still yelling at her. Whoops. Chunk of hair came loose. My head is bouncing down the hill. Guy and lady are chasing it. Hee hee hee. OK, that’s really funny in a horrible sort of way. Ah. Good for you, sir. He caught me again, and now he’s taking me back to my body, hauling the ox lady with him. Whoa! Whoa, whoa, whoa!”

I struggled to get out of the dream, just as I struggled every time. It never did any good. The scene was determined to play out as it first had.

“Did he drop your head again? ” Terri asked, her eyes wide.

Panic flooded me. “No, he just . . . holy shit! I want out of here! Take me out of this dream or whatever it is! Wake me up!”

“Remain calm,” Barbara said in a soothing voice. “The images you see are in the past, and cannot harm you