Hunter bounds over, leaping up the three steps onto the patio and pushing his way inside. The microwave beeps a few seconds after I get the back door locked, and I grab the bag and go into the living room, settling on the couch with Hunter at my side.
“True crime or eighties horror?” I ask as I flip through my suggested shows on Netflix. “Or something light-hearted and funny?”
Hunter nudges me with his nose, wanting popcorn and not caring what I put on. I open the bag and give him a handful of popcorn. I decide on watching reruns of Charmed and fall asleep on the couch like the old lady I am only an hour or so later.
It’s not uncommon for me to have weird, vivid dreams. I assume it has something to do with being a medium. Not only do I see and hear spirits, but I feel their emotions from their last moments on earth…which usually aren’t pleasant. Most of the time, it comes on suddenly without warning as I pass by the emotional stain left on the earth.
I stopped trying to make sense of my dreams years ago, but I have one repetitive dream in particular that has always bothered me, not because it’s any more cryptic than someone’s last memory before dying, but because there’s something familiar about it…which makes no sense. And tonight is no exception, as the dream starts to play out before me.
Like always, I’m walking through the woods. I’m not alone, yet I can’t see who I’m walking with. I’m happy though, and always wake filled with a sense of family and belonging. Sometimes Hunter is with me, and sometimes a black cat trots along ahead of us, stopping between two large trees. A brilliant blue light starts to flicker between the trees, glowing behind the shadow of a door as someone chants.
“Invoco elementum terrae. Invoco elemuntum aeris.”
I can feel someone’s hand around mine, and the smell of sage and lavender hits me right when I wake up. It’s always there, right before the door opens. I’ve never stayed asleep long enough to see what’s beyond the door.
Except I do tonight.
“Invoco elemuntum aqua. Invoco elemuntum ignis.”
Whoever is holding my hand lets go and steps forward, face hidden behind the hood of a black cloak. She pulls a knife from her pocket and presses it against the tip of her finger, carefully smearing the bead of blood on the blade, and then plunges the blade into the ground. The door swings open, and my heart hammers in my chest.
“Come along, Anora,” a woman says, reaching behind her for my hand again. I inch forward, dry leaves crunching under my feet, stretching out my hand. I look through the door, seeing a large brick building past a dark courtyard. The familiar feeling of going home after a vacation swells in my chest, and for a brief moment, I feel like I’m right where I belong.
And then I suddenly wake up, with Hunter’s head pressed against me and an overwhelming sense of missing a place I’ve never been. I run my hand over Hunter’s head, slowly sitting up. It’s a little after one AM, too late to text Laney, my best friend, to tell her about the dream. She’s one of the few people I can be open and honest with, and one of the fewer people who actually believe me.
“I think it’s time for bed,” I tell Hunter, heart still aching. How can I be homesick for a place that not only have I never been to, but I’m pretty sure doesn’t even exist? The damn dream feels more like a memory, and that woman’s voice is so familiar. “It’s just a dream,” I mutter as I pick up the bowl of popcorn and my wine glass, taking it into the kitchen and dumping what’s left into the sink.
I put the popcorn on the counter, not wanting to waste it. I lie to myself, saying I’ll eat it tomorrow, but will probably end up forgetting about it until it goes stale. Double checking that the house is locked up for the night, I flick on the porch light and then head to bed.
“Hey, Mom.” I sit up, running my hand over my face, and hold the phone to my ear with my shoulder.
“Did I wake you?”
“No. I’ve been up for hours.” I have been. And then I fell asleep on the couch again. I tossed and turned until dawn last night, unable to get that dream out of my head. Frustrated with not being able to sleep, I got up and took Hunter for a walk and came back home with the intention of doing that deep cleaning I keep meaning to do. Instead, I passed out on the couch with my cup of coffee still on the coffee table in front of me. “Is everything okay?”
“Oh, of course. I wanted to make sure you’re still coming over for dinner tonight. Harrison will be there, and it’s been a while since we’ve had a family meal.”
“What time?”
“Does six work for you? Dad is golfing and promised to be back by five.”
“It does. I’ll be done with work by then.”
“I thought you had Saturdays off,” Mom says. “You didn’t go back to that circus, did you?”
I slowly inhale. Mom’s correct to call my previous place of employment a circus, yet I have to remind myself to let it go. I took the job as a medium thinking I could really help people, but my boss was just as big of a believer in the supernatural as my mother. I freaked him out big time, as well as most of the clients who came in. I did exactly what they asked me to do, but it wasn’t all sunshine and roses.
“I have Saturdays off from the clinic, but I give riding lessons now. I got a new student,” I tell her, knowing exactly where this conversation is going to lead…especially since Mom knows my lease is up on this house in December and I haven’t signed a new one yet. Teaching riding lessons at Hollow Creek Stables is the only way I can afford to continue to pay the monthly board for my horse, Mystery, and most months are pretty tight.
“You’re welcome back home so you don’t have to work two jobs,” she starts, and I close my eyes, reminding myself her heart is in the right place. “There’s no shame in staying here for a year or so in order to pad your savings account. Paying rent on a house and board for a horse is a lot for anyone, Anora.”
“I know,” I say with practiced patience. It is a lot, and staying home the year after I graduated was tempting, but my relationship with my parents has always been a bit rocky, and I needed out of the house as soon as possible. It’s been a good thing, and my relationship with my mother has gotten much better since I moved out.
A big believer in science, Mom insisted the spirits I saw were “all in my head” and I lost count of how many therapists she had me go see as a child. Eventually, I learned to keep my mouth shut, but there’s something about your mother thinking you’re crazy to ruin that mother-daughter relationship.
We got into a heated argument just last week about vampires. I insisted what I know to be true: vampirism is the result of a curse or some sort of dark magic, and she insisted magic isn’t real and we’ll get to the bottom of the disease that causes them to not be able to withstand sunlight, consume “typical” food, and be subjects to outbursts of dangerous rage. Being invited to dinner tonight is Mom’s way of offering an olive branch, and the fact that she got Harrison, my twin brother, to come lets me know she really does want to put this whole thing behind us.
“Do you want me to bring anything to dinner tonight? I cleaned out my pantry last week and found a bottle of blueberry wine I got last spring from that vineyard by Aunt Muriel’s place.”