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  Just then, a resident footman arrived to inform us that our entourage was bidding au revoir to our La Verrerie host and hostess. We were to make haste to return to Chateau Rouge.

  Thanks to my sleuthing Valet, I learned that the wealthy Christian from Luxembourg was indeed a cousin twice removed from the reigning Grand Ducal Family of Luxembourg. Although he was of distant Letzeburgesch royal ancestry, my intuition was also correct: he gave himself the title Christian of Luxembourg because this self-proclamation exuded an air of imperial pompousness he took great pride in. This Luxembourgian was both egocentric delusionist and royalty.

  Chapter Eleven

  Spiritualism vs. Anomalistic Psychology

  “My thoughts WILL design the energy that moves me!”

  Allan Rufus

  1967

  Anomalistic Psychology

  Besides the Duchess, Christian of Luxembourg and me, the Zentologist had garnered a handful of other participants into our midst for that evening’s discussion. They were Bryanna, Anastasie, Baron Pierre, Marquis Mathieu, Graf Felix, his boyfriend Ludovic Makmud Albriem, Prince P, his bosom buddy Sheik Fahrib and a certain Netherlander psychologist, Dr. Cornelius Daube, with whom Monsieur Dubois had become acquainted at Château de La Verrerie.

  Although my guardian was skeptical about visionaries and illusionists, I couldn’t wait to experience the unorthodox occurrence that was soon to play out within the confines of this intimate salon, complete with deer antlers, oriental tapestries, antique chandeliers and priceless furniture.

  Monsieur Dubois began, “We are gathered in this chambre privée (private chamber) to share our experiences of anomalistic psychology.”

  I raised my hand. “What is anomalistic psychology?” Several participants were glad that I asked, because they had no clue what the appellation meant.

  My teacher explained, “Anomalistic psychology is the study of human behaviors and experiences connected with what is generally known as the paranormal.”

  Before he could continue, the psychologist, Dr. Daube interjected, “To which I must add, that is without the assumption that there is anything paranormal involved in the behaviors and experiences.” He continued, “According to anomalistic psychologists, paranormal phenomena have naturalistic explanations resulting from psychological and physical phenomena. To some people, these occurrences sometimes give the impression of paranormal activities when there have been none.”

  The Duchess voiced, “Docteur Cornelius, I’m open to assimilating new cogitation to my psychic discipline, even though I differ from your viewpoint.

  “On the contrary, I believe that spirits of the dead have the ability and the inclination to communicate with the living. The spirit world is not a static place but one that continues to evolve.

  “This brings me to surmise that spirits are more advanced than humans and are capable of providing useful knowledge about moral and ethical issues, as well as the nature of God.”

  The doctor smirked. He was going to prove the Duchess incorrect. Judging by the look on Andy and Dubois’ faces, they were anticipating a heated debate before the evening was over.

  Illusions

  “Shall we begin?” my Quwah teacher pronounced. “Who would like to be the first to tell us their extrasensory experiences?”

  A brief silence followed before Ludovic proclaimed, “I’ve felt the presence of my deceased aunt, Miram on numerous occasions. Aunt Miram was my surrogate mother and I, her favorite nephew when my brother and I arrived in France. She passed a year ago from a terrible accident. Since then, she’s returned to visit. I hear her calming voice and maternal proximity, especially when I’m deeply depressed.”

  My professor asked, “Are you apprehensive in her presence, or do you welcome her companionship?”

  “I’m not unnerved at all. I feel cared for, as I did when she used to wrap her arms around me as a boy. Her presence eases my anxiety,” the French Arab iterated.

  The psychotherapist declared emphatically, “This is a definitive case of anomalistic psychology. You see, most people are intrigued by ‘the unexplained’ and are eager to believe what they experience as the absolute.

  “I, on the other hand, prefer to look closely at the evidence. In my understanding, these kinds of telepathic communications are often based on sleep deprivation and anxiety-related issues.

  “It is one way for the claimant to deal with his or her disquietude.”

  Isabella countered before the doctor could continue. “Does your aunt manifest in the form of an apparition, or do you simply feel her closeness? Maybe I can conjure her spirit on your behalf and listen to what she has to say.”

  Suddenly, Anastasie voiced, “I’ll like to make contact with my deceased kitty, Bambbi, whom I miss terribly. She also died in a tragic accident. I would like to know how she is coping on the other side.”

  The prince and the Graf chuckled at her remark. The clairvoyant put a halt to their snickering. She denoted, “Very well, then, shall we have a séance to summon the deceased? This will make way for the skeptics among us to experience the intentions of those who have gone before us.”

  Before any of us had a chance to second the Medium’s proposition, Dubois asserted, “My dear friends, tonight we are not here to prove a particular point of view. We are here to discuss each other’s paranormal, out-of-body or visionary experiences.

  “We’ll organize another get-together for those who’d like to partake in a séance with the Duchess.”

  “For now, allow me to go around the room, so everyone can have a chance to tell us their paranormal encounters.” He indicated for Christian of Luxembourg to begin.

  Hallucinations, Illusions or Delusions

  The Luxembourgian looked around the room before he spoke, “It happened when I was eight years old. My younger brother, Lucien, then six, was killed when the Germans occupied Berg. Several Nazi soldiers arrived to confiscate my parent’s property. We were playing in our playroom. My parents and I were ushered out to the lawn, but Lucien refused to evacuate. He rode furiously on his rocking horse, pretending to escape. He was shot instantly in front of all present.

  “The image of my dead brother lying in a pool of blood next to the rocking horse has haunted me all my life. Lucien is always rocking on his wooden horse whenever I’m in a children’s playroom.

  “Today, I saw him when we were at La Verrerie. His outstretched hands waited for me to carry him to safety.” The distraught Luxembourgian wrapped his hands across his face and broke down in uncontrollable sobs. “I failed my brother. I could’ve saved him, but I didn’t…”

  Bryanna wrapped her arms around the grieving man.

  Andy, Alain and I glanced at each other. We now shared the answer to Christian’s agitation in the playroom earlier that day.

  The insensitive Cornelius commented, “Ahh hah! This is a perfect example of hallucinogenic delusion…” Several of us stared at the doctor as if he were a heartless monster.

  The solicitous Isabella jumped to Christian’s aid. She assured, “Lucien’s manifestation is obviously a sign that he is reaching out to you.” She looked directly at the distressed man. “Your brother is informing you that he’s happily crossed over and you’re not to blame yourself for his death.”

  The psychotherapist countered immediately, “Madame, do you have any evidence?” That left the Duchess speechless.

  He continued unfalteringly, “You see, my friends, hallucinations occur when environmental, emotional, or physical stresses cause the brain mechanism that usually distinguishes conscious perceptions from internal, memory-based perceptions to misfire. As is often the case, visions happen during periods of consciousness. They can appear in the form of ghostly apparitions, voices or sounds, and smells or tastes. These tactile feelings are known as haptic hallucinations.”

  Sheik Fahrib had remained silent until now. The psychiatrist disclosed, “On the other hand, Christian may be experiencing an illusion.”

  Ludovic queried,
“Can you define illusions so we can better understand the term?”

  The Arab doctor replied, “In medical terms, an illusion is a sensory perception that causes a false or distorted impression, or a misrepresentation of a ‘real’ sensory stimulus.

  “It may be that Christian’s desire not to forget Lucien induces the illusion that the boy is present whenever he enters a vintage playroom.”

  Alain noted, “One other possibility is that Monsieur Christian of Luxembourg may be under the delusion that his brother is present, but in reality, he isn’t.

  “In my Zentology research, I’ve seen that delusions are a common symptom of personality-related mental illnesses. These include schizoaffective disorder, schizophrenia, shared psychotic disorder, major depressive disorder, and anxiety disorder. These are major sources of delusions. Individuals who have suffered long-term traumatic experiences can fall into one of six distinct categories: persecutory, grandiose, jealousy, erotomanic, somatic, or a mixture of the above mentioned.”

  My mind immediately leaped to the preconceived notion that the Luxembourgian was indeed suffering from at least three of the mental states listed by my teacher. Although I was courteous enough to keep these thoughts to myself, I couldn’t stop myself from simpering. Andy, noticing my smirk, stared at me forbiddingly. He was obviously warning me not to utter a word, in case I would again put my foot in my mouth. I kept quiet.

  The Medium grimaced at the men’s speculations before she aired, “I like to listen to this young man’s experiences.” She indicated me. “In my clairvoyant experiences, an adolescent’s visions are often more formidable than an adult’s.”

  Caught off guard, I was unsure if I wanted to be scrutinized by these erudite intellectuals. When all was said and done, my mythical and celestial visions were a part of me.

  Andy stated on my behalf before I could think of an appropriate response, “Young is a callow in these matters of metaphysical discussions. In my opinion, everything we discussed has its individual merit. Although I am doubtful of visionaries and illusionists, I’m also curious about differing schools of thought.

  “I wouldn’t mind partaking in a séance if the exalted Duchess Isabella can plan one before Young and I leave for London the day after tomorrow.”

  Baron Pierre beseeched, “Why are the two of you leaving so soon? I thought you were staying until after the New Year?”

  I took the opportunity to proffer my gratitude to our host. “Thank you, Baron, for your hospitality. It has been wonderful to spend this festive time with you and your guests, sir. But my uncle, Mr. James Pinkerton, has invited us to ring in the New Year with him. He is expecting us at his Mayfair home no later than the twenty-eighth of December.”

  Sheik Fahrib promulgated, “I’m heading to London on the same day that you boys are leaving. We can travel together.”

  Before midnight, when our assemblage dispersed, it was decided that a Spiritualist session would be held. It was not to be at Chateau Rouge but at لصقر في دن (The Falcon’s Den), Sheik Abdul Mutmud bin Fahrib’s sweeping mansion in the country of Sharjah.

  Chapter Twelve

  ‘G’ A-Go-Go

  “Fuck! Is one expected to be a gentleman when one is stiff?”

  Marquis de Sade

  2014

  One of Andy’s email messages

  Young, I’m surprised you asked if I had sexual liaisons with any of the household members without your knowledge. What do you think?

  Whatever you did, I did. We were young and enjoying life. Judging from your writing, I take it that you, like me, had a positive experience. Our separation is my one regret.

  I was hurt when you didn’t agree to go to New Zealand with me; I wanted to care for you. I also understood that down under wasn’t the fashion world you wanted to be a part of. To succeed as individuals, we needed to be apart. We are both career-driven individuals, and you would not have been happy in New Zealand, especially during the seventies.

  I needed to be away from my family, and the University of Canterbury offered me the solace I desired. Still, those early years of our separation were heart-wrenching times. Even though I enjoyed my engineering studies tremendously, I was lost without you. I took to engineering like a fish to water. If you had been there, with me but unhappy, it would have diverted my attention from my studies. The universe always has its way of working things out to make us stronger and more resilient.

  1967

  Presents

  Most of the Red Ball guests had departed by the time Boxing Day rolled around. Chateau Rouge’s regular staff had departed on Christmas morning for their Yuletide holidays. Pierre’s social secretary, Ludovic, had solicited a group of temporary helpers, who were of a certain sexual inclination and were pleasing to the eye.

  Centred within the ball room and several of the cosy recreational rooms that Boxing Day morning was a flurry of activities. While the hired hands were busy preparing for the ‘gay’ festivities, our intimate group chatted animatedly while opening Christmas gifts within the toasty billiard room. With fine wines, liquors and cigars in hand, the mature gentlemen began discussing politics. We, the younger participants, were absorbed in the array of princely gifts showered upon us by our generous admirers, lovers and benefactors.

  The marquis and the baron had gifted a pricey gold bracelet and a bejewelled studded earring, respectively, to young Sébastien. I was engrossed in opening my presents as the boy showed his expensive gifts to the group.

  No sooner had I opened Mathieu’s gift, I exclaimed, “This tie-pin is exquisite!” To show my appreciation, I gave the marquis kisses on both cheeks while I showed off my precious gift to the men within the room. The pin was of finely crafted silver Cartier embellished with three recherché pearls.

  Inside the little black velvet box the baron had given me was a pair of silver cufflinks inlaid with two white pearls of the rarest quality. I stared in amazement at these princely gifts. Andy spoke on my behalf, “Young, shouldn’t you thank the baron?”

  I stared at my generous benefactor. I was grateful, almost to tears, to these two French aristocrats. My gratitude stirred me to bestow a loving kiss on the baron’s lips. Little did I suspect that his lover would eye me with displeasure at this beholden appreciation. I had made an enemy of Sébastien.

  My affectionate act of indebtedness to the baron, had caused the boy resentment. He was also envious that Pierre had accorded me a gift more luxuriant than his.

  It was not until later that I discovered the reasons behind these opulent presents from the aristocrats. At that moment, I was simply appreciative of their generosity.

  Andy’s and my Yuletide present from the prince was a week-long, all-expenses-paid vacation to wherever we wished to travel on his yacht, Mystère. The only stipulation was that this gift would only come into effect after the grand openings of the Paris and Tokyo Carousels.

  Surprisingly, Sheik Fahrib gifted me and my Valet a bottle of Jaipur each. This cologne was the same that I had named for His Highness when we were at the House of Boucheron, 8 months prior to that morning.

  Neither my Valet nor I had expected such extravagant tokens of endearment. We were speechless. Though we were flabbergasted, we maintained our decorum. Our Yuletide presents to the aristocrats and our friends were comparatively modest.

  Andy, being the gentleman he was, was the first to toast our magnanimous benefactors, followed by Monsieur Dubois, Graf Felix and Ludovic, whose gifts were as munificent as mine.

  The person who remained silently vexed was Sébastien. By the look on the boy’s face, Baron Pierre would be heading toward a rocky confrontation before that day was over.

  The Party

  A busload of good-looking boys and young men had turned up en masse that late afternoon. I had no idea who they were or where they had come from; the majority of them spoke no English, and those who did, spoke very little. These striplings ranged from handsome and athletically built to cute and twinky.

  At t
he same time, a group of mature men arrived – friends of friends of the baron or the marquis. Whoever they were, they had one thing in common: wealth and status. They were there for a good time and were willing to pay for the services of one or more catamites.

  A lavish buffet was laid out in the gaily decorated ballroom. At various corners were three raised platforms, and atop them were three oversized birdcages that could accommodate a full-grown person. At the opposite section of this spacious hall was a low stage to accommodate the singer, the DJ, and his music and sound equipment.

  No sooner had the long haired disc jockey taken his place than the latest dance music began thumping through the massive speakers set up around the room. Disco lights and balls began rotating while the guests busily gobbled down the array of scrumptious food and consumed the free flowing alcoholic beverages, which were delivered on trays held high by semi-naked waiters on roller skates.

  Before I had time to absorb this Dionysian revelry, my teacher, Alain, ushered me into my ‘G’ A-go-go costume. It consisted of a gold Lycra G-string that exposed my naked buttocks and barely covered my privates. Over this miniature contrivance, I donned a black-and-gold striped speedo. Atop that came a pair of skin-tight black Lycra shorts. A matching gold tank-top fitted my upper torso, revealing my adolescent washboard stomach. A gold feline half-mask covered my upper face. This five-piece ensemble made up my ‘G’ A-go-go costume. During the course of my performance, all these skimpy items would be discarded, and I’d end up in my birthday suit in full view of everyone.