Chapter 02: Threads of the Unseen
Elaine Harper found herself sitting in her kitchen late that evening, replaying the session with Michael Ainsworth in her mind. The smell of onions from earlier still lingered in her memory, and she had scrubbed every surface of her office, finding nothing that could explain its presence.
Coincidence, she told herself, but her usually rational mind seemed less convinced.
The following day, she arrived at her office earlier than usual, determined to shake the sense of foreboding. She spent the morning organizing her notes, reviewing Michael’s file, and preparing for her other patients. Yet, her thoughts kept circling back to him—his fear, his vivid descriptions, the uncanny details of his experiences.
At 2 p.m., her intercom buzzed again.
“Dr. Harper, your 2 o’clock is here. Miss Charlotte Haines.”
“Thank you, Jessica,” Elaine said, exhaling and bracing herself.
Charlotte was a long-time patient—a 30-year-old woman grappling with anxiety and obsessive-compulsive tendencies. She was usually punctual, composed, and eager to talk about her progress. Today, however, she entered the room looking disheveled, her eyes darting around the space like a bird searching for an escape.
“Charlotte, are you all right?” Elaine asked, concern lacing her voice.
Charlotte sank into the chair across from Elaine, wringing her hands. “I don’t know, Dr. Harper. Something… something’s wrong.”
“Take your time,” Elaine said gently, her pen poised over her notepad.
Charlotte looked up, her eyes wide. “I’ve been having dreams,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.
Elaine’s pen paused mid-air.
“Dreams?”
Charlotte nodded, her hands trembling in her lap. “They’re not normal dreams. They’re… they feel like memories, but they’re not mine.”
Elaine’s chest tightened.
“Can you tell me about them?”
Charlotte hesitated, then began. “There’s this man… he’s tall, with dark hair, and he’s always wearing a blue jacket. In one of the dreams, I’m following him down a street I’ve never seen before. He’s carrying a briefcase, and I feel like I know him, but I don’t. And then… then he turns around and looks at me, and it’s like he knows me.”
Elaine’s breath caught.
“What happens next?”
Charlotte’s voice cracked. “I wake up. But… but last night, I woke up in my kitchen. I had no memory of how I got there. And when I looked down, there was a knife in my hand.”
Elaine’s heart pounded in her chest. She leaned forward, trying to keep her voice steady. “Charlotte, have you ever experienced anything like this before?”
Charlotte shook her head vigorously. “No. Never. I’ve always been in control, Dr. Harper. But now…” Her voice trailed off, her expression crumpling.
Elaine offered her a tissue and sat quietly for a moment, processing.
Michael’s dreams, Charlotte’s visions… both patients experiencing memories that aren’t their own.
It couldn’t be a coincidence.
“Charlotte,” Elaine said carefully, “I want to try something with you, if you’re comfortable. It’s a guided visualization exercise. Sometimes, it can help us access the root of these kinds of experiences.”
Charlotte nodded hesitantly.
Elaine dimmed the lights and instructed Charlotte to close her eyes, guiding her into a relaxed state. As Charlotte’s breathing slowed, Elaine began.
“Imagine yourself in a safe, comfortable space,” she said softly. “Now, let’s take a step back into one of these dreams. Picture the man in the blue jacket. What’s happening around you?”
Charlotte’s breathing hitched.
“I’m… I’m following him,” she murmured. “He’s walking fast, like he’s in a hurry. There’s a coffee shop on the corner. I can smell the coffee.”
Elaine felt a shiver. The detail was striking, too vivid to dismiss.
“Do you see his face?”
“Yes,” Charlotte whispered. “He’s turning around. He’s looking at me.”
“And what does he say?”
Charlotte’s eyes darted behind her lids, her body stiffening.
“He says… ‘You don’t belong here.’”
Elaine’s stomach dropped.
“Charlotte, where is ‘here’?”
Charlotte’s lips moved silently for a moment before she answered. “I… don’t know. It’s like I’m in his world, not mine.”
Elaine gently brought Charlotte out of the visualization, her mind racing. As Charlotte blinked back into awareness, she looked at Elaine with a mixture of fear and hope.
“Did I do okay?” she asked.
“You did very well,” Elaine assured her, though her own unease was growing.
When Charlotte left, Elaine sat at her desk, her thoughts spiraling. Two patients, completely unrelated, both reporting similar phenomena.
And yet…
Her thoughts were interrupted by a knock at the door.
Jessica poked her head in, looking concerned. “Dr. Harper, there’s a delivery for you.”
Elaine frowned. “A delivery?”
Jessica handed her a small, unmarked package. Elaine opened it cautiously, her pulse quickening as she removed a single item: a Polaroid photograph.
The image showed a man in a blue jacket, standing on a street corner in front of a coffee shop.
Elaine’s hand shook as she turned the photo over. Written on the back, in a messy scrawl, were the words:
“You don’t belong here.”
