Gaia Dreams (Gaiaverse Book 1) (10 page)

"Honey, what's wrong?" Jessica said, bewildered.

"You know," Sam replied. "You and Daddy and the
doctors and all you grown-ups just keep secrets from me. You stop talking when
I come into a room, but sometimes I hear you say my name so I know you are too
talking about me. You didn't used to do that and I don't like it," said Sam
defiantly.

"We're sorry Samantha," Jessica said, stunned
once again by the perception of her child.

"That's right, Sam, we're very sorry to have
done that and we'll try not to do it anymore," John said. "And you are
right--we were sitting here talking before you woke up and we did all shut up
when you came over. But we weren't just talking about you, Sam. We were talking
about Mrs. Philpott and her cat and Harry too."

Jessica interrupted with, "John--do you think it's
okay to--"

"Yes," he said decisively. "We need to ask Sam
some questions and there is no reason she can't know what is happening.
Besides, she had the dream."

"What dream, Daddy?" Sam asked as she climbed up
into his lap.

Mrs. Philpott answered her. "Sam, did you have a
dream last night that woke you up?"

Sam's face clouded over as she replied, "Yeah, a
real bad dream. If you guys are talking about dreams, then it's okay if you don't
tell me 'cause I don't want to think about that dream. No way. It was too bad
to think about. I tried real hard to forget about it today."

John, who felt he was still in shock after
hearing Mrs. Philpott explain about Perceval the cat and the dreams, stroked
the top of Samantha's head, her straight blond hair smooth under his hand. "Listen,
Sam, sometimes when you talk about a bad dream it can end up making you feel
better. And this dream is kind of special because we think Mrs. Philpott had
the very same dream."

Samantha looked quickly at the older woman,
brown eyes round in surprise. "You had the same dream as I did? Wow! Harry did
too!"

Jessica said sharply, "Harry had the dream? How
do you know that, Sam?"

"Well, 'cause, I dunno, I just knew," Sam said,
confused by Jessica's tone.

John intervened, saying, "Honey, it's okay,
Mommy's just surprised. But that's really something for you and Harry and Mrs.
Philpott to have the same dream. Sometimes it's hard for Mommy and me to
understand Harry. Can you tell us how you knew he had the dream?"

Samantha thought for a moment. How did she know?
She knew lots of things about Harry, but it was hard to talk about. Finally,
she replied, "I dunno how--I mean, it was like other things that I know about
him, sort of like he tells me."

"You mean he talks to you?" Jessica asked,
trying to remain calm with difficulty.

"No, Mom," Sam said giggling. "That would be
pretty funny if Harry could talk like you and me. I saw that one time on a
commercial on TV, but I never saw a real live dog talk like that. Anyway, you
said that lots of the commercials have made up stuff in them anyway and that
other thing--affected?"

"Special effects," Jessica said automatically.

"Yeah, that's it. But I don't think it's special
effects with Harry. He has his own way of saying things--I know!" Sam said
excitedly, "It's like when I turn on the channel 7 and I can't understand them
and you said it was a foreign language--it's like that! Harry has a foreign
language. A dog language! And he told it to me!" Sam was delighted to have
found a way to explain it.

Jessica looked more worried. John tried to give
her a reassuring grin, but could see she wasn't buying it. He felt like he was
on a giant roller coaster ride; amazement, fear, and most of all the thrill of
discovery and adventure, coursed through his veins. When Jessica and Mrs.
Philpott had first told him the story about the dreams, the cat, and then
Harry, he'd been skeptical. Writing science fiction was one thing--living it
was another. A brief demonstration on the computer by the cat had rid him of
all doubts. He couldn't wait to find out what it all meant and see what
incredible thing would happen next. But he knew his wife, and he could see
Jessica was struggling. Part of it for her probably had to do with Samantha's
recent illness and her fears for their child. However, he also knew that Jessica
saw the world in a different way than he did. In her world, there was a very
definite line between what was real and unreal. She enjoyed reading his books,
but she classed them as straight science fiction or fantasy--things that could
never happen in the real world.

His world consisted of possibilities. Anything
could happen, and he just hoped to be around for the more outstanding
occurrences. Jessica gave him the structure and boundaries in his life to let
his imagination roam free and then have a place to come home to for grounding.
He gave her the key to the door on her own imagination, and he felt they had
both grown as a result of their individual personality traits affecting each
other. The current situation, however, would be too big a leap for Jessica to
make comfortably. She was going to need a lot of support.

Jessica stood up abruptly and said, "Mrs. Philpott, thanks for your hospitality, but I think we need to go home now."

"But, dear--" began Mrs. Philpott.

John interjected, "Perhaps Jess is right, Mrs.
Philpott. Sam, why don't you go find Harry?"

Once Sam had left the room, he continued. "I
think we all need time to absorb what we've learned today. Why don't we plan to
meet at our house tomorrow morning, Mrs. Philpott?" He watched as Jessica
relaxed a bit, visibly relieved.

"I'll just take these dishes into the kitchen,
Mrs. Philpott," Jessica said, leaving the room.

"John, what's going on?" asked the older woman,
perplexed.

"She needs some time. This has all been a bit
much for a mother still worried over the illness of a daughter. Give her a
chance to sleep on it and we'll start again tomorrow," John said.

"All right," Mrs. Philpott said. "But, John, we
need to sort all this out very soon. My instincts--and my cat--are telling me
we don't have much time left to prepare."

"Prepare? For what?"

Mrs. Philpott paused, realizing that John had
not come to the same conclusions as she had, and knew that the next
conversation could be difficult. "Perhaps you're right, John," she said. "Let's
just wait and talk it all over tomorrow, okay? How about 10:30 in the morning,
your house?"

"That sounds good," John said hesitantly,
puzzled by her comments. As he gathered up Sam in his arms and escorted Jessica
and the dog to the car, he wondered at the ominous tone in Mrs. Philpott's
words. What on earth could they have to prepare for?

New York City, New York

Nathan strummed quietly on his guitar, humming
to himself. Alexandra was passed out on the bed while he sat on the floor,
cross-legged, unable to sleep. Overtired, he thought resignedly, and felt his
fingers stumble across a complicated passage.

"Argh," he said aloud. The song was one he'd
been writing at their camp in Africa, a song about the different way of life he
and Alex were learning with the Kung tribe. As a cultural anthropology student,
he'd been fascinated by the idea of oral history passed on from one generation
to another by song and recitation, so he'd decided to write about the
differences, cultural differences, between the hunter-gatherer lifestyle and
the world he and Alex had grown up in...so very different. The people there
seemed more in tune with nature, much more aware. Of course, they had to be, he
reminded himself. There were dangers they had to face every day just to
survive.

He heard the screeching of a car outside come
blaring through the window and he chuckled. There were dangers every day to be
faced here in America as well. Life could be dangerous just about anywhere, he
concluded. Then he shook his head as he thought about the earthquake. So much
damage, so many lives lost. And somehow the woman Tiknay had known about it
beforehand. He didn't understand it, but it felt absolutely true that the L.A.
earthquake was what she'd been referring to on their last day in Africa. She
had known, and she had implied other dangers were coming. If that earthquake
was only the beginning...Nathan shuddered.

Cape Fair, the Samuels' House

Jessica sat huddled in a corner of the plush,
dark gold couch in the den, smoothing her pale, aqua satin nightgown over legs
tucked tightly beneath her. She twisted her emerald and diamond wedding band
round and round her finger, waiting for John to finish putting Samantha to bed.
As she heard the last good night called out and John's bare feet on the
hardwood floor in the hall, her body tensed further.

John walked into the den and stopped when he saw
Jessica. He knew she wouldn't sleep until they had talked out the astounding
events of the day, and he wondered if he could ease her mind. "Jess," he said
quietly, "do you want some herbal tea?"

"No, John, I don't want some tea. I'm not some
irrational person who needs to be calmed down, so get that irritating,
patronizing tone out of your voice or else it's going to be a very long night."

"I did not mean to sound patronizing Jessica.
Look, it's been a long and surprising day, and we are probably both on edge,"
he replied as he sat in the leather wing-backed chair across from her.

"I don't know, John, you didn't seem too 'on
edge' at Mrs. Philpott's house. You seemed thrilled by all of it, excited even,"
Jessica said accusingly. Then she continued in a small voice, "Aren't you just
a little bit afraid of what is happening?"

John moved to sit by Jessica on the couch. He
took one of her hands in his and said, "Listen, I don't know what to think
about it yet. Yes, I am excited by the possibilities it presents--to actually
communicate with animals, know their thoughts, and learn more of their lives--that
seems amazing and wonderful to me. Perhaps there is a little fear in me as
well, just as there is for anyone confronted with something so profoundly new
and different. People generally don't react well to change initially, and I'm
no different except that I am more apt to accept change because I spend a lot
of my time imagining things changing in the future." He paused and asked, "What
is it that bothers you so about this, Jess? What are you afraid of?"

She pulled her hand out of his and got up to
stand on the large, braided rug in front of the couch. "What am I afraid of?
Let's see. For starters there's the fact that our daughter seems to be having
supernatural dream experiences. What does that mean? Has she become psychic or
something? And why is she so connected to Harry? John, it's not normal for a
child to be able to communicate in dog language! And who knows what that meant
anyway." She stopped pacing and laughed shortly. "Do they sit around and bark
at each other? I don't think so. I think that is something I would have noticed
around here. And what does it say about me as a mother, that I didn't even
recognize there was something strange going on with my own child?"

As John opened his mouth to speak, she held up a
hand to stop him. "John, have you considered the possibility that something has
happened to change Samantha? We know she was affected by toxins in the
environment. What if this is another effect of that? Isn't it possible that the
dreams are a hallucinogenic side effect of the chemicals in the pesticide she
was exposed to? Or worse, how do we know whether or not she was born different
with some kind of environmental damage in the womb from some chemical you or I
were exposed to that changed her into this?"

John said forcefully, "Into this? What does that
mean? She is still our daughter, the same little girl we've lived with for six
wonderful years. She's not a monster, Jessica!"

Tears filled Jessica's azure blue eyes as she
said, "That's not what I'm saying, John! I love her, I would give my life for
her, but I'm so scared for her right now. I don't know what's going to happen
to her, what this will mean in her life. She's still recovering from the
illness and now she has to deal with dreams that--you saw her last night, how
terrified she was--she's just a child, John, my child--and I don't know how to
protect her from horrible dreams and--and--talking animals!"

John got up and put his arms around Jessica,
holding her tightly as she cried softly on his shoulder. "Oh, Jess! She's going
to be okay. You and I are going to see to that. We'll be there for her to help
her deal with whatever comes up--dreams, dog conversations, whatever. If she
has us with her, she can handle it, I know she can. It's that feeling of
helplessness that will drive you and me crazy if we let it get to us. Sometimes
I think feeling helpless is the cause of most mental health problems. We all
want to control our lives, our environment. But life isn't like that. It
constantly throws us curve balls, like some kind of test to see how quickly we
can adjust to something new and different. I know we can adjust to this, Jess.
I have faith in us. We'll find out everything we can about it and we'll help
our daughter. Because the one area we are not helpless in is our love for our
child."

Jessica snuffled against his shoulder. "I need a
Kleenex."

After wiping away the tears and blowing her
nose, she said, "Oh, how I hate to cry! I always feel like a mess when I cry."

John smiled at her and said, "You certainly don't
look like a mess to me. You look like the most beautiful woman in the world
right now with a red nose. I love you, wife."

Jessica sat down on the couch and patted the
cushion next to her saying, "I love you, too, John. And you're right--our love
for each other and for our daughter...that will get us through anything."

As he sat next to her and she leaned against
him, Jessica said, "But you might as well get used to the fact that I'll
probably need your shoulder to cry on from time to time. I do well in a crisis
so long as I can have these sessions of fear and tears."