The Past-Life Chronicles

2

There's a soft orange glow outside of my eyelids, growing faintly brighter. I'm floating in a black pool of nothingness. I'm completely content, yet gradually becoming more aware.

The orange is brightening. And now I realize—there's silence.

Funny, a voice in my head murmurs. I never noticed any silence before. Yet, neither had I noticed any non-silence. A second ago, there wasn't anything at all. And now, there's something. Thoughts, and light...

I open my eyes.

Mason sits patiently in his chair in front of the glowing computer monitors. A screen saver bounces across both screens. As I stretch out my arms, his grin expands. "Welcome back."

"Did..." I clear my throat. "Did we have the session?"

"Yep."

"Whoa." I blink as he raises the dimmable switch a hair higher, gradually brightening the office. "I don't remember anything." I rub my eyes. "I thought you said I wasn't going to be out of it."

"You weren't unconscious." He swivels a little in the chair. "You were answering all of my questions just fine."

I'm genuinely shocked. "I was talking to you?"

"Your subconscious was." He straightens a few papers, but it hardly makes a dent in the mess on his desk. "Who is Ray, by the way?"

I'm confounded. "Who?"

"A few minutes ago, you answered that you were ready to come back. You said 'Ray' was waiting for you."

"I have no idea," I answer honestly. Was he making this up? "I must have been delirious." I press the buttons to lower the footrest and straighten the back of the recliner. The sudden electric noise is jarring.

"Take your time," Mason assures me. "Don't rush up and out of here. If you need a few minutes to recoup, that's fine."

"Thanks." I'm feeling a little soft, like my muscles are gelatin. And now I'm beginning to wonder what to expect. When I go down to the parking lot in a few minutes, will I get into the truck to find my fears miraculously eradicated? Will I just not care anymore, like in Office Space?

As if Mason has read my mind, he says, "Today you might not feel any different. That's because our work isn't finished—it's only just beginning."

I feel my forehead scrunch up. Does that mean I have to come in again? I don't know if I can afford more sessions. I didn't even ask how much today would cost.

"I'm going to email you the recording of our session. You'll get it this evening. There's a rule of thumb that it takes twenty-one days to make a habit. So I want you to listen every night at bedtime, or at any other opportunity possible, for the next twenty-one days. Think you can do that?"

"Think so."

"No skipping days." He gets to his feet. "If you miss a day, you have to start at day one all over again."

"Strict." I slide off the comfy recliner as he hands me my jacket and handbag.

"Normally, I advise clients not to listen while driving. But I guess I don't have to worry about that with you...yet." He grins.

Yet? He is optimistic. Since I've come to, I've been thinking that, at best, my experience in cars might become a little more subdued as a result of this process. Maybe someday, I'll even handle a road trip—as a passenger. But getting behind the wheel? That would literally be manifesting my worst nightmare. I still can't picture myself driving.