An Ambiguous Appointment

Hello All:

Today's featured writing is yet another dream that I just had to share with you. But unlike the past dreams that I have shared with you, this one did not occur in the early morning hours. Rather, it was a dream—more of a nightmare—that occurred a few hours after falling asleep. If you know anything about dreaming, REM cycles and sleep patterns; then you know that we sleep deeper in the early part of the evening. Scientists say that we have horrific nightmares at this time. The nightmares are so bad that we forget all of them by morning.

But sometimes we do remember one of those nightmares, particularly if waking up in the middle of the night while screaming. You'll agree that the experience is a bit traumatic. As for the others that are typically forgotten, I suppose this is nature’s way of helping us maintain our sanity.

But, again, that's not what happened to me. I immediately woke up in a horrified state while in the middle of this nightmare. Looking back, it wasn't all that bad. I wasn’t traumatized by it. By morning I was 100% fine, but I do remember all the details. Still, it made me lay in bed for a while in fear that something bad was about to happen. Maybe the nightmare was serving as an indicator. And the more I thought about it, the more the symbology could have been interpreted as any number of horrible things.

The dream actually reminded me of a couple of short stories I had written around 2009. They ended up in a very short story book that went for 99 cents at the time. It was titled, Hypnotic Intrusions. But what was "hypnotic intrusions"? What did the title mean?

Well I wasn't sure what to call the book, but I wanted to imply that the stories contained thieves and assailants who were capable hypnotizing their way into a home. Not necessary to break into a house to steal; simply ask to be let in and have the homeowner agree to do so through hypnosis. It was probably similar to the movie, Poltergeist Two, in which the ghost of insane preacher, Rev. Henry Kane, went up to the front door of the homeowner, Steven Freeling, and demanded to be let in. In case you don't know what I'm talking about, check out the You Tube video: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hOxaZBJQdv0

Although similar to the scene in Poltergeist Two, the actual concept of hypnotic intrusions was inspired by a trend that I had noticed throughout the early to mid 2000s. It involved door to door salespeople who would stand at your front porch and smile when you opened the front door. They would warmly greet you, and act as though you were an old friend. If you happened to look out your front window to see who it was before answering the door, the salesperson would smile and wave. It would lead you to wonder who it was. And you would be quick to run over and answer the door, anticipating a visit from one of your family members or an old friend.

This technique of tricking the homeowner of opening the door and possibly letting the sales person in by simply smiling and being friendly was so effective that my wife actually invited a salesperson into the home. It didn't take long; I'd say maybe less than ten seconds.

My wife was home alone on an afternoon. (We were living in an apartment at the time.) She received a knock at the door so she opened it.

There stood a female salesperson who was so overjoyed to see my wife. "Hi!" she excitedly greeted. "How are you doing?"

Immediately, my wife believed it to be her old school friend. She actually hugged the salesperson and brought her into the apartment.

And that's when my wife realized that it wasn't her old friend. It was a salesperson with products to sell. Such a dirty trick...

So I wrote a couple of stories on this method that I call "hypnotic intrusions". The actual story book has been unpublished. It no longer exists. But one of the stories was absorbed into my storybook, Freaked out Horror in a work titled, Home Invasion. The other one can be found on my blog—a very short work—titled, Smile at the Door.

I seem to have a fascination with this people coming to the door and trying to trick themselves in. A few years ago I had a dream that I shared with you on the blog about two women who I perceived as being—perhaps—gypsies. They didn't look like gypsies, but there was just something about their mannerisms and being that reminded me of gypsies in the dream.

They actually came to the sliding back door to my backyard.

I opened the door a crack and was immediately asked if I needed new siding on my house.

I quickly answered, "Well as you can see, our house is all brick. We don't need siding."

But then they continued by offering all sorts of things ranging from college tuition savings for my kids to new windows for my home. In all cases I turned them down.

Finally, one of the women told me that they would be willing to accept anything they could give. They weren't picky; they just wanted anything—anything I could give them. But what she was really trying to say—as interpreted in the actual dream—was that she had come to suck the very life out of me; move into a place as a parasite, take what she could get, and then move once we were no longer useful. Again, she didn't say this directly, but I interpreted it this way in the dream.

I woke up shortly after that. The dream was a bit disturbing; I wondered what it meant.

***

And then there is today's featured writing. I think what I want to do this time instead of relaying the dream to you in first person narrative, I want to turn the dream over to a character and tell you the story in third person narrative. I'm sure you are all tired of hearing me relay my dreams as, "I did this... then I did that... My wife said this me... then I said that..." Sometimes stories are much more enjoyable to read in third person narrative. I'll use the old characters, Mario and Cynthia, from the short story that appears in Freaked out Horror, Home Invasion.

An Ambiguous Appointment

It was a late Saturday afternoon as Mario sat in the family room, watching the ball game on TV. His wife, Cynthia, was in the kitchen, preparing dinner. Their three kids were all in their own bedrooms, doing their own things to keep themselves occupied—whatever those things might be.

Just then, the doorbell rang.

Annoyed, Mario stood up. "Ughh... I wonder who this could be." He strolled over to the door and opened it a crack to see who was outside.

There on the porch stood an attractive, young woman. She was the sophisticated business-type; very professional appearing. She had long dark hair that was neatly brushed down, and glasses perhaps to indicate an intelligence or element of being intellectual. She had a briefcase in her hand.

"Yes, can I help you?" asked Mario.

The woman smiled. "I'm here. We can get started."

“Started with what? challenged Mario.

The woman laughed. “That's really funny. Seriously, we can get to business now.”

Mario suddenly didn't have a good feeling about her. "And what business would that be?"

"Well..." began the woman. "You had a certain need to produce an outcome based on your expectations that simply were not being fulfilled. I am here with the objective to show you how to fulfill those expectations. We had an appointment, don't you remember?"

Mario returned a queer look. "No I don't remember. And that's quite a vague explanation. Could you be a little more specific?"

"I'm not sure how much more specific I could be." argued the woman.

By then, Cynthia had come to the door. She was curious as to who the visitor was. "Hi, good afternoon!"

"Hi, yes, I'm here." returned the woman. "I'm here to get started, but your husband doesn't seem to understand. We can talk business and get everything taken care of for you."

Mario looked over to his wife Cynthia, "I don't know who she is, or what she is asking about. She's not being very straight forward."

“Oh Mario!” complained Cynthia. Her husband was always like this. "Just let her in." She reached her hand for the door handle to open it. But Mario grabbed the handle before she could reach it.

"No!" Mario insisted. "Not until we find out who she is or what it is that she wants." Then he looked over at the woman. "I'm going to ask you one more time; what appointment did we have with you, and what is it that you want?"

The woman reached for the inner pocket of her blazer and removed a small appointment book. "I have an appointment written down right here with Mario and Cynthia Mendez? Is this you?"

"Don't answer that question!" urged Mario to his wife. "We don't have to answer who we are."

Cynthia laughed and poked fun of her husband at that moment. "Well you sort of just did inform her of who we are by doing that. Come-on, Mario, just let her in. You know she's legit. She's got our names and she has an appointment written in her book. Just let her in. It's probably very important. Don't you remember anything about inviting her?"

"No I don't!" returned Mario. He looked back at the woman who now exhibited a disappointed and confused look on her face. But Mario could read through her. It was all an act. Aside from that, she was being so vague with her purpose for visiting. Mario had no recollection of making an appointment to discuss any failed expectations with anybody. "I’m going to have to ask you to leave." declared Mario.

"Mario!" sharply called out Cynthia.

With his hands still on the door to prevent Cynthia from opening it, Mario glared back at his wife. "Do you not understand what is happening here? This is some kind of salesperson; someone who could very well be trying trick her way into our house; maybe to case us out so they can clean us out later when we are not home."

The woman at the door was flabbergasted upon hearing this.

Cynthia was embarrassed. But she was beginning to understand her husband's point. "Mario, I know she might be dangerous. I know she could be trying to trick her way in here to case the place out. Or she could be a door-to-door salesperson who might be trying to scam us into giving her money. But we are obligated to be nice to her. We are nice people. So we need to open our door to let her in."

"No we don't!" snapped Mario. He kept a firm grip on the handle so his wife could not open it.

With that, the woman put on a performance. She pretended to cry; acting like her feelings were hurt. "Fine, if this is how it's going to be... I made a special trip out here to help you—and you invited me here—we had an appointment. And now you are not going to let me in. I guess with that, I'm just going to have to leave." She forced a fake sniffle and rubbed her eyes while walking away.

Mario shut the door. And that was the end of the strange woman with the ambiguous appointment.

The End!