<br><br><center>*Travelling to past lives is like making a hole in the floor and letting the flames of the fire in the apartment below scorch and burn the present
— Paulo Coelho*
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![Double-Vision.png](https://cdn.steemitimages.com/DQmPkbQKMESs7cKVTD9T9hjnhrBRDVChSxGSkpjfNDz2Zic/Double-Vision.png)
*Double-Vision*</center>





<br><br>I'm lost in a dream with Lorraine passionately kissing her, but the misty illusion abruptly clears and I find myself staring into the dark surprise of Amanda's eyes.

"I'm...I'm so sorry," I mutter, trying to come out of the dazed state in which I’ve found myself. Amanda says nothing but stares at me in shock and awe at what I've done.

"I just don't know what came over me," I try to explain, but I’m only too aware no explanation can account for my actions.

"Are you feeling all right?" she asks, probably thinking I'm losing my mind.

"No, I don't think I am actually...I 'm not sure what just happened. I thought I was dreaming."

She winces as she  rubs her bruised lower lip, "Actually, you weren’t—that was very real."

<br><br>I have a small bar fridge in the corner and fortunately there's a few cubes in the ice tray. I empty them out onto a paper napkin and hand them to her.

"Here, press one of these on your lip—it should help reduce the swelling."

"I can only imagine what my colleagues will say when I go into the precinct."

"Do you have to work tonight?"

She shakes her head, "No, I took the night off—I’m all yours. Aren't you lucky?"

<br><br>”I'm so sorry," I repeat dumbly, but all the while her words excite me. 

*What the hell am I becoming* I muse, *a debauched molester ravishing helpless women?*

And for that matter what happened to the sarcastic woman and her barbed quips that used to torment me? She's gone and in her place  is this meek, compliant victim.

I don't understand any of this and I don’t want to—I just want the nightmare to end.


<br><br>"So, what do we do now—what's the plan?" she asks.

There's something not right—this isn't the way Amanda talks—it's as if I'm conversing with a stranger. Then it hits me—she's *not* back at all—this isn't Amanda—it's Lorraine.

"I have to make a call," I tell her and get out my cell and text Char:

*Char, Help! Something's not right with Amanda. I think she's still Lorraine. We're at my office. Come quick!*

A minute later she texts back: *Stay put. Be there in 5 minutes.*

<br><br>I turn back to face Amanda and she's changed again, this time her voice lower and  more seductive.

"Okay, so you got what you want. We're here alone."

 She lights a scented candle that I use to freshen the stale air coming from the ancient ventilation system.

"It's not a bonfire," she smiles, "but it sets the mood. Don’t worry, I'll provide the flame."

"Not here," I tell her, turning on the lamp, "the janitors come in after hours."

"Well, they're not here now," she smiles mischievously.

"Don't even think about it," I parry, "last thing I need is the campus gossip mill churning."

<br><br>She turns on me, frustrated at my refusal.

"You're such a drag. What's happened to you?"

"I have a profession and reputation to uphold. By the way, how are you feeling after that session?"

She looks at me as if I have two heads. "What session—what are you talking about?"

"I mean your session with Charlotte."

Her brow is furrowed. "I don't anyone named Charlotte," she snaps, "but isn't it funny how you always seem to know other women? I was so stupid hooking up with you—I should have seen this from the beginning. You're a player, Brad—you're no good."

<br><br>She angrily grabs her coat from the coat rack.

"What are you doing—where are you going?" I shout.

"Anywhere to get away from you," she hisses.

"You can't do that."

"If you don't think I'm going, count the days I'm gone. I've had it with you—I'm done."


<br><br>She heads out into the darkened corridor and I hasten after her, frantically punching in Charlotte's number.

She heads toward the the main doors and I'm at a loss what to do—I can't forcibly stop her but can't let her loose to the world outside. I have no idea what might happen to her.

Mercifully, just as she reaches the doors, in walks Charlotte. They stare at each other and then Lorraine exclaims, "Professor  Martin! What are you doing here?"

"I came by looking for you, Lorraine—is there some place we can talk...privately?"

I jump in, "You can use my office—I'll open it for you both."

"Thank you, Brad," Char smiles, giving me a knowing look.

<br><br>I lead the way back to the office and Char steps in, but as I attempt to follow , Lorraine straight-arms me to my chest. 

"You stay out here—she said *private*.”

I don't argue. She's the last person I want to tangle with when she's in an ugly mood. I only hope Char can talk some sense into her.

I don't understand any of this, but this much I know—I’d rather be dealing with Amanda than her past life avatar.





<br><br> <center>To be continued…</center>

<br><center>© 2023, John J Geddes. All rights reserved</center>

<br><center>[Photo](https://images.app.goo.gl/BXYjV8xxrXajijuu8)</center>
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