Chloe by Cleveland McLeish Page B

absolutely
outrageous. She does not want to believe that. Chloe shakes her head. Bluntly,
“I don’t dream.”
    “Everybody has dreams,” Ross reminds her, as though his word
is law and cannot be argued with. Chloe supposes it might be true. But there is
an exception to every rule. In this case, that is her. “It is detox for the
subconscious.”
    “ I don’t have dreams,” Chloe repeats. She will not be
swayed on this matter. The fact that she does not dream has been a constant in
her life much longer than the hallucinations.
    Ross glances at her over the rim of his glass again. “The
fact that you think so indicates you may have dreams you think are real.”
    Chloe sighs, frustrated. “I close ma’ eyes and I see
darkness,” she describes flatly. “That’s all there is when I sleep. I wake up
from darkness, not dreams. I wake up from nothing.”
    Ross leaves the matter alone, which is probably for the
best. “How would you explain the things you have seen?” he leads.
    Chloe scrubs her face with her hands. This is going nowhere
fast. “Well, gee, I wouldn’t be here if I could do that.” She does not
apologize for her attitude, even though she knows it is inappropriate for a
professional situation like this.
    Ross lays his notepad down on his thigh and removes his
glasses. “If in reality you see someone who is dead, either you both are alive…
or you both are dead.” Chloe tries to follow this. “One of those conclusions
must be true and sound even if one of the premises is false. If you are dead,
then I am dead. We could go on and on.”
    “English,” Chloe prompts.
    “You either have an extra-ordinary gift of communicating
with the dead or you really did see your father,” Ross clarifies. It still
makes no sense to her. This is the worst gift she has ever received. It is
exhausting and weighs on her mind and heart—a burden she cannot bear for much
longer.
    This is not a gift.
    It is a curse.
    “Not sure this is helping,” Chloe mumbles.
    “Give it time,” he encourages. “The mind is a powerful
thing. Eventually the line between imagination and reality will automatically
be established.”
    The problem with this being that a brain which cannot tell
the difference might draw said line in the wrong place…
    Chloe fumbles where to archive that useless piece of
information. She could have told herself that. In fact, she probably has told
herself that and it has done nothing to help, which was why she came here in
the first place. But this doctor can do nothing but reiterate her own thoughts.
Maybe she should become a doctor.
    “What do I do while I wait?” Chloe asks him.
    “Write,” he tells her candidly. “Focus all your energy on
that one thing you really enjoy doing.” Chloe finds herself partial to this
suggestion. Maybe this guy isn’t a total sham. Doctor Kenneth checks through
his notes. “Also, you went to church the other day and made a commitment to
follow Jesus. You should follow through with that.”
    Suddenly, everything feels wrong. Chloe’s stomach knots up.
She recounts their conversation in detail and cannot recall a time they
discussed this. “How do you know about that?”
    Ross blinks and slides his glasses back up his nose. He
flips through the pages on his notepad. “You told me.”
    Chloe slowly shakes her head. “No,” Chloe states
steadfastly. She would stake her own life on the fact that she said nothing of
the sort. “I didn’t.”
    Ross turns his notepad over and gestures towards a section
circled in red. “It’s here in my notes, Cleopatra.”
    Cleopatra…?
    Chloe braces her hand on the recliner and sits up, facing
him at eye level. She waits to see if his mistake will register. It does not.
“Ma’ name is not Cleopatra,” she reminds him, waiting to see the embarrassment
flash across his face… hoping that the embarrassment will flash across
his face. It doesn’t.
    Doctor Kenneth sighs. He looks at his watch and revisits his
notes. “Our