Remnants of the Past

Making Things Bright

Making Things Bright

The smell refreshed me. The nostril burning fluid resurrected my spirit. For just a moment, everything was clean again. The crisp aroma of the bleach soothed my soul as it devoured the germs. I just wanted the germs gone.

I knew it had become an obsession. My hands were red and raw from the scouring. In my mind, there was a schedule to keep of the cleaning. Every wall, every corner, every crevice had a specific time to be cleansed. I was impotent to change the pattern.

The dreams didn't help matters. Murders, raw and savage played over and over again in my head. I bathed in the blood that splattered violently around me in the nightmares. Hallucinations of the corpses lying beside me shattered any restful visions. Demons of death held me hostage in these delusions, offering no escape. Parasites ate the flesh of the dead at my side. The worms wove themselves in and out of the carcasses of the deceased.

I personally had never witnessed a death or a murder, but yet in my dreams, they were a reality. My slumber was now caught in a constant loop with images of massacre bombarding me.

When I roused all that would calm me or satisfy me was to clean. Bleach was my friend. I had to purify the happenings of the night. Restoring my sanity meant sanitizing my home. I had to sterilize my soul to purge the evil of the previous night.

I feared that my psyche was somehow damaged, beyond repair. The mentality that I was exhibiting was far from the norm. It was as if two separate entities were controlling my thoughts and actions. By night the savage murderer and by day the cleanser ruled.

My psychiatrist, Phil tried to convince me that we were on the brink of a breakthrough. With the stress of a new job, an ending relationship, and a new home, I had started seeing him a year ago. It had been very cathartic with Phil helping me to work through life's dramas. The first few months of visits consisted of basic conversation on methods of relieving stress. I was feeling good about myself as I worked through the changes in my life. I had started to think that just maybe I could do it alone. The added expense of a Psychiatrist was draining me as well.

When the dreams started, there was no question that I needed Phil. He had been a rock for me these many months. My therapy sessions now were filled with emotional intensity. Phil used hypnosis to get to the root of my problems. He videotaped my visits in hopes that when I watched them it would rekindle thoughts of the old me. He said he was trying to get me to the place that I was before the dreams began. He warned that the dreams would probably get worse before they got better. He cautioned patience every step of the way. Phil was such a good man with his caring and professional attitude.


My dreams of the previous night were the topic for today. Phil listened closely as I regaled him with my stories of blood and death. His secretary was instructed to allow no interruptions. He seemed to thrive on the details of my story. He guided the session to ensure that I stayed on topic. He smiled a smile of lust as I spoke of the blood that poured from the veins of a woman in my dream. He seemed to require descriptions of the gore in my nightmares. Phil could hardly contain his excitement with images of terror I portrayed.

I was awakened from my hypnotic state at the end of our session. Phil reviewed the grisly visions that I had provided. He seemed almost eager to repeat them. I squirmed in my seat and wept tears of horror as he replayed the video.

I screamed," How can this be normal, Doctor Phil? When do I get my life back?" My heart was racing and I was sweating profusely. The images were controlling my existence. They were relentless.

Phil's soothing voice carried calm to the room. "Lori, time is what is needed. We will find a solution. Your mind will be whole again. Trust me. We will work through this grisly torture."

He continued, "Now it is essential that you do as I tell you. Part of your therapy is to cleanse yourself of these dreams. Take yourself home and cleanse yourself of this evil; Cleanliness is next to Godliness. Scour your soul to be right with the Lord. Bleach will take away the sins of the night."

"Yes, Doctor Phil. It does bring me comfort to clean."

I rose from the chair to exit the room. I was intent on doing his bidding. As I entered the waiting room, I noticed Doctor Phil's next patient. It was a small framed woman with graying hair. Her body quaked in tremors in the oversized chair I watched as her hands, red and raw covered her face to hide the tears. My nostrils were blasted by the smell of Bleach.

Word count 858