Eighth Dimension: Frequency Excerpt

Last updated on August 6, 2025

Eighth Dimension – Frequency Excerpt

The alarm rang. I hopped out of bed and ran toward the bathroom. A gentle breeze streaming from the hallway caught my attention. I froze when I heard a whisper deep within my soul.

C-h-u-m-a-n-a.

Curious, I stepped into the hallway and saw the front door ajar.

“Mother?” I took a few steps and looked out, but I didn’t see her. I shut the door and ran into her bedroom, but she wasn’t there. Then I checked the kitchen. Where was she?

Fear seized me. “Mother, where are you?” I returned to the front door, reopened it, and gazed at the parking lot. Cars driving by blocked my view. I could feel my heart pounding. I refused to imagine the worst.

Suddenly, emerging from the early morning shadows, I saw her in the distance. Mother was bent forward, trudging along at a slow pace. Should I run over to get her and bring her back? She didn’t appear to be injured. Where had she gone before sunrise?

My hands sweated with perspiration as I clutched the doorframe. Cold air swept up my legs, and I shivered as I waited. I forced myself to think seriously, which scared me even more.

How many times had the door been unlocked in the morning when I went to school? I tried to convince myself we were forgetting to lock it. Seeing the door wide open was too much. Someone could walk in. Suppose one day she left and never returned?

I waited, keeping my eyes focused so I wouldn’t lose her if she wandered off again. When she arrived, she was oblivious to my presence, walking by me without saying a word.

“Mother, where have you been?”

She turned and faced me with a surprised expression. “What, Dear?”

“Mother, it’s winter, and you’re outside in your nightgown. Where did you go?”

She blinked. “I’m so tired. Can we talk about this later?”

Flustered, I bit my lip. Had this ever happened to anyone else, or was I the only one with a mother who walked in her sleep?

If I reported her strange behavior to a doctor or health professional, they would probably hospitalize her. Then what would happen? I had no other family. Not yet 18, I’d have to live in a foster home.

I tried again. “Just tell me where you went; that’s all I want to know. Where did you go?”

A slight understanding momentarily crossed her face. “I’m sorry, Honey. I didn’t mean to frighten you. I’m just a sleepwalker. Been one all my life.”

“Sleepwalker, where?” I pressed. “Where do you go?”

She sat at the kitchen table with a vacant look across her face. “I don’t know. I wake up as I’m approaching the apartment. I don’t know where I go.”

I believed her, so what was the point? Sooner or later, I would find out.

I quickly fixed her some oatmeal. After placing a breakfast tray before her, I clasped her fingers around the fork. “Mother, you need to eat.”

She nodded. She lifted the fork to her mouth with uncertainty. I sighed. Soon, I would have to feed her.

I studied her wrinkled face, which was aged beyond its years. “I’m leaving for school. Don’t go anywhere. I don’t want to have to find you when I come home, okay?”

She nodded. Her fading eyes met mine. She knew who I was, but when would that change?

“Get some sleep.”

I made sure she took a few bites, and then she went back to the bedroom. She would sleep most of the day and watch the news later. At least she didn’t have to work.

My father supported us. My mother described him once as rich, intelligent, and handsome. To distract myself from his absence, I imagined I looked like him. Mother said he was good-looking, and he had to be smart because I didn’t get my brains from her. Did he have red hair? A photographic memory?

I heated some oatmeal and milk in the microwave and ate at the kitchen counter. I would be late for school if I tarried. I quickly checked on Mother before leaving and found her already asleep. The red bruises on her arm startled me. Did they have anything to do with her disappearance?

My heart pounded. Was someone hurting her? Tears rose, and I whispered, “Mother, I love you.” I gently stroked her head. “Don’t go anywhere while I’m gone.”

Peace enveloped her face, assuring me she would be safe until I returned. And then the panic would set in again. Should I lock the door so she couldn’t leave? What if there were a fire?

I felt anger consuming me because I had no control over the problem and could do nothing about it. I blamed my absent father and wept. Where is your love, your presence, your care? This is your fault. Paying the bills and providing a roof over our heads isn’t enough.

But the walls, lined with dozens of books Mother once read, remained silent. The healing crystals she collected long ago did nothing more than collect dust. I wanted to get rid of everything from the past. Perhaps long ago, they meant something, but now they were only stark reminders of a mother who once was vibrant, alive, and healthy.

The only sound I could hear was my mother’s breathing. Suddenly, I remembered the voice calling me to the open door. Too many times, whispers called my name. From where did they come? The fleeting voice would always fade away, leaving me with more questions than answers.

I returned to the kitchen and looked at the microwave clock. I had precisely fourteen minutes and fifteen seconds to arrive at school without being late.

I grabbed my backpack and exited the front door, double-checking the lock. I would not be late. I was never late.

I reassured myself that Mother was safe. Nobody ever came around the apartment during the day.

As I shut the door, early morning sunshine greeted me. The darkness lifted, and the crisp winter air energized me. I shuddered as a breeze brushed my face. I should have worn a scarf. Thank goodness I wouldn’t be late.

I hated Atlanta winters. When winds ripped decaying leaves from limbs, I hoped for snow to make the city white—but, sadly, snow rarely fell. Instead, the trees were naked for months, making the winters depressing. I couldn’t wait for spring. I wouldn’t think about Mother at school. At least, I would try not to.