Sleeper Seven (4 page)

As he neared, he did indeed notice her, and slowed his pace as he stared at her with a furrowed brow.
Well,
she thought,
it's clear I'm not invisible, but it's just rude to stare, considering this is my dream and all
. Coming alongside her, he suddenly looked forward and hurried his pace towards the same double doors the nurse had gone through. Jess couldn't help but be offended, it was the second time her presence wasn't even acknowledged in the course of thirty seconds!

Along with the frustration, Jess felt a bit tired at this point, but not tired exactly, more like
drained
. Her anger dissipated as her energy levels dropped, and she soon wanted nothing more than to sleep. Turning, she drifted in a fugue-like state through her closed door and lay down over her sleeping double, completely forgetting the searing pain coursing within that form that had been the trigger for this mini-adventure. With a series of pops, she was sucked back into place, and the pain came flooding back into her with a vengeance. Groaning, her eyes shot open as she frantically reached over and clawed for the call button, before passing out altogether.

~ 7 ~

D
apples of sunlight played upon her eyelids, gently awakening her. Though groggy, she felt much better than the previous night, which seemed hazy and distant now. Hearing a commotion approaching, she sat up just as the door opened, revealing the doctor from the previous day along with the male intern — the one from her dream. He looked tired.

"And...she is awake," he pronounced. "Feeling better this morning? Well you should! Jay tells me you created quite a stir last night, so we upped your meds. Good news is you can go home tomorrow, and we'll send some of those very same happy pills home with you." Looking over his glasses, he leaned down to her. "Now, no more jumping off trains for you young lady, all right?" he offered with a chuckle, which elicited an eye roll from Jess. After scribbling a final note on her chart, he turned and left, while the intern remained.

"Right out of central casting, that one," Jess remarked to the man. "Anyway, um, did you hear my call button last night?"

"I did. I was in the break room with the on-call nurse. You were writhing around in pain...we had to sedate you — you don't remember?"

"Not a thing. I think I passed out...but thanks anyway."

"Not a problem."

"Your name is Jay? I thought maybe it was Plymouth."

Jay's eyes suddenly widened. "Ah...no," he stammered, "but um, why would you say that?"

"I thought I heard the nurse call you that last night. Who's Plymouth? Such a strange name."

Forcing a half-smile, he caught himself, determined to regain his composure. "
He
is our resident ghost," he informed her casually. "In fact, the nurse I was with claims she saw him just last night — that's probably what you heard," he added with a knowing half-smile, reminding her of her father's Christmas Day tales of seeing reindeer tracks on the roof.

"You saw him too," she stated coldly, annoyed by his condescension.

Struck dumb, he paused, cradled his chin in his palm, and exhaled deeply, giving away the charade. Curiosity beat out professional objectivity, and he rubbed his forehead while staring at the floor.

"Well. Yes. I believe I did," he admitted, looking up at her.

"It was me you saw."

He glanced away, a flush of heat building within him. He knew he was in the weeds now, and though his right-brain screamed
psych-consult,
he ignored it.

"Where," he asked, still looking away, not really wanting to hear the answer he knew was coming.

"Just outside the door here," she answered, pointing. "You saw me and skedaddled."

He nodded an affirmation, but still couldn't bring himself to look at her. Forcing a smile, he changed the subject to break the tension. "Come on, you need to get out of here — let's take a stroll to the cafeteria," he offered, lowering the side rail of her bed. The large bandage binding her ribs tightened as he helped her swing her legs over the side, and she grimaced as she eased into her slippers. Sliding down off the bed, she felt the weight of her body sink into the soles of her feet like ballast, and it felt like a herculean effort was required to push each ponderous leg forward by turns, in the simple act of maneuvering her one-hundred-and-twenty-pound mass towards the door.

"So...what happened to you?" he asked casually as they reached the busy hallway.

She supposed his question was not specifically about the events of the previous night, but she wasn't going to go into all that just yet, so she pretended it was.

"I thought I was dreaming. Turns out I might not have been. What did you see?"

"Well I thought I saw a cloudy, swirling mist or smoke in the general shape of a person. Strange thing was, it didn't appear to drift or dissipate. Of course, it was late, and I had been working thirty hours already," he hedged, unwilling to commit himself to what they both knew he had seen.

"Yeah, and you were wearing jeans then. Why?"

Boy, this one doesn't beat around the bush,
he thought to himself.

"I...was going to grab a nap in the break room, and I changed so I wouldn't wrinkle my fancy doctor pants," he said, pulling the sides of his dress pants out to display their fanciness. "So, have you...done this before?"

"No. In fact, I wasn't sure it was even real until you confirmed it for me just now."

"Oh. Well, yay. Great for me, then." He suddenly regretted not calling for that psych consult.

"It also happened when I fell from the train, though."

"Hmmm..." was all he could muster at this point.

"So, have you had other patients with these experiences?"

He shook his head slowly. "Noooo...but I don't really have a lot under my belt yet," he explained, as she unthinkingly glanced below his literal belt. Catching her, his face flushed with embarrassment as he forced a premature finish to his thought. "...so this is definitely a learning experience for me!" he spat out, his voice rising an octave and echoing over the din of the busy hallway.

Jess laughed aloud, then, attempting to stifle it, held her ribs and grimaced as her body shuddered. "Yeah, me too," she admitted between breaths, wiping the tears of pain and laughter from her eyes.

"Listen, don't tell Dr. Bell about this stuff," Jay asked. "I don't think he would be as, ah,
open,
to it. I do remember reading about a doctor in the UK who was investigating something like this, though. Let me Google it and get back to you, okay?"

Before she could answer, an older couple began hurrying towards them down the hall, yelling "Jessica!". Recognizing her parents, she smiled, and protecting her ribs with one arm, fended them off with the other, yelling "No hugs! No hugs!"

"Well I'll leave you to them," he whispered, and turned to backtrack down the hallway.

"Thanks!" she called out sarcastically to the back of his white coat, as he successfully made his escape.

~ 8 ~

A
fter an eternity of reassurances as to her well being, Jess was back in her hospital bed, her parents safely corralled in a nearby Hilton. Though feeling better, she was loathe to inform the nurses, so as to remain on the higher dose of pain meds in an effort to avoid a repeat of the previous night. As she lay staring up at the pock-marked ceiling tiles, she wondered if it was possible for her to "slip out" purposely. Knowing she could safely return, if needed, eased her fears and stoked her growing curiosity about this new state of consciousness.

Closing her eyes, she visualized herself as two intertwined bodies, the physical and the...
less
physical. Focusing on the lighter body, she tried to move her leg and step out slowly. No luck. Then she tried rolling out sideways, falling down through the bed, sitting up, drifting up...nothing. Giving up for the night, she simply set her intention:
I would like to consciously control this new experience of leaving my physical body,
then let it go.
Oh well, maybe tomorrow,
she thought as sleep began to overtake her.

But then, deep down, she felt something else — a tiny buzzing, as if a bumble bee had suddenly awoken at the base of her spine. The sensation, climbing upward through her torso, took on a more electric feeling as though she were being shocked. Opening her eyes, she glanced around to see if an exposed wire was touching her body somewhere, but found nothing. Fearing this strange new sensation, she resisted it, and sighed with relief as it slowly subsided. Empowered by the feeling of control, however, she once more closed her eyes, and clutching the oversize hospital-bed remote, thumb hovering over the call button, she searched for the feeling again. It returned quickly, as though waiting in the wings to be summoned again, and spreading upwards, filled her head, where she not only felt the buzzing, but heard it as well.

Slowing, the sensation descended into a tangible vibration she could feel in her bones, before consolidating into a full-body swaying motion. The fear returned, and gripping the remote, she told herself that if she began to feel dizzy, she would press the button. The dizziness never came, and so she simply observed as the periodicity slowed, and the arcs lengthened, swinging her back and forth, until at one final forceful apogee she felt the popping sensation, followed by stillness and silence.

The heaviness gone, she knew instantly she was out. The first thought she had was, again, how strange it was — the simple
density
of her body. Only now, dis-embodied, was she able to assess the difference, and it felt so natural without it, so free, that it seemed embodiment was quite an
unnatural
state — an imposition of sorts — an onerous tax on the fact of being.

Rising, she headed for the door again, but then decided to try the wall this time. Like the door, she felt the density of the wall material, but this new substance was more granular and chalky, with the middle section less dense and somewhat metallic tasting.

At one point, she felt a vibrating sensation near her left hand, and looking down, saw it had intersected an electrical junction box. As she slowly waved her hand back and forth through the box, Jess noticed the fluorescent lights of the hallway flicker on and off. Moving completely through the wall into the hallway, she turned towards the nurse's station to see a different woman peering over the desk, no doubt curious about the flickering lights. Jess quickly slipped backwards to avoid a repeat of the previous night, peeking out after a moment to see if she was still being watched. This nurse apparently had no personal history with "Plymouth", however, and had gone back to her work without attempting any spirit contact. Jess moved into the hall again, slowly this time, and sped in the opposite direction.

Reaching a turn in the corridor, she followed a rhythmic sound, eventually discerning it to be
Start Me Up
. Heading towards the source, she found a door ajar, and peered through the crack to discover a small windowless office. Jay was leaning back in a swivel chair, feet propped on a small metal desk piled high with manilla folders, papers, and binders. Hands clasped behind his head and eyes closed, he appeared to be either enjoying the music, or asleep.

She slipped through the partly open door and stood before him unnoticed. Reaching forward, she moved her fist through the desk, producing three slight thuds. Jay's eyes instantly flew open and he stared straight at her, while remaining frozen in his chair. After a few seconds, she spoke.

"It's me, Jessica," she announced, eliciting no reaction.

"Hellooo!" she yelled, but still...nothing.

It was clear that whatever form she was taking was unrecognizable as human. Frustrated at his lack of response, she reached forward and rapped on his desk again, causing him to tumble forward out of his chair. Standing up quickly, he backed himself against the far wall, never taking his eyes off her. Finally, she heard a small sound from him, choked out almost. It was a single word, and it was "
Go
".

She had gone too far, she told herself, as she quickly retreated through the door, ashamed and dejected. Hurrying back to her room, she felt repugnant, thinking if ghosts
did
exist, she now knew why they stuck to lonely attics and dark basements. No tears came, yet a deep sadness shuddered within her.
Never again,
she told herself, as she lay down and slipped back into her sleeping body.

~ 9 ~

J
ess awoke to the murmurs of Gavin and her parents discussing her discharge procedure with the day nurse, who was providing instructions on how they should care for her while she recuperated at home. Jay, however, was nowhere to be found. The memories of the previous night returned as she sleepwalked through the discharge process, the feelings of rejection only increasing as she was wheeled out the front door. He hadn't even returned to say goodbye.

Back at home, Jess felt a tiny bit better. The familiar sights and smells, the company of her kitty, along with the pampering by her parents, did much to assuage her emotional and physical wounds. She lived in the third story of large Greystone, which she rented from Gavin and his partner Joel, who occupied the first two floors. Gavin was a close friend from her publishing company, who left the previous year to start his own small design firm at home. That same year Gavin and Joel had traveled to China to adopt their two-year old daughter, Lenora, and the sight of her also cheered Jess immensely — with the single exception of her adorable, yet painful, habit of frowning and saying "ow" as she pressed her finger full-force into Jess' bandages.

April slipped into May, and Jess felt better with each passing day. The parents had returned home to Michigan after the second week, just about the same time Gavin had informed her, with a smile, that her demands had become
tiresome
. Between this and her dread of watching one more Oprah-spawned "Dr." show, she decided to return to work.

The first day back, she was surprised by a
Throw Jess From The Train
welcome back party, complete with an aptly decorated cake. Though most of the younger staff missed the reference and were offended by the title on her behalf, Jess could care less. She appreciated the genuine care and concern of her coworkers, and anyway the vanilla-frosted chocolate locomotive cake was moist and tasty. Soon enough she was back to editing obscure psychological journal articles, and her hospital experience faded into the background.