My publisher and I have decided to share The Forgotten Self on the Web. Every few days I'll post the next chapter. If you like what you read my hope is that you'll buy the book (on Amazon) and/or recommend it to a friend. Enjoy!
Bill
Chapter One
Regina Bowden retired early, exhausted from her work and her near-daily attempts at creating a baby. Sleep came slowly. Her mind flitted from one thing to another, as if it had a mind of its own. When it did finally settle down she felt herself sinking into a deep sleep. The world dropped away and another took its place.
Regina found herself naked on a golden birthing table, her belly full with child, her legs strapped into the stirrups with rose-red ribbons. She was at peace, but when the infant’s head crowned the urge to bear down and push him into the world overwhelmed her.
She lay before the altar of an ancient Gothic Cathedral, its towering vaulted ceilings and rose-coloured stained glass enveloping her in a warmth much like her womb had succoured her impatient baby. On the altar, arranged in neat rows, were test tubes, centrifuges, microscopes and other accoutrements of a well-kept scientific laboratory.
Her blue eyes traversed the length of her body. Between her legs stood a priest and a doctor, although the doctor gave her more an impression of a scientist than an M.D. Each prepared to deliver the infant. One, standing to the right, wore the traditional garments of a catholic priest serving mass. The other, to the left, wore the white smock of a research scientist. They vied for the honour of delivering the newborn, but each also wore a look of dread on his face.
Regina Bowden held the baby back as a temporary gush of fear washed through her. A baritone voice as deep as the Marianas Trench shattered her apprehension. It issued from everywhere and from nowhere. It came from inside her and from outside her, from the grey stone walls, the altar, the ceiling and the worn marble floor. The single word, uttered as a command not to be disobeyed, shook the boundaries of her dream and pierced her mind as easily as a neutrino passes through the earth.
PUSH!
Regina Bowden obeyed. The baby boy flew from her body and darted between the outstretched arms of the competing deliverymen. Before she could see where the baby went, the rose-coloured ceiling of the cathedral lifted away, revealing a silver moon that was at the end stage of a total eclipse. When her eyes returned to the space between her legs, the baby was gone and the deliverymen were empty handed. A rose bush in full bloom stood dead centre between them. The priest and the scientist slowly faded from view as the earth’s shadow retreated from the full moon.
Regina Bowden awoke both frightened and exhilarated. This dream on this night seemed more real than reality itself. She felt the reality she awakened to was the imagined world. It was as if, just for a moment, she had crossed a portal into another dimension of life, where metaphor replaced the spoken word and colour was electrically charged and alive. She nudged her husband who was deep in a dream of his own. When he didn’t respond she pinched his nose and cupped his mouth until his body’s need for oxygen broke the grip of his dream and sent him back into the world, gasping.
Jonathan Bowden slapped his wife’s hand away from his face. The room was dark. He reached over and turned on the lamp. Regina Bowden was crying.
“What… what in the world is going on? You look like you saw a ghost.”
“I can’t take this anymore. I can’t stand not knowing why. It’s not you… it’s not me, and yet we still can’t seem to make a baby. A year of trying is long enough.”
Regina Bowden broke down and sobbed into her pillow. She didn’t tell her husband about her dream.
Regina sat across the table from the dark haired woman, who was ordinary in every way except for how she made her living.
“You’re a sceptic,” the woman said.
Regina Bowden cleared her throat.
“I’ve never done anything like this before. I really don’t believe such things are possible, but… I just have to know.”
“So, I’m a last resort. No matter. I’m used to it. You told me you’re here to find out why you can’t get pregnant. Correct?”
“We’ve tried everything. Neither Jonathan nor I am impaired… you know…in that area. I’m stumped, confused and depressed. I know I’m supposed to have a baby. I just know it. You’re our last resort before we spend a small fortune at a fertility clinic.”
“Maybe you’re trying too hard. Maybe you need to relax.”
“I am a relaxed person. I grew up on a Kansas corn farm. The only thing I ever had to worry about was a lack of rain and my parent’s need to keep me on the farm.”
Mary Ives smiled. She liked the small woman with the soft eyes.
“What do you know about me and what I do?”
“My friend told me you’re accurate about 70 percent of the time. But, if you can see the future, why aren’t you right all the time?”
“Because I don’t see the future. I see probabilities. The future is never set. By making one small choice they wouldn’t otherwise have made, my clients can change the probability of manifesting my predictions. Otherwise, everything would be preordained. It’s all choice.”
Regina Bowden looked at her watch.
“Do you wish to get started?” Mary Ives said.
“Yes. I’m sorry. I’m giving my two-week notice today to the city planner’s office. I hate to do it… seems like a waste of my education. But we felt if we reduced the stress in my life that it would help us get pregnant. Jonathan is a financial advisor at Jones and Harper, so we don’t need my income. Do you need to hold my hands or something?”
“Only if you want me to.”
Regina reached across the table. Mary Ives took her small hands.
“Remember, Regina, nothing I say is set in stone. Let’s begin.”
Mary Ives closed her eyes.
“I see birds, many birds… and flowers… roses. This is...” She jolted her hands free and opened her eyes.
“The energy I see is not yours. This energy is huge. I’ve never seen anything like it. It’s blocking yours. Try to relax.”
Regina released the tension in her back and shoulders and took a deep breath. Mary Ives closed her eyes again.
“This energy is different. It’s soft, inviting… boundaryless. It’s open to your energy, but… wait… it says the agreement has not been made. It is you that is blocking.”
“I don’t understand,” Regina said.
“I think this energy is your child. Hold on… Yes, I can see the outline of your energy. You hold it tightly to your body.”
Regina struggled to understand and to keep her fear under control.
“How can it be my child if I’m not pregnant yet?”
“I can only tell you what I sense and feel. I don’t always understand it, either. Soon… it says, soon. The probability is high that the agreement will be made.”
Mary Ives opened her eyes with a start.
“It’s gone. That’s it. My God, that was powerful. I’m drained.”
“Are you saying I’m going to get pregnant?”
“Soon. Trust the information, Regina.”
“That’s hard for a devout Catholic to accept.”
Regina Bowden looked around the room as if to make sure no one was listening to the blasphemy she was about to admit.
“Something… something about it touched me. Not intellectually, because rationally I don’t believe in such things. But… emotionally my whole body felt it. I don’t know… maybe it’s just wishful thinking.”
Regina pushed her chair back and stood up. She was surprised at how energized she felt.
Mary Ives escorted her to the door and invited her to return. She knew Regina Bowden would not be back.
She closed the door and released her own energy that felt ready to explode.
“Jesus! What was that?”
Soon after her experience with Mary Ives, Regina Bowden got pregnant. She knew the exact moment of her baby’s conception. November 9, 1989 was an easy date to remember. That morning she took her basal temperature and knew she was ready for another attempt. She was not willing to wait until after breakfast. The evening news topped off their day with footage of ecstatic Germans hitting the Berlin Wall with any hard object they could get their hands on. It would open up Eastern Europe to the inexorable march of freedom. Regina felt a sense of satisfaction that her child was conceived on such a symbolic occasion. To her it was as if they had chosen the day, even though her rational mind told her such a thing was impossible.
Regina had never been much of a dreamer, other than having the occasional childhood nightmare. She had forgotten them all except for the one pleasant dream that stuck with her. It was a simple dream of medieval courtly love. The Gothic cathedral dream, however, remained solidly in her thoughts.
She awoke the morning after conception with the memory of a hawk flying high above the largest rock she had ever seen. Each week Regina Bowden struggled to understand the dreams that came at her with increasing frequency. By mid-winter she had become a regular dreamer and her nights were filled with hawks and ravens, eagles and crows. She had already forgotten Mary Ives’ vision.
February 11 was a typical cold and overcast Seattle night. Regina was at the end of her first trimester and her baby was just beginning to show. During her check-up that day she learned the sex of the foetus. They decided to name him Sean. All was going well: Jonathan was promoted to finance director at Jones and Harper, and the world seemed to be heading in the right direction with the announcement of the release of Nelson Mandela from prison. She went to bed that night content with herself, her husband and the world.
The next morning she awoke with the image of a dream dancing in her head. “It was like a strip of paper that was twisted once and joined at the ends,” she told Jonathan.
“That’s a Moebius strip,” he said. “It’s the eternal loop. You can’t travel around it without going both inside and outside. Here, let me show you.” He cut a long strip of paper and joined the ends without twisting. “With a regular circle strip you can only travel around the outside or the inside. You can’t do both. But, if you put one twist in the paper before joining the ends, look what happens.” Jonathan traced along the paper with his finger and in two trips around, his finger went both inside and outside the strip without ever leaving it. “See, that’s why they call it the eternal loop.”
“It was broken into nine equal parts,” Regina said, “with each part a different colour. I remember the colours exactly; they were black, red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo, purple and pink. Even though they were just parts, I knew they were inseparable.”
Regina thought more about the dream before continuing with Jonathan.
“This is very strange, Jon. Weird things are happening. The other day a cardinal perched on the kitchen windowsill and just stared at me. He had a blue speck on his beak. We must have looked at each other for a good ten minutes. I think he would still be looking at me if I hadn’t looked away.”
“The only odd thing is the blue speck on its beak,” Jonathan said. “Birds sit on our sill all the time waiting for their turn at the feeder. That’s the rational explanation, but with all the dreams you’ve been having, maybe there’s more to it. I just don’t know.”
The symbol of the hawk, the rock, the Moebius strip and the cardinal hung in her mind as Sean Bowden grew inside her. She attributed the dreams to her altered body chemistry, but could not explain why the images remained so prominent in her mind. They were not disturbing images, in fact she rather enjoyed recalling them. If dreams were just an artefact of chemistry, she mused, then why did they feel so important? Unable to come to her own conclusion, she shared her feelings with Jonathan.
“I didn’t want to tell you,” he said, “But I’ve been having my own strange dreams, some with birds and some with flowers. They were roses… I think. I was concerned that I’d frighten you, so I kept quiet. They probably don’t mean anything. They’re just dreams… aren’t they?”
Winter turned to spring and the opened windows let in the warm air. Regina Bowden started taking daily walks to keep fit and Jonathan developed the habit of bringing Regina a dozen red roses on the first Sunday of each month. With each dozen, three of the roses lost all of their petals within twenty-four hours of entering their home. After five months and many dead roses, Jonathan brought home nine roses instead of twelve, and the rose death stopped. The rose incident triggered Regina’s memory of Mary Ives’ vision. It frightened her.
Regina Bowden began to look as wide as she was tall as her child grew inside her. At the end of her second trimester in May, Regina headed out for her daily two-mile walk. Her mind was elsewhere as she stepped off the kerb and was hit in the chest by a rose-red cardinal. It didn’t hurt her, but startled her enough to stop her in her tracks. The apparent attack of the cardinal and the screeching brakes of the Ford Bronco were simultaneous. The SUV missed her by inches and the cardinal lay dead at her feet, its neck broken. When Regina saw the blue speck on its beak the coincidence was more than she could stand. She returned home shaken and afraid.
She could no longer dismiss as mere coincidences her dreams and the odd events that had entered her life. In her ample spare time she began reading about dreams. What she found opened doors that in Regina Bowden’s mind had been locked tight.
The books piled up and her baby grew. Regina Bowden felt like a balloon blown up beyond its ability to stretch any further. Sean gave his mother a hard kick to the rib, his favourite spot to exert pressure while trying to stretch in his increasingly shrinking home. He rode low in her belly now, a sign as sure as the mythical star of Bethlehem, that he was ready to make his entrance into the world. At 5am on August 20thth Regina Bowden gave her husband a sharp elbow to the ribs.
“It’s time,” she said. “Sean’s on his way.”