Connections - A Twin Peaks Fanfiction

Psychic

The book resting on the table in front of me was old, yellowed, and smelt like feet. I was tempted to throw it across the room. But luckily – for the book – it had the exact information that I needed. About psychics.

About me.

It took a while to realise at first, six chapters, but I'd finally found the cause to those odd dreams.

I was psychic.

And so was Laura.

The book said it something like this: "When two humans with a close relationship are both psychic, their capacities are broadened to a much wider extent. This ability is heightened with family members. They should be able to communicate in various ways; trances, dreams and similar states of sleep. Some people might even experience the emotions and physical feeling of their counterpart, this could be recognised as Telepathic Empathy, and the person would be referred to as an Empath. Some connections might be strengthened by trauma, or death to one of the psychics. The why of this cannot truly explained, but the fact remains true. The more of a traumatic experience a psychic experiences, the more their abilities are strengthened."

The article had made sense. Even when we were kids, Laura and I could always feel what each other were feeling, the same with our thoughts. We could communicate with each other in ways other people couldn't even begin to imagine.

It also explains the 'concussion' I had out of the blue back when Laura was murdered. Someone must have given her a blow to the head. And it definitely tells me why I started having those dreams all of a sudden. It didn't tell me why, but I think I have that worked out for myself already. When she was murdered, her killers were unknown, and no one living in Twin Peaks had realised what had happened to her. But Laura knew. And she wanted this to be told.

Then I came for her funeral, and suddenly we were closer to each other then we'd been in years. I think the physical closeness of us, and her burning will to share what had happened increased both our senses somehow, allowing us to communicate, and her to warn me about the horrors to come.

Which reminded me, I needed to get home. The wall clock read 10:30pm, in half an hour I usually wished Aunt Sarah and Uncle Leland goodnight, and headed to my room. They would become suspicious if that didn't happen.

I was just busy putting the book back on its shelf when I felt a sharp pain at the back of my head, and everything went black.