The Phoenix, the Tiger, and the Rose

By Jennifer Battershill

"It's hard to stop loving someone when they're always in your dreams, haunting you, taunting you. It's sick love, the kind of love you'll die by fire like the phoenix over and over for, the kind of love that transcends logic, time, and death."

In the summer of 1982, a teenage girl named Veronica began having recurring

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jennifer Battershill
• Release date: Nov 24, 2020
• ISBN: 9781735961002

Book preview

ALAN RUNNER AND A DREAM JOURNAL

Icontinued listening to Alan Runner singing live, and it was like he was filling up my soul. That was until nausea hit. I spent the next several hours throwing up so violently when one of my ears hurt badly. The very next day, my mother took me to see the doctor. I ruptured one of my eardrums. Shortly after, my brother and I were in counseling sessions. One therapist tried her hardest to get me to stop belittling myself, all while trying to help build up my confidence. Unfortunately, after a few short weeks, we stopped going with no explanations from our mother. Peter and I never complained about it, though, since things at home were better, calmer. The ominous clouds dissipated while meanwhile, my mind started thinking about Alan a lot more since that concert.

That’s when I started a dream journal because I felt it was essential. So, I went out and bought a mauve binder, some ruled notebook paper, and ballpoint pens. The very first excerpt I wrote was from a dream I had a while ago. And while most of it was rather silly, dreams of Alan of any kind were unlike others. Often, I awake with such an incredible feeling that’s hard to put into words, almost like being plugged into an electrical socket all night, getting charged up. This unique energy remained with me throughout the day, as did the dreams themselves, like the scent of a potent perfume that you could still smell hours or even days later. Then I wondered if Alan was the one dreaming, and I was the one who wandered into his dream as my dreams were leading me to believe.

January 1, 1984

I was on the phone with Carol. She told me I would meet the band. I had the same feeling, but neither of us knew when. While we were talking, I was looking at a book about Runner. There was a picture of Tom’s car, which was red. Then I went outside with the phone, and suddenly I turned around to see Tom standing there. I looked at him and gasped for air.

Are you Tom from Runner? I quickly asked him. He suddenly started yelling at me for using his phone and being in his house. I was, as I looked around and realized I was no longer in my room, my bed.

Carol, did you hear that? Carol! I hollered, but she wasn’t on the line. Ugh, great! You made me hang up on her, Tom! I glared over at him.

Good! he said and then laughed at me, which left me feeling hurt.

Next, I remember telling my aunt that I had met one of the band members, Tom, the bass player. Then I was at an aerobics class, and Alan was there, sitting on the floor with some other people. I got up and left the room, but as I walked past him, he gave me this strange look as if to say, What are you doing here? As if I wandered into his dream, and I remember him staring at me with those big blue eyes and getting lost within them.

AT THE END OF MARCH, I received a call from my cousin, Steve, asking me if I wanted to see Runner in concert since they were performing in East Rutherford. My sixteenth birthday was coming up, and lucky for me, his friend backed out and had an extra ticket. When I mentioned this to my mother, she said she would pay for it as an early birthday present. The concert was on the seventh of April. My uncle was kind enough to drop us off and pick us up. We arrived early, and I bought a concert brochure that had strange symbols, like Norse Runes. On the back was a picture of a tiger, and it was at that moment that I felt a spiritual connection to this animal, and later placed pictures of tigers on my bedroom wall. I felt tigers symbolized strength and protection.

Steve and I took our seats at the lower end of the second level of a big arena. Higher up, we still had a perfect view of the stage. When the concert began, I was dazzled by all the stage lighting while everyone cheered. Oddly, the overhead screen wasn’t working at all. Later, we heard that ours was the only one that didn’t work during their tour. Because of this mishap, the band put on an extra special show. Runner played song after song while everyone around us sang along and danced. The crowd was going wild. And then, at one point, my cousin elbowed me to get my attention.

Hey, Veronica! He’s looking at you. Alan’s looking up here at us! Steve shouted in my ear. I turned around to see what Steve was talking about, and sure enough, it seemed like Alan was. I froze. Even though the moment was brief, and our seats were higher up, it felt as if he saw me. As crazy as it sounds, it was as if Alan Runner had stepped inside my body somehow. His soul became a part of my soul for a split second or two. It was the weirdest sensation I’d ever felt. But logically, I knew Alan could not possibly have seen us, despite looking our way. That’s when I noticed he had this strange look on his face, or so I had thought.

After the concert was over, we coincidently ran into Carol and some of her friends on our way out. Carol and I were not on speaking terms after a falling out back in February. Like all friendships, there were times we got on one another’s nerves, got into a spat, and it didn’t help how I felt my life was a mess and was suicidal. Thankfully, the very next day, Carol stopped by to say hello, and we patched things up from there. Once again, becoming the best of friends.

---

Months passed. I quit smoking, got my high equivalency diploma, and started studying for the SATs, hoping to attend college. I spent mornings with my nose in books, afternoons and evenings I would babysit or hang out with friends. One night, when the moon was full, Carol, Peter, Steve, and I went for a walk along the towpath. We stopped to hang out on the bridge before crossing over the brook. Carol and I sat on the step facing the way we had just walked. Peter and Steve leaned up against the metal rails. During chit-chat, the topic switched over to my dreams. Little did I know that coincidences regarding the band weren’t just happening to me, but with them as well—the four of us were connected by some mysterious force.

I was glad I wasn’t alone in whatever strangeness this was. However, Steve and my brother weren’t sure what to make of it; it was just too bizarre. It was all too unbelievable, while I couldn’t help feeling frustrated why this was even happening. I stood up and walked over to the middle of the bridge. The moon was bright, and I shouted up to the sky. Give us a sign. Tell us what all of this means. Tell us it’s all real!

Just then, we heard a peculiar noise coming from the towpath, awfully close to where we were standing. Suddenly, a black cat appeared out of nowhere and slowly strutted our way, showing no fear of humans. The second this cat put its paws on the bridge, we went running but didn’t go far. We stopped to turn around, standing halfway between the street and the bridge. Once the cat crossed over, it stopped and stared at us for a minute before disappearing into bushes nearby.

Oh, my god! Carol screamed, There’s someone there. Look! She swore she saw a man standing still among the bushes where the cat just was. We looked over to where she was pointing and saw a shadow and branches swaying. Frightened, we ran straight back to Jerome Place without glancing back.

We avoided the towpath for a while after and mostly hung out on my front porch. I still dabbled with my Tarot cards, but the spirit board was a dead-end. All while I felt more in tune with the spirit world, and one of my favorite times to do just that was during a summer storm. There was magic there, the same with lightning. Other times, I would listen to the hum from my window box fan and go into this lull. A meditative state where I would see events that might happen. However, I paid no attention because my primary focus was Alan.

I carried on reading books at the library, hoping one out of thousands would shed light on my mysterious dreams of a stranger—a stranger who I wanted to meet in person, somehow, someway. Summer was nearing an end when I mentioned my crazy idea to Carol. She was all for it, still very much enamored with Tom. However, we weren’t sure where to even start as we sat around mulling over it.

Don’t worry, my best friend said in a comforting tone, We will find some way. My mom met Mick Gundry more than once. So, I know we’ll get our chance.

---

WWPSA, Carol burst out one night, a local radio station. Since it was nearing Alan’s birthday, we thought we might get lucky that he’ll stop by since the band’s been doing a lot of promotional work with them. A long shot for sure, but I needed to see for myself if there was an instant connection between us, a pull. I was ready to turn my fantasies and dreams into reality because, by now, I had fallen in love with him and no longer thought about Nigel anymore. In my daydreams, I wished Alan was falling in love with me, too. And I wondered if he was dreaming of me, like how I was dreaming of him. Then doubt started creeping in, causing me to question my sanity.

Is this nothing more than just my imagination? A dream and nothing more, nothing less. Is this some game? Or perhaps a cruel, twisted joke meant to mess with my head? Intuitively, I knew it was not. I knew that this was so much more than a youthful girl’s mind could piece together. Dreams of Alan were so much more, I felt it so in my core being, and despite how crazy it all sounded, I knew we had a connection like none other because there was magic in the night, and it was almost as if the universe was whispering its secrets to me.

---

The DJ working that night was pregnant with her first child, so Carol suggested we buy her a present and show up. Surely, she’ll let us in, Carol added. She then coaxed her uncle into dropping us off. Since it was a Friday night, we were in no rush to get back home. Secaucus was a highway ride away. Her uncle turned off onto a long stretch of road that ran parallel to the Hackensack River. It was my second time in this town. I enjoyed seeing the reflection of moonlight on the water. We passed by a hospital and several buildings, business and residential. The radio station was inside one of these office buildings.

Carol’s uncle parked underneath one such building, mostly off-white with lots of glass windows. When we got out of the car, Carol assured him she’d call her mother later on, and then he drove off. Neither of us gave any thought this might be a failed attempt and would need a ride home straight away. So, with utter sheer confidence, we entered the building. Carol pressed the intercom button. A few seconds passed when someone buzzed back. Carol spoke, and it was like watching a Hollywood actress in the role of a lifetime. I nearly jumped for joy when we were told we could come up, confident that since all the other band members stopped by on their birthdays, Alan would too.

When we reached the fourth floor, a lady held the door open for us across the hall. Inside, we were greeted by the friendliest of staff who gave us a tour. It was so exciting to see the inside of an actual radio station. We were in awe! Afterward, we were asked if we wanted to help answer busy phone lines, which we jumped right into doing—giving us time to chat with even more staff. Fifteen minutes later, the private line rang, and it was Alan. The DJ put him on the air. He said that he was in England and was sorry that he couldn’t make it.

That son of a gun! I blurted out and must have said it a bit too loud because, for a moment, their conversation paused. My Aries temperament got the better of me, but I didn’t care. Anger quickly morphed into a complete letdown, though, as my heart sank. Carol also felt disappointed. Yet we were proud just the same for even making it this far. So, we made the best of the situation. Smiles once more returned to our faces as we continued to help with the phone lines.

Before we left, the DJ was kind enough to put us on tape so we could say happy birthday to Alan, all while the DJ kept saying how pretty we were. When it was time to leave, Carol’s mother refused to pick us up after she found out about the crazy stunt we pulled. I guess Carol never told her mother our plans, and now we were stuck. So, we began walking down Meadowlands Parkway, heading back toward Route 3. All while hoping to come across a phone booth so we could find another ride home. It was dark out, but there were plenty of streetlights to light our way. But then it rained, which made our long walk to wherever that much less enjoyable. Still, we soldiered on and laughed at how we were all dressed up and wearing heels. Walking in sneakers or flats would have been so much easier.

Carol and I must have walked about a mile, passing by the hospital again, when we came to a small park alongside the river. We stopped here to take a brief break before carrying on. Luckily, we wound up making it to a hotel and went inside to dry off while looking for a much-needed payphone. Carol dug out some change and started making several calls, including calling her uncle, who wasn’t home. Since we had nowhere to go with time to kill, we looked around, which was something I thoroughly enjoyed considering I’ve never been inside a big fancy hotel before. Strangely, this place gave me a sense of déjà vu. Reminding me about something of the past or something I saw in a dream once. I couldn’t quite place it, but oddly felt as if Alan was near.

However, I dismissed my feelings, trying to catch up to Carol, who now wanted to check out the lobby's upper part. I remember how hungry we were since neither of us ate dinner. Carol swiped some candy left out on a conference room table to hold us over. A half-hour later, she got a hold of her uncle, but we still had to wait for him to arrive. It stopped raining, so we went outside to look at the pool area. Several cushiony lounge chairs were strewn about against picturesque landscaping, even for this time of year. We walked over to the railing, and while I became mesmerized by the lights reflecting upon the water, thoughts of Alan came to mind. I felt sure of everything, positive I’ve always known him while certain our paths would cross, despite tonight’s letdown.

We headed back inside and started walking through the lobby to stand by the front doors. This way, we could see her uncle pulling up in his car. Ten minutes later, Carol spotted the receptionist from the radio station near the elevators. What is she doing here! we both blurted out, but by then, it was too late. Carol’s uncle pulled up. We got into his car baffled, and during our ride home, Carol turned on WWPSA to see if Alan would call in again. He did and surprisingly thanked everyone for his presents.

How did he get his presents when he’s supposed to be in England? I asked Carol.

Maybe he was at the hotel, and that’s why the receptionist was there. She brought him his gifts.

I thought about what she said while recalling my déjà vu but wasn’t sure and wondered, Could that have been just another strange coincidence?

---

Time moved on, and after passing my SATs, I was excited to be accepted into a local college but crushed at how steep tuition was. Babysitting money wouldn’t cut it. I needed financial aid but kept hitting dead-ends. Meanwhile, my brother quit school. He was tired of being picked on. That’s when my mother tried getting us into a program through the state. From what we gathered, it was to help troubled kids. The bright side was that they would cover tuition for a trade school or secretarial school, which I had in mind. Unfortunately, only my brother made it in, which hurt. I found myself jealous and disappointed, even though Peter couldn’t start until he turned another year older. My brother quickly caught on to my feelings and often tried to lighten my mood by making jokes, such as saying how he was much more screwed up than I was.

Meanwhile, Carol and I’s adventures were only beginning with Runner and seeking answers about my dreams. We started taking trips into the city by bus. Not that we had hopes of running into any of them, but there was always that slim possibility. Plus, it was something entertaining to do, especially seeing places like Times Square. We enjoyed window shopping along Fifth, pretending we were wealthy and could buy anything we wanted. We ventured into a famous tower that had shops inside, far better than being out in the frigid winter air during one of our trips. We couldn’t get over how fancy this plaza was or the price tags on merchandise. I couldn't believe people could have this much money. For us, it was just so unreal.

We headed up a level when suddenly; I started getting déjà vu—like when we were wandering the hotel in Secaucus.

Alan’s nearby, I said discreetly to Carol. I swear he is. I can sense him.

Carol and I immediately began looking all around. Just then, she spotted two women going down the gold escalator who she swore were Tom and Alan’s girlfriends. Carol and I pursued, but by the time we got back downstairs, it was too late. We lost sight of them. Nor did we ever see Alan or Tom, but I sensed they were around somewhere. Carol did too. But alas, after some time, we gave up while still hoping to run into them before heading home.

On the bus ride back to Bloomfield town center, my mind wandered. I couldn’t help feeling as though some unseen guiding force was at work here regarding Alan and the band. Intuitively, I sensed we were inching closer to finally meeting them but could not pinpoint the exact day or time. When I got home, I told Peter and Steve about seeing their girlfriends in the city. Steve knew the area well since he liked to browse record shops, but preferred the Village for rare imports.

My dreams started becoming more frequent and intense, but I only could jot some of them down. Even after I wake up, I still think I’m in a dream.

March 6, 1985

I was inside a vast gray stone castle trying to escape out of a window. I tied a few curtains together and climbed down about nine floors. When I landed on the ground, I knew Alan was around somewhere because I saw his footprints in the snow. I had the feeling that he must have been traveling quickly and set off after him.

March 18, 1985

Alan was with me; he was holding my hand while we were lying in bed together. That’s when I realized we were in my bedroom. I glanced over to see that my window was open with the box fan in it to help cool down a boiling room. At one point, he just looked into my eyes, and without words, I knew he loved me as deeply as any love can be. Then we kissed.

     At the end of March, Carol and I went to see a well-known psychic named Miss Charlotte hoping to get answers. She shuffled her Tarot cards and dealt them in a pattern before me at her kitchen table while candles and incense were burning. After some time, she told me that someone was watching me through my dreams.

This man will be with you forever, and eventually, he will reveal himself to you, she said and then asked if I was married. I told her I wasn’t, but she insisted that I was. Either that or I had a powerful bond with someone. Miss Charlotte called it, A marriage of souls. I was positive she was speaking about Alan and that he was the one watching me through my dreams.

Before the end of the reading, she asked me to make a wish, cut the deck, and pull out one card. Mine was to marry Alan. The card was positive. On the ride home, I told Carol about my reading while she shared hers. Then later, I spilled the beans to my brother and cousin about what Miss Charlotte said. I was hoping they would take my dreams and our strange coincidences more seriously. However, I still heard the skepticism in their voices in which I couldn’t blame them while I felt more convinced than ever that Alan was my soulmate.

DREAMS CARRIED ON, and for me, it didn’t matter what they were about, just as long as Alan Runner was in them. Whether we were talking, seeing him standing in a room, or seeing him on stage, all that mattered was that I got to see him. One glance was enough for me to wake up with the most incredible feeling, almost as if I was on fire. I’d often lay in bed relishing in the afterglow, especially after having a more intimate dream, and wished we could make love for real. I need to find another way to meet him, I thought, for surely there are other opportunities to smash through the barrier that separates us from someone rich and famous.

April 06, 1985

I had a series of unpleasant dreams. In this one, I am inside a recording studio walking into a lounge area to see Alan sitting on a bench. We started talking, but he seemed miles away, lost in thought. A little while later, a lady came walking into the studio. She was escorting a young boy with black hair and olive skin tones, holding a large manila envelope in both hands. Alan quickly snatched it as though it’s something he’s been waiting for for ages. He opened it and pulled out x-rays of the boy’s chest. They talked for a while, but then the lady and child walked back out and left. Once out of earshot, I asked Alan if that was his child.

Yes, he told me, but he’s sick, he’s dying.

I looked at the x-rays and suddenly felt Alan’s pain and sorrow. I left to head back home to my apartment on Jerome Place. Carol was over, sitting on Peter’s bed.

So, did you meet Alan yet? she asked in a mocking tone.

Yes, I did! I retorted.

Sure, you did! Carol sneered, but no matter how hard I tried to convince her, she didn’t believe me.

April 08, 1985

I dreamt that it was my birthday. Carol came over and began playing a record. Listen, she told me. I started copying a book she had brought over. The end of the book had comments about Runner’s albums. I can’t recall much except for lines of text that went, When am I going to meet her? When will I meet VS? I showed Carol, who nearly fainted seeing my initials. But Peter attacked me, telling me not to believe in any of it.

It’s bull! Peter scoffed. An argument ensued, shouting. You believe you will marry him? You’re crazy! Peter huffed and then tossed their album onto the floor, hoping it would shatter. It didn’t break, and I told him I, in so many words, I did not care what he thought while storming out.

Pleasant dreams returned. I woke up ready to celebrate turning seventeen. I was confident in where my life was heading. Even though my life wasn’t genuinely heading anywhere. It was just this incredible feeling I had woken with—a stark contrast to the year before when everything was dark. Now everything seemed bright and magical. We’re on this fantastic adventure, I thought while eating breakfast, one that defies rational thinking, and I love it!

Even during my party, something coincidental happened after my mother lit the candles on my cake. While everyone sang happy birthday, the bathroom door started swinging slightly back and forth as if someone was standing there. Then, oddly, the number seven candle kept blowing out, and I could have sworn I felt a presence in the room.

I opened gifts and was glad my friends, relatives, and even my father came over. Minus Carol, who had other plans. Before leaving, my father handed me a slip of paper with his new address and phone number. His wife, Betty, and my dad bought a two-bedroom trailer in East Windsor, further away from their apartment. But I was happy for him. He looked happy, and during his visit, he seemed to be this whole new person. Betty brought religion into my father’s life while our mother rarely took us to church.

Before Steve left, we started talking about the candle incident. He, too, felt a presence in the room, which was spooky. We assumed it might have been Alan somehow because the number seven was very prominent in some recent Runner songs, which had me researching numerology at the library. The number seven is a mystical number, magical and holy. It matched up to the number of chakras we have in our bodies, which I found rather interesting and made a mental note for future reference. The number seven candle being repeatedly blown out by an invisible force meant something, even though others would see it as just a fluke. The very next day, I phoned Carol and told her the story about the candles and the door swinging. I even shared some more of my dreams with her.

April 18, 1985

(Note: I had the most extraordinary dream; it felt so real, more so than others.) It began with Carol sleeping over (which she did that night), and Alan was over. We fell asleep listening to his music while he watched over us like an angel. Alan would either sit alongside my bed or stand at the foot of my bed. I woke up once after a nightmare of getting into a car accident, and when I saw him standing there, I relaxed. Alan was holding a red rose in his hands, which he left on my dresser before fading away in the dawn so he could rest. I remember getting up and noticing crumbs all over my bed. I didn’t know where they came from, and it took time to wipe them off. Then I saw my room, brightly lit as if no curtains were on the windows. I looked around to see it empty, with boxes half packed. Alan was standing next to me now. I saw that he wasn’t alone. There was a girl around the age of six standing alongside him with blonde hair. Before he left, I tried to find a picture of me to give to him. One of me wearing makeup because I didn’t want him thinking I always look this bad in the morning. I opened my dresser drawer, desperately trying to find it but could not. Then, oddly, I saw the same drawer, dusty and practically empty, the same for others.

Alan had to leave, so I walked over to kiss him goodbye.

The dream changed. Now I’m on the phone with WWPSA asking to speak to Tom. They said to hold on and handed him the phone. Hi, my name is Veronica, and I was wondering if you could help me. Do you know about Alan and his dreams? Does he dream about this one girl over and over? Well, tell him she’ll be at the Clarion Hotel in Secaucus on the twenty-sixth of May. Ask him to be there. Tell him if he wants to meet her to make sure he is at that hotel on that date. Please don’t forget!

That dream, although I was unaware then, was forewarning me of two things. The first was an accident I had later in the year and then moving and saying goodbye. The crumbs all over the bed were something different. It was dawn on a Sunday when I awoke to find my new cat, Patsy, gone. Patsy, we had brought home from the local animal shelter; she was an older cat and sweet. My asthma was in remission, dormant, so I wasn’t allergic to her at all. A true blessing because I adored her. She became very close to me and would always sleep on my bed. However, this time she was not, which I thought was odd.

I went to lean my head back down on my pillow to fall back asleep, and that’s when I heard a strange noise. Sounded almost like something cracking. Suddenly tiny pieces of plaster started raining down on me. I was confused, baffled. Seconds later, there was a louder cracking noise, and that’s when I looked up to see that state of my ceiling. There were cracks everywhere, mostly above my bed. Larger chunks of plaster started crashing down, but before I could escape, one even bigger landed right on my chest, pinning me down. I struggled to break free, stumbled out of bed in shock, crying to my mother, who didn’t believe me. She told me to go back to bed. When I came back into my room, I couldn’t get over how I wasn’t hurt while checking myself over. I didn’t even have a scratch and suddenly felt I had a guardian angel watching over me. I started cleaning off my bed just like in my dream, except it was plaster, not crumbs. A little while later, my mother walked in and saw what happened. She got the broom and dustpan. The cleanup took forever, especially with tiny pieces and dust all over. My mother then complained to the landlord, and eventually, he fixed the entire ceiling.

April 22, 1985

Not a dream, but wanted to write this down, anyway. My great-grandmother just died. I woke up at four o’clock in the morning and heard birds chirping, and then suddenly they stopped. I think she was trying to say goodbye or something. I felt her presence. Later on, I confirmed the time of her death with my mother, which was at that same time.

April 29, 1985

Dreams of Alan Runner continue. Mostly they are the same. We talk as if we’ve always have known one another. This dream left me feeling unsettled. I was standing outside a building in the city but unsure if I was in Manhattan or not. A large white van pulled up in front and stopped. A woman walked out the doors to greet the passengers inside when a man stepped out wearing a suit. I overheard this lady telling him how she just finished four hours of rehearsing with Runner. I couldn’t help but butt into her conversation, hoping for a chance to see Alan.

Excuse me, I said to her, could I please go inside to see Alan?

She laughed at me. I pleaded some more, and again she laughed in my face.

Wait right here, she finally said, sounding earnest, and went inside the building. However, she never came back out. Instead, she sent some crazy guy to scare me away. Then she came outside to laugh at me some more before going back into the building. I was not giving up. I waited all day and night for Alan to come out but then woke up.

A MYSTERIOUS POEM AND SONG LYRICS

In May, Peter was at the library when another strange incident occurred. He was walking past the poetry section when he heard a loud thump behind him. My brother stopped and turned around to see a book lying on the floor. Its pages open, almost as if someone placed it there on purpose. He leaned down to look and saw a poem called The Tyger written by William Blake. When he read the first few lines, he was astounded. Peter could not believe how this book opened to this particular poem and knew it was a clue to Alan. He immediately checked the book out of the library and rushed home as fast as his feet could take him. Luckily, Carol was already over when he came bursting through the door to show us the poem.

Carol and I read the very first few lines and gasped!

---

Tyger! Tyger! burning bright

In the forests of the night:

What immortal hand or eye.

Could frame thy fearful symmetry?

---

Coincidently Runner’s album was titled Tiger’s Rage, and on this same album was a song called Tiger, Tiger of the Night. Carol mentioned how she had a book at home, which contained lyrics and other facts about the band as I saw in a dream. We went over to her place and began matching up parts of this poem to her book. One of their albums was to be called In the Forest of the Night. It was renamed later, and then we read how Alan reads quite a lot of poetry.

So not only did Alan Runner use a bit of this poem, but he also found inspiration from a few other poets from that era. Alan even spoke a few lines from one such renowned poet in a music video, which we discovered after several more trips to the library’s poetry section. We jotted down anything else relevant. While there wasn’t much, this prompted me to take a particular interest in poetry mentioning life after death or anything related to dreams.

We filled Steve in about our findings, who later went to the library himself to browse through the poetry section to research on his own. However, I was disappointed to hear Steve wasn’t entirely convinced that this was proof, unsure what to believe. The same with Peter, even though he was the one who found the poem. Then I wondered how they could doubt after having their fair share of coincidences, which kept on occurring. I let it go, but followed were occasional backhanded remarks, which stung. I’m sure they didn’t mean to be so harsh. It was fear of the unknown and the strange doing the talking.

Doubts were something I occasionally had myself when I thought about it rationally, logically. Then again, I was never one for rational thinking to start with because my heart spoke louder than my brain, while intuition was even more emphatic.

The more I thought about it, the more I knew there had to be a reason I was dreaming of a man I never knew existed until I saw his photo, nor never met—the same for all the coincidences which had to be more than just chance. There had to be some divine intervention going on, which I had wished they could see while I wished I could share my dreams with them. But I could not, and that’s when I put my emotions into writing.

The Truth Shall Set You Free

---

 At night, in the darkest hours.

Dream, dream away in delightful showers.

For soon, the dream will spring forth in life.

Your lover will bear his heart of desire.

Oh! Fear not and be not ashamed!

Don’t lose your faith in another’s game.

And when the morn arises in the west,

There’s still a warm hand upon your breast.

He has gone now only to find his way,

And soon, the truth will come in sight.

In an auspicious moment, held is a rising of delight.

When the moment of truth shall come,

It’ll occur the hour of a fateful sun.

Some will be left behind, some not,

And some will move on the waters of silver and gold,

But some will perish in a chasm of cold.

---

Poetry, words, and clues got me thinking about many things, especially about the number seven candle from my birthday. Something about the lyrics. Something, but what? I reread the lyrics for Tiger’s Rage when it hit me! A song called Seven Nights. Alan is dreaming the same dream for seven nights in a row while looking through someone else’s eyes. He sings about searching for this person in every city, every country. Then there was another song I found interesting called Chances.

---

There’s something about your smile,

There’s something different about your soul.

But I can’t recall how I can even know.

Memories fade as often as they do.

All while the shadows are on the move.

Am I chasing after a mirage?

These are not my eyes.

No, I’m looking through yours.

For seven nights,

I keep seeing you.

And a bit in another song.

I keep finding clues along the way.

I keep feeling this magical pull.

I will search for you.

---

Speaking of lyrics, we heard that the band was heading back into the studio. Or so we thought until Carol found out they were splitting up temporarily to work on side projects. Tom went off to make a solo album in Los Angeles while Alan, Nigel, and Jamie remained in England with their record rumored to be released by the end of the year. In the meantime, Runner released a song they made for an action movie. While listening to Flames of Night, the lyrics blew me away. I played the song repeatedly.

Nightfall washes over me,

And you know what I’m feeling.

Someone who’s living overseas,

That much I can see.

Is it just me?

Or is this one big mystery?

We get to have secret meetings.

We are joining in a sacred place.

I can feel chills all over my body.

I’m reeling with desire.

You’re not just a mystery,

But my fantasy fire.

My love is like the phoenix.

She rises from the ashes.

In her slumber, she burns with passion.

I know we will meet again,

A union in such a peculiar fashion.

---

What’s a phoenix? I wondered and headed back to the library because I knew it was a clue, significant. I was right and gasped, reading about a mythical bird that consumes itself in flames and rises from the ashes—symbolizing reincarnation.

A subject I was already aware of after reading about soulmates from books. Now, though, I was more curious than ever and wanted to dive in even further. So, after browsing quite a few books at the library, I borrowed one filled with stories and quotes from others around the world who believed in life after death—some very famous people throughout time. One section mentioned how people who were once family or had close ties could incarnate together, keeping the same circle of friends. The same for those that were once in love.

That’s us! I exclaimed and was more than ever convinced that Alan and I once knew each other in a previous life. It was no wonder that he was like a drug coursing through my veins. I couldn’t get enough of that feeling I had whenever I dreamt of him or thought about him. We had this unique realm, all to ourselves, night after night after night.

Dreams of him were only intensifying in passion and energy. It all started so innocently with us talking and then holding hands, followed by soft caresses until our lips finally met. I was curious to know how far our connection went. Or is it only in the dream realm that we’re linked? Hmm, is he dreaming of me, the same way I’m dreaming of him? Rereading specific lyrics suggested Alan might be but, I wasn’t sure. Only by meeting him would I get the answers to these questions and so many more.

For now, I was content in learning all that I could on my own. I was optimistic that our strange clues and coincidences were leading us to Alan for a reason. I could feel a higher power guiding me, guiding us. It all made sense while recalling many occasions when I felt déjà vu concerning him. Maybe we were married in another life?