The Blue Energy

The room was underground.

I knew it before I ever noticed the light.

It wasn't completely dark, but it wasn't bright either. Soft light filtered through the space—perhaps from narrow basement windows or a few lamps tucked into corners. Whatever its source, it was just enough to see the room without ever dispelling the feeling that we were beneath the surface.

The basement looked surprisingly ordinary. It was furnished like a family room, with couches gathered around a carpeted floor and people standing in small groups as if they had come together for a celebration. If it hadn't been for the dimness and that unmistakable feeling of being underground, it could have been anyone's living room.

The room was full of women.

None of them were familiar to me.

Even so, I had the unmistakable sense that my husband, my sister, and my brother-in-law were somewhere nearby. I never actually saw them, but I could feel that they were present.

As soon as I arrived, all of the attention shifted toward me.

The women were genuinely happy that I was there. It felt as though they had been waiting for me, as though I had finally found the place where they expected me to be. Their excitement was contagious, and before long I found myself standing in a small circle with three of them.

We linked arms.

Then we began jumping up and down together, laughing and squealing like old friends reunited after years apart.

They seemed even happier than I was, almost relieved that I had finally arrived.

I was happy too.

But beneath my excitement was a hesitation I couldn't explain. Something inside me remained cautious, as though a quiet part of me recognized that something wasn't quite right.

As we bounced together with our arms locked, a brilliant blue light suddenly flashed around us.

It wasn't simply light.

It was energy.

The blue glow moved through each of us in one continuous circle, flowing from one woman to the next until it connected all four of us into a single ring. It felt alive.

Around us stood many other women, smiling and celebrating my arrival. They all seemed pleased that I was there, but the women in my circle carried a deeper joy, as though we had been brought together for a reason.

Then everything shifted.

The celebration continued around the room, but I found myself sitting on a couch that divided the space into two open areas. It wasn't another room exactly, just another section beyond the back of the couch.

By then, I no longer sensed the presence of my husband, my sister, or my brother-in-law.

I leaned back and started to pull my legs onto the couch to get comfortable.

Before I could, my cousin Jay sat down beside me.

In waking life, Jay had always made me uncomfortable. When we were children, he behaved inappropriately toward me, and as we got older he told me about sexual dreams he had involving me. I have kept my distance from him for many years.

Now he had positioned himself so close that I couldn't even stretch out my legs.

Annoyed, I looked at him and asked sarcastically, "Do you want me to put my feet in your lap?"

"Yes," he answered.

"Too bad," I said.

I shifted my body against him, forcing him to move away.

Then the atmosphere changed.

The warmth disappeared.

The women were no longer laughing.

Every one of them now stood behind the couch, spaced several feet apart, facing forward in perfect stillness.

No one spoke.

No one moved.

At first they almost looked hypnotized, but that wasn't quite right. They seemed to be making themselves as still and unnoticed as possible.

A feeling of dread settled over the room.

Only then did I notice the man.

He sat alone in the space behind them, watching me.

I had never seen him before.

Without looking away, he introduced himself.

"I am Parafim," he said.

Then, without moving his lips, I heard him speak directly into my mind.

They call me...

Out loud he finished the sentence.

"...Sting."

Then he added, "I am two hundred years old."

I knew immediately that he was evil.

Whether he was a demon, a vampire, or something else entirely, I couldn't say. The dream never explained it.

It didn't need to.

Everything about him radiated darkness.

Not long afterward, I woke.

The dream stayed with me throughout the day.

At first, I wondered if the women had brought me into their circle so that whatever suffering this man inflicted on them would be divided among us—that somehow my arrival would lessen their burden.

But the more I thought about it, the less that explanation fit.

I began to think they weren't standing still because they belonged to him.

They were standing still because they were afraid.

They weren't looking at him because they hoped he wouldn't notice them.

They had learned that survival meant becoming invisible.

But he didn't look at them.

He looked at me.