The Seer by Clifford Beck - HTML preview

Chapter 20

Gordon took the business card, thanked the priest for his time and left. He drove home in disbelief that he had resorted to receiving counsel from a priest, much less was recommended to a group of ghost hunters. All things taken into consideration, Gordon was starting to see his situation as hopeless. It seemed that science and medicine could not help him, and the only option he was given seemed too far-fetched to be seriously considered. Having become preoccupied, Gordon ran a stop sign on his way home, narrowly escaping what would have certainly resulted in a lengthy hospital stay. Finally arriving, he threw his keys on a small table near the front door. Before sitting down, Gordon went to his refrigerator and retrieved a beer. Since his encounter at Evergreen Cemetery, he had begun a moderate degree of drinking. Mostly out of a need to relax. He was, however, very mindful of when and how often he drank, not wanting to develop any additional problems than what he was already dealing with.

He sat in a leather recliner, and setting his beer on the floor next to him, turned on the news. Gordon understood that the world is filled with evil, but what highlighted the news was even worse. It was an election year, and the entire world had been cast into a terrifying existence over a wealthy candidate, with many people noting that everything they said bore a striking similarity to the rhetoric of the third Reich. What was worse, there was a strong chance that this particular person would be sitting in the oval office at the beginning of the year.

Reaching into his pocket, Gordon took out the business card the priest had given him. It read 'Maine Paranormal Investigation Team' and was located in Topsham. He planned on showing it to his doctor with all the humor it deserved. The following day, after his last patient left, Gordon phoned his therapist and made an appointment. This time was not as urgent as previous visits, but Gordon had the feeling that something had been missed during their last session. What bothered him more was that he seemed unable to figure it out on his own. However, what truly frightened him was that he was beginning to find it difficult to tell who was real from what he still believed were hallucinations, visions of the dead.

Sleep came with great difficulty that night as Gordon tossed and turned, his mind running rampant with images of those from his earliest encounter up to the most recent. By morning, Gordon was exhausted, and no amount of coffee could resurrect his senses. Unfortunately, calling out sick was not an option. Without patients, there was no income, and Gordon was not yet in a position where he could take a day off. Regardless of the condition he was in, he still had to work, and arriving at nine 'o clock, he reviewed the charts of those patients scheduled to arrive.

From one appointment to the next, Gordon found it progressively more difficult to stay awake, and when he finally began to drift off, he apologized to the patient who had become more than a bit irritated by his weariness, rescheduled their appointment and told them they would not be charged for the session. This was his last patient of the day, and Gordon, having locked up his office, went out to his car. Sitting behind the wheel, he let his head fall back on the seat's headrest, where he nearly fell asleep. Forcing himself back to awareness, he slipped the key into the ignition and started the car. He was eager to return home and get some rest, but remembering his appointment, Gordon considered rescheduling. However, he needed to talk and figure out how his visions began in the in the first place.

The first order of business was wakefulness, and Gordon stopped at a nearby convenience store for a large cup of coffee. It wasn't as strong as he wanted, but it was enough. About thirty minutes later, he walked into his doctor's office wide awake, and sitting in the same chair he'd used since his visits began, recounted his visit to the priest of Saint Joseph's church.

“So, Gordon,” his doctor began. “How did it go?”

Gordon reached into his pocket, and retrieving the business card, tossed it on his desk.

“Ghost hunters,” he began. “The priest wants me to go see a bunch of fucking ghost hunters. Why do I feel like I'm wasting my time?”

His doctor picked up the business card and read it as Gordon continued.

“Isn't it possible this could be organic, that something in my brain just isn't working right?”

“Gordon,” his doctor replied. “Everything checks out. There's nothing physically wrong, and as far as I'm concerned, you're fine.”

Gordon sat with his head in his hands, having already reached an agonizing degree of frustration.

“Alright,” his doctor continued. “Let's start at the beginning. Was there ever a time when this wasn't happening?”

Gordon sat back and sighed as he tried to return to a time when his sanity wasn't under fire.

“You know,” Gordon began. “I wasn't doing too well after Patrick shot himself.”

“That's perfectly understandable,” his doctor replied. “But, is that responsible for what's happening now?” Gordon thought carefully, trying to put the pieces together.

“No, I don't think so,” he answered.

“Alright,” his doctor said. “What about the state's investigation? That's got to be pretty stressful, right?” Still bewildered, Gordon quickly discounted this as a possibility.

“No, I don't think it's that either,” he replied. “I actually found a way to deal with that.”

“Really?” his doctor asked. “What's that?” The next moment acted as a revelation as Gordon reflected on his experience in the floatation tank, and the path his life took thereafter.

“That's when I saw Patrick,” Gordon continued.

“Hang on a second,” his doctor interrupted. “Let's start with this floatation tank. I’ve heard of those. Tell me what happened?”

His doctor had no knowledge of this, but Gordon, still remembering the results of his research, as well as his experience in the tank, provided an explanation. The doctor listened curiously while writing the notes that would later go into Gordon's file.

“So, basically,” he began. “This amounts to sensory deprivation, right?”

Gordon continued to describe the event of meeting Patrick in what appeared to be the park near Portland's downtown district, and how real it felt.

“That's gotta be it,” he said. “Everything fell apart after that.”

His doctor leaned back in his chair, taking a few moments to construct a response.

“Okay, Gordon,” he began. “Let's take a minute. We're walking on some pretty thin ice here. What you're suggesting is...”

“I know,” Gordon interrupted. “I know how it sounds. It sounds like some kind of out-of-body experience, or something.”

“Okay,” Walter said. “Do you think it's possible, given everything that's happened? I know this is a huge unknown, but is there any other explanation?”

At a loss for any possible explanation, Gordon was left without answers. There wasn't anything that seemed rational about it, and Gordon was quick to express it.

“You know,” he began. “A large part of me is denying all of this, but...”

Unable to find the words to express what his mind was still not able to grasp, Gordon sat as a victim of his own logic. Sometimes, things best come together when we stop thinking, when our minds are allowed to drift, constructing the known from the unknown through the assembly of the imagination's brick and mortar. Although he realized that people, to some degree, create their own reality, the walls of his world seemed impenetrable. Anything that not meet the criteria of logic simply bounced off, and back into the darkness.

“I know,” his doctor said. “But science doesn't have all the answers. I know you've heard this before, but I'm going to tell you anyway. When conducting an experiment, the act of observing it changes the outcome of the experiment, right?”

Gordon shook his head in confusion.

“What does that have to do with anything?” he asked.

“It means that even the most logical, formalized process isn't carved in stone. There is always bias, and there is always an element of the unknown,” the doctor replied. He slid the business card back to Gordon with a challenge.

“Here, take this. Go see these people. The only thing you can do is waste your time.”

Gordon took the card, slipped it back into his pocket and agreed to visit the investigative group. But first, he would conduct a bit of research on the paranormal, wanting to inform himself as well as to cast an analytical eye on the subject.