Souls & Dreams – (a work of fiction, I think)

I am the only doctor of our village, but it is rare that I feel overworked, for the population is low and the younger members of our community prefer to drive into Athens for medical attention. There are another two villages close to us, as they say in England where I studied and qualified, within spitting distance. At the time I moved my practice to the village, I added a couple of rooms and a bathroom to my house, which meant people would knock on my door at any time of day and night. It is part of what being a doctor is in a small community, so I do not mind.

The government built for us a small clinic which the three villages use, plus the farmers from the surrounding areas. Mostly I am needed there for an average of two hours a day, but if we have a patient in intensive care, we each take eight hour shifts.

One of the difficulties of being a doctor in such a small community is that we must learn from early on to treat each patient with compassion, but remain dispassionate, for we often have to treat close friends and family members.

Technology has changed the way we work, but I find it difficult to let go and rely on our AI helper – it has a good bedside manner, but the villagers don’t like it. A few months ago the government sent a new machine to the clinic and we had to be trained for using it. Luckily all three of us had no problems in using it, since virtual reality games have been part of our lives for two generations now. It is a non-intrusive AI machine that enters the mind of the patient, enabling us to monitor and help strengthen the patient when they are failing. In other words, although it is similar to virtual reality, the experience and the world we enter is real.

An elderly man, I will tell you more about him later, collapsed and was taken to our clinic. He was in a coma, so we attached the new machine to him and us three doctors remained on standby for the full shift, entering his mind a least five or six times during each shift. Often it is enough to send reassuring feelings to help stabilise the patient – the manufacturers claim it is not possible, but doctors all over the world have found that those of us who care, we can. Luckily all three of us can, so our patient had the best of care.

The early hours of morning, between two and five o’clock, are the hours we lose most of those who die on us. The clinic had no other patients and a female doctor from Athens had taken over from Dr Patischis, for he had left to visit his family up in the north of Greece. She did not stay just for her shift, as she does not get many opportunities to use the machine back at the clinic where she works, in Ekali, so I did not intrude, allowing her the time for examining the patient as often as she wants.

During this evening, while I was on duty, I saw from the monitors on the desk that our patient is going through a crisis, but then it reported that someone is using the machine again. I realised it is the female doctor and knowing why it would be important for her, I did not intend taking over, but went to stand by her should she need my advice.

By the time I arrived, he was dead and the female doctor was leaving. She gave me a quick look, but then walked out without speaking to me.

The next afternoon I went to visit my stepmother, as she and my half-sister might need my presence and help for arranging the funeral of my father. You see, now that he was dead, I was free to acknowledge that he is my father and that I love him very much.

My stepmother, dressed in black, seemed to wander around the house as if lost, not even giving me a hug as she always does. My half-sister let me in and then rushed off to the kitchen. I could smell the food is burning and I smiled, for I am used to that smell in my house.

A quick word to explain. I love my father and stepmother very much, but when they had a daughter fairly late in their lives, when I was fifteen years old, the three of them became a world of their own. I loved my little sister and I think she loved me, but she was also a bit oblivious of me, always with her mother and my father. I do not recall ever giving her a goodnight kiss or a hug. She was purely a daddy’s little girl and I felt I would be intruding.

I was surprised when she also chose to study medicine and became a doctor – she has never been a people-person, but she is more practical and organised than I am. I’ve heard she is popular and has made a good name for herself.

I went to the kitchen and took the pot from her, found an old newspaper and tipped the food onto it and threw it into the garbage can. I took her hand and we went to sit on a sofa as I told her to never make herself suffer by food spoilt or burned and made her give me a small smile when I told her I am the expert on burnt food so she must listen to me. I placed my arm around her shoulders and tried to ‘send’ my love to her so that she senses how I feel and that empathy is making me feel her pain. I could never have openly just said so, for she still remains a reserved person – or maybe it is me who is the reserved one.

As I tipped my head over so that it touched hers, the miracle happened – or maybe she was just more open to me than I had thought. I felt myself slip into her mind, as if I was using the machine. I found her mind was at peace – as it cradled an energy, which I realised is our father! He did not seem to be aware, but I could sense how his presence, the knowledge that he lives on, within her, allowed her to be without grief and I rejoiced for both of them. Lightly I brushed her cheek, as I never had done before and she slightly turned to look at me and she must have seen something in my eyes, for she realised I know her secret and approve,. She relaxed and let herself lean against me.

^{Note: This is not a story I made up. I dreamt it this morning and put it down on paper as soon as I was out of my bed. I do not think I have managed to convey how real it was to me (don’t blame me, I haven’t even had my morning coffee yet) and how the dream-sense made me feel so much love for my dead father and my half-sister. I love it when my mind creates these little vignettes for me to experience a life I’ve never lived, or, is it just my mind? Did I share from another me, in an alternate reality where I became a doctor?}