The examining room, complete with paper-covered table and stainless-steel sink, smelled of disinfectant, and it reminded her of her own visits to the doctor as a young child, and later those necessary but horrible appointments with the gynecologist, where she waited in rooms like this one to be poked and probed like a lab animal. She shuddered.

A kindly looking man with white hair and a round, soft face entered the room, and Jessie seemed to brighten almost immediately.

“I’m Dr. Mudd. At least I hope I am, or the sign on the door is all wrong,” he said with a slight French accent, his eyes twinkling. “What can I do for you, young lady?”

Jessie smiled. “Ask my mommy.”

“Well then,” Dr. Mudd exclaimed. “What can I do for you? Helen, isn’t it?”

“My daughter,” Helen began, then stopped. She realized with embarrassment that she had no clear idea how to proceed. “Jessie’s been having some trouble with bad dreams, haven’t you, honey?”

“Night terrors?”

“Sometimes. But sometimes they happen during the day, when she’s awake. It’s almost like she slips into a trance. I’m not quite sure how to describe it.”

“You’re doing just fine. Just tell me anything you can think of about these episodes.”

Helen told him about the last one. “And when we try to snap her out of it, she’s unresponsive at first. Then it’s almost as if she wakes up. And she talks about terrible visions, people hurting her or others, scary people. This ‘blue man’ who she says is watching her.”

“I see. How long has this been going on?”

“She’s had visions ever since she was a toddler. But they’ve been getting much worse lately.”

Dr. Mudd turned to Jessie. “Are you feeling all right, Jessie?” he asked. She nodded. “Is there anything else you would like to tell me?” She shook her head. He performed a quick physical examination, looking in Jessie’s eyes and nose and mouth, listening to her heart and breathing, taking her pulse. Then he looked from her to Helen. “Could I speak with you for a moment?”

Helen smiled thankfully, and he motioned for her to return to the outer room. “Stay here,” he said to Jessie.

“We’ll be right back.”

Just outside the examining room, Helen told him everything else she could think of, as quickly as she dared. She related Jessie’s obsessive-compulsive tendencies, the clarity and strength of her visions, the physical symptoms when she entered one of her trances. When she had finished, he nodded thoughtfully. “You’ve just moved to the area?”

“Just last week.”