Great Books—Thriller Books—Mystery Stories

     I feel funny. Kind of like floating on my back in a warm swimming pool. Dreamy. Relaxed. Safe. A voice, a kind voice, is talking to me. I can't recall who the voice belongs to, but I trust it. I know it wants me to be safe.

     "Who are you?" it asks.

     I respond. "I'm Polly."

     "Polly Marlowe or Polly Bodine?"

     I'm confused by the question. I don't answer right away.

     "Did you hear my question? Who are you?"

     "I'm Polly Marlowe and Polly Bodine," I say. How can this be, I wonder. How can I be two people at the same time? It feels crazy. Yet I'm comfortable with the idea.

     "You're both?"

     "Yes, both."

     "All right, let's talk about Polly Bodine for now. Is that okay?"

     "Yes."

     "So tell me this. Where are you?"

     In my mind I see where I am. "I'm in a small courtroom. It's chilly and everyone is dressed in outdoor clothing. I don't think the building is heated." Somehow I know it's a preliminary examination of witnesses and I report this fact. "I've been charged with the axe murder of my sister-in-law, Emeline Van Pelt Houseman and her baby, my niece, Ann Eliza."

     "Are you guilty?"

     "I'm not sure. I don't think so. I feel nothing but love for the victims. I'm distraught about their deaths. But I'm not sure."

     "That's okay." The voice is very soothing to me and I don't feel threatened. "What is happening in the courtroom?"

     "A pawnbroker is testifying." In my mind I see a man named Aaron Adolphus.

     "Can you tell me what he is doing and saying?"

     "Yes. I think I can. He is shown a watch and is asked if he's ever seen it before. He says a woman wearing a green veil and hood presented it to him the morning of Christmas day. She told him her name was Ellen Henderson of Bergen, New Jersey and she wanted $70 for the watch. He offered $35 and the woman accepted that sum. He then identifies me as the woman that pawned the watch."

     "Was it you?"

     "You mean me, Polly Bodine?"

     "That's right."

     "I don't think so. I have no recollection of doing that. But he seems so certain."

     "Don't worry," the soothing voice says and I feel reassured. "What's happening now?"

     "It's me, Polly Bodine. I am testifying."

     "Tell me what you are saying."

     "I testify that I was intimately connected to the deceased, Emeline Houseman, who I last saw six-thirty A.M. on Christmas Eve morning. I slept over and she was in bed complaining of a toothache when I left her and went to my father's house. I checked her house later and it was shut up so I thought she'd gone out. I didn't know there was money in the house, but I did know about the jewelry.

     "I testify that I saw a man dressed in dark clothes go into Emeline's house later that day, but I didn't recognize him. He was too far away and his hat hid his face.

      "I say that something about him reminded me of my brother, but everyone thought that George was away in Virginia at that time. So I testify that it couldn't have been him. On Christmas Day, I say that I took the ferry to Manhattan. I testify that I first heard about the murders on December 26th."

     "Is anything else going on?"

     "Yes. My brother, George Houseman, is now testifying."

     "Can you report on his testimony?"

     "I think so. I'll try."

     Something very strange is happening to me. In my mind I'm listening to George Houseman, but I hear and feel my mouth speaking as though it was his...

...Suddenly, I'm rapidly becoming aware of my surroundings and that the name attached to the kind voice is Dr. Chakraborti's. My memory of what just occurred is becoming very fuzzy, and I sit up and tell her that. My head hurts.

     Dr. Chakraborti smiles warmly at me. "You did good," she says and fills me in on what I said while "under."  Some of it is just like the dreams I've been having. I feel my heart beating fast. I'm gulping air and my hands are clammy.

     "How is this helping me? Am I losing my mind?"

     "You're doing fine. It's still too early to judge, but you seem able to connect with your past as Polly Bodine."

     I feel very excited. "Then it's true? I really am the reincarnation of Polly Bodine from 1843 Staten Island?"

     Dr. Chakraborti shrugs. "It's very possible. It's also possible that your memories are the result of cryptomnesia."

     That's a very scary word. "I don't understand."

     "It's a term that means memories like yours could be stories created by your subconscious mind using your vivid imagination, information hidden from your conscious mind, and suggestions from me or others. By the time we're done, though, we'll have a better sense of whether you are really reliving an earlier life or are just experiencing cryptomnesia. Let's give it a rest now and try again in a few days."