September 9, 2009 9:09 am PST

The words die in my mouth: she knows why I’m here. In one quick motion I run the length of the living room I stand in and find myself one room over kneeling at her feet tears streaming down my face as I rest my head in her lap sobbing. She strokes my hair and tries to shush me but I cannot be consoled.

Her words are a fate worse than death. They are the confirmation I desperately didn’t want to hear and as my body shudders out my pain in panicked sobs I try to pretend that I misheard her or that she could somehow be mistaken: but I know better.

Madame Juliet: “Please, Ashley, please don’t do this to yourself again!” After almost a half hour of unrelenting crying I painfully drag my head off her lap and look up at her.

Ashley: “Then the dreams are true?” I feel the sting of more tears coming.

Madame Juliet: “They are always true. They are just as true this time as they were the last time.” I look at her through puzzled eyes as I feel the familiar wave of fresh tears.

Ashley: “So…I’ve…this, we’ve done this before?”

Madame Juliet: “Please, take a seat, I will try to explain.” I pull my body off the floor and actually stumble a little in my shocked and weakened state. I feel a stab of guilt when this frail old woman has to get up to help me to the chair next to her’s. I mentally try to tell myself to get it together but I know that when it comes to the fate of my Spencer I will never be strong.

When she places me in the chair my gaze is transfixed to the table before me in an emotional daze. The thin white joint resting the astray by her arm catches my eye and I don’t hesitate to take it between my fingers before I lit it, pretenses be damned. If I’m about to find out bad news being a little high might soften the blow. After the joint is lit she finally speaks.

Madame Juliet: “Yes, we’ve done this before. Many times, actually.” I look up at her from my hypnotic stare of the swirling smoke from the joint.