"Father, could you check under the bed please and leave the door open a little?"
A young boy between the ages of seven and eight sat as still as a stone, his bed covers clutched firmly in both of his hands and pulled up to the tip of his nose; his innocent plea a muffle through the covers and sheets. His room was in a near pitch-black darkness with the only obstruction of light coming from the hall outside of his room. The father, who wore the same red-rimmed glasses and had the same blond hair as his son and still standing in the bedroom doorway, lowered his head in disappointment and disapproval. His glasses slid down to the bridge of his nose, prompting him to absently push them back up into their proper place.
"Egon, despite whatever stories your Mother may have told you to indulge your supernatural fancies, there is no monster in your room and I will not tolerate this foolishness," Dr. Spengler told his son.
Egon's sapphire eyes met his fathers, tears welling up inside. "Mother always checks for me though anyway, Father. Could you as well?"
"Very well, all right," Dr. Spengler relented with a heavy sigh. "If only to put an end to this nonsense."
Egon watched as his father knelt down beside his bed, get back up a moment later and begin heading towards the closet door. "B…be careful, father…."
"Your Uncle Cyrus was right. I never should have encouraged your mother to lead you to believe in things as silly as the supernatural," Dr. Spengler said sighing again as his hand fell upon the closet's doorknob.
Turning the knob Dr. Spengler stepped inside the open closet for a moment to inspect it as thoroughly as possible until his son would finally be satisfied. Lowering his sheets and covers for a moment, Egon slowly began to peer in the direction of his father anxious for his re-emergence.
Beginning to believe something had actually happened to his Dad, Egon opened his mouth to call out for his Dad. "F…father? A…are you there?"
Knowing full well he was on the verge of buckets and buckets of tears, Egon's lip began trembling. The first sniffle had barely left his nose and mouth when his father finally emerged from the dark closet. Dr. Spengler was usually not prone to showing emotions himself, but upon seeing his young son so terrified that something had happened to him, he made a small crook of a smile. With his back still to the closet door, Dr. Spengler gestured back behind him.
"See, Egon, there's nothing…." before Dr. Spengler could finish consoling his son, an invisible, mysterious force violently yanked Egon Spengler's father back into the closet.
Egon, who had begun smiling at little upon seeing his father return from the closet and had begun lowering his sheets and covers, now pulled them up so the upper half of his eyes were all that were visible. The closet door remained open, but with still no sign of Egon's father. Finally gathering enough courage to try and call for his mother, Dr. Spengler once again re-emerged from the closet. The initial sight at seeing his father was okay slowly began bringing smiles to Egon's face, only to have those smiles retract as he watched his father get flung back and forth within the doorframe while struggling for dear life.
Finally, after what seemed like an eternity to Egon, with a loud THUD the closet door slammed shut, Egon's father on the other side with that….creature….
Egon simply continued sitting on his bed, clutching his bed covers with an even firmer grip, rocking himself back and forth for what seemed like forever. He hadn't even registered his mother running into his room and scooping her son up into her arms, fruitlessly trying to coax him out of his shock to explain to her what happened and where his father was, which could only mean that either he had made some kind of cry, scream or general noise or that the slam that his closet door had made had been loud enough for his mother to hear. Egon merely sat in his bed though continuing to rock himself back and forth in his mother's arms, those two sapphire's shifting back and forth scanning his room.
October 30, 2005In an almost violent, jerking motion Egon Spengler quickly sat up in his bed. Once again pitch-black darkness consumed the entire room he had been sleeping in, except there was no obstruction of light from any doorway. The only sliver of light coming in was from the street lamps outside of the converted firehouse he lived in.
"Get a hold of yourself, Egon," the physicist told himself, wiping away his sweaty forehead with an arm. "It was merely just a dream."
Quietly removing his bed covers and reaching for his glasses, Egon made his way out of the bunkroom so as not to disturb his three sleeping friends. Even though he should have put on his glasses to make finding his way out of the bunkroom a little easier, despite the room already being completely pitch black, Egon didn't need to. After living in the firehouse for just a little over 20 years now his ears were attuned to every sound that might emanate from the building. Right now, the loud snoring sounds coming from Peter Venkman's bed next to his were enough to guide him out of the bunkroom. Passing the bed of his oldest friend's since his college days held some measure of comfort for the physicist, but just barely. Slowly closing the door to the bunkroom behind him, Egon left it open a little so as to be sure the 'click' of the door shutting wouldn't wake any of his friends and proceeded to the kitchen.
Standing in the doorway of the firehouse's kitchen, the physicist fumbled for the light switch on the side of the wall having forgotten that his glasses were still in his nightshirt pocket. Bleary eyed from the lack of sleep he had been getting recently, Egon's eyes squinted even more once the bright kitchen light finally flicked on as he began looking for the ingredients to his mother's special cocoa recipe. The only problem he found was that he was unable to read any of the boxes in the cabinets upon opening each one.
A soft sigh left Egon's mouth. "I really must find a better way of keeping track of my glasses when I have them on my person," he said to himself as he took his glasses from his nightshirt pocket and placed them on his nose before beginning to gather the various ingredients he needed. "I must really also thank mother the next time I talk to her for giving me her hot cocoa recipe," he added as he took a mug down from one of the kitchen cabinets while waiting for the water he put in a kettle teapot to boil.
"Yeah, and be sure to thank her for the rest of us too, Spengs," a new voice promptly added. "Her recipe has certainly helped out with a lot of restless nights."
The new voice caught Egon off guard and because he still hadn't quite recovered from his nightmare, not too mention was no where near recovering from his lack of sleep recently, he began to lose his balance. There was no hesitation in Peter's reaction as he swiftly moved to his friend's side.
"Easy there, Egon, I didn't mean to give you such a surprise that I scared you," Venkman said, steadying his friend back to his feet. "Are you okay, big guy?"
Regaining his balance, Egon pulled a second mug from the cabinet for Peter and continued to prepare the cocoa. "I am perfectly fine, Peter. I just found myself unable to sleep. Despite what you may think, say or feel your snoring does have that effect on people," Spengler jokingly told his friend.
"Even if I do snore pretty loudly and don't realize it myself, do you expect me to believe that Spengs?" Peter asked, folding his arms to show he wasn't buying Egon's attempt at joking to hide what was really wrong.
Egon frowned a little turning to the stove to turn it off and grabbed the handle of the kettle teapot as it began to whistle. "Peter, honestly I'm fine. I only had a bad dream and I seem to recall bad dreams being a normal part of people's lives," he told Venkman as he poured the steaming water into each of their cups.
"Egon, I did get a degree in Psychology remember, so I do know that dreams are a part of everyone's lives whether they're a child or an adult," Peter said grabbing a spoon and stirring the cocoa mixture into the water in his mug. "What I'm more concerned about though is the fact that I know for a fact that you've been getting very little sleep for about a week now."
Egon set the kettle teapot back down on the stove before looking in the direction of Peter. "And you would know this how? Honestly, I am actually surprised that you got up considering you are such a heavy sleeper and constantly complain when the rest of us try getting you up before High Noon, Peter," Egon said, once again trying to inject some kind of humor to lighten the circumstances.
"Oh, come on, Egon, everyone can see it," Peter countered still not letting Egon off the hook that easily. "We'll . . . and when I say we I refer not only to myself but to Ray, Winston and Janine as well . . . pop quickly into the lab to make sure you haven't gotten lost in whatever experiment you're running and find you with your head curled up on an empty part of your lab table," Peter argued ushering Egon out to the table just on the other side of the kitchen that the four men ate at.
Egon's fingers made light rapping sounds against his mug before he spoke. "It was such a vivid dream Peter, as if I was actually there again."
Spengler took a shaky drink from his cocoa, prompting Peter to put a consoling hand on Egon's as if to let Egon know he was right there and to go ahead and continue.
"My dream . . . no nightmare . . . consisted of the night my father was taken and killed by the Boogeyman," Egon said still shaking a little. "My father is standing in my bedroom doorway after having come to say goodnight to me. I ask him to check my room to make sure nothing is in there . . . you know as all small children do . . . and at first he kind of scoff's at my request, but finally relents to do as I've asked him. He checks under the bed and finds nothing and proceeds to head over to the closet." Egon shut his eyes for a moment to gather enough courage to get through what would be the hardest part of reenacting the story for him. "My father opens the closet door and takes a step inside. A…at first I thought something had happened to him and was relieved when he stepped back out without a scratch on him. He began to reassure me that there was nothing there when a mysterious force I couldn't see . . . almost as if it were invisible . . . yanked my father back into the closet and proceeded to fling him about…"
In the 25 or so years Peter had known Egon, he had rarely seen the physicist as upset as he was now. Even though Egon had managed to lighten up a bit after meeting Peter, the blond physicist had always remained so stoic and calm, refusing to let his emotions get the best of him. Seeing his friend shaking so much to almost the point of having a panic or anxiety attack. Peter found himself realizing that his own trauma of hardly seeing his father much while growing up paled in comparison to the fact that Egon lost his father completely at a very young age.
Once Egon had finished explaining his dream, Peter put a consoling hand on the physicist's that wasn't holding the mug. "Spengs, maybe it's time you went back to that house and spent a night in it." Venkman held up a hand to stop Egon from making a comment. "We all have our own fears, Egon, and I think it's time you faced yours. We'll bring the equipment along with us and in the process of you facing this childhood fear of yours, we'll also make sure this guy can't harm or scare any other child ever again."
Egon's sapphire eyes smiled at Peter. "And would this be your clinical diagnosis as a psychologist, Doctor Venkman?"
"Unofficially . . . no," Peter said smiling back at Egon. "As your friend though . . . yes." Peter took Egon's empty mug from him and began to head back into the kitchen. "Want anymore?"
Egon shook his head. "Thank you, but no. I think I shall try and get some more sleep." Spengler slowly got up from his chair and slid it back under the table. "I would like to thank you for your concern and convincing me to talk about this Peter."
"Hey, anytime buddy. You've been there for me with a hot mug of cocoa more times than I can count," Peter said stopping in the kitchen's doorframe. "I'll take care of washing these and putting them away. You just get yourself back to bed so you can get back all the sleep you've lost." Venkman remained in the kitchen's doorframe a moment longer. "Think about what I said though, Egon. Something in your subconscious triggered that memory after so many years, so it very well might do some good to find out why, face your fear and put a stop to it once and for all."
Stopping at the bottom of the stairs, Egon turned and smiled at his friend. "I promise you, Peter, that as long as you, Ray and Winston are there with me, that I will give it further thought."