FRACTAL Read online

  I'm just pulling your leg kiddo.

  We both paused for a second and could tell we had the same thought in unison right after she said “kiddo.” - My Dad was the one that always called me that. Since as far back as I could remember. Come to think of it, I don't remember him actually using my first name. It was always kiddo this or kiddo that. This was the first time we’ve heard it since he passed.

  You have been distant lately though, she continued.

  I'm always distant, I responded playfully.

  More so than usual lately though. Come here, talk to me, she said as she put a lid on her marinara sauce, set the stove to simmer, and sat at the kitchen counter. She was great in that way. She'd drop anything she was doing, just for me. Just to talk. Just to be present. So I sat down with her, and started talking.

  Ok, this is going to sound crazy, but here it goes. I've been having really nutty dreams lately. Like, really nutty.

  About your Dad? Like nightmares you mean? She asked.

  No, nothing like that. It's random things. And they're vivid like real life. Do you know what lucid dreaming is?

  Yea, I think I've heard of that. It's the type of dream you dream while you're conscious and aware of dreaming them but you're really still asleep, right?

  Exactly, and you can decide and control what happens in them too. Well, these are like that, except that I can alter reality through them.

  Oh, she said followed by a long pause. Go on.

  I don't know. It's stupid. Forget it, I responded.

  No, continue. I'm serious.

  Alright, here's an example. I remember taking a big History exam my senior year of High School. My graduating on time depended on it.

  I don't remember that, she said confused.

  Exactly, that's my point. I needed a B and got a C-. I had to retake it during that summer in order to actually graduate and get my diploma.

  But I went to your graduation. I was there. I remember that.

  Well, I walked back then anyway. They still let me go to the ceremony because it was just one class. They do that all the time.

  She continued listening but with a skeptical look on her face.

  Anyway, I went back to then, but in a dream. I Looked up all the answers to the questions I knew would be on there, highlighted everything that was relevant in my notebook and text book, so I wound up Ace-ing it and not going to summer school.

  Do you think it's possible that it was so long ago that you're misremembering? I mean, maybe you were so worried about failing, that you actually studied and memorized more than you thought? Is that within the realm of possibility?

  No, I don't think so because I remember both scenarios. Like two different realities happening at the same time. And that seems to be the case with everything I've gotten to relive. You think I'm crazy don't you? I can tell be the way you're looking at me.

  I'm not looking at you in any particular way. I'm just listening and trying to understand what you're going through.

  Right then my step pops walked in. Hey, what's going on guys? He asked.

  Hector was just telling me about some dreams he was having.

  Dreams? Oh yea? What kind of dreams? He asked.

  It's nothing. It's stupid really. I said trying to disengage from the conversation.

  It's okay honey, my Mom chimed in. Tell him.

  He doesn't have to tell me if he doesn't want to Barb. Give the guy a break, he responded.

  It's just that I've been dreaming stuff about the past. Like I get to relive things and change what I want. Then when I wake up they're actually changed in real life.

  He looked over at my Mom, and she looked away from him.

  I know it's stupid, just forget it, I said.

  No, no it's not stupid at all Hec. My cousin actually went through something similar after his Mother passed.

  Oh yea? I asked. He seemed to turn out ok. He's not nuts or anything, right?

  Haha not at all. Well ... actually if you really know the guy it's debatable. But he was always that way. He said jokingly. But honestly he went to therapy and the Doctor said he was just going through the grieving stages and trying to rationalize what happened. His way of coping with things was to try and “fix things” that went wrong in the past. After a couple sessions he was right as rain. Hasn't had an episode since.

  I sat there pensive for a minute and then he continued while he was un-bagging the groceries he had brought in.

  Listen, I'm sure you're okay but if you want I can setup an appointment with Dr. Feinstein tomorrow. You don't have to go more than once if you don't want to and it may help you sort things out and get back to normal.

  Dr. Feinstein? Isn't that the guy you go to Mom?

  Yea it is. He's great. You know he helped me get through a lot of the mental clutter when your Dad passed. I like this idea. It can't hurt, right?

  Ok so it's settled, my step father added. I'll set up the appointment for the morning time tomorrow. We’ll all go and then go to a nice lunch after. Make an afternoon of it.

  My step father said he knew exactly what to do, and I believed him. My mother then told me that she used to have similar flashback-like dreams after my father died. She said she would dream about saving him. Trying to stop him from going to work that day. But she was unsuccessful every time.

  She and my step father first met around this time and he recommended this same Doctor to her. He put her on some medication to stabilize the chemical imbalance that he diagnosed to be the cause of the frequent nightmares, and she was fine after that. It was comforting for me to learn that right then. I was surprised that it was the first time I was hearing about some of it though because my Mom and I told each other everything. Or so I thought. But either way I felt like a weight had been lifted. Like this wasn’t just my cross to bare anymore. There was an answer to my question and a fix to my problem. The next morning my parents both called out from work even though we could only get a late afternoon appointment. My step father wouldn’t call out from work if his head had suddenly fallen off. He’d throw it in a duffle bag and carry it with him. Looking back on things now, that should have been an indication to me that something wasn't right. Something was off. Given the severity of the situation though, I thought nothing of it at the time.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Is that all Hector?

  Yea Doc. That pretty much sums it up. What do you think?

  Hector, to be perfectly honest, in my 38 years of practice, I’ve never heard of anything quite like this. This elaborate. This detailed. Part of not interrupting you was for me to see how far you’d take it. To see how far you’d let yourself take it. You’re showing signs of dissociative identity disorder, depersonalization disorder, as well as hints of delirium in how deeply you seem to believe these ... these time travel stories of yours. I’m going to step outside for a few Moments to speak with your parents. But I’ll be frank with you, we need to get ahead of this while we still can. I want to commit you here for further diagnosis and monitoring.

  Doc, I’m not crazy. I can show you all the video’s and photos. Look —

  Hector c’mon. In this day and age you could photo shop images and video’s of me flying over a volcano on a pterodactyls back. That doesn't make them real. Surely you’d admit to that much. Hector, who’s to say you won’t begin dreaming of hurting yourself or others? And then in your condition, try to validate those dreams in the present for your own sense of mental reconciliation? The good news is that we can still keep you from making any of those kinds of mistakes and we’ll work on getting you better. I’ll be right back, sit tight.

  It’s not photoshop or CGI or whatever. Just take a look Doc please. Doc! - -

  Mr. & Mrs. Johnson, it’s worse than we thought. Is this his first time here though? Did you bring him in when he was younger perhaps? He looks awfully familiar.

  No, this is his first time, responded Mrs. Johnson.

  What does he know? Asked Mr. Johnson.

  No
thing he can crystalize just yet. But he’s close. We need to keep him here and sedate him enough to defragment his memory. We won't be able to transport him until morning, but we should prep and keep him here over night. - I wouldn't want to risk him leaving.

  Wouldn’t that erase his memory? Mrs. Johnson asked.

  Not entirely, responded the Doctor. It may inadvertently delete some memories that you’ve shared with him, but it’s really the only way to keep him in baseline reality. He’s a danger to himself and the rest of us if allowed to continue floating back and forth the way he has been. Luckily he hasn’t changed anything of significance, but it’s only a matter of time before they contact him and begin trying to help. Then you’ll lose him completely. And you don't want that, do you? Look folks, I know it's hard, but it truly is what's best for Hector. Just come in and follow my lead.

  Both of Hector's parents nodded in agreement and followed the Doctor back into the therapy room.

  Hector I was speaking with your parents and they agree with my diagnosis and treatment options.

  Options?! What options? You’re going to lock me up in a padded room and pump me full of meds until I’m a zombie. Fuck that. I'm not having that and won't sign off on that.

  Well Hector, although you’re of age, my diagnosis along with a court order will give your parents a temporary emergency guardianship. Meaning that because of your incapacitation, they have the legal right to make this decision for you. So we can do this the easy way, or you can make it difficult for you and your parents, and unnecessarily add to an already stressful situation.

  Listen to him Hector, said Mr. Johnson as Mrs. Johnson wept. It’s for your own good.

  So let me see if I fully follow. Your proposed fix to this is not to monitor and test me to see if we can determine what this is and take a targeted approach to it, but to mask it with medication that will magically make it go away?

  We already know what's going on and we absolutely will be running tests to see how severe it is.

  So why can't you explain it to me?

  I did Hector. I gave you my diagnosis. You're displaying textbook signs of dissociative identity disorder. Period.

  And you're convinced it can't be anything else? You're not even open to the possibility of there being another reason for this? And you're not even willing to let me try and prove to you how I've been able to change things?

  Hector, hypothetically if what you're saying is true and you did go back in time to rewrite history in some way, and we came right back to this point in time and I were wearing a blue tie instead of this red one ... How would I even know that there was ever a red one? Wouldn't the blue tie alone be imbedded in my memory?

  I thought for a minute. He had a point. I could remember things as they were before and after they changed, but everyone else couldn't. My teachers didn't know my old test grades and my new ones. Nobody but me knew about my wardrobe updating tactics.

  Hector, all your parents and I want to do for you is keep you safe. Who's to say you won't have a dream of robbing and stealing or worse? What happens when you wake up with a bloody knife in your hands because you mistook your mother for a burglar while in a dream-like haze? Think about your family here.

  Keep me safe huh? And all it'll cost me is my freedom, right?

  If that were the case, that would be a small price to pay for the greater good, Hector. But that's not the case here, you're thinking of it incorrectly. Aside from the fact that you're not going to be some sort of prisoner behind bars, you'll be ensuring the security of yourself and loved ones. I don't want to keep you here anymore than you want to be. So by working together on this, we can get you back to your normal life.

  Mom, I know you believe me don’t you? Look at these pictures of my car. Remember the accident I had on Willshire? Look at the damage, I said as I held the phone up and then swiped right ... now look at it fixed with the photo taken the same day, at damn near the same time. How could it be both wrecked and fixed at the same time?

  Mr. Johnson sighed in disappointment and put his head down as Mrs. Johnson responded:

  Hector, what are you talking about? Willshire? That accident happened when you let your cousin borrow your car, and it happened on Fountain. Your step father and I decided to get it fixed for you as a surprise because we knew how much you loved that car. Don’t you remember?

  She's right kid, said Mr. Johnson.

  Ok so at this point I know I’m not crazy. I’ve felt “crazy” before, and this wasn’t it. But why are my own parents lying to me? Or is this just reality as they know it to be now, stemming from the ripple-effects of my going back and changing things? Regardless, I knew for sure that I couldn’t stay here. In this situation. I glanced over at the window in the room, mentally noted that it had no security bars on it and we were on the 1st floor. I collected my thoughts and said; “OK, I give up. I’ll stay.”

  Hector, your mother is going to stay here with you while your step father and I go start on your committal forms.

  As they walked out of the office I dazed out the window and my mother sat next to me on the cold leather chaise lounge.

  I don’t know how to explain what’s happening, I said.

  I know honey, she responded as she rubbed my back. Close your eyes and take a deep breathe. What have I always told you about meditating?

  It’ll take me where I need to go, I responded while rolling my eyes.

  Mentally, it’ll get you to where you need to go. Like a vehicle. But you need to drive honey. This situation is no different. Don't worry, things will all make sense again soon enough.

  What? I asked as if I just noticed a crack in her story’s armor. What do you mean by that?

  By what Hector? Nothing. Stop over analyzing things like you always do. That’s probably what drove you to this.

  Drove me to what? What is “this”?!

  She looked over at the door, nervously hoping they’d walk back in. I noticed my persistent questioning making her uncomfortable so I eased off a bit.

  Fine. Whatever, I said. Don’t tell your son the truth. Can I have a glass of water or is that to much to ask for too?

  That gave her the out she was looking for as well as the privacy I needed. She stood up and walked out of the room without looking back. I knew that I was going to be held here over night in one of the back rooms before being transported to the looney-bin hospital where I’d be under 24/7 surveillance. I searched around the room fervently for anything I could use to pick the lock and get the hell out of dodge later on. I swiped an antique looking letter opener from a shelf and a couple of loose keys I found at the bottom of a box I rustled through.

  As Mrs. Johnson approached the open door of Dr. Feinstein's office down the hall, she lingered just enough to over hear part of their conversation.

  This isn’t the first time Doctor. He’s had slip ups in the past. We’ve been able to cover them up but they’ve obviously built up and haven’t helped matters much.

  We can increase his serum dosage to the maximum allowable levels, responded the Doctor, But you have to sign the waivers because those that have had the max levels, never came back the same way.

  What do you mean by not the same?

  It’s an effective dosage that will ensure he won’t be a problem anymore. It’ll still be Hector and he’ll have most of his memories, but it's quite possible that he would be in a permanent catatonic state.

  Whatever it takes. I just don’t want to deal with this anymore Doc.