The Seer by Clifford Beck - HTML preview

Chapter 5

Over the next few days, Patrick continued to entertain the idea of seeking the use of a floatation tank, and doing his own research, discovered there were two in Portland that could be used for fifty dollars an hour. He read the personal accounts of those who had used one for the first time, and told of a pleasant floating sensation, religious experiences, hallucinations, as well as a profound sense of mental clarity. Overall, it seemed nearly everyone who had documented their experience left with something positive. Some made the claim that the experience changed their life, and if there was one thing Patrick needed, it was change. Sometimes, finding 'x' has nothing to do with academics, but everything to do with locating a misplaced variable, that one piece of the puzzle that provides for a healed life.

He rose one morning with an odd sense of resolve, and after eating breakfast, Patrick got in his car, and headed to work. He held a lower management position in a medical lab on the edge of Portland, one that many of its employees felt to be at the bottom of the barrel regarding wages, and a positive approach to management. Throughout his day, Patrick repeatedly considered Gordon’s advice, becoming comfortable with the idea of using a floatation tank to drift off into an oblivion of sorts, where the negativity of life’s trials no longer existed. It was as though the decision had already been made for him. He simply needed to follow though, and make an appointment. If nothing else, he would fall asleep, wasting both his time and money. But, if the accounts he read were reliable, the hour he'd spend in sensory deprivation might lead to an eternity of self-discovery, a way of becoming someone with a mind reshaped by the nothingness of floating in a soundless black void.

Arriving for his appointment, Patrick was shown to a small room where the glossy white tank was placed near the far wall. The door to the room had been replaced by a curtain, and a privacy screen had been set in the corner. As soon as he walked in, he noticed an obvious new age ambiance. A small table stood against a side wall, near its middle sat a Tibetan singing bowl, surrounded by crystals of every color. Next to that was a ceramic plate where a tied stalk of sage lay. Patrick didn't see how these items had any practical use, and wasn't the kind of person to believe that such things possessed any unusual properties, but having paid for the hour of use, he stepped behind the privacy screen, and removed his clothes. Opening the tank, he dipped a hand into the heavy solution of salt water, and found it to be the perfect temperature. He found a small stool nearby, and used it to climb up into the tank. As he laid down, he reached up, grabbed the inside handle and closed it. Stretching out, he relaxed and allowed himself to float on the mixture of salt water. After a few minutes, the water became as still as glass, and slipping into the silent darkness, he heard the beating of his heart. Moments later, the overwhelming sound of his churning stomach entered his ears. The world of sensation and perception fell away as Patrick drifted into a meditative state, and from within his mind came a flood of colors, lights, ideas, and music. By cutting off the world outside, he was able to experience the world within, and somewhere inside, Patrick experienced the tumblers of a lock engage as the door of his mind opened.

Suddenly, Patrick was transported back to another place and time, as he found himself in the house he grew up in. The outside walls were bare, and gray with an old rickety two car garage behind it. Inside, the walls were stained with age and small leaks that had run down from the attic. The kitchen's linoleum floor was torn in places along its edges, and displayed small holes from years of wear. It stood out as an eyesore of poverty in a middle class neighborhood. From the kitchen came the enraged voice of a dark haired man, and as Patrick moved closer, he recognized the face of his father. In the corner near the back door was a woman, screaming and cowering, terrified for her life. Directly behind him was a small child, a boy no more than six. He stood in the kitchen doorway, wide-eyed, with tears rolling down his face. The man's tirade escalated into violence as he picked up a wood-handled kitchen knife, and grabbing her by the throat, thrust it deeply into her abdomen. The woman was immediately consumed by shock as her mind quickly shut out the perception of pain, and closed her off to what would soon end her life. His father, still enraged, ripped the knife from her body, only to continue with his violent outburst, stabbing her repeatedly. By the time it was over, the woman lay on the cold linoleum floor in a rapidly growing pool of blood, while a small amount of fat and bowel protruded from the deepest of her wounds. The child, however, still standing in the doorway, bore a blank expression, with unblinking eyes as the spark of his psyche was extinguished by an event he was unable to absorb.

Patrick was suddenly pulled back as the dark silence of his experience brought out something he was not ready to cope with, and in a state of panic, threw open the lid of the tank, climbed out, and ran out of the room. During the chaos, a staff member rushed out to investigate. Patrick, not having completely dressed, ran past her, and out the door, leaving her confused. Getting into his car, he turned on the engine, and blindly pulled out into traffic, missing an oncoming truck by mere inches. Going into the floatation tank, Patrick anticipated the experience Gordon had described, not anything negative. Although he had uncovered the cause of his anxiety issues, the forgotten memory of his mother's death had emerged far too soon.