NORA:
(laughing) Turn that off! Come on, guys – you aren’t buying this?
MARY:
What, you were faking it?
CAROL:
Putting us on, huh?
NORA:
No, but...
WYMAN:
(somber) Who’s to say you aren’t the reincarnation of some poor murdered girl?
NORA:
Who’s to say I’m not channeling some dumb slasher flick? That fractured fairy tale is proof against reincarnation – my subconscious is obviously having a field day!
CAROL:
Well...you’ve always had a thing about the ’80s. You always said you were holding out for Eddie Van Halen.
SOUND:
Gentle, general laughter from the little group.
WYMAN:
And of course our local media is understandably obsessed with this current wave of Chicago Ripper murders...the papers and TV likening this serial killer to the notorious lover’s lane slayer who terrorized the Chicago suburbs back in the ’80s, and was never apprehended.
NORA:
Some part of my brain obviously assembled these elements – from my ’80s obsession to Halloween-type movies to these current murders. I’m surprised I didn’t go on to say that Heather in her blood-spattered prom dress has been seen haunting high school parking lots ever since...
SOUND:
More light laughter.
MARY:
Maybe that’s enough fun for one week.
SOUND:
Party breaking up. Footsteps as people head out.
NORA:
(intimate) I will admit, Professor Wyman, that I do feel kind of...wasted, after your little experiment.
WYMAN:
(grave) I don’t blame you. My dear, I’ve witnessed numerous regressions, but I’ve never seen one more convincing.
NORA:
Maybe we should come up with a new party game.
SOUND:
Opening door.
WYMAN:
(warm) Maybe we should at that.
SOUND:
Door closing.
NARRATOR:
The street level of Nora Chaney’s building is a feminist bookshop run by her friend Mary Dale. Mary is Nora’s closest confidant. And the next morning they sit in the little coffee-shop area for their usual mid -morning gabfest.
MARY:
Nora...child, you look terrible.
NORA:
Thanks. I knew I could depend on you to cheer me up.
MARY:
What’s wrong?
NORA:
I had a dream last night. You know how even the most vivid dream is gone within moments of waking up?
MARY:
Sure.
NORA:
Well, this one won’t go away. Mary, I need to tell somebody.
MARY:
So tell.
MUSIC:
Mysterious, playing under the following.
NORA:
I’m a blonde woman about thirty, and I’m making love to a gray-haired man in the cramped front seat of a sportscar. He’s married, and I’m married, but not to each other...we don’t speak of that, but it’s there with us, in the parked car, like a silent observer...but the love-making, it’s...wonderful. Waves of pleasure building and building until I’m screaming...
MARY:
I’m starting to get why you remember this one.
NORA:
(building tempo) Then through the open car window, a butcher knife flashes...slashes...and I feel it enter me, plunge into my chest, and I’m still screaming but a different kind of scream and I look up at the face, the thin face with the blue-and-brown eyes with the awful smile...
MARY:
(disturbed) The man you saw under hypnosis.
NORA:
My lover, the gray-haired married man?
The killer plunges the knife right into him...again...and again...
MARY:
Terrible.
NORA:
And then the killer reaches in and pulls up my dress and takes my panties off, almost gently...but I’m already floating away, looking down through the car as the slashing starts back in...but I feel no more pain, and look away...and up...and...and I woke up.
Middle of the night – 3:33 a.m. And you can bet I didn’t get back to sleep.
MARY:
Honey, can I say something?
NORA:
Sure.
MARY:
This dream...that regression vision or whatever...I’m probably the only person you ever told the truth to, right?
NORA:
(shyly) Right.
MARY:
That you’re a virgin. It’s no crime to be a virgin at your age...but that dream, that regression...it’s all about your weird guilt and curiosity about sex.
NORA:
Well, we know I’m not a lesbian. We tried that experiment.
MARY:
(good-natured laugh) Right. Look, I gotta get back to work. You want to chill out here? Should I flip the TV on for you?
NORA:
Sure.
SOUND:
Click of TV being switched on.
NEWSCASTER:
(filtered)...construction is expected to continue until at least mid-September...The so-called Chicago Ripper has apparently struck again.
The bodies of Teresa Gibson, 37, and Robert Haller, 45, both of Naperville, were found in Haller’s parked car.
Time of death is estimated at three-thirty a.m.
MUSIC:
Fangoria theme comes up.
ANNOUNCER:
We’ll return to Fangoria’s Dreadtime Stories – after these few words.
ANNOUNCER:
Now back to Fangoria’s Dreadtime Stories and “Reincarnal.”
NARRATOR:
Nora Chaney writes off her disturbing dream as her imagination running wild...until Monday, when photos of the murdered couple appear in the papers and she finds herself staring at the faces in her nightmare. She calls her mentor, Professor Wyman, at the university, and tells him of her concerns.
WYMAN:
I think you should go to the police.
NORA:
They’ll laugh at me.
WYMAN:
You have to try. Besides, law enforcement has been known to work with psychics.
NORA:
Is that what I am?
WYMAN:
My dear, I don’t know. I dare not even guess. But I do know I wish I’d never put you under at that party...
SOUND:
Bustling office. Specifically, a police bullpen.
NARRATOR:
Nora speaks to Detective Lisa Winters, a no-nonsense woman in her thirties with short blonde pixie hair, thick glasses, and the haggard look of a working mom. Detective Winters listens patiently, trying not to show her boredom. Then one detail sparks her to life.
WINTERS:
How did you know the Ripper collects the panties of his female victims?
NORA:
I told you. I dreamed it.
WINTERS:
Yeah. You said that.
NORA:
I...I also have a, uh...drawing.
WINTERS:
What?
SOUND:
Opening a manila envelope. Handing over a sheet of paper.
NORA:
I’m a commercial artist. I thought this might be helpful...I used watercolor because of his eyes. One’s blue, one’s brown.
WINTERS:
May I make a photocopy of this?
NORA:
Sure.
WINTERS:
There’s something you need to know.
NORA:
Yes?
WINTERS:
You’re a suspect now.
NORA:
Suspect!
WINTERS:
Let’s call it ’person of interest.’
You see, Ms. Chaney, you know a key detail about these murders that’s been withheld from the media. That means you might be connected to these crimes, somehow.
NORA:
(alarmed) Is that what you think?
WINTERS:
I think...you’re sincere. Perhaps even psychic. I also know that I’m not sure what to do with you. If I report our conversation up the food chain, well...
NORA:
Please don’t. I’m just trying to help.
WINTERS:
I know. Here’s my card, work and home number. But let me write down another number...Here.
NORA:
Rich Mathis? Doesn’t he write for --
WINTERS:
A certain local weekly that a lot of my colleagues
