Restoria IV

She sinks deeper into the dark void within her consciousness. The soothing music and a sister’s hand guiding her way through the tethers her body was too scared to let go from. Her mind falls in free fall a place of unknown familiarity. A fall more akin to being submerged than terminal velocity. As if gel rather than water itself. It’s a strange feeling, yet a homely one. It went in phases. Or, is it going in phases?

Time feels aimless here. Tantamount to age without liver-spots. Like existence without mortality. The nothingness of something feeling as peace on the flesh yet empty to the soul.

It must be a place between places; a space between me’s.

Lutèce eases back into her dreamlike hypnosis. A state phases through her recent conscious memories. It shows the locations her maskless self has been since she’s been back. People she has seen. More specifically, those of whom she’s connected with today. Friends—of course— but two in particular.

Clacking of that person’s favorite sandal shoes tap the void’s bottomless floor; the details appeared first.

To the lamest aquatic tie dye one could ever put on a blouse to the point of embarrassment being seen by it or by the most stylishly ripped jeans one would just had to make themselves; only a style someone like her could ever pull off. Or, try to anyway. Unlike the deep tan dad has, her pearly white skin would sparkle under the sun on a cloudy day. If it wasn’t for the hair —or clothing choices— people would probably think we were identical twins. Well… maybe not as much now.

Stone of elder architecture begins to come into Lutèce’s disembodied sight. The ethereal lack of physicality starts to dissipate around her. Rubble and medieval elements take their place in the absence. As her former memory finishes its reconstruction, one last person passes through her mind. One of a voice unlike his visage would portray.

That kinda squeaky voice. Khaki pants that look super tight. Nice dress shoes that look like alligator scales. It’s so funny. To an older Indian dude greying and overgrown his white lab coat: why does a therapist have a lab coat anyway? I should probably thank him as soon as I—

And, just like that, she has arrived back in that crumbling castle. The moon now past midnight and only the wildlife there to welcome her back.

“Doc!”, Lutèce screams out from her hypnotic state, “Doc! He isn’t here!” Her heart begins to race. The hypnotic sleep state starts to unravel. Her trembles return in force.

Liz and Dr. Tarsh both jump at the immediate shouts that ring out from Lutèce. This shouldn’t happen. Dr. Tarsh knows this, he has mentioned it to any accompanying family whenever they would sit in during these types of sessions. A typical worry he always nips in the bud prior to any fanatical flurry of panic an uninformed family member may bring to these kinds of things. Yet, he’s taken aback by this as well. In spite of such, he still holds out his hand calmly to Liz. Giving her a wink, he catches himself before he makes the same knee jerk mistake those family members once had. In a rush to keep her in tranced, Dr. Tarsh holds back his emotions. “Miss Sinclair”, matching the tranquil tone of the ocean sounds, “whom may I ask is not ‘there’?”

“The long haired man”, Lutèce shouts back mid-hypnotized, “the king-like guy with the sword you had!”

Reluctantly receding from delving any further, Dr. Tarsh focuses on what matters most. “Miss Lutèce, do not fret.” He clarifies, “These types of treatments are not exact like a VCR. Memories are things we slowly tap into. Not stop and start like home movies. Thus, it is okay if you do not return to the exact moments you leave off from. It seems like you are back in the same general time as last go around. As long as you are okay to continue on, everything is good.”

Lutèce’s heart slows gradually. Her limbs relax back to normal as her breathing quiets in rhythm of the boombox’s appeasing nature sounds. “Ok”, Lutèce whispers,” ok. I’m ok. I’m gonna be ok. This will all be o~”

Lutèce quietens into her intended slumber. As Liz and Dr. Tarsh both let out a sigh of relief, another patient comes down the hall. “Sorry”, Dr. Tarsh tells Liz, “I’ve got to take care of my next patient. It won’t take long.”

Seeing the same panic swell up within Liz’s irises as Lutèce, he gently grabs her free hand. “She will be okay now”, Dr. Tarsh says nearly halfway through his therapy office’s door, “I promise you this”. As he walks to greet his next patient down the hallway, Lutèce fully sinks back into her adventurous memories.