World of Tears

By: Rose Marie Wolf

“You’re not going to hypnotize me, are you?” Anne asked. Her tone was worried. She rubbed the palms of her wet hands on her jeans. Dr. Kidd smiled gently.

“Not really, no. You’ve never had this done before, I take it?” The doctor wrote something on her clipboard. The girl watched her nervously.

“No, never. My friends recommended you. You said you helped them out a lot with what was going on in there lives.” There was a pause. Kidd studied Anne closely. She didn’t like the feel of eyes boring into her. She avoided eye contact and cleared her throat.

“I really don’t believe in this stuff. I mean, reincarnation? Come on, that’s not possible…” She trailed away. The doctor had lifted an eyebrow.

“Did you come from a Christian family?” Kidd asked.

Anne gave a slight shake of her head. “Not really. My mom was Christian and she took me to church a few times. I believe in God, and Satan and all that stuff.”

The doctor merely nodded and wrote something else. As she scribbled on her paper, Anne looked around the room. It was a warm atmosphere. There was a sweet smell in the air. She saw sticks of incense burning on a table in the corner. The blue-grey smoke curled toward the ceiling.

It was not the usual doctor scene she was used to. This place had a different, New Age feel to it. Dr. Kidd still wrote her notes. The girl cleared her throat again to get her attention.

“Are you really a doctor?” She asked.

The doctor stared at her for a long moment. She pushed the glasses back up the bridge of her nose.

“I am, yes.”

“You don’t seem like any doctor I have ever been, too.”

“I’m a special classification. I specialize in New Age and holistic treatments.”

“You mean like, yoga and stuff?” To Anne’s surprised, Kidd gave a little tinkling laugh.

“Sort of, yes.”

“Okay.” The girl rubbed her hands again on her jeans. “When do we get started?”

“Whenever you’re ready. I have a few questions I need to ask you.”

“Okay.” She answered nervously.

“Have you ever meditated before?” The doctor surveyed her through her bifocals.

Anne shook her head. “No, I haven’t.”

The doctor nodded. “I want you to relax. Just lean back and close your eyes.”

“You’re not hypnotizing me, are you?”

“No, I’m not. Close your eyes and try to relax. When I ask you a question, answer with the first thing that comes to your mind, alright?”

“Yes.”

There were a few moments of silence. Anne tried to concentrate on her breathing but the pounding of her heart distracted her. She was nervous and scared. She didn’t like people getting into her head, and this woman was reminding her more and more of a fortune teller. She took a deep breath and exhaled. The doctor began to talk.

“Have you had any strange dreams lately?”

She hesitated. “I can’t remember my dreams.”

“Have you woken up with a feeling you couldn’t explain?”

Again, Anne hesitated. The doctor waited patiently. The clock ticked incessantly on the wall.

“It’s alright. You can take your time.” The doctor said.

The girl took a deep breath. Something stirred in her memory and she spoke, “I remember feeling very angry. Very sad…”

“Alright. Can you remember why you felt this way?”

“No, I…I don’t remember.”

“That’s fine. Let me ask you another question.”

“Okay.”

“Why did you come here?”

There it was. Anne let out a breath and closed her eyes. “I’ve been very confused lately…I’ve been having dreams…”

“I thought you said you couldn’t remember your dreams?” Kidd asked. Anne opened her eyes to catch the upraised eyebrow. Caught in her own lies, she could only sigh. Kidd, rather than looking angry, smiled.

“Why don’t you tell me these dreams?”

“They’re…strange, confusing…”

“Maybe together, we can sift through the confusion and find what is really bothering you…”

“Do you think these dreams could be memories from another life?” Anne couldn’t help it if she sounded a bit hopeful. She wanted to get to the bottom of these horrid nightmares. Her friends told her of the possibilities it could be a past life. Anne had never believed in such things, but she wasn’t above trying it.

“Possibly.” Dr. Kidd said. She watched Anne closely. “Are you ready to tell me now?”

“Yes.” Anne answered. She felt a familiar tangling knot in her stomach. She took another deep breath and began. Dr. Kidd wrote her notes and listened.

---

“I kneel at a grave that has been freshly dug. The mound is still moist from the rain of the previous night. Flowers lay wilting and dying upon the grave and I pick them up and set them aside. A single stone marks the head of the grave.

“I am very sad. I know whose grave this is. It is the grave of a young girl. My daughter.

“I thought about her as I cleaned the debris from her grave. She had dark hair and pale eyes. Her lips were soft and round, a perfect pink shell. Her skin was like mine, olive toned and soft. She would run to me on her chubby baby legs and stretch her arms as high as she could for me to pick her up. I loved her.

“But she was gone. She died from a fever. Gently, I place fresh flowers on the burial mound and I lean back. A westerly wind blows and tears my hair. It tangles around my throat. I hear children calling, their tiny voices carried on the wind. I stand finally and I turn.

“My sons stand at the bottom of the hill and they call to me. I stare beyond their young faces and bright eyes to the home we live in. A thatch roof waves slightly in the wind. In the doorway is the wizened face of my mother. In her arms is another child, my youngest daughter. She wails pitifully, while my mother tries to calm her. Worry creases her brow. I know something is wrong.

“Beyond the house is the setting sun. The sky is growing orange and pink even as I stare at it. My sons are pointing and calling. I lift my hand to shield my eyes and see the horrible vision.

“An army approaches. I can see the first horses and riders ahead of the vast army. My throat locks up. I can’t even scream.

“I hurry down the hill, nearly tripping over the hem of my skirt. My sons are just as panicked as I. They grab my arms. Over and over they cry, ‘What do we do, Mother? What do we do?’

“And I don’t know what to tell them. We had never though the armies would reach beyond our borders. There was no place for us to run. We were trapped against this army and the hillside. The nearest village was miles from here.

“ ‘Run,’ I tell them. I hurry inside our home. My mother is old, but she is strong. I hand her blankets. ‘Run’ I tell her. ‘Take the children over the hill, keeping running. Go into the woods and hide.’

“My mother knows it is important to obey, but I can see it in her eyes that she doesn’t want to leave me. I protest. I grab her and I hold her tightly. I kiss my infant’s forehead. Somehow I knew I would never see them again. I promise to follow them.

“My mother climbs the hill and beyond. My sons support her arm. She cradles my screaming daughter in the other. They look back at me one last time and I can’t see them because of the tears in my eyes. I know I could run with them. I could leave my home, but something tells me not to. Not yet. I see my husband’s face in front of my eyes.

“He could not expect me to fight an entire army. I had no military skills. I was a woman. I was a mother, not a fighter. But he would want me to stand here. This was our land. I couldn’t just let them take it.

“I watch as my sons, my daughter and my mother disappear. They are safe, for now. They will not see our home destroyed. I knew, somehow, that this was the end. The war had stumbled upon our land. There was nothing that could be done if they chose to destroy us. I calmed myself and walked out to face the army.

“The soldiers say nothing to me. They began to ransack my home. They walk out, carrying food, provisions. All I can do is watch. It is useless for me to argue. Proud tears stain my face.

“‘Is this all you have, woman?’ One of the dirty soldiers asks me. His hateful eyes look over my body. I do not answer him, but keep my head high. Laughter sounds from behind me.

“ ‘Just a poor farmer’s wife,’ Someone else says. There is more laughter. I felt heat rush to my cheeks. I lowered my head so that my dark hair fell about me.

“Where’s your man, little woman?” A man on horseback demands. I turn my eyes to him. He grits his teeth as he stares at me.

“He is serving his country,” I answer simply.

“A lot of good that does him,” He answers. He dismounts from his horse and approaches me.

“What happens next is all a blur. I can’t remember. I don’t want to remember. I remember the smell of the burning wood, how it assailed my nostrils. I was raped. I was brutalized. I was left to die.

“But I didn’t die. I lived. I came to just as the embers died low. My legs were terribly burned. I could hardly stand to walk. My arm was broken. There was blood everywhere. I saw it black in the moonlight all over my ripped clothing, my hands.

“I turn and see the embers of what was once my home. Horse hooves and footprints were everywhere, the earth desecrated.

“I scream and scream. Everything is gone. I remember falling to my knees, ignoring the pain. I scream, ‘Why have the gods forsaken me!?’ But I was alive. I have survived. My children. My mother. I have to get to them.

“I run up the hill as fast as I can. My legs burn with pain I have never felt. I can not see. The moon is hidden behind thick, ominous clouds. Tears streak down my face. I met the woods and immediately become tangled in the vines and underbrush. Branches snag at my hair. They tear at my skin.

“I scream their names. I search for them. They never answer. I can never find them. I am lost in the woods and terrified I may never find them. I never do…”

---

Anne released a ragged breath and said nothing more. Dr. Kidd was patient. She studied her as she squeezed her eyes together. Small tears trickled from the corner of her eye and immediately Anne brushed them away.

“I’m sorry,” She said. She did not look toward the doctor. Kidd was used to people crying in her office, but she really felt for this young woman.

“How often do you have this dream?” She asked in a quiet, understanding tone. It took Anne a moment or so before she could speak.

“A few nights a week…sometimes every night.”

“Always the same?”

“More or less, yes.” Anne sat up and reached for a tissue from the box on Kidd’s desk. She wiped her eyes and smudged eye makeup with it. “Sometimes it’s more detailed, sometimes it’s less…”

“I see.”

“Do you think it could be a past life?” Anne asked, nervously. She was afraid of the answer.

Dr. Kidd let out a breath and stared down at her notes. It had been very detailed for a mere dream. She wasn’t sure what to tell the girl. She gave a small nod.

“It’s possible. It could also be a metaphor.”

“What?”

“It could mean that something in your life doesn’t seem right to you. It could be your subconscious. Perhaps you are searching for something in your life and you can’t find it, no matter how hard you try. Does that seem plausible?”

“A little,” Anne had to admit it sounded like the most sense she had heard about the dream. “But could it be a past life?”

“It could be. I won’t lie to you. Do you remember anything else? Something that might correspond with the dream?” Dr. Kidd asked.

“Not really,” Anne sighed. “Not really.”

There was silence for a long time. Anne snuck a glance at the clock on the wall. Half an hour had passed. She had been talking for half an hour. She looked away and stared at her hands. Reliving the dream, the memory or whatever it was made her feel vulnerable. She remembered a lot of it. It was so painful.

The silence continued to grow. Anne wanted to ask if they were done. She wanted to leave as soon as she could. Dr. Kidd continued to write on her clipboard and she didn’t want to intrude. She waited.

Finally, Kidd looked up from her papers and spoke.

“What do you think happened?”

Anne was caught off guard by the question. “What?”

“In the dream, the memory. What do you think might’ve happened afterwards? What do you think happened to your family?”

“Oh,” Anne shook her head, “I don’t know. I’m so confused about it. I told them to run for the woods. Would they keep running? Had they been killed? I never found them. I always wake up before I get very far.”

“Perhaps, you should practice meditation.” Kidd said.
“I don’t meditate…” Anne began, but was silenced with a look from the doctor.

“Never mind that you don’t meditate. You do think at times during the day, am I correct?”

“Of course.”

“Then think on it, long and hard. Relive the memory, the dream over and over again in your head. I know it will cause you pain, but it is necessary. Think on it. If you remember anything else, write it down. Better yet, you can call me.” She handed Anne a smooth white business card. Dr. Kidd’s name was imprinted on the front, along with her name and phone number. She continued.

“I think much of your confusion comes from not having a final solution in your dream. That’s why you are confused and plagued with the dream. There’s no finality. You never found your family. If this is indeed a past life, then you are still looking for them…”

Anne digested it all in silence. Dr. Kidd’s words made sense. She had been searching for something. There was something missing inside her, something she couldn’t quite put her finger on. She nodded.

“I understand.”

Kidd smiled warmly. “I hope you find what it is you are looking for. I can only open the door for you. It’s up to you to walk in and discover yourself.”

---

On the way home, Anne thought a lot about what she had told Dr. Kidd. There was so much she left out. She had lied to her. She did have other memories. There was a man, her husband. She had memories of making love to him. She had memories of arguments with him.

She remembered her children. Though their names escaped her, she remembered their faces, especially the face of her departed daughter. And yet, she had never met any of these people. Was it all her imagination, or had it actually happened?

It was something that Anne had to do. She had to find out. She owed it to her family. She owed it to her daughter. She owed it to herself. People had always told her she had been born into a world of tears.

She only wanted to know why.