“It could mean our subject is trying to rise to a new level, above the crime he committed. An escape from it. The girl, though… I wonder if she’s the feminine side of him, the feeling side, and it’s flying free even while shadowed by Elizabeth’s death, and that’s producing the disharmony.”
She sounded so positive of Gavin’s guilt that I felt naive for still wanting more definite proof. True, the bloody towel/scarf Elizabeth had dropped had looked pretty bad, but it still wasn’t enough for me.
She went on. “As far as the fire sky goes, it could mean destruction or desire or purification… or anger. That would apply most of all to him. And the walls with the water rising upward could mean that he’s overcome by his emotions. Since the water is moving toward that fire, it’s as if it’s trying to put out that anger in him because it’s burning him up.”
A thought intruded into my head. Anger that still remained after Elizabeth’s death, right? I wasn’t sure about that, either.
“At the end of that portion of the dream,” she said, “he shielded your eyes as you heard the sound of a sword, which put an end to those insane images and started a batch of new ones.”
“In the room with the books.” I added my two cents. “Books mean knowledge.”
“Yes, and also calmness.”
“He sure was calm in that chair.” With the blood running down from his fingers and the gun in his lap.
“It’s interesting to note that he wasn’t afraid of you, only curious. And since that part of his dream played out in real time, I think his brain was clearer than it was before in the fire and water room. I believe the things you saw in the book room are far more straightforward.”
“So the blood on Elizabeth’s scarf is his guilt coming out.” I think I’d read about a scarf the investigators had found in a pond near her body. The blood hadn’t come all the way out of it, and it was believed that the killer had used it to choke her.
I wanted to counter Amanda Lee’s interpretation with another dream image—the tears of blood on his masked face. It just didn’t sit right with me for some reason, and I didn’t know if it was because the red streaks made him look like a suffering martyr or an even bigger monster than I’d thought.
“At any rate,” she said, “the closed books mean he’s mysterious, which we already knew.”
“Could they also mean that you shouldn’t judge a book by its cover?”
If she could stare a hole through me, she would’ve.
“Just asking,” I said.
She sighed. “You’re right. That actually could be an interpretation. But do you really think it is, based on what you experienced? Remember how he was sitting in that chair, with blood coming down it, as if he was the commander of death. And when Elizabeth came out of his pool… that was something he could’ve seen in real life many times, but here it’s a moment that plays over and over again in his subconscious. She’s dressed in white, innocent, and she’s there to remind him that he’s guilty while those symbols of blood and death surround him.”
And here I’d thought his dream might’ve only been elements of his video game being recycled in his mind, sprinkled with a cryptic Elizabeth cameo. I think I still had a case for that.
“Amanda Lee,” I said, “when I cruised around the office before his staff left, I found some employees working on designs that resembled those air machines and that dragon.”
“Don’t underestimate the meaning of what went through his mind when you visited, Jensen. There are clues all over the place in there. We just need to figure them out. And to use them.”
“In hallucinations?” The things that were supposed to needle his guilty conscience and bring him to a confession?
“Exactly.”
Inspiration struck. “If I’m capable of getting into his head and collecting clues and planting ideas in dreamland, why do I need to pretend there’s a poltergeist going on? Isn’t getting into his head enough?”
Then we could leave Wendy out of this altogether.
“A poltergeist is still only an option, if we find that we need a cover story.”
Amanda Lee began to rise from the water. “You have so many gifts that I don’t have, and we shouldn’t dismiss anything that your abilities let us accomplish.”
Water dripped from her skin as she stepped out of the hot tub, reaching for a towel hanging from a nearby chair. I wasn’t into girls or anything, but Amanda Lee’s bikini showed off a hard body for an older woman.
Then again, I was kind of an old woman, too, wasn’t I? Except I’d never be old.
As she wrapped the towel around her, I couldn’t help comparing Amanda Lee, with her wet, slicked-back hair, to the dream image I’d seen of Elizabeth, just out of the pool.
It was a visual echo that disturbed me.
“Come on,” she said, motioning toward the cute wooden shack that served as a pool house. “We’ve got work to do and a full night ahead, if you’re up to it.”
Why not? It’s not like I needed sleep or anything.
The pool house wasn’t as big as the one the Edgetts had on their property, but as I floated inside with her, I noticed it was roomy enough, with a cushioned bench under a moonlit window and a closet that held beach clothing and supplies. Amanda Lee even had an old, tiny TV with bunny ears stored in here, perched near a swinging window that probably opened and doubled as a bar.
Somehow, I doubted she had many poolside soirees.
After she dried off and put on a caftan, she sat on the bench, the moon shadowing her.
“Are you ready for some exercise?” she asked.
“Always.” I’d been on the volleyball team during high school, but I knew she meant something way different here. Kinda cool that I didn’t have to run or diet to stay in shape anymore.
She said, “While you were gone, I was looking into hallucinations and how they’re connected to ghosts.”
Oh, I could barely wait for this. “And?”
“It seems there are some theories that say electromagnetic field exposure lowers melatonin levels in human bodies—”
Whoa, Nelly. “Melatonin?”
“Let’s just say it acts as an anticonvulsive. If you don’t have much in your system, the right temporal lobe of your brain will be vulnerable to small epileptic seizures.”
I sorted through the garble, then said, “And that can cause hallucinations.”
“Slight ones, if a ghost should touch a human. Your touch freezes us with electricity and lowers our melatonin level. So they say.”
So that’s another way I worked. It made me wonder how long it would take the world to definitely accept scientific explanations for ghosts. After all, back in my day, we wouldn’t have dreamed of owning lights that turned on and off when you clapped, like Amanda Lee had in the casita. That was most definitely magic, and I’d missed having those in my own apartment by only a few years because it hadn’t hit popular stride yet.
And yes, I had been that lazy after my parents had died. I’d mostly sat around watching TV, drinking beer, chilling out, getting up to shower and go to work, and starting all over again.
I suppose being caffeinated on Mello Yello when I was killed had given me some much-needed oomph as a ghost, at least.
When Amanda Lee crooked her finger at me, Come here, I approached.
“You need to master your form, especially when it comes to these hallucinations,” she said. “Seeing you become so gray today and almost retreat into another imprint worried me. You were shocked so badly that I feared losing you.”
I hovered there, not knowing what to say. Someone actually cared about me these days.
“So what’re we going to do to keep me from going gray again?” I asked softly.
She smiled. “You’re going to try a hallucination on me to see how much you can take.”