"You have been gone for so long...Do you remember us? Do you remember anything?"
"...A little."
"They want you back, Maggie. They're coming."
"Who's coming?"
Maggie sat for a moment, waiting. "That's all I remember. There's never a response."
The woman across from her stared momentarily, adjusted her glasses, and spoke. "- and you're having this dream regularly?"
"Yea. Every week or so? It's the only time I've ever had something this repetitive before- it's eerie."
"So, who do you suppose the voice belongs to- and who are 'they'?"
"I have absolutely no idea. I wish I did. I wish I knew what it meant." Maggie scrunched her nose, "It's not a threatening voice or anything. She sounds really familiar, but I can't even begin to picture her. She does sound afraid though. Really worried."
It had been twenty years since Maggie spent that very memorable Christmas with Grandma Wendy. The one where she got many of her stories. She was always ready to deliver them when the necessary ears came looking. Or not, in which case they would still do their best to humor the rambling child. Sometimes she would even quietly tell them to herself when she would become lost in thought, losing precious minutes of sleep in those late night hours. She played them out so regularly, that they became commonplace when she needed a jolt of inspiration. However, there came a time when she completely forgot about her adventures. She had grown up. Though, while most memories lose their purchase on the mind's foreground after a long while, these stories in particular had been so well watered that they grew in her head without her knowledge. Never to be lost. Not really. It came to her in bouts of nostalgia. With smells and sounds. Jolts of recollection that would make her stop and wonder, but she never knew why.
The subconscious act of these fantastic memories and stories played out well enough in Maggie's sealed off mental attic. For example, a lot of people know they aren't necessarily alone in this universe, be it a God, an ancient alien race, or perhaps just another realm somewhere nearby- pure certainty aside, you just believed it. For her, this was absolutely the case. With no idea as to what exactly the answer was, Maggie did harbor beliefs that such a thing was true- that some mystical, wonderful far away land that you'd read about in storybooks, really was out there waiting for her. It felt so oddly familiar that when she'd close her eyes and imagine the sights, sounds, and adventures that may take place in such a setting- it almost felt more like a forgotten memory. It sounded childish, but there was this tinge of truth that clung on regardless. To her, however, she simply wrote it off as the craving for something unreal and new- something very much unlike the day to day monotonous existence she eventually grew used to in her adult years. She simply wished it was all real...Her brain clearly had it's plans for her, but her gut, no matter the situation, always whispered a silent reassurance.
"So, apart from the dream, is everything else okay?" Rosie, Maggie's psychologist, craned her neck, smiling apologetically. "Work? Family?"
Maggie sat quietly for a moment before answering, "Yea, things are okay." She cleared her throat. "No job yet...not sure if I'm ready." Her voice dropped off in quiet embarrassment.
"Take your time there. It can be hard to throw yourself back into a normal paced lifestyle after trauma. No need to feel bad, okay? That's why you're here!" Rosie took a moment, searching for a new topic, "You've been doing okay without the medication?"
Maggie had recently weaned herself off of her forty milligram dosages. She had a bout of depression that was more or less at a standstill. She opted out of continuing the meds and decided to see how she'd do without them. Unbeknownst to anybody, she immediately jumped back into drinking, something she had brought to a halt after her stint in the hospital the year before. However, this is something she didn't share with anybody. Her shame kept her silent. Everybody believed she was done with all of that and on her way out of her emotional bog. It was a guilty truth she kept.
"Yea, I feel a lot better without it. Less 'floaty'. Not as many panic attacks. I don't miss the side effects at ALL." Maggie put her hands up to her head, hovering on the sides. She often described the effects of her depression, aided with the antidepressants, to turn her head into a balloon. There was a feeling of lightness. A feeling of being simply false. Unreal. With it came heart racing fear, provoked by unseen things she never understood. Sometimes she just found herself sitting in her apartment, frozen and terrified, the looming feeling of death all around her. She hated how fragile this all made her feel. So human. So easy to break.
"You look tired. More tired than the last few weeks. Have you been getting much sleep?" Rosie asked.
"Honestly? Not really. I can't keep a consistent schedule to save my life. I could wake up early and go to bed early, but sleeping until 5 pm is just too easy. Still, regardless of all the sleep I'm totally exhausted. I feel lazy and that makes me feel like shit."
Looking down, Maggie grabbed at her purse straps, then haphazardly picked the bag up off the couch cushion next to her and plopped it on her lap.
"My mom calls a lot. She's a little lonely. I don't think she'll ever get used to us both being out of the house. It's been so long now, though," she played with the zipper pull, "I wish for her sake that Dads workload was less, but he's just really into it. He loves what he does, but even without all the constant cell phone calls and clients that came with his last job, he still works himself like crazy. He's not home as much as mom would like, obviously."
Peter had long since quit the firm, leaving the life of lawyering far behind. He was never able to recall what so drastically changed his mind all those years ago, but he knew leaving was the right thing to do and he eventually discovered his passion was the same as the late Wendy Darling. He had admired her work so much, that after she passed away, he began helping children in the system find caring homes, as she had done for him and so many others. He had opened offices around the country, and in turn, had to move his family all over to keep up with the newer facilities.
Looking out the window, Maggie saw the sun was trying to pry itself out from behind some mildly unenthusiastic clouds. "Mom is keeping busy though. She finally unpacked everything at the new house, apparently." Maggie grinned.
"Well that's something then! Any distraction is a good one, I suppose." Rosie glanced at her watch, then smiled at Maggie again before standing up. "Shoot- that's it for today. Are we on for another next week?" She straightened her argyle sweater dress and walked over to her desk.
Maggie quickly got up, pushing her bag up to her shoulder, the jingling of change audible. "Fo-Shosie, Miss Rosie."
"You're corny. Get out of here! I'll see you tomorrow for a quick meet up?"
"Works for me! I head home for the holidays the day after that." Maggie answered.
"Perfect! We'll finish up here tomorrow and then off you'll go! Enjoy the holidays and go catch those last rays of sunshine before they die out." Rosie laughed.
"Ah yes, the brilliant warmth of Seattle in December! The Holiday cheer of it all! Maybe it will snow one inch for you this year!" Maggie enthusiastically strode across the room.
"Oh please no! As festive as it is, the drivers around here can't comprehend it, we're better off without!"
"Fair enough! Have a good one- and Merry Christmas!" Maggie cheerily blurted before slipping out the door, hand waving behind her as it slowly closed.
Through the office, and down the hall, that smell of paperwork checklists, plastic bottles, incredible amounts of sanitizer, and what could very well be the stench of human nervousness flooded her brain and she made her way out of the facility. To describe it is always strange. Maggie knew it well, however. It's often illustrated best with bits of nostalgia. Doctors of all sorts resided in places with such a smell. It reminded her of numerous things.
Three cavities fifteen years ago. They gave her that purple toothbrush.
Jacks broken arm. He told her about some baseball guy by the name of Martinez while he itched around his cast.
College party, 2008, alcohol poisoning. Maggie never forgot the look on her mother's face. "You almost killed yourself!"
2010, the year she did in fact try to do just that. Waking up in a lightly sunlit room, an aqua vase sat nearby, various flowers huddled inside. The blinds were white and dusty.
She wanted to clean them. That room drove her mad.
That smell. The dust on the blinds.