Traitor! I’d started to say as I glared down at my dog, the word melting fast on my tongue the second he gazed up at me with those big brown eyes.
Still, it’s not like I could blame him for preferring Bodhi over me. From what I’d seen, Bodhi was like the rock star of this place. In fact, he probably had a whole slew of groupies and friends, an entire entourage of fans just waiting to catch up with him, while I just had me.
Okay, maybe that’s not exactly true.
Maybe I had my parents and my grandparents too.
But still, as nice as it was to know they were out there, somewhere, it still couldn’t compare to the kind of friendships I longed for.
The kind I’d had back on the earth plane.
The kind that came with laughs and good times and a shared interest in a lot, if not all, the same things.
And to be honest, not only was I totally confused by the way things worked Here, but I was so bad at controlling what could only be described as my overly judgmental, superficial thoughts and opinions that apparently everyone could hear, that I didn’t even know how to go about making any friends.
So I wandered. Telling myself it would help me get the lay of the land, though the truth is, deep down inside, I knew it was a lie.
I knew exactly where I was headed, which meant it came as no surprise when I ended up just outside the Viewing Room.
Even though I knew it was discouraged, if not downright frowned upon—even though I knew it would disappoint my parents, the Council, and probably Bodhi as well, even though my dog stopped just shy of it, refusing to be an accomplice and go any farther, gazing up at me with an Oh, no she didn’t kind of gaze—I ducked in anyway.
Grabbing a number from the dispenser and taking my place in what turned out to be a pretty long line, lying to myself yet again when I vowed I’d just take a quick peek, check in on my sister and maybe a few old friends, and then be on my way.
I waited my turn, checking out all the blue hairs, many of whom I recognized from my last illicit visit, and I couldn’t help but wonder why it was okay for them to look in on the earth plane, but not me.
Was it because they all claimed to be merely checking in on their grandkids, as opposed to salaciously watching the goings-on as though it were some kind of live-action soap opera like I did?
Or was there some kind of Here & Now double standard that allowed only the geriatrics to get all nostalgic, while the young ones were urged to forget?
The line grew as I inched my way closer to the front. Determined to keep to myself, to mind my own business, when I heard some old guy behind me say, “She still worries about me. After all this time, she just won’t stop grieving. No matter how many times I visit her in her dreams, no matter how many times I take her hand and say, ‘Helen, listen to me, I promise you, I am A-OK. Now please—get back to living!’ as soon as she wakes up, she convinces herself it wasn’t really me, and the grief starts again. And sometimes…” He paused, as I took a moment to surreptitiously check out the shiny black dress shoes and matching black socks he wore with his plaid Bermuda shorts. “I tell ya, Mort, sometimes I can’t help but wonder if I’m not making it worse.”
I turned. I couldn’t help it. I turned and blatantly stared right at him.
I’d never heard of such a thing.
Didn’t know it was even possible to visit another person’s dreams.
And before I could ask to hear more, he looked at me and said, “Can I help you?”
Though the words may seem kind on the surface, believe me, that was hardly their intent, not in the least. The tone in his voice informed me loud and clear that he wasn’t the least bit charmed by the sight of me, and was clearly annoyed by my eavesdropping.
“Um, sorry,” I said, my eyes darting between him and his friend. “But I couldn’t help but overhear, did you just say something about entering someone’s dream?”
He narrowed his crinkly lids and looked me over carefully, as his friend, the one in the bright purple-and-orange Hawaiian shirt, the one he’d called Mort, decided to answer for him. “A dream visitation, that’s right.” He studied me carefully.
My mind swirled, spinning with all the major possibilities of such a thing, before saying, “And, um, could you maybe tell me how someone might go about doing something like that?” I pressed my lips together and prayed that didn’t sound nearly as desperate to their ears as it had to mine.
They peered, scrutinized, practically dissected me in a way that made it clear they were veering way closer toward not helping me, and I couldn’t help but wonder if maybe my glow was at fault.
My pale green, barely there glow that, according to Bodhi anyway, clearly marked me as a member of the level 1.5 team—a virtual newbie as far as they were concerned.
Even though I hadn’t had a chance to check it, to see if it’d been in any way affected by everything I’d accomplished back in St. John, one look at the way they both glowed this soft, serene shade of yellow, well, I figured they probably thought that sort of information was way too advanced for someone as lowly as me.
I’d started to turn away, telling myself to just let it go since they were obviously reluctant to help, when Mort looked right at me, rubbed his chin with a set of surprisingly shiny, manicured nails, and said, “Well, first you gotta go to the place where all the dreams take place.”
I swallowed and squinted, but otherwise did my best to remain still. Not wanting them to know that up until that moment, I’d had no idea there even was such a place.
Still, it was pretty clear by the look he exchanged with his friend that they both saw right through me.