Dave Zeltserman: Bad Karma

“Yep. I was aware I was dreaming the whole time. I knew I had complete control over it.”

“That’s good.” Eli put his hand back to his jaw and rubbed it absent-mindedly. “Did Winters attack you the same way as in your other dreams?”

“Exactly the same. He rushed me with a carving knife, but this time I didn’t try to fight him. All I did was step aside and let him tumble past me.”

“What were your emotions during this time?”

“Flat. Complete disengagement.”

“You had no desire for revenge? To do him bodily harm?”

“None.”

“Did he try taunting you as he did in past dreams?”

“He tried, but it had no effect.”

Eli nodded as his eyes focused on some point in the distance. Slowly, his gaze shifted back to meet Shannon’s eyes. “I think you’re right,” he said. “This sounds like the breakthrough you’ve been working towards. What happened next?”

“Winters melted into some sort of liquid mess. What was left of him disappeared into the ground. Right before waking up, I remembered thinking ‘good riddance’. I also had this feeling that I’d never dream about him again.”

Eli held out his hand. “Congratulations, guy, I think you did it.” Shannon took his hand and matched the firmness of his grip before letting go.

“It’s funny,” Shannon said. “An ex-cop fleeing Cambridge, Massachusetts to Boulder to study meditation and do dream work therapy. If you knew me five and a half years ago you’d realize how out of character this would’ve been for me.”

“Something made you realize you had to do this.”

Shannon nodded weakly. “After everything that happened with Winters I knew I had three choices: drown myself in alcohol, swallow a bullet, or do something to get myself whole. One night when I was contemplating the bullet diet, I saw a story about the Boulder Mind & Body Center on TV. Something about it clicked and I decided to give it a shot. Susan had already divorced me by then, so the next morning I packed up my car and headed west.”

“My story’s not that much different,” Eli said. He sighed, a soft smile forming over his lips. “You know I was originally from New York -”

“I heard New Jersey.”

“Whatever. I may have been born in Jersey and had a house there, but I worked in Manhattan. I made good money back then as a corporate lawyer, but after eleven years of helping companies figure out how to rid themselves of employees as cheaply as possible, I felt spiritually bankrupt. One day I read a magazine article about the Center and, like you, something clicked. I told my wife I needed to move out here, that I wanted to study meditation and yoga and other new age practices. Nancy’s response was ‘go ahead’, but she’s keeping the house. The only thing I asked for and received in the divorce was my seven year-old Saab and enough money to drive out to Colorado and pay my first three months rent. But Bill, you should’ve seen me back then. Thirty-five going on sixty. Money means absolutely nothing when you’re losing yourself, and I was as lost as you could be. And fourteen years later that Saab still runs like a kitten. Of course, unlike you, my ex-wife never came out to Boulder to move back in with me.”

“You ever hear from her?”

Eli made a face. “Once twelve years ago. She remarried, and from what I could tell, was quite happy living in Holmdel. God love her, somebody has to be. But enough about that. Bill, any doubts that you vanquished your demon?”

“None.” Shannon looked down at the table and showed a sick smile. “For a long time I couldn’t bear to let anyone see what Winters had done to me. The reason for the glove. This morning it didn’t seem to matter.”

“Because you know he’s really gone from your subconscious.”

Shannon nodded.

“Did you tell Susan about your dream?”

“Yep. She was pretty happy about it. The reason I was late this morning.”

“It’s been a long road,” Eli said. “You’ve come a long way the past few years, and I agree with you, this is the breakthrough we’ve been working towards. So any ideas about what next?

Shannon met Eli’s eyes. “I want to continue this,” he said. “I want to see if I can get to the point where I’m having out of body experiences.”

Eli noticed his chai was beginning to cool off. He took a long drink and wiped the back of his hand across his mouth. “I’m beginning to think that’s possible now,” he said. “With Charlie Winters eradicated from your subconscious, the universe should be a calmer, safer place for you. But you know, you never told me why this is so important to you.”

“Winters was able to have them.”

“So?”

Shannon shrugged. “I have my reasons.”

“It’s not so you can look for Winters?”

“No.” Shannon took in a deep breath, held it, and flashed a thin, embarrassed smile. “I want to visit the people Winters stole from me. I want to find my mom and Joe, tell them how sorry I am about what happened to them.”

Eli nodded, a sadness softening his eyes. “My motivations were similar. I had a younger sister, Wendy, who died at only twenty-three. I wanted more than anything to see her again so I could tell her how much she meant to me. But even though I’m able to leave my body nightly, I seem bounded by our universe. I haven’t been able to figure out yet how to slip between different planes of existence.”

“It can be done,” Shannon said. “Winters was able to invade my dreams. I know he invaded others’ too.”

A kid, maybe twenty, with long blond hair and a scraggly beard interrupted them by stopping to stare at Eli’s Bucky Dent jersey. “Yankees suck,” he said.

“Twenty-six rings, my friend.”

“After 2004 they also got a nice, big, fat choker to go along with them,” the kid offered as he walked past them and out of the shop.

“That’s what I love about you college kids,” Eli yelled out to him. “Such fascinating discourse.” He turned to Shannon. “I’ve been wounded deeply. If you want to talk about aberrations, I don’t think you’d ever find one bigger than last year’s Yankees-Red Sox playoff series. The damn thing turned my whole universe inside out. Made me for a moment question the existence of evil.”

Eli’s rant brought a smile to Shannon’s lips. “I’ve got to ask you about that Bucky Fucking Dent jersey of yours. If you’re wearing it for my sake, you’re wasting your time. In seventy-eight, I was only eleven and living in Sacramento. Back then I was a big California Angels fan.”

“My condolences.”

“Thanks. If you want to rub my nose in it for being a Sox fan, do something a bit more creative like get yourself a tattoo of the ball going through Buckner’s legs.”

“Who showed you a picture of my ass?”

Shannon smiled at that. “So why are you always wearing that jersey?”

“Two reasons my friend. First, to make sure no one confuses me with an expatriated Californian, of which there’s nothing lower here in Colorado, except maybe Texans. Even ex-New Yorkers are higher on the food chain -”

“Yeah, but you’re from Jersey.”

Eli made a face. “Whatever. Reason two, this shirt reminds me of the most joyous day of my life. October 2nd, 1978. A little pop fly that ends up in the screen above the Green Monster, crushing the hopes and dreams of Red Sox fans everywhere. What could be a better day than that?”

“Eli, you’re a cruel man. If you keep wearing that jersey I might have to get a T-shirt made showing A-Rod slapping the ball out of Bronson Arroyo’s glove.”

That brought a chuckle from Eli. “The curse of A-Rod,” he said. “Who would’ve thought it would come to that?” He leaned back, stretching. “Are you planning on catching any games now that the dreaded Red Sox are in town?”