Then it starts. The watching. Which I knew was happening since I got here. Now to confront the watcher, finally. She is motionless on the chair across from me. She does not speak. She does not move. She just watches. The pupils of her eyes spin like all the other portals I’ve seen since coming to Dartmouth. The temperature drops. The water, which had been running even though I couldn’t hear it through the door, stops.

The words do not come out of her mouth. They come out of her eyes through electrical pulses. They spiral directly into my brain. Living words. Luminous words that sparkle with a light of some unseen presence. The words, initially jumbled,

Wondering  Picture

   Searching Timeline

You Answers

Mission Beginning

Know Why   Breaker

eventually organize into coherent sentences:

You are wondering why, who, what

You are searching for an answer

But there are no answers, only more questions

We are the Keepers, and when did we come?

We arrived when you reached your lowest, a streak of light in the sky

We are a collective consciousness of ancestral forces, and what do we want?

We have been watching you from the beginning, through them. They weren’t watching you, we were, and why is that so?

You have an important mission, and what could it be?

To answer the call of the beyond

Answers and questions

Know

The inexplicable occurrences strike when you are ready to answer the call, they test your endurance, which this work requires

Know

Everything you thought you believed must be dismantled and reassembled in a new way to trigger the awakening

Know

You are a guardian of the timelines, a Chosen One, this is the call

Know

We are a unified energy with no beginning and no end, but we have known you since you accepted the Guardianship, we have known all of you, the Chosen Ones

Know

This is just the beginning, but the fall must come before you start your work, do not be afraid

Know

That the only way forward is through

A shrill high-pitched sound starts after those last words. The eyes close and the hands cover the ears to shield from the sound. It’s so loud, like a dreadful creature of the night returning from the underworld. The nose starts bleeding again, this time dripping down all over my pants and her dark pink couch.

When I open my eyes, Jennifer has a clipboard in her hands, the water is running, and everything has been repositioned like it was on my first visit.

“I was saying,” Jennifer continues, “that I’m surprised you wanted to do EMDR today. You did very well. You seemed to easily recall many things and released a lot. I’m so proud of you. When shall we plan our next meeting? It’s really rewarding to watch you heal.”