I’ve got to get the usual questions answered for you before I can fully explain my situation:
I was adopted when I was around 18 months-old through an agency that works through the Estonian government.
There was literally no known facts about either one of my biological parents besides a very small leather pouch with some sort of granular substance in it that I was told my biological mother insisted vehemently that I keep possession of. It came with a note that instructed that I should wear it until it hurts me.
My adoptive parents considered it the ramblings of a troubled young woman and put it into storage until I was old enough to decide what to do with it.
My adopted parents were about as American as American gets. Dad was a construction contractor for big projects in Chicago and Mom was a school teacher. We lived in an outer suburb of Chicago that was as pleasant and safe as you’d expect.
If I were to complain in any way shape or form about my upbringing, I would be an entitled dimwit. As much as I hate to say it, my childhood was perfect. My parents loved me, I never went without a need or even a want, and my future was pretty secure by the time I left the “nest”. My parents will always be the parents I believe I was meant to have.
The reason behind my sudden interest in my genealogy is more of a medical issue.
You see, I was in year 3 of my bachelor’s in architecture when the “episodes” started. One minute I was presenting blueprints for my class assignment and the next thing you know, I woke up in an emergency room to the murmurs of nurses calling for more blood.
After several tests for leukemia and iron deficiencies, or simply any disease related to blood, there was still no answer to why my blood pressure and levels seemingly vanished into thin air. The doctor, while trying to make things light hearted, joked that I must just need more of it than most people.
After 4 months of several more attempts with supplements and immune boosters, I was eventually sent home from school and given the option to complete my degree through online classes. I had passed out so many times and awoken to blood transfusions that the college staff deemed in-person classes for me to be a hazard to myself and others around campus.
My parents wanted me to move back in with them, but I pleaded for their assistance with getting an apartment for myself. I needed to feel like a progression forward in life was still possible. They agreed to this if I agreed to wear one of those heart monitoring bracelets.
Once settled into my new place, I continued in my studies, but I had another mission in mind: if the doctors couldn’t find any answers then my problem had to be genetic so I signed up with every genealogy service in existence and sent in my samples.
In the meantime my condition got worse: Twice my parents had rushed me to the ER for more transfusions, but my recovery times were getting longer and longer. And then the dreams started.
The first one started out as seeing myself 10 years from now with a wife, a house down the street from my parents and a couple of kids. The next thing I knew, the entire neighborhood was engulfed in flames and darkness and my bride was screaming and pleading with me to stop as I looked down and realized I was completely soaked in blood.
Then I woke up in a state of utter hysteria to the usual face of my routine nurse telling me to “take a chill pill” and go back to sleep. I had been out of it for 4 days I was told.
What’s even more curious is that the doctors soon discovered that, despite basic precipices of medicine and science, my body simply need blood and this meant any blood. The Type no longer matter as any transfusion kept me alive and created sustainable results.
The next episode also resulted in a much longer dream. This one started out similarly as I was actually flying through the night sky. I could see the clouds below me and the distant lights of air traffic and cell towers. I felt as though i could stay up there forever, but then I sensed a dark looking figure descending down upon me and found myself being gripped by some sort of claw and jetting straight down through the skies and towards an ocean. “You’re mine now” was all I heard right into my ear in a deep and ominous voice before my impending collision with the water.
When I awoke this time, I’d been out for 11 days.
My body was beginning to whither away as I could now see most of my own bone structure and my skin was pale and littered with tiny blue veins that were rising to the surface. My eyes had become so sensitive to natural light that I needed my room to remain curtained at all times.
My parents and I wept together on afternoon because we all knew where this was headed and there was no hope given by the doctors.
When it became evident that my hospital bed would now be my eventual coffin, my parents brought me my laptop and usual paraphernalia from home. I insisted on continuing my studies because, at this point it’s all I had.
After all, if I wasn’t studying, I was sleeping and that only meant that I would experience countless renditions of the “presence” in my nightmares haunting and preying on me in various dream state scenarios that would leave me in a puddle of sweat and terror.
I was in the middle of checking emails when I noticed a new email in my unread. It read as follows:
“Hello there,
I’m inquiring into your interests on genealogy. You might have noticed by now that none of your results have been returned to you by the various companies that you employed to look into this. I can assure you that this is by no mistake as I am the one responsible for your information being withheld.
I am a powerful man with means that are beyond your limited comprehension and my ability to infiltrate or alter information, anywhere and anytime, is endless.
You see, I had a son, the only son I’ve ever known in my long life, but he was taken from me by his mother a little over 19 years ago. Somehow, with all my means, I was unable to track him down, even after I reconvened with his mother.
Given your very unique blood markers, I feel it safe to say that you are that son that I’ve longed for.
I must also assume that you might be at death’s doorsteps given our unique family characteristics.
Just know that I will be with you soon and not only will I be able to help you recover from your current state, but eventually you’ll come to find your true potential and conquer this world in your own way
See you soon, My Son,
Mr. De Ville”
I didn’t have long to think about this when the hospital alarms sounded.
Assuming it to be a fire outbreak Nurses were yelling and carting people every which way before the screams started. First from a few floors down and eventually just below us. The screams were guttural and will likely etch into my memory until I’m gone from this life.
I tried to scramble out of bed but all I managed to do was knock the box of my personal items off of the nightstand next to me. That’s when I noticed it for the first time in a long time laying there on the floor.
It was the pouch my biological mother had sent with me and it was spilled out on the floor. Out of a desperation for anything to hold into I reached for it, but as soon as my hand made contact with granules, my skin burned. It was then that my sense of smell kicked in and I realized finally that it was simply garlic powder.
I finally took notice that the screaming that had intensified all through my own hospital floor had subsided.
Only the sounds of one casual stride of footsteps could be heard as someone approached my room, paused for a second in front of the door. Blood began to pool from the hallway and into my room as the door slowly swung open.
“It’s time to face your destiny, my son.”