Ch. 5: The Dimensional Shift Project

The Project: Robert goes about defining an experimental project and recruiting volunteers

Peter Lawrence

Jan 27, 2025

Brianna: Ch. 12: Sliding Down

Brianna: Ch. 11: A Checkered Past

Kyle: Ch. 10: First Contact

The Team: Ch 9: The Attempt

Robert and Brianna: Ch 8: Beta Test

Robert and Brianna: Ch. 7: Forming the Team

Robert and Brianna: Ch. 6: Defining the Problem

Robert: Ch. 5: The Project

Kyle: Ch. 4: Am I More Than the Sum of My Parts?

Robert Sanford: Ch. 3: Crossroads

Jason Santos: Ch. 2: Dream Bender

Kyle Stanton: Ch. 1: The Crash

Intro: Dimensional Shift Project

The Project

Robert’s office whiteboard was filled with scribbles and diagrams. Months later, he was still struggling with two major questions: Was it possible for people in alternate dimensions to interact with one another at all, and if they could, then how? His current theory was that regardless of the dimension involved, some basic scientific principles were still in play. There had to be at least a few buried clues that might lead to an explanation that didn’t resort to magic or the paranormal.

Robert now understood that his original dilemma of how to rapidly move through Space probably involved alternate dimensions more than it did “normal” Space. In fact, he was fairly certain that it also demanded changing his entire conception of Time itself. Historically, he’d always considered Time to be linear, like a tape measure. Under closer examination, however, it had become clear that individual layers of Time flowed at different rates, and in some cases, Time might not even be accessed linearly. In other scenarios, it was possible Time might not even exist at all.

Robert began to realize that the concepts he was entertaining could make an innovative thesis paper – an undertaking he had never quite gotten around to. Components of both his major and minor were there. Might he finally finish a PhD? Gears meshed as Robert mentally outlined the steps he’d take – steps that might also answer some of his life-long questions. His PhD didn’t seem nearly as impossible as it once did, especially when he and Jen were first married. Excitement coursed through him as he realized how meaningful this pursuit could be for him.

Ultimately, Robert came to the conclusion that if he was to get any further along with his plan, he would need to do something beyond just thinking about it. In order to determine how people accessed other planes of existences, he would need to interview individuals who had actually lived out these experiences, and then possibly determine how to replicate them for study. A daunting challenge would be duplicating the effects of their near-death experiences. And even if he could, he still wondered how would he accomplish it without exposing the participants to real danger or mental trauma.

That evening while brushing his teeth, Robert absentmindedly stared at himself in the mirror, lost deep in thought. Toothpaste dripped down his chin. He'd recently grown a goatee to adopt a “tougher” look, but his scraggly reflection suggested that the mission was yet to be accomplished. He’d never been what would be termed “burly”. “Gangly” might have been more appropriate. Robert glanced down at the faucet, the one whose gurgling dribble had put him to daydreaming in the first place. Suddenly, the idea of water-based isolation chambers popped into his head.

Isolation tanks, or flotation chambers as they were now referred to, often precipitated a general feeling of detachment from reality. Numerous users claimed that their minds eventually drifted away, completely forgetting the water they were floating in. Most described their experiences as “out of body”. Six months ago, Robert was asked to help monitor two Psychology Department experiments where flotation chambers were used. The tests produced surprising results. He was fairly certain that those tanks were still readily available. Two older models continued to collect dust in the Department’s basement. He wondered, Could flotation chambers help induce the desired state of mind he needed … a sort of jump-start for an experiment where subjects had already displayed the required characteristics? He mentally reviewed the topics he’d explored in the past: out of body experiences, scenarios where time was affected, and incidents where two minds appeared to be communicating without technology.

No Easy Solutions

Instead of pursuing typical university channels, Robert opted to contact friends, friends of friends, and acquaintances for his study. He didn’t want to exclude any particular population and hoped that at least one of his parents’ friends might add depth to the study. He was fairly certain his mom’s best friend, Millie, would produce a lead. Robert created a list of summary criteria for his study. A nagging question remained: How would he even open a conversation with potential participants without it sounding like The Electric Kool-Aid Acid Test? Depressed, he wondered if a consult with Tom Wolfe might be in order.

RESEARCH STUDY CRITERIA:

Adults ages 21-75 are needed to study how the brain behaves in the following situations:

“Out of Body Experiences” – often taking place during or after a traumatic event, where one feels as if they’ve left their body for an extended period of time.

“Life Flashes Before You” – a near-death situation where you saw your life, or parts of it, as if it were a movie or a slide deck.

“Sixth Sense” – sensing a loved one is experiencing peril even though you are not physically present.

“Dream Manipulation” – ability to manipulate characters, scenarios, or outcomes of a lucid dream.

Robert included the last item largely due to numerous cross-cultural references to dreams as a gateway to the “great beyond”. He understood that any recruitment he did would likely be perceived as borderline crazy. Still, it accurately stated what he was looking for. He decided not to reveal a purpose yet. That part sounded so far-fetched that he worried no one would show up if he advertised it.

He created a list of the potential applicants. Right away, Robert realized he needed additional help.

Robert called his twin sister Brianna. She'd been on campus for the past 10 months working on her PhD in Psychology. Much to her own consternation, she now worked at Wallace University under a provisional hire with the expectation that she'd finish her doctorate prior to tenure. Just like what I was supposed to do, Robert thought glumly. He honestly never figured out why she'd suddenly left her Alma Mater to join Wallace U. After all, their schools were nemeses, weren’t they? She had been extremely tight-lipped on the subject, and it was clearly closed for discussion. He suspected it had something to do with a failed romance, although she insisted that a water leak in her apartment had precipitated her move. He’d had some strong misgivings about a professor she’d been seeing down there. He couldn’t rid himself of the feeling that there was something off with that guy. Even without the premonition, the whole situation reeked of conflict of interest; the guy was also a Dean and worked in her department! While Brianna was physically tough as nails and possessed a razor-sharp intellect, she could be unusually slow to perceive a love interest’s true intentions. As a former Army specialist, she'd been a formidable asset to the military, but on the emotional battlefield, she struggled.

When they got into the details of his idea, a dubious tone crept into her voice.

“Robert, you’re feeling OK? Everything’s alright at home? You'd tell me, right? No tics coming back?”

“What do you mean? Everything’s fine. Kids are fine, Jen is fine, everything is fine.” Robert tried not to let his exasperation show. Unsuccessfully.

“Well, I know that you've always been interested in this kind of thing, but it sounds a little far-fetched, even for you.”

“You know I've been thinking about pursuing my PhD for years … and well, it's nearly my birthday, and I'm not getting any younger.”

“Oh, so that's what this is, a mid-life crisis?”

“You know that you're literally only 28 minutes younger than me, right? “I just don't want you to do anything that could jeopardize your career. Your thesis might not be well-received in some circles.”

“It's a calculated risk, but I really want to pursue this. I think it can be mitigated. I’ll explain later. We’ll be careful.”

A combination of earnest pleading and future favors got the job done; she finally caved in.

“Alright then, let's give it a shot. Hopefully this doesn’t end up being like your rocket ship project,” she laughed. “Remember that I don't have unlimited time. I’m still working on a thesis of my own.”

“You won't regret this. It's going to be eye-opening.” Robert could hear the excitement in his own voice.

“Hopefully in a good way …” her voice trailed off doubtfully as they switched to coordinating schedules.

The Candidates

Robert and Brianna decided to target the last few weeks of Spring to prepare; it was a slower time of year for him. The end of the term was normally dedicated to grading tests, and his teaching assistant was more than capable of reviewing and scoring. He wondered if he should be concerned with just how easily the TA took over his role.

They elected to hold out for just a few individuals who could ably describe experiences that met the requirements of the experiment. They debated and finally agreed that the first interaction with potential candidates should be conducted via phone interviews, which would also help quickly weed out dubious qualifiers. Afterwards, they could move to one-on-one meetings.

At the end of the first week, they scored a big zero for applicants who actually fit one of their four desired profiles. The second week returned roughly the same results. Despite being mostly genuine, the majority were ineligible or unstable. Self-doubt began to creep in.

Back in his office, Robert asked Brianna, “What about your old roommate?”

“Which one?”

“The girl you roomed with at South State for two years.”

“Karen? You mean during my junior and senior year?”

“Yeah, that's the one.”

“Well, I suppose. Why does she come to mind?”

“Didn't she have an auto accident up in Portland?”

“Yes. That was during her Masters, I think. Pretty major one too, from what I understand.”

“Are you two still in contact?”

“Some … through email and cards at Christmas.”

“Why not ask her, then?” Robert prodded, puzzled by her reluctance. “She could be the near-death experience that we need.”

“Alright, I'll give her a call,” Brianna finally agreed.

The third week proved to be a major improvement: Karen returned Brianna's call and even volunteered to bring her twin sister. Robert contacted his mother for ideas, and she referred him to her best friend’s husband, an older gentleman who was temporarily pronounced dead in a drowning incident.

Unfortunately, by the end of the week, they still weren’t able to nail down the last requirement – an applicant who could manipulate dreams. Simply broaching the subject created an unease among most folks they talked to. The majority seemed to have sleeping problems and rarely remembered their dreams.

The Office

Robert decided to look up an old college friend for advice who was now a psychologist. She owned a private practice near campus, and they stayed in touch by having lunch once a month. He called her. “Hey there, Jean. How are you?”

“Hiya Roberto.” He didn’t know when that nickname had finally stuck. Sometime during their last year of college, he guessed.

She asked, “What’s up?”

“Hey, I was wondering if we could move our monthly lunch meeting up. I’m starting a study that’s going to help inform my thesis.”

“Your thesis? That’s great! You’ve been talking about that for years. What day and time were you thinking?”

“I guess since I’m the one asking for a change in our normal schedule, I should be flexible.”

She laughed. “Well, as it happens, I had a patient cancel today which gives me more than my normal half hour for lunch. How does today look like for you?” Robert checked his calendar. It could work. “Yeah, that will work. How about I bring lunch and we can eat in so we have more time?”

“Sounds good, Rob. See you in, what … three hours then?”

“On the dot. Thanks.” He signed off.

Six Degrees

Robert arrived with subs from Togos. They used to grab them once a week after class. He knocked on her office door.

“Hey there Rob,” she greeted him, hungrily eyeing the sandwiches.

“Beware of Greeks bearing gifts,” he quipped.

“Geeks bearing gifts?” she replied with a smirk.

“Whatever.”

“So, what’s the project you’re working on?”

Robert happily launched into a detailed account of his project and what he hoped to explore. Forty-five minutes later, their conversation was interrupted by a knock on her office door.

She glanced down at her watch and frowned. “Looks like my next appointment is a few minutes early. I didn’t realize it was that late.”

“Me neither. You going to eat that banana pepper?” he asked.

“Have at it. Let me get the door; I’ll ask him to wait in the lobby for a few minutes while I clean up.”

She got up from her desk and opened the door. A lanky, tall man, about 40 years old, stood waiting quietly. His blue jeans were faded with wear. Jean greeted him and let him know that they were wrapping up. It would be a few more minutes.

She closed the door and suggested that their next meeting be sooner than a month out. She suspected Robert might need a sounding board.

“That would be great! I’m finding there’s a lot more to the logistics of this project than I’d expected.”

Robert opted to slip out the back door and take the stairs down to his car.

The Appointment

"Hi Jason, how are you?” Dr. Jean asked.

“Fine, I suppose.”

“Good. You might have overheard my conversation with my friend Robert, who just left. He’s not one of my patients. We get together once a month to catch up.”

“What does he do?” Jason asked, not anxious to get into his problems just yet.

“He’s a professor at Wallace. Teaches Physics and a little Psych. In fact,” her face brightened, “Rob is planning an unusual study that involves dream manipulation. I didn’t catch all of it. He’s highly intelligent, but sometimes he’s a little hard to follow when he’s enthused about something.”

“Huh. What is it about dream manipulation that he’s studying?”

“The overall focus of his experiment is to understand whether people can exist in alternate dimensions and still be who they are, despite not having a physical body. Something about time distortion too, I think.” She paused, thoughtfully. “Is that something you might be interested in?”

“Is it a large group?”

“As far as I know, it’s just a few folks right now. They’re having trouble getting a full team. I do know he’s still looking for someone who can manipulate dreams …”

“Hmmm, I might be up for that, but it’s not something I’d want to commit to yet.”

“I can write down his contact information for you. His full name is Robert Sanford.” She paused. “Think about it. He’s a really nice guy.”

Dr. Jean handed him her card with Robert’s contact information on the back. She shifted gears, extracted her yellow notepad, and they began their session.

The Connection

“Hello, Robert?”

Robert didn’t recognize the number. “Hello.”

“This is Jason Santos. I heard you might need a candidate for your dream manipulation project. Dr. Jean suggested I call you.”

The puzzle pieces clicked into place. “Nice to meet you, Jason. We certainly do, although it’s more involved than just dream manipulation.”

“Can you tell me more about it?”

Robert’s voice lost some of its professional tone as his zeal for the project began to shine through. “The study is about exploring inter-dimensional travel and communication.”

A pause. “Come again?”

Robert took a deep breath. “I’ve been trying to formulate the criteria for some time now. It will involve near-death, telepathic, and dream experiences. Essentially, I want to better understand how people might exist and operate in these alternate dimensions. An alternate dimension in this context is one where you experience the world, but on a different level than normal, similar to existing in a different reality. You are somehow not constrained by your body, technology, or our ‘normal’ rules.” He continued, “Take near-death experiences for example. Surely you’ve heard stories of people who have almost died or even been pronounced dead? They believe they were experiencing some version of our world even when they existed in a near-death state, still capable of making observations. They report traveling to their childhood homes in time-frames that seemed like lifetimes, but here in the “real world”, were just seconds. Then, there’s telepathy. There are stories of siblings who just somehow knew that the other was in trouble, even if they weren’t communicating by conventional methods. I think that this study might provide a lot of supportive evidence to these experiences.”

“You mentioned dreams. Tell me more about that one,” Jason requested.

“Along with others, I’ve theorized that dreams may form a conduit to alternate dimensions – ones where our minds normally can’t or won’t go.”

Jason commented, “I have some unusual dreams for sure.” He paused, “I can even stop and rewind them.”

Robert’s eyes widened. “How long have you been able to do that?”

“Most of my life.”

“Do you just rewind, or can you change them too?”

“Oh, I can change them, for sure.”

Now Robert was excited. “That’s exactly the kind of thing we’ve been looking for! Would you be interested in getting together to see if the project might be a good fit for you?”

“I think so,” Jason replied hesitantly.

“Excellent! Of course, I realize you haven’t fully agreed to anything yet. But I think once you stop by, we can talk more, and I’m confident you’ll become more comfortable with the idea.”

Robert and Jason worked out a meeting date for the following week.

Finally, A Team

So far, Jason appeared to be the only one who could satisfy that elusive fourth criteria. He emphatically claimed to be completely free of any drugs or sleep aids, and his coherence seemed to confirm it.

Robert and Brianna elected to dedicate in-person interviews for the last week of the month. They’d interview the other candidates as a group later. For now, they wanted to focus on each individual’s unique perspective. Brianna called the finalists and let them know that they’d been selected. She did not mention how many viable candidates there were. Robert and Brianna agreed that she’d emphasize that the participants would be active, engaged, and informed. They needed a team, not a collection of lab rats.

In the end, there were only four subjects who satisfied the experiment's objectives.

The Candidates

The first participant in the study, an older man whose heart had stopped for 10 minutes, arrived on Monday accompanied by his wife, Millie. She was Robert’s mother’s best friend. Brianna and Robert exchanged the unspoken question of how the man could have any cognitive skills left. After all, without blood flowing to the brain, it should have starved from oxygen deprivation. All things considered, he appeared surprisingly sharp. Robert and Brianna were anxious to hear his story.

Ted Stadeli began by explaining how he'd spent his early years working as an electrician. One day, he had been called to work on a dead electrical line ... or so he thought. He’d propped his ladder up against an ivy-covered pole that had previously provided lighting for the nearby dock. The owner’s residence was a beautiful estate with an immaculate wrap-around, cedar deck – all neatly situated onto the banks of the Deschutes River. The deck ceded to stairs that casually spiraled down towards deceptively dangerous waters which hid swirling currents below. He reminisced how pleasant the river had been, and conversely, how completely unaware he was of the danger therein.

Unbeknownst to him, there were two lights wired to the same pole: one installed by the first owners decades earlier, and another via a traditional breaker box. The older light, its fixture long-gone, was positioned squarely on the backside of the pole. Ivy had overgrown the rusted mount as vines had climbed tenaciously upwards. The front-side light fixture had been burning bulbs at a prodigious rate, and the owners finally resorted to calling someone in. Ted dutifully re-checked the fixture, confirming that it wasn't live. As he worked, his ladder tipped slightly, causing him to flail and grab at the ivy-covered telephone pole. The vegetation on the backside gave way and exposed the older, frayed electrical wires that were still connected to the breaker for an old outbuilding.

The initial electric shock paralyzed Ted, convulsing his big arms into a giant bear hug. His grip soon yielded to gravity, and he helplessly slipped into the murky water flowing past the dock. A nearby eddy prevented the river’s heavy currents from dragging him downstream. After a notable flicker rippled through the home’s interior lighting, the homeowner scanned the area near his house. The succession of events numbly registered as he observed a ladder half-submerged in the cold, dark river with the electrician nowhere to be found.

The owner frantically yelled for his wife to call 911. He marched straight into the water and yanked on the ladder. It resisted, revealing an arm entangled in the last few rungs. Holding the ladder, he pulled Ted out of four feet of standing water. After dragging him to shore, the prognosis looked grim. Ted's entire face was tinged in gray and blue. Grabbing Ted’s wrist, the homeowner couldn’t feel a pulse. He began CPR, the exact sequence jumbling itself in memory, making the arrival of the paramedics seem interminably long. Moments later, the ambulance barely screeched to a stop before the EMTs exited, running towards Ted’s inert body.

They worked on Ted with little success. In the ambulance, a monotone flat-line advertised that Ted had already left this world. With lights flashing and sirens screaming, the team rushed to the nearest hospital. Pulling into the parking lot, the lead EMT administered one last shock, knowing that by then the chances of survival were infinitesimally small. The paddles convulsed Ted’s body one last time, freezing his limbs in an ironic repeat of the accident. With a sputter, he miraculously awoke, coughing up dirty river water onto the crash cart. He seemed surprised and a little disappointed to find himself lying there. Strangely, he was not as surprised as the paramedics were to see him breathing again.

“What time is it?” Ted asked. The EMTs glanced at each other, perplexed at the strange nature of his question.

“4:30?” one responded quizzically.

“How long was I out?”

“Umm, you were deceased for at least 10 minutes,” the technician answered, emphasizing the word 'deceased'.

“10 minutes?!!” Strangely, Ted wasn't surprised that he'd actually died, but more by the time-frame.

“Why do you ask?” the lead paramedic frowned in obvious puzzlement; the unspoken question on everyone’s mind was, 'Why would you care?'

“Oh”, he sighed, “Felt like a lifetime. Ages … man, what a story I could tell ya.” And with that, Ted lapsed back into silence.

Joined at the Hip or the Mind?

The twins, Karen and Kim, arrived on Tuesday for their in-person interviews. After introductions, it was obvious from the twins’ interaction that words played a limited role in their ongoing communication. Volumes of information were conveyed through glances and apparent intuition. Upon entering the screening room, their eyes momentarily locked, mirroring a shared hesitancy. Brianna immediately worked to assuage their fears and re-establish her old connection with Karen. Brianna already suspected that these two would be perfect candidates simply based upon their obvious, non-verbal style and Karen’s accident experience.

Brianna led them to separate study cubes where they sat down at desks equipped with tablets. She began to guide them through a series of questions of “What would your sibling say?” Brianna retreated to a control room that allowed her to observe both locations and answer any questions they had. Initially, each woman was startled by the appearance of Brianna's face in the upper corner of their screens, but they soon settled down to type their responses. Brianna smiled at how similar those two were. As the questions appeared one at a time, their answers were often nearly word-for-word. Robert glanced over at his twin; he could tell that she was onto something.

After rejoining the professors in the conference room, Karen related her car crash that occurred while they both attended separate schools: Kim, Black Hills State University of South Dakota, and Karen, South State. Curious, Brianna inquired why they hadn't attended the same college since they had such a close relationship. Kim explained that her scholarship left her with very few expenses despite being an out-of-state student. Karen, meanwhile, planned to pursue a Master's in Education and hoped to someday teach at her hometown elementary school. South State hosted excellent teaching programs.

On one rainy Fall morning, Karen drove to the University of Portland to visit a friend. They were planning to take in a Pilots’ soccer game; the Catholic college’s women’s team was renowned for its winning traditions. As she drove across the Fremont Bridge, she absentmindedly glanced up at colorful flapping flags mounted high above the arches, interspersed with autumn leaves that danced on currents swirling up through the balustrades. Rain pitter-pattered on slippery glass where wind blew oblivious raindrops sideways before indifferent wipers cleanly erased them. A leisurely glance rearward registered a huge SUV bearing down on her. A Suburban plowed into the back of her car, causing her little Honda Civic to careen off the guard rail and spin 180 degrees. Her crumpled rear bumper now led the charge, slamming itself into an older Fiat. Rain-slicked roads propelled traffic into a flotsam of spinning, sliding, puzzle-pieces that eventually bumped and ground to a messy halt.

The Civic's airbag deployed immediately, simultaneously blackening both of Karen’s eyes. Dazed, she smelled smoke – an acrid, electrical burning odor that left a metallic taste in her mouth. Attempts to open the door were futile. Confused, she remembered she'd been spun halfway around and egress was blocked by the bridge’s side barrier. On the passenger side, the door was sandwiched closed by yet another vehicle that had side-swiped her in its attempt to avoid the SUV directly behind her. As the smoke increased, panic set in as she struggled to release the seat-belt. It was a normal, everyday task that had become extraordinarily difficult. She glanced at the clock: 10:09 AM. It was a timestamp that would become firmly imprinted on her brain; she would have to recite it many times to accident investigators.

Meanwhile in South Dakota, her twin, Kim, sat down in her weekly Abnormal Psychology class. She sat in a folding, wooden theater-type seat with a strangely intricate cross carved into the right corner – a product of a bored student trapped in the days of protractors and compasses. She checked the time: 10:05 AM. The click of the second-hand was audible despite the huge concave auditorium. Tick … tick … tick. It was typical for her professor to be a few minutes late.

At exactly 10:09 AM, Kim snapped to attention, riveted by a feeling that something was clearly wrong. The anticipation of danger combined with a flood of anxiety, worse than anything she'd felt before. She instantly knew her sister was in trouble. She fidgeted for a few seconds while trying to rationalize it away, but eventually gave in. All at once, she gathered up her belongings and exited the auditorium. Karen’s phone went unanswered despite Kim’s repeated attempts to contact her.

Inter-dimensional Dreaming?

A few other candidates trickled in mid-week, but none were as promising as Ted and the twins. Finally, Jason arrived on Friday. He promptly entered at his assigned time of 9:30 AM. Robert and Brianna were relieved. The prospects hadn’t been good.

Stress lined Jason’s forehead, and wrinkles edged the corners of his eyes, making him appear older than his years. He momentarily lingered at the doorway of the interview room before entering. He silently noted the two-way mirror, then uncomfortably folded his lanky frame onto the plain, metal chair. Noticing his discomfort, Robert excused himself to find Jason a better seat. After Jason signed the various forms and information releases, Brianna began with her usual set of questions. Jason's face brightened as Robert returned wheeling a leather-backed executive chair. He settled in and flashed a cautious smile of thanks.

“What, in a sentence or two, brought you here?”

Jason paused as he retreated into hidden memories. Brianna observed him carefully. The university-issued, black-and-white clock ticked off slow seconds as it had done for countless other minutes, hours, and days.

“Jason?” Jason involuntarily jerked when he realized they were still waiting. Twenty seconds had passed since the question, but it seemed longer.

“Oh, I'm sorry. Can you repeat the question?”

“No problem, take your time.”

Jason sheepishly nodded, this time concentrating more carefully.

“Well, Robert, you already know a little about what I’m going to tell you.” He stopped talking and stared at the ground. It didn’t feel right. He felt uneasy.

Brianna gathered up her notes, surprising both Jason and Robert. “How about we get out of here for a bit? This environment is so sterile. I could use a break.” She turned to Jason, “Are you OK with that Jason?” Jason nodded thankfully. Robert trusted Brianna’s instincts even though he already had a good idea why they were leaving. The lab had a clinical feel that wasn’t always well-suited to conversation.

Jason visibly relaxed as Brianna lightly commandeered the group, leading them to the University’s coffee shop before continuing towards Avian Park. Bright sunlight filtered through the trees as they wandered across manicured grass dotted with the occasional student working on a tan. A pang of sadness descended on Jason as he watched two students launching their mountain bikes over a parking barrier. Robert, Brianna, and Jason stopped next to an old Georgia Pacific steam locomotive that sat forever sequestered to just a few feet of tracks. As Jason haltingly told his story, he tiptoed around the edges of something else. The stress that seeped into his narrative sometimes made his voice tremble. While Brianna and Robert normally led subjects through a series of canned questions, they let Jason take the conversation where he needed it to go.

While it was evident that Jason was struggling with some serious emotional trauma, they both sensed that he was the candidate they needed. At first, the description of the background conversations he routinely heard created a few worried looks between them, but the longer Jason talked, the clearer it became that he was a rare individual who was ultra-sensitive to the workings of his subconscious mind.

He confessed that his best friend's recent coma still felt like a death in the family. It felt as if the recent combination of events were conspiring to push him over the edge of a very tall cliff. He emphasized that he didn’t truly believe that the world was actively plotting against him, but that the culmination of it all was still very overwhelming.

Later, a description of “dream-bending”, as Jason referred to it, continued to fascinate both professors. It held an insight into how his mind could simultaneously operate on multiple levels. He might have already tapped into the skills that their experiment so desperately needed. Both Brianna and Robert came away with the distinct impression that Jason's brain was unconsciously attempting to devise a way to escape his current reality. They wondered why, and whether he was using his dreams as a hiding place, or a way to reformulate his past.

After what had been a productive afternoon, they dropped Jason off at his car and returned to the office, invigorated by the fact that they now had candidates who represented at least the minimum requirements for the study: a near-death experience, time distortion, an instance of telepathy, and a case of dream-state manipulation.

Insight

Jason left the interview feeling optimistic for the first time in a long while. Both professors had a calming air about them; they were just regular people despite their advanced degrees, not needing to lord it over him or prove how much they knew. Even Dr. Jean sometimes over-analyzed as she silently searched for classical signs that pointed this way or that. In contrast, Robert and Brianna affirmed a diminishing hope that his perspective was unique, and maybe, a “good” kind of abnormal. They weren’t scared by his descriptions and didn’t nervously start looking for a way out of the conversation.

Jason felt the prod of his well-known sweet tooth as he approached the Chocolate Treasury that sold his favorite cherry-filled pastries. The Memorial Union, known as the “MU”, housed a number of mini-restaurants, catering to a wide variety of culinary tastes. Jason’s phone buzzed; it was a call from his brother.

“Hey Jay.” His brother still referred to him as he did when they were kids.

“Hey.”

Their sentences were always brief – little spoken, but much communicated – the result of long years together.

“Where have you been? I haven't heard from you in months.”

“South America. My company flew me down there to work on one of our birds.” His brother worked for a helicopter company.

“When did you get back?”

“Last week. Listen, I heard about Kyle. So sorry to hear that.”

“Yeah, thanks. It was quite a shock. You just find out? Who told you?”

“Mom. You?”

“Kyle’s parents. I was glad they called.”

“Hard conversation?”

“Very. So, what's up?” Jason asked.

“Well, maybe I shouldn’t go into it right now … with you still dealing with Kyle’s coma and all.”

“No, go ahead.”

“Do you remember that babysitter Mom used to take us to when she'd fill in at church?”

“Not really.” Jason could barely recall going to any babysitter since their mother was mostly stay-at-home. Still, a fleeting instance of being dropped off there stirred something up.

“Well, Mom, Dad, and I were coming back from lunch, and Dad wanted to show me a new real estate development on Quarry Loop Road.”

“Mmmm hmmm. Yes, I think I remember that area.”

“So anyway, Dad took a wrong turn and we ended up on this dead-end gravel road, and I started getting this really uneasy feeling. Queasy, almost.”

“OK.” Briefly, a wooded, rocky turn-around materialized in Jason's mind.

“As we were turning around, Dad mentioned, 'Oh hey, there's where we used to leave you guys for daycare when Mom was on the Board at church.'” He paused; the silence was malignant. “I swear, Jay, I broke out in a cold sweat. All I wanted to do was to get the hell out of there.”

“Jason, are you there?” “Yep,” Jason weakly replied.

“You OK?”

“Yep.”

“Do you think there's anything to that?”

“Maybe,” Jason managed. “Alright. Well, talk to you later.” Jason clicked off.

On the other end, his brother sat perplexed and a little annoyed by the abrupt end of the call. “What the hell, Jay?” he muttered to himself. He'd expected at least some sort of discussion, not a brush-off.

Jason left his place in line. He turned towards the door and numbly plodded out, completely forgetting the pastries he’d ordered.

That night, Jason’s childhood cliff-falling dream returned with a vengeance. The sharp edges, gone for so many years, rushed back with crystallized clarity. They sliced back in, poking holes in a stability he’d so painstakingly built around himself. This time, he quickly moved through the dream until he encountered the spider. He slowed the dream down. Summoning his courage, he carefully concentrated on the monster's eyes. Something clicked. Jason finally recognized the image that reflected back. How could he have missed it all those years? Gasping and choking, Jason climbed up the roots of his subconscious to the branches of wakefulness.