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The Inbetween

Nicholas Laurent

    I don’t quite remember dying. There are those who see their end approaching and are often thrust forth immediately into their transition. Others are eased slowly through the dark curtains; and as the veil gradually pulls itself back, they begin to see strange and wondrous things. However, few are actually aware of when their precise moment comes. All that we remember, I believe, is what we felt moments before our final breath. Furthermore, perhaps that’s all that matters. Perhaps it is within that fleeting emotion that whatever is left of us is carried beyond that decaying flesh. That vessel that’s so perfect in its function yet so flawed in performing the task that really matters to us; that really matters to me. I felt peace as I approached the end. However, I don’t remember dying anymore than I remember falling asleep.
    I often ached for freedom. That’s all any of us ever really want. The moment we are born we are slaves to never ending wants and needs. Our mothers’ milk; our favorite toy; acceptance amongst peers; a warm body next to us in bed. And within death? What did I need once I unbound myself from the frivolous chains of petty desire? The sudden transition from being utterly consumed with wants, although we are often unaware of it, to being free of all fear of ever being without can be an uncomfortable shock to one as unprepared as I. Ana poured me a cup of tea to calm my nerves.
    “Our guest has almost arrived,” I heard from across the table. Sitting motionless in the solid oak chair, I held the warm steaming alabaster cup between my palms. As I stared deep into its swirling black depths, I thought about the time that had passed since I entered the room and found myself sitting at a modest rustic dining table with an elderly woman sipping tea across from me. Time is so strange here. It seems to exist as simply an illusion to keep a newcomer from going insane. It’s imperfect in the sense that it’s almost impossible to determine the length between ordinary events. How long had I been sitting there? When I thought about the question, I once again remembered the feeling of peace as I approached death; but it seemed so long ago. Ages ago. Like when recollections of a dream suddenly come rushing back hours after we’ve awoken. We wonder how we’ve gone throughout the day without that memory, and when it returns it seems to dominate us. And even though that illusory experience occurred merely less than a day prior, it seems so distant that it may as well have been a memory from our youth. I’ve often noticed that memories of childhood seemed almost indistinguishable from that of dreams. That is an unsettling consequence of existing in this state. Unsettling, not exactly in an unfortunate manner. In fact, it can be both a blessing and a curse.
    Ana smiled, gently lifted the cup to her lips and slowly sipped. She had the kind of eyes that squinted to near slits when she gave even the most modest grin. Her hair was gray and wavy, but very fine. It was shoulder length and parted slightly to one side. However, her most obvious features were more abstract. She radiated patience and wisdom. Her every movement was that of refined elegance. As I looked upon her in my clouded state, distant memories of her image slowly made themselves known into that moment. I had been here before. Although our last visit was within a dream. It was just an illusion. Ana lifted her eyebrows and slightly tilted her head disapprovingly. It was obvious she was listening in on my thoughts. Perhaps our previous rendezvous wasn’t just a dream. If my presence in this cabin was indeed real, maybe she had brought me here once before while I was still alive. She smiled again and took another sip as if to silently agree. Rather mysteriously, the room seemed to shift as the memory of our past encounter returned. Something foreboding lingered in the air.

#

    Before that time, and as I was still living, I dreamt myself walking through a dense forest headed west. I knew this because the sun was setting off into the distance before me. It was peaceful and calm there, and I stood entranced by the halcyon sunset. Observing the surrounding woodland, any entry or exit had been completely lost. And as I came to the realization that the night would soon consume the woods around me, I became feverish with anxiety; with fear. Fear of whatever unknown terrors that would be lurking within the darkness. Overcome with panic, I raced toward the setting sun, begging it to grant me just enough light to find my way out of that confusion. A soft plume of smoke gently reflected the diminishing daylight on a hilltop just as I came within its sight. Beneath the smoke, a tiny chimney attached to a wooden roof. The remainder of the cabin lay hidden amongst the tree line. I ran as fast as my feet would take me. The forest suddenly stirred into agitation, seemingly reacting to my haste. Underneath the sound of my pounding heartbeat and wheezing gasps, I could hear the thrashing and growling of the denizens of our nightmares. Before me, within the light, the world remained pristine. Behind me, however, the earth had come alive with madness. The cabin came into view and a light appeared inside as if to beckon my arrival. Suddenly there were footsteps; matching my own and yet seemed doubled in nature which I took as an indication that something behind me was on all fours. I dared not turn around as I was certain that the greatest horror full of gnashing teeth, blood spattered fur, and flailing claws would be waiting for me. As the final sliver of sunlight extinguished behind the hills, the door, at last, came into view. Thank God it was unlocked.
    I stood firmly against the other side of the door with the full intent of using myself as a barricade against the inevitable crash from the outside. Nothing came, however. Reluctant to move away, I tried to take deep breaths in between my erratic gasping. Sweat was beginning to drip into my eyes and mixed with the tears I didn’t even realize were there. I wiped them away with my right hand and immediately put it back onto the doorknob lest something would take the opportunity to push it open. As my breathing stabilized, I took a moment to look around the room. It was a single room log cabin that was dimly lit by a bronze lantern that rested on an oak dining table near a port window. The beacon that led me there. A steaming white cup sat waiting on the table. To the left there was a cast iron wood burning stove that heated the home from the outside chill. Next to the stove was a wooden bed frame fastened together from logs that supported a stuffed linen mattress. On the other side there sat another piece of log furniture; this time a couch with leather hide upholstery. I appeared to be alone, and since there were no terrible sounds emanating from outside the door, I began to suspect that I had imagined it all.
    “You’d be correct.” A voice manifested from beside the dining table as I was focused on the stove. I shrieked in horror and could feel the tears beginning to swell up once again. There stood an elderly woman before me who was not there moments earlier. She smiled despite my agitation. “All of your fear will follow you to this place,” she said. “Everything you hide becomes known. All of your damaged thoughts that you push away in an effort to cope will resurrect themselves and force you to acknowledge them.”
    “Who are you?” I began to feel lightheaded.
    “Ana,” she said pleasantly. “And I’m so glad you’ve come.”

#

    I then awoke in my bed. That was many years ago. And although I’d lived and forgotten countless dreams since then, that one experience stayed firmly imprinted into my mind’s eye. It was the only dream that never felt like one in my waking hours. It always felt like a recent memory. So why is it that I’d sat there, now dead, at Ana’s table for what seemed like hours and was unable to recall something that I’d never been able to forget? Sensing my thoughts, Ana offered an explanation, “There is a lucidity that comes gradually when one makes this transition.” Her voice was like clear water. So smooth and precise. Although it seemed like she was speaking barely above a whisper, I could hear her words as if they were being funneled directly into my head. “It’s like easing into a hot bathtub. If it’s done slowly, the experience comes without shock, and can even be enjoyable.” She giggled slightly at her analogy. Those eyes once again became little slits.
    “And before?” I asked, “Years ago when I dreamt I came here?”
    “There is always an opportunity to purge oneself before death. That is the hidden desire of all souls in all lives.”
    “To purge ourselves?” I was more confused now that we had begun a conversation, and the identity of our forthcoming guest suddenly became of great concern.
    “Life is suffering,” she spoke. “You thought of this often. People are so afraid of being without, that they become capable of unspeakable things. Acting upon that capability exposes us to even more destructive emotions; anger and hate. When we dwell on these thoughts, they take on a life of their own; quite literally. In this place, where thoughts become tangible, the lives you’ve created return to their creator.”
    “But why?” The air pressure in the room seemed to drop, and I was beginning to understand why Death had brought me back here.
    “How else do we learn of the consequences of our anger and hatred?” Her words dripped with wisdom, “What we give out, we must be prepared to take in. Peace comes through empathy. We return to innocence once we experience how our thoughts have effected others.”
    I stood up from the chair with increasing anguish. The serenity that I felt upon death was diminishing. “But I faced those monsters. I faced them years ago in that dream.”
    Ana laughed seemingly uncontrollably. It was the first time she slipped from her impeccable posture. “No, silly.” She quickly regained her composure and became more serious than ever. “You ran away.”
    And with that there came a knock at the cabin door. Actually, it was more like a tap. The first terrible thought to enter my head was that of a skeletal hand gently tapping upon the door with a bony fingertip. Moreover, with my awareness of the demonic creatures that lay in wait outside those four wooden walls, I instantly became consumed with fear for my immortal soul. It was becoming apparent that Ana would no longer protect me. And even though I never believed in Hell, I felt with certainty that beyond that door were its fiery gates.
    “I cannot open this door for you,” Ana said. “You have to invite it in and acknowledge its existence.” She remained calm and seated, unaffected by my sudden delirium. That bony finger tapped once more.
    “And if I refuse?” I asked with sharpened fury.
    “That is your choice. Some stay in this room for centuries.” Unmoved by her own implications, she slowly sipped her tea again. “Remember, my dear, everything is in transition. Nothing lasts in its current state forever.”
    I pointed frantically toward the cabin door as the knocking continued. “But what is it? What’s out there!”
    “Your fear. Your baneful thoughts. In life you recognized a balance. You discovered that in every situation there is one who dominates, and one who submits. Feeling as if this knowledge granted you enlightenment, you sought to dominate others. But is was fear, child. Fear drove you to anger and hatred.” Her eyes softened and at last she looked sympathetic. “And now it has come back to you.”
    Confused and annoyed by Ana’s rhetoric, I began looking for something to defend myself. I glanced at the lantern and the oil within that slowly burned. I thought about breaking the glass and setting the entire cabin ablaze. The idea of taking Ana with me into an inferno seemed strangely pleasant. I tried to block out this thought as I was sure she would be listening. However, she stood up anyway revealing a stern gaze. The once gentle tapping at the door now seemed more forceful; more impatient. Ana slowly walked towards me in a floating, almost ghostlike manner as my fear within intensified. I felt duped. She was no longer my guardian angel, but the queen of monsters. Hell wasn’t outside that door, it was right here; and Ana was the Devil.
    Her face appeared to sag at this thought. Her lips parted slightly and her eyes widened. It was as if she was in pain. Small teardrops billowed within the corner of her eyes. Now standing before me, Ana’s hand raised to meet my cheek. Her skin was warm from cupping the tea, and she gently pushed my hair behind my ears. Her cold monastic demeanor replaced with that of a loving mother. “You’re not being punished, my dear. Even the most pious must face their anger.”
    I fell to my knees and wept uncontrollably. My legs, so weak with terror, finally gave out the moment Ana’s sympathetic tears trickled down her face. I had lived my life as a beast. Giving in to petty desires and materialism, I ignored that faint voice that called to me when all was still. That voice that tried to push me along the path not taken. I thought, as I approached death, that without the limits of our flesh, all would become clear; that there would be no more suffering. But even in this state I was defiled and wretched; and Ana knew it. She always knew it.
    “I’m so sorry,” I cried. The mysterious visitor had given up on forceful knocking, and now violently shook the door handle from outside.
    Ana slowly kneeled down to me, pushed my tear soaked face into her chest and held me close with her chin resting delicately on my head. “There’s nothing to be sorry about. You lived your life the best way you knew how.” My sobbing calmed just slightly, and I peaked over her shoulder at the shaking cabin door. Sensing that I was finally ready, Ana, tilting her head close to my ear, whispered her final words of advice, “In this place, you cannot fight fire with fire. Hurtful emotions only feed off of one another. If you wish to conquer the undesirable, you must confront it with its absolute opposite.”
    I’m sure in that instant I didn’t quite understand what she meant. However, I spoke anyway, fearing that within any other moment I’d be unable to. I felt with certainty my soul would not survive this. And yet, I could bear the chains of guilt no longer. If there was such a thing as the total annihilation of the self, it would suit me better than an eternity lived in fear. My voice crackled, “Come.... Come in.”
    Ana kept me in her arms with her back to the door as it flung open. There was no impact as if it was kicked. It ripped off of the hinges like violent gale force winds had suddenly concentrated their fury upon that single point. Over Ana’s shoulder I saw only darkness. It was like tendrils made of the very fabric of night. They crept in attached to the walls and consumed everything in their path; blanketing everything in impenetrable blackness. It was surrounding us, leaving only a few feet among us untouched by the gloom. Through the darkness, and where the doorway once stood, I could hear the floor creak with movement. Something was walking our way. My breathing quickened and I at once regretted that brief moment of valor. I moaned in agony and held tightly onto Ana’s arms. Stoic as ever, she remained still and calm, even as the dry, mummified and partially skeletalized hands reached out from the shadows and around her delicate neck. In an instant, and without much effort, Ana was thrown from my grasp and forcefully tossed into the darkness. She made not a sound as she disappeared; captured by the nocturnal chaos. And I was certain she was lost forever. I, on the other hand, remained, feeling completely resigned with no wish to prolong the inevitable suffering with resistance. That is until I saw the abhorrent visage of the creature emerge from my own disbelief. Its skin was dry and had flaked off in pieces. Its eyes were equally devoid of moisture and looked like cracked glass. They were dead, and yet at the same time burning with the eternal rage that charged its existence; that granted it the spark of life. There were strands of hair still attached to the remaining skin barely draped around its skull, as if clinging to a memory of a life forgotten. Its mouth was agape, and although I’m certain the hollowed monster no longer had lungs, it heaved as though the hate inside was forcing itself free. Brown, cracked teeth were exposed behind where lips had withered away long ago. The stench emanating from its empty depths sobered me instantly. I no longer wished to become nothing. I wasn’t sure what the creature had in mind as it clutched its bony fingers around my neck. Would it be satisfied with just my asphyxiation? Or would it attempt to devour me; consuming my very essence to nourish its own?
    Regardless, every instinct within screamed at once. And with strength fueled by adrenaline, I slipped my arms under and between its own, and forced its grasp free from my neck. With a rage that mirrored the creature’s own, I kicked the beast off from me as I fell back onto the floor. It didn’t take long for the demon to recover, however. I still lay on the floor as it manifested from the blackness. Its corroded flesh crackled with every move. Within a brief moment, time seemed to slow down upon a staggering realization. Enthralled by its maddening gaze, I imagined detailed features upon the monster; what its face would be without the disfigurement. With a gasp in terror, it became apparent that it was my face the creature bore. My face, twisted and decayed from a life of fear and anguish. In my ignorance, I ignored Ana’s assertion that the abomination was my own anger and hatred sprung into existence with a life of its own. But, it was true. And my rage, as it attacked me, only empowered the demon; made it stronger. The monster lunged forward once again, catching me as I struggled to my feet. Flesh, dried and turned to dust, sprinkled into my eyes. With a howl, it sank its rotted teeth into my shoulder. The shock from the pain was unbearable and I shrieked hysterically; for there was a sickness within the bite. A disease of aberration that I could feel slipping into my veins. A murky poison coursing into my blood, assimilating me unto itself. But I refused to give in. I refused to become one with this tainted madness. There had to be another way.
    That faint voice was with me again. The voice, buried deep in my subconscious, revealed itself as it often did during my life. It spoke the words Ana left with me before the door was open. I wasn’t certain if they were just a memory or if she was still with me, encouraging me from the darkness. But I had finally realized what those words meant. I could not survive this fueled by fear and rage. In this world, unbound from the physical laws, one cannot conquer by force the evil manifested from our hearts.
    I closed my eyes and thought of something from my life that always brought me perspective. Something that, in a strange way, always brought me peace. It was a photograph of a young Laotian orphan girl, scarred and blinded by shrapnel. I had found it in a magazine article that discussed the conflicts in that country. Looking at her sad face during times when I felt my lowest always helped me realize that those that suffer from our wrath and hatred are not always the ones that we meant to receive it. Lost, impoverished, and physically impaired was she; and I often felt unconditional compassion for the girl. How I longed to comfort her and assure her that life didn’t have to be full of such misery. As I saw her in my mind’s eye, I found it impossible to feel hatred; not even for those responsible. She was a victim of circumstances. A confused child caught in the crossfire of men’s struggle for dominance. Her pain was a result of humanity’s fear of being without, and I silently promised her that no one would ever suffer because of my own misgivings.
    I whispered into the monster’s ear, “I’m so sorry I couldn’t save you. I know now. I know why we suffer.”
    Within an instant the pain stopped. I opened my eyes. No more darkness within the cabin. No more darkness bleeding into an open wound. In fact, the wound no longer existed leaving not so much as a scar in its place. The demon was gone as if it had never existed. The door was firmly shut and remained intact on its hinges. The lantern lighted the room from its perch upon the table. Our steaming alabaster cups were still in their places. And sitting before her tea, was Ana smiling.
    Enormous joy swelled up within me. I was so afraid mere moments earlier, but I had conquered a lifetime of regret, discontent, and rage by simply understanding what drove the monster borne from it. Ana stood up and hurried over to grasp my hands. Her smile was so bright I could barely see the tears of happiness forming within her eyes. I held her hands close to my heart and breathed out the remaining anguish inside, fully convinced that it would never return. Through the port window near the table, a light emanated from outside. It was not an immediate flash, but a slow dim that grew into piercing white light. Ana turned toward the door, and it slowly creaked open. The brilliant light engulfed the room. Furthermore, it seemed brighter than a thousand suns. We looked directly into it, however, wide-eyed with no pain at all. The embrace of that light was the most peaceful experience I had ever known. It was so warm and inviting, and I knew the instant I saw it that I belonged with its source.
    Ana stepped away from me, still filled with glee, as if to encourage me toward the door. I realized she would not be coming with me. She had cared for me throughout my life and my time there in the Inbetween. But, my journey was my own. I was a child barely able to crawl. And without holding me up, she taught me how to stand. I took a step closer to the door feeling the liquid luminescence pull me toward its center. I held her hand as we exchanged a silent goodbye. Thank you, Ana.

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