The Prophecy - 1. Chapter 1

London, 2012.

Jason awoke with a start. It had happened again. Sweat covered his forehead and his body was trembling. He was cold despite the warm summer night. He had awoken again from a dream, an almost nightmare. The images were vivid and they were frightening him. They were the same always, but they were getting clearer and more three-dimensional with every dream that he had. Jason dreamed that he was in a small and dark room. The air was stifled and breathing was hard. He was exhausted, dead tired and desperate. He was crawling across the floor and along the stone walls in search for a door. When he finally found it, he found that the door was locked. Whatever he tried, he was not able to open it. Then the image changed and Jason looked into the room from the distance. He looked through the walls and through the darkness. Jason saw a shadow, a figure, a man who reached out his hand to him. The man whispered, but Jason did not understand him. The man’s voice was rough and desperate. Jason moved closer and then he understood the words: Hear my call. There is yet time! The tone of voice was urgent and sent a cold shiver down Jason’s spine. He awoke with a start, his body trembling and his forehead covered with sweat.

Jason turned on his side and tried to push his dream aside. He tossed and turned in his bed and was unable to go back to sleep. Finally, he switched on the lamp on his bedside table and looked at his alarm clock: three o’clock in the morning. The dream had haunted him five nights in a row. Every time he had awoken at three in the morning. He was not able to shake the vivid images off. He felt as if he had witnessed a real event and he fixed his eyes firmly on the alarm clock on his bedside table in order to calm down. Ten minutes passed, and then Jason got up. He went into the bathroom, took a shower, dressed, and then made coffee. He sat down on the couch and stared into the room.

What was it all about? Why did he dream this dream? The dream didn’t relate to anything in his real life, neither a movie he had seen nor a book he had read. Jason took a sip of his coffee. He could not help but go through the dream again. First, it felt as if he was the man himself, locked in the small and dark chamber, but then the perspective changed and he watched the man from the distance. For some reason, the man noticed him and reached out his hand to him as if asking his help. What did he want? Jason had no clue at all.

He shook his head in order to clear his mind. He remained sitting on the couch until dawn was breaking. Jason rubbed his eyes and wiped his forehead. He was dead tired. Luckily, it was Saturday and he didn’t need to go to work. Jason leaned back against the rear of the couch and yawned. Was something wrong with him? Perhaps he was overworked and stressed out. He would speak to his boss on Monday. They had to find a solution.

The dream haunted Jason again on Saturday and Sunday night and every night Jason was unable go back to sleep. On Monday morning, Jason was entirely exhausted and he phoned in sick. He called his primary care physician and got an appointment in the afternoon. Jason told the doctor of his dream and how the images got more vivid and clearer every night. The man said the dream was a symptom of stress, gave Jason a sick note and prescribed him sleeping pills. Jason went home, called his boss and then stretched on his couch and instantly fell asleep. Night had fallen when he awoke. He went to bed, determined to catch up on the sleep he had missed. He awoke with a start.

The call was urgent, pleading and loud. Jason reached out his hand to find the lamp on his bedside table, but he touched a hard and rocky wall. He winced and let out a frightened cry. Jason sat up and found himself in pain. His breathing was ragged, his heart was beating fast and sweat was running down his body. His whole body shook and his mind was total chaos. He reached out his hand once more and again touched a wall, but a second later the wall disappeared and Jason grasped at nothing. He lowered his hand slowly and sensed an item. It was the lamp on his bedside table. Jason switched it on and looked at the alarm clock. Like he had expected, it was three o’clock in the morning.

His teeth chattered. Jason clenched them and then took a deep breath and closed his eyes. All he sensed was his heartbeat. He opened his eyes and looked around in the room. Nothing had changed. He reached out his hand reluctantly and moved it from left to right. There was no wall in his reach. But he had not been mistaken. Jason was certain about it. He had touched the wall of the small and dark chamber where he was locked or where the unknown man was locked, depending on perspective. He could have sworn he had already been awake when he had reached out his hand.

But how could this be? Where had the wall come from? Where had it disappeared to? Jason swallowed. Had it been a haptic perception? A haptic hallucination? He pushed the thought forcefully aside and got up. Jason looked at the alarm clock: half past three. He went into the bathroom, showered, dressed, and then made coffee and sat down on the couch. The ritual had meanwhile become familiar to him. Jason mused. The sleeping pill hadn’t worked. The dream was stronger than the pill. He closed his eyes. Something was definitely wrong with him. Things were getting worse. It was high time to do something. Jason objected to the thought, but the thought had already seized his mind. Was he going insane?

He called a specialist in the morning and upon hearing his story and his pleading and desperate voice, the man agreed to see him at six in the evening. The doctor’s diagnosis shattered Jason. The man told him that the symptoms could well indicate the early stage of a mental illness. He prescribed a psychotropic drug that was meant to sedate Jason’s thoughts and he gave him another appointment at the end of the week. Jason went home and sat down on the couch where he remained sitting for a considerable time, just gazing into the room and trying to cope with the diagnosis. Finally, he rose to his feet and took the package with the pills from the kitchen counter where he had placed it. He pulled the package leaflet from the box and started to read it. The drug had many undesirable side effects. Jason placed the leaflet and the box back on the kitchen counter and reluctantly poured a glass of water and swallowed a pill. He sat down again and waited for the drug’s effects and, indeed, after some time had passed by he felt calmer and less distressed. Disillusioned, Jason went to bed at eight in the evening in hope for a sound and calm sleep.

The call was loud and the voice desperate. Jason winced at the touch of the man’s hand on his chest. His heart was pounding fast and his breathing was ragged. He sat up, his eyes widened with fear. The man’s hand did not let him go. His fingers seized the collar of Jason’s pyjama top. Jason let out a cry.

There is yet time! the man called out and his words echoed in Jason’s mind. And then the vision was gone. His heart beat wildly and it took him several minutes before he was able to switch on the lamp on his bedside table. Jason’s hand was trembling, his body was covered with sweat, and tears shot into his eyes out of fear and despair. His teeth chattered and he sobbed. The psychotropic drug had not worked out as well. The man in his dreams was stronger than it.

Jason got up and switched on all the lights in his apartment. He was scared to the core. When he had finally calmed down, he booted his computer and searched the internet for an article that would explain his weird experiences. The search distracted Jason for a while. He found several articles that described similar experiences, some of them were called out-of-body experiences, but those didn’t fit exactly what Jason had witnessed. He was certain he had not left his body.

He continued researching and reading for a couple of hours. It was already noon when he finally showered and dressed. He had found a phone number on the internet. A man offered counselling sessions. Jason called him in the afternoon. He felt a little taken aback at the man’s soft and almost sweet voice, but then he told him of his dreams and his odd experiences. The man was interested and invited Jason to his house. His spirits raised, Jason met the man at four in the afternoon.

Lou Barnaby called himself a shaman and time traveller. He had shoulder-length white hair and a white beard. He wore a headband that was made of black wool and was decorated with feathers and he wore a leather pouch around his neck. Lou Barnaby poured Jason tea that smelled sweet and exotic and tasted of tangerines, and then he invited Jason with an affectionate smile and a soft nod to tell his story again.

Jason recounted his dreams and experiences while Lou Barnaby’s mild eyes rested patiently on his face. When Jason ended, Lou told him that he was under the impression that Jason was haunted by past memories, memories of a past life, a previous life that Jason had lived long ago. Jason was sceptical, but Lou’s explanations sounded plausible, and finally Jason agreed to the man’s proposal, a past life regression in order to solve the riddle. The price was only 100£ an hour. Lou suggested to do the regression at once, provided Jason had time and had taken along his credit card. Jason agreed and five minutes later he was stretched on a couch.

Lou switched on a CD player and soft ethereal sounds filled the room. Jason instantly felt compelled to yawn. He closed his eyes and soon was half-asleep. Lou talked to him in a gentle voice, but Jason did not get his words. He drifted to sleep and he slept safe and sound. Lou woke him an hour later with a gracious smile on his lips and told him that he had solved the riddle.

He said that Jason had talked in his sleep and had told him that many centuries ago he had been sentenced to prison for a minor misdoing. He had been locked away and he had starved to death. Lou said that Jason so far had not accepted his cruel fate, but if he forgave the culprits now, then his soul would finally be at peace. Lou placed his hand softly on Jason’s forehead while Jason spoke his words of forgiveness. Lou helped Jason up and led him to a desk and almost casually asked for his credit card. Then all was said and done and Jason parted. Lou’s mild eyes followed him as he walked down the stairs.

Jason felt better and he went to bed in the evening without feeling scared. He slept safe and sound until three in the morning when the man in his dream shouted in his ear, his voice transporting mortal fear. Jason let out a dreadful cry and could not stop crying until someone rang at his door. Jason fell silent and reached out his trembling hand for the lamp on the bedside table. The bell rang again.

Jason trudged to the door, opened it cautiously and peered out. He saw Mr. Sullivan who lived in the apartment upstairs.

“Is anything wrong, young man?” Mr. Sullivan asked. His voice was worried.

Jason gazed at Mr. Sullivan’s chequered dressing gown.

“Anything wrong?” Mr. Sullivan repeated his question. “I heard your cries. Are you in pain? Can I help you?” He looked at Jason with concern.

“A nightmare,” Jason said in a stifled voice.

Mr. Sullivan’s eyes rested on Jason.

“A horrible nightmare is haunting me,” Jason blurted out. “I awake every night with a start.” Tears filled his eyes and he swallowed.

“Come,” Mr. Sullivan said calmly. “Come up to my apartment for half an hour or so. Let’s have a cup of tea together.” He gave Jason an encouraging nod.

Jason hesitated, but then he took his key and stepped out. He followed Mr. Sullivan up the stairs. His neighbour opened the door to his apartment and with a gesture of his hand invited Jason to enter. Mr. Sullivan led him to his living room and pointed at the couch. Jason shook his head at the sight of the sofa. He had an aversion to sit down on the couch as it reminded him of his daily morning ritual. Mr. Sullivan gave him a questioning look, but then steered Jason to his armchair. He took a woollen blanket from it and asked Jason to sit down. Jason did what the man told him to do. He folded his hands and gazed at Mr. Sullivan. The man studied Jason for a second, and then handed the blanket to him.

“I’m making tea,” he said.

“No more tea, please. And neither coffee,” Jason replied. The words had slipped his mouth. He gave Mr. Sullivan an apologetic look. “I had too much tea and coffee, Mr. Sullivan,” he said weakly.

“Leonard. My name is Leonard,” the man said with a brief nod.

“Jason,” Jason replied in a toneless voice.

“All right, Jason. How about orange juice?” Leonard asked.

Jason nodded and smiled briefly. He looked around in the room while Leonard went into the kitchen. The man’s living room was stuffed with furniture, a shabby couch, an armchair, a coffee table, a big table and four wooden chairs, a desk and several shelves. A worn green carpet covered the floor. Jason turned his head when Leonard re-entered the room with two glasses in his hand. Leonard placed them on the coffee table, fetched a wooden chair and placed it opposite of Jason. He pointed at the glasses.

“Orange juice,” he said.

Jason took his glass and took a sip. He placed the glass carefully back on the table.

“Tell me about your dream,” Leonard said. “I suspect it was truly frightening?”

He studied Jason’s face. Jason fidgeted and then told Leonard of his weird dream. He told him of the doctor’s diagnosis and of Lou Barnaby and the past life regression. Leonard shook his head in disbelief.

“A past life regression done without preparations? I think you have just slept for an hour and Lou Barnaby made his whole story up. Not too difficult. From what you have told me, I would have also guessed what Barnaby said, if I believed in past lives, that is,” Leonard said.

“You don’t?” Jason asked curiously.

“Do you?” Leonard asked back.

Jason shrugged. “I don’t know. I have never really thought about it. Barnaby’s explanation sounded plausible to me. I mean the dream doesn’t relate to anything I saw or witnessed in real life. Why would my subconscious mind make up this weird dream and bother me every night with it?”

Leonard leaned back in his chair. His eyes lasted on Jason’s face. “Do you think it was just a dream? Answer quickly,” he said.

Jason looked puzzled. He opened his mouth, yet gave no reply. His mind focused on the dream.

“Don’t think. Answer,” Leonard said harshly.

“Partly,” Jason said. “In the beginning it’s just a dream. But then the dream is starting to get real. It came alive. I touched a wall. I sensed the man’s hand. It felt totally real. And I was awake. I did not dream.”

“And you felt you had not left your body?” Leonard asked.

Jason shook his head. “No, definitely not,” he said.

“This means an energy form comes to you, is drawn to you, wants to contact you,” Leonard replied. “The energy is strong and you are perceptive. We are most perceptive in the dead of the night when our minds are calm, our bodies relaxed, and nothing is distracting us.”

Jason looked at Leonard, trying to grasp what he had said. Leonard smiled briefly and then continued. He said that energy and matter were interchangeable. Energy could materialize under certain circumstances, which could be witnessed in nature.

“This is acknowledged fact,” Leonard said. “However, the physicists have no idea of the many kinds of energies that exist. They don't know how to generate specific energy forms and they don't know how to make them materialize. This knowledge is called magic, for the lack of a better word,” he said. "It’s not so magical, however. It’s in fact a daily process that we all apply, albeit mostly subconsciously.”

“You mean the man was locked in the room and found no escape?” Jason asked. “He died, his mission not accomplished? The message was urgent. The man wanted to deliver it and he created an energy form that outlived his death and I was chosen to receive the message? This raises a few questions. Who was the man? Where and when did he die? What is the message and why am I the chosen one?”

Leonard nodded and rose to his feet. “I need a cup of coffee now. What about you, Jason?” he asked.

Jason looked at the window. The sun was shining and there was nothing to fear any more. “A cup of coffee would be fine,” he said.

Leonard went into the kitchen.