Next Day
University of Maryland, European Division (Huntingdon Office)
Staff break room
Clay stood by the coffee machine, waiting patiently for his caffeine fix. Two fellow staff members, Kevin and Tony, waited in line behind Clay, complaining of the pay cut they’d just received.
“So, Clay—did you hear that our pay got cut by ten percent?” asked Kevin from the back of the line.
Clay poured his favorite hazelnut creamer in his coffee and took a sip, then turned around to respond.
“Ahh. Now that’s good coffee,” he said, pointing to his cup. “Yep. I heard. I’m not surprised.”
Kevin and Tony sought Clay’s condemnation on the issue, but were slightly miffed at his nonchalant attitude.
“Whaddaya mean you’re not surprised?” asked Kevin.
“Dude. This is Brexit fallout. The dollar is stronger than ever, which means the cost of living is cheaper here. The cost-of-living allowance you get is based on the exchange rate. Doesn’t really affect me because I volunteered to teach the Creative Writing curriculum. This is pro bono.”
Kevin and Tony turned their backs on Clay and continued their griping.
“If it weren’t for my disability check, I would be seriously screwed,” Kevin complained.
Tony nodded and responded, “That reminds me, I owe you big time. I saw Nefertiti like you suggested and I sailed through my disability checkup. Just waiting to see what rating the VA awards me. I want to get paid like you.”
Clay eavesdropped and was drawn into their conversation.
“Excuse me, but I couldn’t help but overhear,” he interjected. “I’ve got my VA appointment in a couple of weeks in London, down on Harley Street. I’m not trying to game this system; I just want to know what to expect,” Clay said.
Kevin gave Tony a suspicious wink. Kevin looked over his shoulder and told Tony to close the door, then placed his arm around Clay and led him to the corner of the room for privacy. Clay knew something was up. Kevin wasted no time in letting Clay in on a guarded secret.
“Clay, I’m gonna do you a favor. You can thank me later,” Kevin whispered on the sly.
“Listen to him, Clay. You won’t regret it. Promise,” Tony reassured him.
“Why do I feel that something’s up? Is this one of those pyramid schemes or something?” Clay asked.
“No, this is about protecting your future. Listen, a few months ago, Congress dumped millions of dollars into the VA for veterans who suffer from post-traumatic stress disorder. PTSD. All you have to do is answer a few questions correctly, and the money is yours for the taking. It’s criminal and foolish not to take what’s rightfully yours. There are symptoms you can claim that cannot be disproved because they are stress related. They just take your word for it and….cha-ching!” Kevin fist-pumped.
Clay’s felt he was being scammed into something.
“If it’s too good to be true, then it’s gotta be just that. Not to mention that it’s morally wrong.”
Kevin looked at Tony and drew closer to Clay, invading his space. “You judging us? Huh?”
Clay backed up against the corner.
“No. Not judging you at all. It just sounds too good to be true, that’s all.”
“Kevin, tell him how much you get from the VA every month,” Tony interjected.
Kevin nodded. “I get fourteen hundred dollars every month for…chest pains related to PTSD. They fell for that bullshit.”
“Tony, tell Mr. Righteous how much you get paid,” Kevin commanded.
Tony became slightly enthusiastic.
“How about if I show him my act first?”
“Okay, let me get in character first.” Tony closed his eyes and took a couple of deep breaths.
Clay folded his arms and waited for the freak show to begin.
Within seconds, Tony’s demeanor morphed into something devious. He had a deranged look on his face. There was an unstable presence about him when he opened his eyes. He started blinking violently, and then his eyes darted from left to right and back again. A vein in his right temple appeared and throbbed. His face looked like a time bomb ready to explode. Something came over him, something disturbed. Tony started to argue with himself and things escalated. Clay had had enough.
“Okay, okay. You get the Oscar. You are one scary dude.”
Tony returned to his timid demeanor and responded.
“That phony routine got me twelve hundred dollars a month disability and I get my full retirement pay as a master sergeant on top of that. Thanks to Kevin. He’s got the hookup.”
Both high-fived each other.
Clay was confused.
“Hookup? What do you mean, hookup?”
Tony stepped out of Clay’s space and started his pitch.
“Clay, do you consider yourself a good bullshitter?”
“What kind of question is that? No,” Clay answered defensively.
Kevin reached into his wallet a pulled out a yellow sticky with a local number and address on it. He presented it to Clay.
“I didn’t think so. You need to get your head right, then,” Kevin affirmed, pointing to Clay’s temple. “Call this number. Her name is Nefertiti. She’ll get you through the psych exam. Guaranteed. Get paid.”
“Is she a hypnotist or something?” Clay asked.
Kevin stuck the number in Clay’s shirt pocket and patted it.
“Just call her. Get paid,” Kevin repeated as he and Tony departed.
Later That Night at Frankie and Benny’s in St. Neots
“Yes, I’ll have a rib eye steak with new potatoes, please. And my partner will have the cod and chips,” Claire requested as she handed the menus to the waitress.
Clay placed his phone on the table and took the battery out. Claire noticed Clay’s annoyance at the constant ringing of his phone.
“Someone must be desperate to get a hold of you,” Claire commented. “Your phone hasn’t stopped ringing since you got home. Why don’t you just answer it?”
Clay shook his head. “I know who it is. This guy just won’t take no for an answer. What’s his deal?” Clay lamented.
“Who is it, then?” Claire inquired.
“This guy named Kevin. He wants me to meet up with some woman. I think her name is Nefertiti.”
“Is he trying to play matchmaker or something?” She appeared suspicious.
Clay grabbed Claire’s hand to reassure her. “No, sweetheart. It’s nothing like that at all. Kevin and this guy named Tony are involved in some scam to cheat the VA out of money. Both claimed illnesses related to PTSD to get compensation.”
Claire’s eyebrows rose. She circled the conversation back to the mystery lady.
“Does she know you have a partner? Who is this woman anyway?” The elevated volume of Claire’s voice captured the attention of nearby patrons.
“I guess Nefertiti is some kind of…heck, I don’t know. All I know is she helps vets get through the VA psych exam. How she does it, beats me,” Clay responded.
“You’re not thinking of—”
“Of course not. It’s wrong on so many levels. Why would I need to cheat the government? I make a decent living between the revenue I get from my books plus my military retirement. I need to be able to look myself in the mirror each day and like what I see. I don’t know how anyone can sleep at night knowing they’re stealing from other vets with genuine debilitating issues.”
“I’m glad you said that, Clay. Maybe this Kevin guy gets a kickback from this woman. He’s obviously keen to get you onboard.” Claire responded in a less aggressive tone.
Clay rubbed his forehead. He appeared confused. “Don’t think it’s about money. There must be some other reason.”
After dinner, the waitress cleared the plates and topped up Claire’s coffee.
“So, are you spending the night? I’d hate to see you make that long drive home this late at night,” Clay said after he checked his watch.
Claire leaned forward. “Cla
y, I live three houses down from here. What are you talking about? Clay, I want to get closer to you, but I sense there’s a wall preventing me from reaching you. Let me in.”
“Okay, what do you want to know? Ask me anything.”
“Tell me something you’ve never told a soul.”
Clay pondered her request, deep in thought. “Let me think about it for a second. You go first.”
“Alright, but promise me you won’t think I’m crazy. Promise me.”
“Scout’s honor.”
Claire composed herself. The suspense clearly captured Clay’s attention.
“Okay. My nan came to visit me three years ago.”
Clay was confused.
“Okaaay. I’m waiting for the punch line. I’m still waiting…”
Claire wasn’t laughing. She was far from it.
“Clay, this isn’t a joke. My nan died over thirty years ago,” Claire said sadly.
Clay sat back in his chair, at a loss for words.
“You think I’m crazy, don’t you? I shouldn’t have told you.”
“I don’t think you’re crazy at all,” Clay reassured Claire. “So many people here in England believe in ghosts. Why is that a secret?”
“Because she only visited me,” Claire explained. “She loved us all, but it was me she chose to visit. It was a full body apparition and I wasn’t scared.”
Goose bumps appeared on Clay’s arm as she spoke.
“Your turn, Clay. Tell me a secret.”
“Okay. I’ll tell you a family secret. A secret that only my brother and I share. I’m a lucid dreamer, but I wasn’t born that way. I usually know when I’m dreaming, and most times I can control the content of my dreams. Most of the time,” Clay confessed.
Claire was underwhelmed by Clay’s revelation.
“Not sure why that’s a secret, but it is remarkable. How did you learn? You read one of those dream state books, right?”
“No, my older brother Darryl taught me. Three weeks after he died.”
“In the second grade, I was tormented by Aaron Hightower, the class bully. He always smelled like sour milk. He broke my nose after school once. I eventually told my brother Darryl and he told my dad. My dad immediately confronted the principal and demanded that Aaron be dealt with. Aaron got expelled the last month of school and had to make it up over summer school. The rest of his family went on a two-week summer vacation without him, while he stayed with his aunt. Aaron blamed me for missing out and promised to finish me when school started in the fall. Eventually summer ended, and I was assigned to be in Aaron’s class in the third grade.”
“Did Aaron continue to torment you?”
“Aaron drowned in a ravine after his aunt’s car swerved off the road trying to avoid a drunk driver. She survived. It all happened a day before his parents returned from the trip. If I had kept my mouth shut, Aaron would have gone on the family trip and he’d still be alive. He was eight years old. The school had a memorial for him on the first day of class. I remember feeling guilty about not being sad. I was relieved. But my relief was short-lived.”
“Someone else started picking on you?” Claire asked.
“No, it was Aaron. Somehow he found a way into my dreams, and the beatings continued, but more violently. Apparently, I’m an anomaly among dreamers because unlike most, I can feel real pain in my sleep. I also don’t have the ability to terminate nightmares. Most people just wake up. I wish it was that easy. I once dreamt Aaron punched me in the face.”
“And?”
“I woke up with a bloody nose.”
“Blymie! I never thought of ghosts tormenting us in our dreams. From what I understand about ghosts, they’re stuck, unable to crossover because of certain attachments in the world they left. But sometimes it’s a matter of unfinished business.”
Clay elaborated further.
“My brother Darryl was a Marine. Just after Christmas in 1969, I heard he got shot in Vietnam. He died in a hospital three days later on my birthday. He was my hero. Darryl found a way into my dreams too.”
Clay took a deep solemn breath, then continued, “The last nightmare I had about Aaron almost killed me. In that dream, he tried to strangle me. I could feel his hands tightening around my throat, choking me. I stopped breathing like it was really happening. My mom heard me choking and ran into my bedroom. She panicked because she couldn’t wake me up. I was slipping away right in front of her. I could hear her calling my name faintly, but I couldn’t get out of my nightmare. They say you can’t die in your dreams. But you can. I almost did.”
“What saved you?”
“Darryl. He found a way to reach me. He chased Aaron away. Only then did I begin to breathe again, and eventually I woke up. My mom thought it was an asthma attack. I never told her the truth. In that nightmare, Darryl taught me awareness and how to control my dreams. I can do it most of the time. It’s that just my dreams are so real; sometimes I don’t know I’m dreaming. If it weren’t for Darryl, I’d be dead, choked to death by a dead eight-year-old bully.”
“Do you see your brother in your dreams now?”
“Yes. When I’m lost and confused, Darryl appears in my dreams and guides me to mental clarity. I believe the dream state is a gateway for the dead to communicate and even engage the living.”
He paused, then added, “Do you think I’m crazy?”
The waitress approached the table with the receipt and Clay’s credit card. “I’m sorry, Mr. Thompson,” she whispered into Clay’s ear, “but the bank has declined your payment. Do you have another card you can use?”
Chapter 3: Paradigm Shift