GrowingOlderHopeWiser

Isabel’s fever reached 104°, and she kept drifting in and out of reality. All night, she felt his presence, checking in on her. More and more, she remained there, or was it here? Who is to say where reality exists? Is it real when you dream? Can you live and die in dreams?

She walked through the city on a rainy night, dark and isolated. The rain had slowed to a drizzle, and a mist of raindrops shimmered in the glow of the street lamps. Her footsteps echoed on the lonely street. The temperature was dropping, so she shoved her hands into her pockets to stay warm. As she passed a side alley, she espied a dark figure in the shadows, and it moved. Isabel hurried her steps, clacking faster on the pavement as she quickened her pace. Her heart raced in her chest, and a lump rose in her throat. She sensed the figure had stepped out of the shadowy alley and was now standing behind her, but she dared not turn around. She looked up the street, and there was no one. No stores were open; their roll-up security metal grills were pulled shut. Small neon lights glowed here and there, but the street was deserted. Only the sounds of her footsteps and the occasional buzz of a neon sign. She still felt the presence behind her, but it kept its distance. It was odd that she could not hear its footsteps, but it was there nonetheless; she knew it. 

Up ahead, Isabel could see light spilling onto the street and a bright neon sign. Somewhere, it was open, and she hurried toward the light. The stench of rotting garbage grew stronger as she approached. Instinct told her it was not safe, yet she was not very sure about the figure behind her either. Two dark figures in the doorway watched her as she approached. They were smoking cigarettes and reeked of whisky and sweat. Their eyes glowed in the darkness of their faces. She could not make out their features. Just as she was about to step into the light of the doorway, she felt a hand on her shoulder, holding her back. It felt safe, not scary; her silent figure had caught up with her. The dark figure by the doorway let out a growl, and the other a “hissss”. Isabel turned around and confronted her shadow, but there was no one there. She turned once again, crossed the street away from the doorway and the neon light, and continued on her way. The presence behind her kept its distance, but she no longer felt alone. 

The sound of the machine beeping woke her from her stupor. She could feel the dampness on her skin; she had been sweating profusely. She tried opening her eyes, but everything was a dull gray blur. Someone spoke to her, but she did not understand. She drifted back, back, below the surface, underneath reality again.

Her eyes adjusted to the brightness of her new world. She stood in a field of sunflowers, taller than she was. They stood in neat rows like sentinels, and she was on a little dirt path between them. Her feet were bare, and she could feel the dirt between her toes; it was warm and soft. The soft, subtle scent of the earthy sunflowers reminded her of summer. A pleasant breeze caressed her face and arms. She wore a billowy dress the color of the azure sky, her hair tied up in pixie tails and ribbons. As she walked along the path, she heard the soft rustling of someone or something walking a couple of rows away. They stopped when she did. The sunflower field came to an end, and Isabel stepped onto an asphalt road wide enough for two cars. The asphalt felt hot on her bare feet. She walked along the edge of the road. Was she going or coming back? It did not seem to matter. Surely she’d be able to see who or what was following her. She looked up and down the road, and there was no one and nothing there. Soon she came to an open field with abandoned cars, rusting in the hot sun. Patches of tall weeds and wildflowers poked out here and there between the flat tires and abandoned metal rims. Isabel could taste the iron and dust in the air. She stepped carefully, avoiding the sharp edges and rusty screws. She made her way toward a wooden building, a shack with a fallen wooden sign hanging on by loose nails, swinging back and forth in the breeze. From behind the shack, a low growl grew louder and closer. Isabel stopped dead in her tracks. The hackles on his neck stood up. Isabel was confronted with a huge Rottweiler, its eyes glassy and red, saliva dripping from its mushy mouth, its teeth bared. 

“What do you want?” growled the voice, holding the Rottweiler on a chain.

To Isabel’s surprise, it was an older woman, weathered by time, her arms skinny and like roadmaps of veins. Her hair is long and gray, and disheveled. She wore skinny jeans and a white T-shirt. Her arms are bare and tanned—black leather, silver bracelets, and a necklace of bones.

“I was just walking, looking…” Isabel could not remember what for.

“Well, you’re far from home, it seems; no one has come this far in a very long time.”

Isabel looked around and surveyed the landscape; her shadow was nowhere to be found. 

“Well, come on, don’t just stand there, I haven’t got all day!”

The older woman showed Isabel the door to the shack, indicating she should follow inside. Stepping on the wooden boards, she got splinters on her feet.

“You will need some shoes if you’re going to walk around here,” Said the old lady. 

Tossing her a pair of old brown boots. Isabel sat on the chair on the porch and put on the shoes, which were slightly too big for her feet, but okay. 

Doll babies hung like a wind chime by the door—just bits and parts, a head or two, some arms and legs. What was creepy was the pieces of bone dangling with the baby dolls. 

“I said, get a move on!” growled the old lady from the dark, the mouth of the doorway to the shack. Isabel stepped inside, her eyes adjusting to the dim light. The windows were covered with yellowing newspapers and tape. Everywhere were stacks of magazines, books, and dusty rags. Boxes filled with who knows what. An old Victrola sat in the corner, playing an old song from the 70s, The Zombies’ “Time of the Season.” What a strange, haunting song, thought Isabel. 

The old lady stepped behind a folded accordion screen and said, “My name is Beth, by the way.”

“I’m Isabel.”

Isabel took in more of the room; there were old paintings of animals and flowers on the walls. All sorts of herbs hung to dry over the kitchen counter and the window, the only window with light. Glass bottles in cobalt blue, red, and verdant green lined the open shelving by the window. Beth stepped from behind the accordion screen and was no longer old or gray but a beautiful woman with amber-flame hair down to her waist. Her skin seemed to glow with a luster all its own. 

“Come sit by the table, and I’ll tell you where you’re going and where you’ve been.” 

Isabel’s feet felt clumsy and moved awkwardly in the presence of this beautiful woman. The table was set with a large, fat, half-melted candle and a stack of playing cards. A cigar lay on an ashtray beside the stack. 

“We are going to play cards,” Isabel asked timidly.

“This is not a game; it is your life.” 

“Where you are going, where you have been,” said Beth in a no-nonsense way.

“What if I would rather not know?” said Isabel.

Feeling uncomfortable and unsure.

“Everyone wants to know!” “You are here, aren’t you?”

Beth lit the cigar, puffing white smoke into Isabel’s face. Isabel suppressed a cough. 

“I am not sure why I am here, and I am not sure I want to know all of this,” Isabel said.

Beth’s eyes were flashing with impatience. She lit the candle and grabbed the pile of rather large cards, shuffling them in her hands. 

“This is you here and now. This is you in the past. This is you in the future.” Lying out three very strange cards, middle, left, and right, in a row. On the left, the card depicted a knight lying in bed with four swords; in the middle, the Empress, a figure seated on a throne surrounded by sunlight and flowers; and to the right, the Sun, with two figures holding hands, “The Lovers,” it said.

“The Knight represents recovery and rest; the Empress represents nurturing, creativity, and abundance; and your future is the Lovers, who represent choices, partnership, and aligning your values.” 

“These are all very positive cards, my dear,” said the beautiful Beth. You’re going to be alright, you are on the right path.”

“I must let you go on your way now. I cannot hold you here; I can only show you the way out.”

“Remember, Isabel, everything is empty; only you can create your world, and it’s your reality.” 

Isabel felt dizzy again, fading back into the blurry vision of nothing. It was cold, with a lot of beeping, blurry shadows all around Isabel, the odor of sterile alcohol and Betadine, and the sound of instruments clanging against metal. She felt tugging here and there. 

Her surroundings were lush with greenery, orchids, and exotic flowers. A nearby waterfall tumbled over rocks and crevices, spraying her with refreshing, cool water. Her shadow was back; she could sense it, hidden among the foliage, watching her from a short distance. The air was perfumed with intoxicating, botanical fragrances, grassy, weedy, mossy, and floral all at once. Isabel found herself wading in the cool pool among the lily pads and lotus flowers. The sunlight danced on the water’s surface, and the ripples sparkled with her movements, forming circles radiating from her. 

On a rock, she saw it, a large black panther with golden eyes, staring at her with intensity. Isabel froze for a moment, unsure of what to do next. A beautiful young man stepped from behind the bushes, caramel brown and glistening in the sunlight, wearing nothing but a loincloth and beads around his neck. He carried a sack of wet fish. His face bore a tattoo around his almond-shaped eyes; his hair was shoulder-length and jet-black, with a feather tucked at the side. He reached out and helped Isabel out of the pool and onto the rock. They sat in silence for a while. Isabel listened to the crickets and birds, and to the rustling among the leaves. She felt the warmth of his body as he sat beside her, and heard the low purr of the black panther nearby. Isabel instinctively realized this had been her companion all along, her shadow, her common sense. He took her hand and led her deeper into the forest. She heard lizards and snakes scurry away as they passed. They made their way into a small clearing with a fire pit and a tent, as dusk fell. The young man lit the fire and began to prepare the fish he had caught by the pool. Isabel busied herself by brushing the area around the fire and chopping herbs on a small, flat rock. The scents mingled with the fresh fish, and she realized, for the first time, just how hungry she was. How long had it been since she last ate? She could not remember. 

They still had not spoken to each other, as if they were both mute, but really did not need to speak; they understood each other. 

The forest closed up around them. The young man took a cloth and wrapped it around Isabel’s shoulders, and sat holding her through the night. The stars sparkled above the clearing, what seemed like an infinity of stars, all sorts of colors, swirling in the night sky. The moon lit up the clearing; it was enormous and round, the biggest, brightest moon Isabel had ever seen. 

The room was silent and cold, and a nurse came in and opened the curtains, letting in the sunlight and good cheer. 

“Welcome back, young lady.” “You had us worried for a while.” 

Isabel managed a smile, back from where she thought to herself.  She felt she had been on a very important journey and had learned a few things along the way. Remember, everything is empty; you create your reality, echoed in her mind. Her family started to pile into the room, and love and warmth filled it with glee.