to explore assumptions beyond the code of medical professionalism. But I find the possibility of such an explanation to your woes to be utterly intriguing, and stimulating.”
“Doc, you’re leaping way over my head. What explanation are you talking about?”
“Are you familiar with the term ‘paranormal activity’?”
Richard felt his heart leap. His conscience ran circles around his head, hooting and hollering. Of course he’d considered the after-death appearances of Debra and his mother as ‘ hauntings ’, but never once expected Delaney to regard this as a possibility, and not once considered bringing the idea up, lest the doctor think he really flew the coop. So with the help of his conscience, Richard simply faulted their materializations as visions triggered entirely through the workings of his mind. His sick mind. An entirely reasonable explanation.
So...perhaps he wasn’t sick at all?
“You mean ghosts and stuff?”
Delaney nodded. “Yes. More precisely, poltergeists.” Delaney leaned forward, pinning Richard with eagle-like eyes. “Let’s look at the details, in short. Dead relatives visit your dreams in the middle of the night. Resulting factors are objects being moved around on, as we can tell, their own volition. Again, I do not doubt your own deductions, or my very own initial ones, but I’d very much like to weigh the possibility of something paranormal taking place.”
Richard was silent. So was his conscience.
“All I need is your approval. And then we can begin immediately.”
“Begin what?”
“We begin to find out exactly what it is that’s going on with you, Richard.”
“How exactly do we do that?”
“We put you under hypnosis.”
Hospital
Fairview Hospital was located in an area easily accessible from any point within the village. Adjacent to the north side Hemmingway Park, Park Avenue ran like a vein directly to the hospital entrance, continuing on as it wrapped around three quarters of the brick structure then aimed away where a series of neighborhood streets branched off. The hospital sat on a hill, thin winding driveways leading up to its four parking lots. The largest of the four lots lay sprawled out in front, a circular driveway converging with five steps just outside the front doors, enabling patients and visitors to be easily dropped off or picked up.
Once in the main lot, Leonard drove towards a smaller lot at the side of the hospital. The full-leaved branches of a large elm seated at the curb swallowed up the sun’s golden beams, painting over the harsh reflection on the car’s shiny hood. He pulled into one of maybe ten empty parking spots reserved for those in need of emergency medical assistance. “We’ll only be here for a minute,” he said, looking at the parking signs. “Looks like a slow day anyway.” Upon finishing his sentence he realized that, subconsciously, he’d just assumed that Pamela Bergin wouldn’t be here, and they’d soon be on their way to her apartment. Another hunch .
Leonard removed his sunglasses, placed them on the seat between them. “Take your garbage with you and dump it in the trash can.” He aimed his chin to the sandwich bag on the floor by Kevin’s feet.
Silently, Kevin gathered his trash and exited the car, grinning and shaking his head.
Leonard peered into the rearview mirror, eyeing his age with disappointment. The lines around his eyes, the bags they carried, the thinning hair beneath his police hat. Why does life have to be so stressful? he wondered, straightening his hat, trying to wipe the exhaustion from his eyes. He tried to convince himself that he really didn’t know what real stress was all about, that people without families, those suffering from sickness and loss were the ones who could effortlessly reveal daunting tales of stress and anxiety. He loved being a police officer in Fairview. He loved his wife. He loved his son. So then why am I feeling so...so bored, so tired?
By his own
“Doc, you’re leaping way over my head. What explanation are you talking about?”
“Are you familiar with the term ‘paranormal activity’?”
Richard felt his heart leap. His conscience ran circles around his head, hooting and hollering. Of course he’d considered the after-death appearances of Debra and his mother as ‘ hauntings ’, but never once expected Delaney to regard this as a possibility, and not once considered bringing the idea up, lest the doctor think he really flew the coop. So with the help of his conscience, Richard simply faulted their materializations as visions triggered entirely through the workings of his mind. His sick mind. An entirely reasonable explanation.
So...perhaps he wasn’t sick at all?
“You mean ghosts and stuff?”
Delaney nodded. “Yes. More precisely, poltergeists.” Delaney leaned forward, pinning Richard with eagle-like eyes. “Let’s look at the details, in short. Dead relatives visit your dreams in the middle of the night. Resulting factors are objects being moved around on, as we can tell, their own volition. Again, I do not doubt your own deductions, or my very own initial ones, but I’d very much like to weigh the possibility of something paranormal taking place.”
Richard was silent. So was his conscience.
“All I need is your approval. And then we can begin immediately.”
“Begin what?”
“We begin to find out exactly what it is that’s going on with you, Richard.”
“How exactly do we do that?”
“We put you under hypnosis.”
Hospital
Fairview Hospital was located in an area easily accessible from any point within the village. Adjacent to the north side Hemmingway Park, Park Avenue ran like a vein directly to the hospital entrance, continuing on as it wrapped around three quarters of the brick structure then aimed away where a series of neighborhood streets branched off. The hospital sat on a hill, thin winding driveways leading up to its four parking lots. The largest of the four lots lay sprawled out in front, a circular driveway converging with five steps just outside the front doors, enabling patients and visitors to be easily dropped off or picked up.
Once in the main lot, Leonard drove towards a smaller lot at the side of the hospital. The full-leaved branches of a large elm seated at the curb swallowed up the sun’s golden beams, painting over the harsh reflection on the car’s shiny hood. He pulled into one of maybe ten empty parking spots reserved for those in need of emergency medical assistance. “We’ll only be here for a minute,” he said, looking at the parking signs. “Looks like a slow day anyway.” Upon finishing his sentence he realized that, subconsciously, he’d just assumed that Pamela Bergin wouldn’t be here, and they’d soon be on their way to her apartment. Another hunch .
Leonard removed his sunglasses, placed them on the seat between them. “Take your garbage with you and dump it in the trash can.” He aimed his chin to the sandwich bag on the floor by Kevin’s feet.
Silently, Kevin gathered his trash and exited the car, grinning and shaking his head.
Leonard peered into the rearview mirror, eyeing his age with disappointment. The lines around his eyes, the bags they carried, the thinning hair beneath his police hat. Why does life have to be so stressful? he wondered, straightening his hat, trying to wipe the exhaustion from his eyes. He tried to convince himself that he really didn’t know what real stress was all about, that people without families, those suffering from sickness and loss were the ones who could effortlessly reveal daunting tales of stress and anxiety. He loved being a police officer in Fairview. He loved his wife. He loved his son. So then why am I feeling so...so bored, so tired?
By his own
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