PLEASE MR. OUIJA - pt 4

PLEASE MR. OUIJA – pt 4

 Who did that?

 **

 In a weird sort of way, we’d gotten used to the unembodied voices, the odd occurrences of flashing lights, faucets turning on and off at will. They were things, through the years, we’d gotten used to. There were times we’d even laugh about them. Like the time my boys were sleeping, and I plopped on the couch to watch TV. On that night, I decided to enjoy a rare glass of wine.

 Back in the seventies, although we owned a color TV, ours did not come with a remote. The remote-controlled TVs, as far as I remember, hadn’t yet been invented. Our living room was small so getting off the couch to change the channel wasn’t a chore.

 And yet …

 On that one night, enjoying my wine and The Six-Million-Dollar Man, the channel slowly turned to another station.

 My first thought: “Ah, power surge!” Even though the lights didn’t flicker and there was no weird pop, what else could it be, right?

 I stood, walked to the TV and turned back to Lee Majors.

 Just as I was settling in again, the TV did its thing again and the channel changed.

 “Ok, now this is weird!” I was sure I now knew what was happening, but I still walked across the room and rechanged the channel.

 I no sooner sat down and even before I picked up my glass of wine, the channel changed again. This time, rather than get off the couch, I raised my voice (but not loud enough to wake my sons), “Hey, that’s rude! I was watching that!”

 To my surprise and humor, the TV knob, very slowly turned and went back to Lee Majors and the Six Million Dollar Man.

 “Thank you. I really appreciate that,” I said to … hmm, to whomever (whatever?).

 Yes, part of me was a bit frightened since this was a new occurrence and yet, there was also a bit of humor involved. I chose humor. It was easier to laugh it off.

 I knew my sons would enjoy this latest antic but even before my TV show was over, I heard a -- the only way to describe it was a blood-curdling scream coming from Jim’s room.

Although Jim was now ten years old, his voice sounded like that of a five-year-old.

 He screamed again and I all but flew off the couch and put the light on in his room.

 He was sitting on his bed, his face paler than I’d ever seen and his body trembled.

 I’d heard the stories of not waking up someone in the middle of a nightmare, so I gently sat on his bed and placed my arm around him.  Trying to be calm, I said, “Jim, everything’s ok. I’m here.”

 He screamed again but this time, his screams included words.

 “Mommy, look at the blood. Look at all the blood.”

 My blood went cold as he pointed to the floor. The only blood there was whatever was in his nightmare.

 “It’s ok, Jim. I’ll clean it.”

 “No, mommy, it’s Kenny’s blood. Mommy look at his blood. He fell off the roof.”

 “Honey, Ken wasn’t on the roof. He’s here in the house.”

 In one way, I was lucky. I didn’t have to leave Jim to wake his brother. His screams did that. As Ken stood in the doorway to Jim’s bedroom, an idea came to me.

 “Ken, come in and kneel in front of your brother. Put your hands on his knees and gently talk to him Let him know you’re ok.”

 Ken, not knowing what was happening, was almost as pale with fear as his brother, but he did what I asked.

 “Jimmy, I’m here. Look, I’m ok. I’m not hurt.”

 Jim kept trembling and screamed again. “The blood! Ken’s blood!”

 Ken looked at me a I nodded. “Try again.” I encouraged.

 Ken squeezed his brother’s knee and said slightly louder, “Jim, please, look at me. Jim!”

 He grabbed Jim’s hand and placed it on his own cheek. “Jim, look at me. I’m right here!”

 This time, Jim looked at Ken. His eyes held nothing but fear and confusion.

 “Ken?”

 “Jim, I’m ok. You just had a bad dream.”

 Jim was still sobbing but quietly.

 Ken still holding his brother’s hand, offered a suggestion and I readily agreed.

 “Jim, my bed is bigger than yours. Come sleep with me for a little while. Your nightmare scared the heck out of me.”

 Jim looked at me. “I think that’s a great idea. You can even keep the light on for a while if it makes you feel more comfortable.”

 Jim and Ken sat on Ken’s bed for almost an hour. I stood in the doorway for a while, then slowly backed away, giving them peace and privacy. And finally by the time the clock that sat on Ken’s dresser, read almost four in the morning, they finally slept.

 And while my sons now slept peacefully, I didn’t.

 I found no peace that night, no sleep.

 The only comfort I had, as minor as it really was, was that the fact that the next day was Saturday and we could sleep a bit later than usual. That is, if sleep for me came at all.

 I didn’t go to my own bed that night. The couch was just as suitable, so that’s where I stayed until it was time to make breakfast for my boys.