Chapter 6

I could feel her hands touching me. They slid down the side of my face, leaving a warm trail of sensation.

"Yamabuki..." I heard her speak the name, and again marveled at the regal tone. She was real, and I knew her, but who was she? I knew she was speaking to me as she pronounced the name, and knew that she loved me. I don't know how I knew, but I knew.

" ... dreaming?" I asked, the word mouthed silently.

"Yes," came the response. My eyes were closed in my dream. I wanted to open them, but for a moment, I felt afraid. I was afraid of what I would see.

"Who are you?" I breathed out. I could hear my words, soft and breathy. Her hand continued to move across my features, sliding downward to trace along my jaw.

"You know," She spoke softly, and it felt as if she was speaking from merely an inch from my face. All I had to do was open my eyes to see.

"You ... I can't remember..." I sighed with frustration. I should know! I was so close.

"Open your eyes..." the voice spoke again, near my ear. It was a reassuring voice, one that made me feel at ease.

I inhaled deeply, feeling every bit of breath as it poured into me. My eyes cracked, seeing a bright shape, indistinct, but there. I could see elegant hair, done up in an intricate pattern, becoming more visible with every second. I strained, willing my eyes to open faster. I took in the soft hazel eyes with small epicanthic folds, eyes that looked right at me, with a warmth that was nearly scalding in intensity.

Her name ... It was...

My eyes opened fully, and consciousness filled my mind. I stared at the ceiling of my bedroom, still dark from the night. A name, certain and vibrant, traced through my mind, and I spoke it before I even recognized it fully.

"Mitsuko."

That was her name. The name of the woman that I was dreaming about. I knew it. It felt like a name that I knew intimately. It felt like saying my wife's name, back before the troubles. Familiar, comforting.

I shook off the feelings of strangeness, sitting upright in the bed. I looked around the dark room, noticing that I had left the window open, again. I had been doing that consistently over the past three days, and this wasn't the first night I had woken up from a strange dream. Ever since Trish and Julie had moved in...

I climbed out of bed, and went to the window, closing it tightly, but not before a chill breeze swept over my nude body. Yeah, I admit that I had recently taken to sleeping in the nude. It wasn't a conscious decision, just something I had fallen into. For a few days it had often become very warm in the room, despite the chill ocean nights. As a result, I had first dispensed with the blankets, and then the shorts. That seemed to solve the problem, since the heat hadn't come back.

I felt a brief moment of exhilaration as I climbed back into bed. I had remembered something ... Wait, had I remembered it, or was I going nuts? The exuberant feeling gave way to uncertainty as I lay back into bed, trying to make some sense. I was seeing ghosts, or visions, or something. I was, according to all respectable psychiatrists, suffering from auditory and visual hallucination, which were usually caused by brain damage. Yeah, I spent a little time in the library while Trish and I were waiting for Julie to finish her swimming class.

What the hell was I going to do? Instantly every ghost story and movie I had ever seen flashed through my brain. I had visions of midget psychics, unlicensed nuclear accelerators, and pairs of priests fending off attacks by pea soup. Actually, it was pretty funny, but it didn't help me much.

It was in the midst of this mental activity that I felt a strong twinge of jealousy. I have no idea why, but I felt that I should be insanely envious of Mitsuko. It was a strange feeling, especially considering that all I had seen of her was a glimpse. A vision, and a memory.

" ... not fair..." I heard a voice echo from the corners of my room. That strange accented voice, the one that I couldn't place.

I sat shock upright in my bed again, my eyes flashing through the room. I saw no ... wait. There, in the mirror, I saw a dark shape. I had seen this before, and I remembered how I had tried to interact with it to no avail. I turned in the bed, swinging my feet to the carpeted floor. I sat there, staring at the image. It was reflected, and as I watched, it seemed to approach me from behind.

I glanced in the direction, and as I expected, saw nothing there. I immediately turned my gaze back to the mirror, and took in the curves of the form. It was like watching an over exposed piece of film. The shape seemed to roll towards me, but here and there I could make out something. At one point, the shape of an arm, another a flash of red color.

" ... need you..." the voice was soft, and seemed to come from everywhere. I felt a touch on my shoulder, and shook gently with apprehension as the shape seemed to be right behind me.

"You ... I know you..." I whispered, my eyes roaming over the shifting shape. Red color, red hair. Long, unbound, flowing. A face that seemed all angles, one that I had seen before. A pale hand, that would not move from its position, but seemed to flicker in and out of focus. It lay on my shoulder, and I could feel the touch: insubstantial, almost a breath.

" ... Eimear..." The voice did not seem to echo about the room now, but seemed to be whispered. It was an endearment, I realized. It was the whisper of a lover, confessing that fact to someone who had heard the confession a hundred times before. And I knew I had heard it before. How many times I did not know, but I had heard that voice whisper ... my ... name...

My name ... That thought caused a chill to run through me. It was a shudder of fear. Not fear of the ... I couldn't believe I was talking to a ghost ... vision ... But fear of myself. I was afraid of what was locked away inside. How much more of this was going to happen. How could she do this to me?

How could...

Another flash of name. Another bolt, crushing into my and clutching at my heart with its reality. I knew her. I let myself feel the name, and the face seemed to become more defined. I took in the blue eyes, and the soft dots of freckles across her cheeks. A soft smile formed on the wide, beautifully Irish lips, and then she was gone.

And I was left with my second, insubstantial name. Another name that brought forth that feeling of home, and of love.

"Lesley..." I chuckled slightly at the realization of that name. I would have thought that the name would have been a tad more exotic. I don't know why, but I guess I was expecting something with a lot of strange vowel sounds that sounded like it came out of a bad fantasy novel. But Lesley was, comforting, and it felt good. Revelation. That's what it felt like.

I sat there for a moment¸ my eyes wandering over the dark grays of the dark room. For a moment, I glanced around, certain that there would be more. I still felt the sense of presence in the house. I realized that I had, in fact, felt it since I had been here, but it was only by concentrating on it, and wanting to feel it, that I had the sense of it.

There was a hesitant knock on my door, and I reached over to flip on the nightstand light. I reached for my clothes basket, and hurriedly grabbed a pair of shorts. I yanked them on, and went to the door, opening it carefully.

Trish stood there, a slightly scared look on her face. Her hair was askew, and she wore an oversized white t-shirt over a pair of pastel green pajama bottoms. She had her arms crossed, and was glancing about herself a tad nervously.

"What's up," I asked, trying to stay calm. For a moment, I realized that Trish might have seen something, and if she had, the last thing I wanted to do was scare her.

"I saw ... uh ... the reflections are... " Trish stammered, biting her lip between each comment. "I ... saw something weird."

"Do you ... want to talk about it?" I offered, opening my door more widely. I know that I only was in my boxers, but talking at her through a half closed door didn't seem very friendly.

"You, uhm ... do you know anybody named Frances?" Trish asked, using a name I knew I had heard. Uh oh.

"Not ... not really," I mumbled. I was just guessing, but if the other two names I had heard both referred to me, well, the odds were pretty good that the last one was an attempt at identifying me as well.

"I heard someone calling for Frances." Trish explained, "and then I saw ... well, I thought it was a face at the window." She seemed embarrassed to be talking about it.

"It's ok. I don't think you're crazy." I assured her.

"I'm not CRAZY!" Trish sharply replied, before checking back on her flash of anger. "I'm sorry. I just was a little scared."

"It's fine. You've been here what, three days?" I began, trying to reassure her. "It's a big house, and there's a lot of stuff you don't hear normally."

"Yeah, you're right. It just really freaked me out for some reason." She nodded.

"I'd offer to let you sleep here..." I smirked at her, and my eyes roamed over her. Yeah. I still wanted her. She was lovely, even with her hair askew and her face devoid of makeup. I knew it, and she knew it.

"I ... I'm not sure that would be such a good idea," Trish hesitated for a moment, her eyes glancing over me. "I just wanted to talk to someone."

"No pressure." I nodded.

"Thanks, though. I feel a little better. This house is just ... spooky." Trish shivered slightly. "Can I at least get a hug?"

"Sure." I smiled, opening my arms wide. It was just then that I realized I had a hard on. Not exactly the best way to show comfort to a nervous young woman.

Trish seemed to take the obvious tent in my shorts in stride, her arms coming around me in a tight embrace. It was nice to feel her warmth against me again, her soft breasts pressing into my chest, and her cheek nuzzling into my shoulder. It was a much more intimate hug than I would have expected, and turned my body slightly to avoid digging my erection directly into her.

"Thanks for everything, Henry." She whispered. "I really do like you. I just ... It still hurts."

There were no more words, and after a few moments of that calm embrace, we released each other. I watched her return down the hall, past the bathroom. She paused to wave at me from her bedroom door, before she entered, and closed it behind her.

I sighed, and closed my own door. I turned, intending to go right back to sleep, when I saw a floating woman's face, not a foot from my own. Unlike my previous visions, this one was bright, vibrant, and very visible. There was an angry look on the face, which I immediately took in. A snapshot across my mind.

Full lips. Aquiline nose. Brilliant gray eyes that seemed to pierce right through me. The face was angry. Not a rage, but the look of a woman jilted. The look of pure unadulterated jealousy. The face stared at me, the eyes moving back and forth across my face. As I watched the look softened, and the face began to fade, leaving me with the impression of sadness.

"Wait..." I gasped, my eyes never leaving the eyes of the face. It floated in the dim light of the endtable, and at my words, it seemed to gain strength, becoming more visible. The woman's expression no longer seemed angry, but it still seemed upset. The face continued to observe me, taking in my reaction. I just watched, fascinated by this face that I now knew that I knew. I didn't even need to struggle for the name that came to my mind.

"I'm sorry, Martha. I can't remember..." The words seemed to placate the face, which began to fade again, this time with a bitter, but hopeful smile. Martha. That was her name, and I knew that I had been with her before.

Another moment passed, and the slight chill that had filled the room seemed to vanish. Slowly, I walked to my bed, and lay down upon it once more. The visions. They had names. I wasn't going crazy. Or at least, if I was going crazy, I was going crazy consistently. And Trish had seen it, and heard it. If Julie...