While the foggy mist seemed familiar, it was not. The landscape had trees and rolling hills but looked unusual, odd, and not normal. The air was crisp and smelled cleaner than what she was used to breathing. If she did not know better, it was almost as if she was in a different time, a time warp that was void of any modern substances or practicalities.
Her head was spinning and she felt like she was going insane.
As the blackness began to fade, Cait found herself drifting back, back to a time that she really did not want to remember. She was helpless as she entered the timeline as an observer, a voyeur that could not look away. Her dream had landed her at night outside of the hospital where her father had been admitted before going into hospice under her care. Across the street was a dark sparsely lit parking lot and, with the cold late October wind whipping through everything, Cait saw herself tightly grab her hooded coat to protect her from the ensuing chill.
In an area in the backyard near the fence, Cait found a quiet corner to eat some of her burger and noticed across from her a tent with a woman sitting at a table with one of the guests. Curious, Cait walked over to the tent at which the woman glanced at her but then her look turned more serious. It seemed that Brianna had a psychic, Miss Jacquie, at the party and she was giving readings. Cait did get a little unnerved at the odd look the psychic had given her but she decided to wait her turn to sit down in the booth. She was finishing up her last bite of the burger when the person sitting at the table left and Miss Jacquie motioned for Cait to come over.
"Please, sit," she told her.
Somewhat skeptical yet curious, she put her plate down on the table and cautiously sat down.
The psychic stared at Cait as if she was reading everything about her like an autobiography and then grabbed Cait's hands holding them palms up. After staring for a few minutes at her hands, the psychic looked back up at Cait.
"You are a sensitive and an old soul," she began. "Your psychic sensitivities are drawing entities of your past lives to you, some good, some bad. But I am not sure how they had found you in this parallel."
Stunned, Cait just sat there and blinked. She already knew that she was an empath but the other parts just did not seem to make sense to her.
"Be warned that you will be at a crossroad where you must choose but you will know the right path when it comes," Miss Jacquie advised her.
"What do you mean?" Cait asked concerned about what the psychic was seeing.
"I am sorry...my spirit guide has gone silent and I have no more information for you," Miss Jacquie lamented.
She could see that Cait was surrounded by such strong protective energies that Jacquie knew that she was of supernatural importance; just of what, she did not know.
Handing Cait her business card, the psychic then told her, "Out of all of the people here, you are the only one who would know what I mean."
Concern, disbelief, and skepticism swirled in Cait's head; she did not know what to believe or not to believe. Miss Jacquie hit the nail on the head with the empath capability but Cait had no idea about the rest. She took the psychic's card not really thinking that she would ever need it again anytime soon. Her curiosity, however, was starting to get the best of her but she then shook it off.
Looking down at the business card, Cait looked back up. "Thank you. I appreciate it."
"Go in peace for your energy is powerful," Miss Jacquie replied.
The tour guide began with the origins of the castle and the extensive history up to the 21st century and then started the walking tour. The guide led the group to the main foyer that had been restored over the centuries and had recently been refurbished to keep the integrity of the original architecture. On the walls were original portraits of the past rulers of the castle, each perfectly preserved and secured in temperature controlled plexi glass casings. As Cait looked at them, she froze when she came upon the portrait in the middle.
Stepping closer to it while the rest of the group looked at other items, Cait moved as if in slow motion all the while focusing intently at the portrait of Aedan dressed in full Galloglaigh warrior regalia. The guide then moved on with the tour but Cait stayed behind, just fixated with the haunting portrait, almost as if he was staring back at her and trying to reach out to her. As she reached out her hand to the painting, she could feel a strong aura of energy between them, magnetic in its hold, and did not want to stop the inexplicable empathic link.
Feeling her heart breaking, Cait closed her eyes and continued to sense Aedan's emotions emerging, recognizing and reaching out to her across the ages, a message that had been captured so many centuries ago by the artist. For once, her empathic sensitivity was reading what it was supposed to read and, with tears in her eyes and her heart breaking, she softly apologized to Aedan.