The wisdom of having a puke receptacle handy must have been learned from hard experience. The good doctor's voice broke through my dry heaves. “I know you saw a lot in your past life, but without thinking of certain incidents, can you liken any of the emotions felt with what you experienced with either Mike or Dmitri?” He set the wastebasket down once my stomach settled from the synaptic roller coaster. My mind still swirled at the glimpse of another life, a lifetime away. “Yeah... a couple of instances.” All the eyes on Ona when she lay atop the table... that's the way I felt in the restaurant, all those patrons looking at the show Dmitri and I put on as engagement dinner theatre. Like a thousand percent dead on, no doubt in my mind that those sensations don't differ. I didn't want to close my eyes nor look at the mural on the wall before me. So I stared at my jeans, noting the weft and warp of indigo-dyed cotton threads as my mind tried finding its figurative landlegs after that rough voyage in the mental sea.
