Hiding In His Dreams (22 page)

A rain drop shape emerged from the mini
tornado in which Alyssa was being held captive. Luke could not see
any limbs or even a face. The Wind was blowing so hard he had to
shield his eyes to keep them open.

Then, he saw something else. Something
shiny was coming out of the mini tornado. A glistening
bottle.

“
Take it,” the shape says.
“Take the second spoonful.”

Luke grasped the bottle, feeling the
cold glass on his hand. He looked at Alyssa, who had her eyes
closed. She did not look conscious.

“
Take it,” the voice
insisted, growing louder. “Take it or we’ll scatter her spirit and
she’ll never go to Paradise.”

Luke looked at his wife. She looked so
helpless floating there, with her hair flapping around, her chin
touching her chest, her hands resting by her side.

He looked at the bottle. He did not
want to forget her. But he did not want her spirit scattered
either.

“
Do it!” the voice shrieked.
It tightened its grip on Alyssa, and his girl cried out in
pain.

“
Do it!” the voice screamed
again.

Alyssa’s body rotated until she was
upside down, her body blocking out the blinding glare of the
moonlight.

His beloved began to fade away again.
Her body was now a vague outline. Luke could barely see her
face.

Luke twisted the lid off the bottle,
and prepared to down the bitter liquid.

His mind was spinning like a planet
spiraling out of control across the galaxy. What was he going to
do?

He lifted the bottle to his lips, and
hesitated, taking one last look at his sweetheart.

Her body was nearly gone. He could not
even make out the vague outline anymore.

“
Do it!” the voice
yelled.

He still did not drink the
liquid.

What to do? He thought. His heart was
bursting out of his chest.

“
What do you care if I drink
it or not?” he yelled into the blustery Wind. The Wind was so loud
and feral that he was afraid that It had not heard him.

“
I don’t,” the Rain Drop
replied. “I just wanted to have some fun. Come back and drink the
third, or else we’ll scatter Alyssa’s spirit.”

Before he could make a decision, the
Wind gusted at him, making him tilt the bottle back.

He felt the liquid slosh around in his
mouth, then go down his throat. As his eyes widened, he clutched at
his throat, but it was too late.

He had drunk the second
spoonful.

* * * * *

Chapter 17

Luke awoke to blaring light. He opened
his eyes, but they hurt like crazy. In fact, his entire body hurt
like crazy. He felt like he was on fire.

Looking around, he realized he was in a
bed, but it was not his bed. For one, the feel of the bed was
different. The sheets were much softer here. For another, his room
did not have that many glaring lights.

Then he realized that he was not alone.
There were people standing by the side of his bed. A guy with
shaggy blond hair, and a young guy in a white lab coat wearing a
necklace. No, wait. It was not a necklace, Luke saw. It was a
stethoscope.

“
Luke, it’s Mike,” the guy
with shaggy blond hair murmured. “You’re in Vancouver General
Hospital.”

“
What? Why?” He rubbed the
sleep out of his eyes. He smacked his mouth, then immediately
regretted it. There was a nasty taste in his mouth, as though he
had smoked ten cigarettes, then forgot to brush his
teeth.

“
I came by to see how you
were doing and saw you were sleeping again in the afternoon, so I
knew you needed help,” Mike said. “I hope you can forgive me for
taking you here, but it was an emergency.” Mike lifted a bottle up,
looking concerned. “I found this bottle beside your bed. I think
you almost overdosed.”

Mike turned to the man next to him. “Is
this sleeping pills in liquid form?”

The doctor, whom Luke recognized as the
psychiatrist Dr. Jones, inspected the bottle. He pried the lid off,
and sniffed. “Yes, smells like it to me.”

“
Oh Jesus,” Mike muttered,
putting his head in his hands. “Luke, this is not good.”

Luke’s friend reached into his pocket,
and pulled out a cherry blossom. “Here, I also found this in your
bed. What is it, a marijuana leaf?”

Dr. Jones examined the flower. “Looks
like a cherry blossom to me.”

“
Cherry blossom?” Mike
scratched his head. “That can’t be good either. I bet that’s what
causing the blotches on his face. He must be allergic to it or
something.”

Luke felt his face. The blotches were
there in full-bloom. And they hurt like crazy.

Dr. Jones cleared his throat and looked
right at Luke. “I think you’re exhibiting symptoms of a
psychosomatic disorder. You lost your wife. Who can blame you?” The
doctor tut-tutted. “You need plenty of rest. A nurse will be by to
run some tests.”

The physician turned to Mike. “We
should let him rest for now.”

Dr. Jones left, but Mike continued to
stand there. He grabbed Luke’s hand, then cringed. “Dude, your hand
is piping hot.” Mike stood there, cradling his injured hand in his
other hand. “I might need to go to the burn ward.”

Then he turned his attention back to
Luke. “I wish there was something I could do or say to help you, my
friend.”

He took one last look at Luke, and then
pulled the privacy curtain around his bed.

Luke sniffed the air. It smelled like
ammonia. He was indeed in the hospital.

He struggled to make sense of what was
happening. Psychosomatic disorder? What was that? And why was he
burning up?

Just then, the curtains were pulled
open, and a redhead male nurse came in, holding a digital
thermometer.

“
Hey,” he said. “You’re that
guy who lost his wife. I’m very sorry to hear that.”

Luke recognized him too. It was that
guy who showed him Alyssa’s corpse.

The nurse waved the thermometer in
front of Luke’s face. “I need to take your temperature.” He stuck
the device in Luke’s mouth and waited.

When it beeped, the nurse took it out.
“Oh my. 40 degrees Celsius. I should tell the doctor about
it.”

The nurse turned to leave, but then
paused, and stared at Luke, noticing the blotches on the patient’s
face.

Luke stirred in his bed, and touched
the outbreak on his face. It hurt. “Please tell me what’s happening
to me. I’m burning up.”

The redhead nurse looked uncomfortable.
“I’m not really supposed to tell you. The doctor is the one who
discusses test results with patients.”

“
Please,” Luke begged. “I
just lost my wife. And I’m not feeling well. Please tell me what’s
happening to me.”

“
Well.” The nurse still
looked uncomfortable. “We think your emotional pain is manifesting
itself as physical pain. This is a disorder called psychosomatic
disorder. Your body is breaking out in hives in a total body
inflammatory response called sepsis. You could die if we don’t
commence proper treatment.”

Luke looked at him blankly. “How do I
get it to go away? How do I stop the pain?”

The redhead looked at him, and then
shrugged. “I promise we’ll take good care of you.” He closed the
curtains then left.

Luke was alone again. His skin was
itchy and burning. He felt like he had been chucked into an
erupting volcano. He examined his hands and was horrified to
discover that more red blotches had broken out as he was sleeping.
He was a human scab.

He thought about the bottle and it all
came back to him. He had drunk the second spoonful. He did not
recall the effects of it though. He barely remembered anything from
his dream. Just wind and field. And other people.

The curtains opened again and Mike
stood there with his cherry blossom in his hands.

“
I forgot to give you this,”
Mike said, handing the flower over to Luke. “The doctor said it was
not drugs. What is it anyway?”

Luke could not remember. “What’s
happening to me?”

Mike shook his head. “I don’t know. I’m
not a doctor, but I have been your friend for years. You want to
know what I think?”

Luke nodded, but his neck was so full
of red boils that it hurt.

“
I don’t think you’ve really
been grieving for Alyssa. You might feel better if you allowed
yourself to feel the pain.”

At the mention of the name ‘Alyssa,’
Luke perked up. He remembered a girl called Alyssa. He just did not
remember much else about her. Why would he grieve for
her?

Luke felt the cherry blossom in his
hand. He looked at it.

What is this? He wondered.

Then, gazing at the beautiful white
flower, it all came back to him. Alyssa was his wife. Alyssa had
died. And he was hurting because of her.

“
But I did grieve for her,”
he protested. “I did.”

“
No you didn’t. You lied to
me about her death at first. You totally denied it. But I think
that if she’s worth it, you would let yourself feel the pain.
Believe me, I lost my mother a couple months ago. I know what real
grieving is and what real pain feels like.”

Mike ran a hand through his long hair.
“Anyway, that’s just what I think. I’m no psychiatrist. I’ll let
you rest now.”

Before Luke could protest, Mike left,
and closed the curtains around him.

“
Just let yourself feel it,”
Mike said again behind the closed curtains.

Luke tried to think about what Mike had
said, but he was itching like crazy, so he scratched his face,
arms, chest, legs, but that only made him itch even
more.

He closed his eyes and tried
to relax. He had to escape from the pain. He expected to meditate
peacefully, but i
nstead, a memory came to
him.

In his mind, he could see himself in
bed sick, with a fever. He was delirious. The heat was engulfing
him from all directions.

As he lay there, he could see Alyssa
coming into the bed room, holding a tray of piping hot tomato soup
and oyster crackers, just for him.

She set the tray down on the
nightstand. Luke could smell the tangy tomato soup and see the
steam rising from it.

Alyssa sat down on the bed and put a
cool, comforting hand on Luke’s forehead. “Are you feeling better?”
she asked, her eyes wide and concerned.

He shook his head.

She leaned in closer. He could feel her
hair on his cheek, and smell her Alyssa fragrance.

She kissed him on the cheek. “We could
all use a little love. Especially when you’re not sick. But
especially when you are.”

At that moment, Luke felt pure love
radiate from his woman and go into him. Nothing but pure
compassion, and pure love. He felt like he was drifting on a
pond.

He was, for the second time in his
life, truly at peace.

Then, the memory started to fade from
his mind, as though wiped clean from the chalkboard.

Luke brought himself back to the
present. He looked around. He was still in the hospital bed. And
Alyssa was dead.

Disappointment sank in, almost
suffocating him.

He raised his arms and grasped at the
air, trying to retain the memory, but the memory was
gone.

He closed his eyes and tried to
remember it again, but this time, a different memory came to
him.

In his mind, he could see Alyssa lying
on his bed in his apartment. She turned to face him, her hair a
mess.

“
Luke, am I a good
caretaker?” she asked, her eyes filling with tears.

Luke grabbed her, and kissed her all
over. He started with her neck, then her collar bone, then her
arms, then her cheek.

“
You’re a great caretaker,”
he whispered, kissing her earlobe. “You took care of me
today.”

She started to cry, leaking hot tears
on his shoulder.

“
You’re a great caretaker,”
Luke repeated. “Don’t ever let anyone tell you you’re not.” He let
her continue to sob onto his shoulders as he held her
tight.

When Luke returned to the present, he
felt the memory slipping from his mind. He knew he was running out
of time to undo the unlove potion.

“
Please, let me remember
this one,” he begged. “Let me remember just this one.” He could
feel tears forming in his eyes, but he wiped them away. He knew
that he could not cry anymore. The tears would sting the boils on
his face.

The pain began to flare up again slowly
at first, like a mosquito bite, but then it sped up and engulfed
his whole body like a summer wildfire.

Luke clutched his chest and screamed.
He screamed bloody murder. He screamed so loud that he thought his
vocal cords were going to burst out of his throat.

He heard feet pattering. Then, the baby
blue curtains were flung open and the psychiatrist stood there,
looking serene.