Read Online Poltergeist by James Kahn - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: James Kahn
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was merely a visual point around which the visionary could gather his or her consciousness—as a means of dissociating, or discorporating, or becoming otherwise entranced.
So that is what Tangina did, to try to recapture her dreams. She doused the lights in her apartment—she lived alone, now—sat on the floor of her bedroom, lit a single candle, placed her crystal before it, stared into the dancing point of light.
Her respirations grew shallow; the world around her faded; she melded with the light in the glass. And, as she had so often before, found herself on a different plane, in a different dimension.
It was steamy here, in this rift of the universe. Indistinct. Shapeless horrors tracked her, hovering in the fog. Nothing was clear enough to confront.
Tangina tried to rise above the steaminess, but was prevented by a numbness that pressed down on her at each attempt. She delved into it, but it grew thicker; movement became difficult.
Something grew near her; she could not sense what it was. She ran, almost without volition—she neither wanted to stop, nor did she get the feeling that she was able to. There were no limits to the place she was in, yet she felt smothered by its closeness.
She chased a dim figure; it eluded her. Mist filled her: the mist was chill, and alive, and created a diffuse hopelessness about all things. It sustained itself on her life force, and even grew stronger, at her expense. Her spirit began to dwindle under its nameless breath.
Tangina returned to her body. Totally exhausted now, and no wiser for all her trials, she was at a loss as to how to proceed. She’d tried doctors, faith healers, potions, and priests. No one could rid her of her uninvited dreams. So, as a last resort, she turned to the Psychic Society.
Not a last resort because she doubted the members’ abilities—though some people there, to be sure, were con artists and showmen—but because she’d vowed to stay away from other psychics, as a way of reinforcing her own resolution to close off that part of her life.
She showed up at the Society’s monthly meeting with no thought in mind other than to talk to a few old friends, to see if anyone had any ideas about how to solve her problem. To her surprise, there was a guest speaker that night—Dr. Martha Lesh, a scientist from the university, talking about her research in parapsychology.
Scientists, on the whole, didn’t interest Tangina. She had no stake in proving her abilities to anyone—rather, she felt the opposite, at the present. Still, this Lesh seemed to be a kind soul—Tangina read the aura easily—and after the lecture, the two women gravitated to each other fairly quickly.
The significance of such instantaneous gravitation was not lost on Tangina, and intrigued her even more with the possibilities this doctor presented.
“I think,” Tangina said right at the beginning, “you and I are already bound up together. We share the same path for a time.”
Dr. Lesh smiled. “A common destiny?”
“I shrink from words like destiny ,” Tangina mused. “Except in Moby Dick . Call it, rather, a presage.”
“It sounds ominous, I’m afraid.”
Other members were milling around the two women, trading stories, drinking wine. They moved off to a corner.
“Not necessarily ominous,” said Tangina. “But I do have dreams.”
“So do we all.”
“Not like mine. Mine are . . . prophetic.”
“What do they prophesy?”
“I don’t know. That’s part of the problem.”
“And the other part?”
“I can’t stop them. They won’t let me be.”
“Have you had this problem before?” Lesh was becoming intrigued herself, by this arcane midget. She hadn’t known what to expect when the Society had invited her here to talk on her research. She’d come prepared for anything, though, so she certainly didn’t feel let down by Tangina’s approach.
“I’ve had ESP most of my life—precognition, as well. I don’t want it anymore, though, Doctor.
So that is what Tangina did, to try to recapture her dreams. She doused the lights in her apartment—she lived alone, now—sat on the floor of her bedroom, lit a single candle, placed her crystal before it, stared into the dancing point of light.
Her respirations grew shallow; the world around her faded; she melded with the light in the glass. And, as she had so often before, found herself on a different plane, in a different dimension.
It was steamy here, in this rift of the universe. Indistinct. Shapeless horrors tracked her, hovering in the fog. Nothing was clear enough to confront.
Tangina tried to rise above the steaminess, but was prevented by a numbness that pressed down on her at each attempt. She delved into it, but it grew thicker; movement became difficult.
Something grew near her; she could not sense what it was. She ran, almost without volition—she neither wanted to stop, nor did she get the feeling that she was able to. There were no limits to the place she was in, yet she felt smothered by its closeness.
She chased a dim figure; it eluded her. Mist filled her: the mist was chill, and alive, and created a diffuse hopelessness about all things. It sustained itself on her life force, and even grew stronger, at her expense. Her spirit began to dwindle under its nameless breath.
Tangina returned to her body. Totally exhausted now, and no wiser for all her trials, she was at a loss as to how to proceed. She’d tried doctors, faith healers, potions, and priests. No one could rid her of her uninvited dreams. So, as a last resort, she turned to the Psychic Society.
Not a last resort because she doubted the members’ abilities—though some people there, to be sure, were con artists and showmen—but because she’d vowed to stay away from other psychics, as a way of reinforcing her own resolution to close off that part of her life.
She showed up at the Society’s monthly meeting with no thought in mind other than to talk to a few old friends, to see if anyone had any ideas about how to solve her problem. To her surprise, there was a guest speaker that night—Dr. Martha Lesh, a scientist from the university, talking about her research in parapsychology.
Scientists, on the whole, didn’t interest Tangina. She had no stake in proving her abilities to anyone—rather, she felt the opposite, at the present. Still, this Lesh seemed to be a kind soul—Tangina read the aura easily—and after the lecture, the two women gravitated to each other fairly quickly.
The significance of such instantaneous gravitation was not lost on Tangina, and intrigued her even more with the possibilities this doctor presented.
“I think,” Tangina said right at the beginning, “you and I are already bound up together. We share the same path for a time.”
Dr. Lesh smiled. “A common destiny?”
“I shrink from words like destiny ,” Tangina mused. “Except in Moby Dick . Call it, rather, a presage.”
“It sounds ominous, I’m afraid.”
Other members were milling around the two women, trading stories, drinking wine. They moved off to a corner.
“Not necessarily ominous,” said Tangina. “But I do have dreams.”
“So do we all.”
“Not like mine. Mine are . . . prophetic.”
“What do they prophesy?”
“I don’t know. That’s part of the problem.”
“And the other part?”
“I can’t stop them. They won’t let me be.”
“Have you had this problem before?” Lesh was becoming intrigued herself, by this arcane midget. She hadn’t known what to expect when the Society had invited her here to talk on her research. She’d come prepared for anything, though, so she certainly didn’t feel let down by Tangina’s approach.
“I’ve had ESP most of my life—precognition, as well. I don’t want it anymore, though, Doctor.