Cat Dubois' Odyssey to Enchantment Read online

  Cat thought hard. “Well, one time I prayed for a little girl. I was much older, but a man said that I was talking French when I prayed. I thought that was weird. The rest of the people heard about it— gossip, as usual. They judged me as being strange, but not my mother or father—maybe because they gave a lot of money to the churches. Whatever it was, they weren’t thought of in the same light, as me.”

  “Clue one,” Eleanor thought. She jumped on it as she recognized the significance of Cat’s last statement. “French?” Do you know French?”

  “No;”, Cat laughed, “of course not.”

  “No? Do you ever dream in French, or do you understand French?”, Eleanor probed.

  “No, not that I remember,” Cat responded blankly.

  Eleanor thought quickly. “But the other day, you said ‘they are talking in French.’ You heard French, and responded to it. How did you know it was French?”

  “Oh, Lord, now you’re getting weird. I said, I thought I heard French. I didn’t know what was being said.” Cat cocked her head to the side, inquisitively. “What are you getting at Eleanor?”

  “Didn’t your father speak French? Perhaps you heard it more than you know?”, Eleanor pressed.

  “Well, Mother and Father seemed to speak in another language when the bedroom door was closed. We tried to listen.”

  “We?”, Eleanor repeated. “Clue number two!”, she thought, joyously.

  “Oui,” Cat tried to raise the humor to a serious conversation.

  “We,” Eleanor said. “Who, was we?”

  “I’m not sure. I think I had an imaginary friend—or so I was told,” Cat added.

  “Oh? Was the friend a boy or girl?” Eleanor knew she was onto something now.

  “Well, I’m not sure,” Cat said, slowly. “Mother and Father refused to let me have the friend. Daddy told me, ‘No; he’s not real. Stop this silliness, right now. Do you understand? No more. There is no friend. It is your imagination, that’s all. And, imagination comes from the devil. Do not bring the devil in this house. Do I make myself clear? Stop it now.’” Cat recanted the conversation with her father in the same scolding tone of voice that he had used.

  “He?”, Eleanor said. “Your father said, he? A boy? Are you certain?”

  “Yes. Certain.” Cat agreed to the clues.

  “Did the boy speak French?”, Eleanor asked her.

  “I can’t remember. It was so long ago. But, I do think he had an English accent.” Cat was now answering Eleanor’s questions and participating in the solving of her mystery.

  Tadhg entered the room, floating in from above. He hovered around the ceiling, taking in the two women below. “Anything new here?”, he asked, mentally.

  Eleanor resisted the urge to look up to greet him. She managed a small smile in welcome. “Hello, dearest. How was your day?”

  “Interesting,” Tadhg said. I played a little golf in Florida, then investigated for any ghostly boys who might be at this manor. No sure evidence of anything at the moment.”

  Eleanor listened as she looked at Cat’s eyes, careful to keep her own body language from betraying her communications with Tadhg. It wasn’t time to tell Catherine about him—yet. She wasn’t sure how much Cat could take of the supernatural experiences. “Giving it all to her at once could be dangerous for Catherine,” she told herself.

  Still hanging from the ceiling, Tadhg continued to speak. “How’s she doing?”

  “Come off the ceiling, please. I can’t talk to you up there when she’s right here watching me. She’s going to know!”, Eleanor demanded. As much as she was trying to be discreet with Tadhg, her face and body communication was telling Cat that she was responding to verbal stimulation from someone, somewhere in that room.

  “Ok. Here I am. I’ll sit right beside her,” Tadhg smiled with his clever smirk.

  “Eleanor, who are you talking to?”, Cat, once again, asked. But, this time Cat was not so insistent as she had begun trusting that Eleanor was acting in her best interest. After all, she knew something out of this world was going on. And, after all, it was Eleanor. Anything weird could happen.

  Eleanor chose not to speak.

  “Who are you looking at? Who are you talking to?” Cat’s voice grew louder and more forceful since Eleanor hadn’t responded at all.

  “I’m figuring—taking in everything you’ve said, and figuring out what is missing. There is a clue you are not remembering. So, dear, if I give the illusion of talking to someone, then you are wrong. It’s me contemplating out loud, nothing more.” Eleanor couldn’t look Catherine in the eyes.

  “I read people pretty well, too. Eleanor,” Cat said, flashing her most irritated sheepish grin.”You’re not giving me eye contact.”

  Eleanor smiled. “Let’s get back to what you remember. Catherine, I want to use hypnosis on you to help you remember. I’ve been thinking about doing this. If you are open to reversing yourself— taking yourself back in time—would you be willing? May I try?”

  Cat thought about it. “I suppose there would be no negatives, right?”

  “Well…” Eleanor said, “the negatives are that you could experience trauma—memories so deep within you, that your spirit erased, all for good reason—self-protection; that is the risk. Who knows how you will handle learning that from which your spirit has protected you?”

  “You mean, I might lose it? I might have to be restrained, or…or what?”, Cat asked.

  “We don’t know until we try it,” Eleanor added.

  “There is no one who can be called into to help us—unless, something drastic happens and the police have to come from Glory Town, and…” Catherine began to panic.

  “Well, I will stop it if I see you are in trouble, psychologically. I promise,” Eleanor assured.

  “Yes, but tell me why my life is so important to you? What’s in it for you?” Cat wanted to trust Eleanor. She did want to know the truth.

  “Remember, love. I came because you asked me. I’m here for you,” Eleanor said. “You must trust me. Go on faith. That’s the bottom line.”

  Cat looked away, but said, in turning her head, “Then let’s begin. I’m ready.”

  “Alright. We will begin now,” Eleanor cues Catherine. “I want you to relax. Prop your legs up and cover up with a blanket.”

  Cat moved the couch and made herself comfortable. Taking a throw blanket, she slid it beneath her and around her. She took off her shoes next. “I might not wake up,” Cat said to throw a bit of humor at her unknown, making it all seem a little better.

  “There, are you comfortable?” Eleanor looked at her and tucked her in snugly.

  “Yes.” Cat’s eyes closed. “I’m ready.” She laid silently and restful on the couch.

  Tadhg moved in closer, and Eleanor used her hand to gently shove him back as his face hovered only a few inches from Catherine’s. He added his two cents, “I’ll watch for clues.”

  “Catherine, keep your eyes closed. I am going to speak to you, and talk of images for you to see in your mind. I want you relax more with each instruction. You will go deeper and deeper into a trance state. You will always be in control. Raise your right hand if you ever feel uncomfortable or you want me to stop, do you understand? If you do, then raise your right hand right now,” Eleanor prompts her.

  Cat raised her right hand.

  “Good. You may also talk and communicate at anytime. Now, we are ready. There is a stairway before you. Do you see a stairway in front of you. Is it there? Raise your right hand when you envision it. Or, you may speak,” Eleanor paused.

  Cat, “Yes, I see it.”

  There was a moment of silence before Eleanor began again. “Good. I want you to walk over to it and stand at the top. Together we will walk down each step. I will count them down, and we will pause on each step. Are you ready?”

  “Yes. Ready,” Cat whispered.

  “You are going to take ten steps going down—taking a breath on the riser of each one. When we get to number
ten, which is a landing, you will be halfway from the bottom. You are standing on number twenty. Now, take one deep breath, in through your nose and out through your nose—like the tides in the sea, each another cleansing breath; and, then, take one step down. Nineteen. In and out.” Eleanor paused a few seconds. “You are resting nicely in between. With each step down, you will go deeper and deeper into a restful state. Step number eighteen, nice and easy. Seventeen. Deeper and deeper. Step sixteen…” Eleanor paused again. Everything was as it should be. There were no disturbances, and Catherine was doing well. “Breathe and then step. You are now on step fifteen, and you will stay here for a moment. Do you need to communicate, Catherine? Or, are we alright to go down further? Raise your hand if you are ready.”

  Cat raised her right hand. “Stepping down to fourteen, then step thirteen, twelve, eleven and then number ten.

  “You are standing on the last landing before the bottom; there are nine more steps to the bottom. Let me know when you are you ready?” Eleanor’s tone of voice was hypnotic, deep and warm.

  Cat raised her right hand. She understood the instructions well.

  “Now,” Eleanor softly said, “you should be very restful. Take five deep breaths and walk down the next five steps, slowly, mindfully, easily—one step with each breath out. Nine…eight…breathe… seven…breathe…six…five.” She paused again to give Catherine more direction.

  “Now, as we go down, down, down these next four steps, with each descending motion, you will go deeper into your subconscious self, your most relaxed self; and nothing will distract you—nothing will bother you. And when you have stepped the last step to the ground level, then you will remember your childhood before Glory Town. Little Elizabeth Catherine Dubois will be waiting for you there.”

  Eleanor hesitated just a minute more, and then said, “Here we go: four…three…almost there, the door to your past is in front of you. Two…one. You are in the deepest, most restful sleep. Look around; do you see a door? You may talk if you would like to.”

  Cat heard her. “Yes. I see a green door.” Cat was calm and spoke without excitement. Her voice was soft and unemotional.

  “Good. Move over to the door and open it.” Eleanor watched Catherine’s face to make certain her expression and her body movements stayed calm and relaxed. Then, she asked her,”How old are you, dear?”

  “I’m four,” Cat sounded like a little girl.

  “Where are you?”, Eleanor asked.

  “At the green door,” Cat replied.

  “Does it have a knob to turn?” Eleanor listened intently.

  “Yes,” Cat said.

  “Now, turn the handle of the door, and tell me what you see,” Eleanor directed.

  “The ocean! We’re on a ship. Traveling,” Cat spoke like a very young child. Her sentences were not complete, and the tone and timbre of her voice let Eleanor know that she was, indeed, a wee one.

  “Who is there?”, Eleanor asked.

  “Mummy and Daddy, and me,” the young Cat answered.

  “Are there any others?”, Eleanor prompted her.

  “No,” Cat replied.

  “Where are you going on the ship?”, Eleanor said, leading her to continue.

  “Here. To Glory Town. My uncle invited us to move here and live in the big house. This house. It was so pretty. The flowers were so green in summer.” Spoken just like an imaginative girl.

  “How are Mommy and Daddy?”, asked Eleanor.

  “Lots of sadness and fighting. I had to go to church. I sat next to Mummy every Sunday when she smiled her real smile.” Cat became sad and hesitated over her next words. “Smiles don’t stay long. Only a few minutes. Then, they’re gone. Mummy’s smile disappeared. They yell all the time.”

  “Is there something else you see?”, Eleanor asked.

  “Mummy and Daddy play a make-believe game. They play like they’re fine.” Now, Catherine sounded a little older—maybe she was six or seven.

  “What about you? Were you happy?”, Eleanor asked her.

  “No, I don’t think so. I rarely smiled. I was not allowed to sit next to Mum at church or at home.” Catherine sounded even older, now.

  This wasn’t where Eleanor wanted her to go. “Catherine, now I want you to go back one year and a half. Are you ready? Let’s go down five more stairs. The stairs are located in front of you. Do you see them?”

  “Yes,” Cat hesitated and then replied.

  “Then, five, four, three, two and one. You are now three and a half years old. Can you see yourself?” Eleanor was quicker in the process.

  Cat was quiet. Her face showed discomfort.

  “Are you there?” Eleanor interrogated with great concern.

  “Yes.” Cat slowly whispered with deliberation. She had the voice of a little girl—frightened so—by something.

  On the second level of the manor, a door slammed.

  Tadhg flew up to the ceiling. “I’ll check out the ghosts. It’s probably the kid,” he said from his mind to Eleanor’s; and he flew out of the den. He had a mission.

  Upstairs, Tadhg found the boy apparition. He was kicking doors, though without any power behind the thrust of his legs. It takes time for a spirit to develop the gift of actually moving an object, even if one is angry.

  “Here, let me show you,” he told the little boy. “You must move the object with the power of your mind. Now, watch me.” As Tadhg spoke to the lad—making sure the boy was watching—he used his mind to move a chair from the corner to the middle of the room. Tadhg was attempting to warm up to him, hoping he would break through the child’ anger. “You use your mind and will it. Like this— see?” Tadhg looked at a book and opened the cover, and the pages started flipping wildly. Tadhg laughed.

  “How did you do that?”, the young, boy ghost asked.

  Tadhg pointed to his mind. “You must use thought power—right up here,” and he pointed to the lad’s head. “Vibrations. Electricity equals energy. It takes energy to move objects. it’s called kinesthesia. Now, tell me why you’re slamming doors; and I must say, lad, the door slamming from downstairs was quite impressive. So what’s up with the racket? Why so much noise?”

  “She’s going to leave me. I will be alone, forever,” the young male ghost replied. She will let go of me, forever.

  “Who are you? What’s your name?”, Tadhg asked the boy.

  “Thomas,” he said proudly.

  “Thomas?”, Tadhg nodded approvingly.

  “Yes,” He said softly now, remembering his sadness.

  “Well, nice to meet you, Thomas. I’m Tadhg.”

  “It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Tadhg. At least you see me,” the boy whimpered sadly, in a rather posh English accent.

  “Oh, well, many don’t see me either,” Tadhg said and smiled at him.

  “Why don’t they see you? Are you like me?”, Thomas asked, sweet and curious as little boys are.

  “Well, I am similar to you. And, I choose for people not to see me.” Tadhg opined. “Remember: vibration, thinking, and manifestation—the pushing of energy into the pattern you want seen.”

  “Are you dead like me?” Thomas was hoping Tadhg was.

  “Sort of, Tadhg said, smiling. “Come. Let’s go downstairs now, and listen. Be very, very quiet. We don’t want to disturb the session. Catherine is trying her best to remember the childhood she has forgotten.” Tadhg pointed the way as they both floated downstairs into the den.

  Tadhg and Thomas entered the room when Eleanor looked up to see them both together. She gave the hush sign to them both—her index finger placed over her lips. “Shh…” she said to them both with her mind.

  Meanwhile as Eleanor led Cat through more hypnosis, Cat revealed other parts of her life that she had no longer remembered. Eleanor’s use of hypnosis was intended for Cat to regain her own memories, so she could believe her own history. It was an actual re-living of the tsunami of sadness, tears and family dysfunctions in her family, that her parents had refused to relinquish until
death.

  Cat continued telling of her time—hours and days with her nannies, maids and the family’s head butler. The only real visits with her “Mum” (as she called her instead of “Mom” at this time in her life) would be on Sundays. The “Little Catherine” lived in hope, just to gain a single smile while passing her in their mansion. Small visual captures of “Mum” were rare in the little girl’s memory. Though, from Catherine’s mental images, it seemed her mother wanted a relationship with her “Little Cat”, as well. Catherine explained her sensing a lift to her mum’s spirit when she did see her—”like she was always looking to see her little girl,” Cat said. And she added that she heard her mum tell others, often, “‘She smiles like a princess.’”

  Catherine’s entire demeanor was so content when seeing her mother’s endearing face in the hypnotic trance. “She is so beautiful,” the little girl marveled.

  Eleanor said, “What do you know about your…” Then, Lovey began to bark. “Silence, Lovey.” Eleanor tried to hush him. She signaled Tadhg to take him out of the room. Cat was still deeply under the influence of hypnosis, but her eyelids twitched when Lovey barked. Tadhg caught Lovey’s attention and led him out of the den, away from Catherine.

  Thomas stayed with Catherine and Eleanor. He kept floating above them, hovered in a position so he could see what Catherine was saying, but remaining perfectly quiet. Thomas had no idea that Catherine’s memory of him had been replaced with a new life. All through the years, he had waited for her to recognize him.

  “Let’s continue where you left off…” Eleanor helped Catherine to pick up the conversation from her last memory. “Tell me about your father’s family,” she prompted.

  Cat began again. “My father’s family was always around, close. I remember them.” She shared the little bit of history she knew, and Eleanor filled in the lapses of knowledge with her own. She aided Catherine’s subconscious mind, filling in with facts about her family—the story she never knew. For instance, the nannies and maids had raised Catherine, but she hadn’t remembered them before now.

  Eleanor told Catherine, “Your father's family was grand, dear, but your mother's family was also special—delightful, even. You just never had the opportunity to know them. They were kept from your familiarity—not necessarily intentionally so—but, the Dubois’ were accustomed to controlling things, and they had the entitlement to do so, so the Dukes were left out. It wasn’t done on purpose, but still.” Eleanor paused in her explanation to see where Catherine’s attention was, and if she was following the story in her own vision. From her various facial expressions, Eleanor could tell that, yes, Catherine was listening.