Dr. Skye Series: "Trapped"

Session #5

Time was winding down. It was almost time to go. I had completed all of my notes, phones, and emails. So, I decided to visit Miss Amy's desk to see what she had in mind. Opening my door, I can hear her calling all the animals. I walked over to her desk and shook it. She jumped in reaction. I had to laugh.

"Amy, it is something about them, boys," I said as she opened her eyes and looked into mines. Sometimes was off about Miss Amy, but I could not wrap my hand around it right now. "What do you mean?" she asked. She grabbed a handkerchief to wipe the sleep residue from around her mouth.

Nasty, I know. "My discernment spirit had kicked in during our session and note-taking." She looked at me, confused. I continued, "Either they got a prayer life, or somebody is praying heavily for them." Miss Amy was a church-going lady, but spiritual growth was not her thing. She just went because of the preacher's good talk, the choir's singing, and to show off her new suit and hat.

She looked at me and replied, "Mhmmm, don't too many children pray these days." Her response kind of hurt my feelings. To me, a lot of church hurt comes from the mouth of the seasoned saints. They feel that the new generation doesn't know anything because they are not following in their footsteps.

Trying to control my character, I quickly said, "Not that! The one named Devin has a lot to talk about. That child has experienced some real-life issues." When I spoke, she looked at me in disagreement. "Is that the one with the attitude?" she said. I replied, "I wouldn't say he got an attitude, nor is he bossy. I think he's just mature for his age." She laughed loudly.

By this time, I was furious, "Do not do that, Miss Amy." She looked at me, realizing I was serious. She said, "It takes one to know one." I stood there in amazement for a minute. Trying to get her to go deeper. I asked, "What does that suppose to mean?"

Giving that look as if she was trying to hide something. She turned around in her chair, '"I meant to say, "The apple doesn't fall far from the tree."' Now I know something is wrong. She is still sleep-talking. For me, when somebody wants me up from a good dream. I still am focused on that dream for a while.

"Miss Amy, are you ok?" I asked. She picked up her cup of coffee and took a sip. "I'm sorry, just thinking about something else." Hearing those words gave me relief. I am still curious about what she said.

In college, we learned that dreams: are a reminder of what is on your mind. Miss Amy said two things that had me thinking about my father. I grew up without my father, and my mother never talked about him. Until this day, I'm not sure if he is dead or alive.

Snapping out of my thoughts, I responded late to her reply and told her to get it together because she was scaring me. She did apologize, "I'm sorry baby, I'm just sleepy, that is all." I know Miss Amy is of age and can't do what she used to do. I offered to take the rest of the day off.

She was glad to hear words moving swiftly. She gathered her things and rushed to the door. Walking past her desk. I remember something and asked, "Did I get any calls or messages while I was out?" She usually writes down everything because her mind is not that great anymore. Looking around the room, she said, "Not to my knowledge. I don't think nobody else has been here to answer the phone."

I asked, "In person?"

"Oh, you talking about that girl from the cafe? You know she got two kids and does not know who the daddies are." I was embarrassed for her and started to rush Miss Amy out the door.

"I wasn't sleep talking then. I saw you this afternoon smiling at one another."

"I WAS NOT!" I laughed and walked to my office door.

Striking a nerve, Miss Amy turned around and held her purse tightly. "Who are you hollering at!" Her voice became bold. She was getting ready to whip me. I had to fix up my story fast. "Not talking about her. I was referring to my Pastor or any detectives."

Thinking about it, she dropped her purse and ran to the desk, "Oh, Pastor, I forgot." " You forgot what?"

"Pastor Johnson...here you go. He called this morning." She said. Pastor Johnson's visit is important to me. "Miss Amy, this is important! He's helping me with my healing process!" Of course, I could not blame her. She did write it down. "I'm sorry baby, you know Miss Amy, getting old and sometimes forgetful," she said.

She gave me the note. It was dated today. "Let me call," I said, walking into my room.

As she walked out the front doors, I reminded her, "Don't forget my cake.