Daniel's Dream (23 page)

Daniel flinched. ‘
Co-create?
What, like collaborate?’

‘No, not exactly. Look, I can’t remember his exact words, Daniel, but the gist of it was that unconsciously or subconsciously - I can’t remember which - when you dream, you create a reality that is every bit as authentic and real as this world, only whereas sometimes you dream a world into existence by yourself, at other times you simply dd to a greater entity. I’m not explaining this very well...’

‘No, go on.’

‘Well, it’s just that the dreamers are no more aware that they’re creating a reality
with
other people that you are when you dream alone. It’s only a theory of course and a pretty wild one at that, but it would at least help to explain how places can seem both familiar and strange simultaneously.’

This certainly rang true; there were some aspects of Atheenaton that were very familiar, even though the place as a whole was unknown to him.

‘There’s more. This analyst also believed that when you dream of people you don’t know, they’re not imaginary at all; they’re your co-dreamers. Real people who you haven’t met in real life, who you would probably
never
meet in your waking life.’

Daniel shook his head. ‘Wait a monute Janice; surely this must have struck you as all terribly far-fetched?’

Janice smiled. ‘Not in the least. I had been there; I had experienced this place, this dream world, with its real people and seemingly everyday chronology, events unfolding in what felt like “real time”. It didn’t seem strange or far-fetched at all. On the contrary, it made complete sense. But I knew that to anyone else who had not experinced the same, it would sound like gobbledegook. Oh come on Daniel, you
must
have though about these things a thousand times. We’re so blasé, so unquestioning about sleep and dreams, and yet we know virtually nothing about them. A third of our life is spent unconscious, on a regular basis, the time filled with scenes and visions, and we dismiss it all as nonsense. Well, I don’t believe you can dismiss such a huge percentage of your life just because the explanations that start to ring true don’t tally with our scientific or logical understanding of how the world works.’

Daniel sighed. ‘Yes, but...’

‘But what? Do you realise there’s no accepted understanding of why we sleep? There’s no evidence to suggest the body needs it. A couple of hours relaxing in an armchair is apparently sufficient for all physical requirements. So there must be some other reason, one which is actually staring us in the face yet which we refuse to acknowledge: dreams are not just some meaningless by-product of sleeping. We sleep
in order
to dream.’

‘But that still doesn’t explain why we need to dream at all.’

Janice sighed. ‘I would have thought your recent eperiences would have solved that one for good. Just think, Daniel; it’s another life, another chance to experience things, things that perhaps aren’t available to you in the waking world. And that’s what happened to me. And yes, of course, it sounds like complete lunacy.’

‘Which is why ypou’ve never told anyone.’

‘Exactly.’

‘Not even Vince?’

‘Not even Vince. Oh, I’ve probably spouted some of the theories at him in moments of weakness, but if so, they would have sounded like the sort of things I’d read about, not experienced. Besides, Vince hasn’t got much time for all that.’

Daniel sighed. ‘So why... I mean, did you ever understand what it was all about?’

‘Not really. I expect it was part of the healing process, like mourning; something I had to go through. But - and I think this is critically important - just because I didn’t fully understand what it was all about doesn’t mean that it wasn’t important. Perhaps it was more important than the things I had been through in my waking life.’

Daniel nodded. ‘And how did you feel afterwards, when you couldn’t go back?’

‘Oh, I have to admit, I really missed it for a while. After all, it was so easy. Everything was provided; you didn’t have to work or cook or wash dishes. It was just like being a kid again, I guess.’ Janice hefted the antiquated porcelain teapot and refilled their cups. ‘I don’t know what relevance any of this has for you Daniel. For all I know, it has no connection at all with your dream. I just wanted to let you know that, whatever else you might be thinking, you’re not insane. I know it sounds awfully clichéd, but the fact is that we live in a deeply materialistic world that simply doesn’t allow people to dream any more, Once upon a time, I’m sure, people incorporated periods into each day for musing, day-dreaming, meditating, activities that most people these days would think of as trivial or time-wasting. Everything is time and money and efficiency and unless you’re being actively constructive - making money or doing something - you’re thought of as a malingerer or wastrel. It’s insidious, and if I were more politically attuned I’d believe it was a conspiracy, instituted to ensure that no one has enough time to contemplate the truly valuable things in life. Because if they did, then this time-centred, money-oriented, power-crazed society of ours would just fall apart.’

Daniel laughed. ‘You sound like an old hippie.’

Janice smiled guiltily. ‘Yes, well, there you have it: I am an old hippie.’

‘Oh come off it...’

‘What? Oh, I get it. You think I’m far too respectable and middleclass to have ever engaged in anything as anti-establishment as sit-ins or pot-smoking. Well, allow me to enlighten you. I went to university as a mature student. And before that, I spent my late adolescence and early twenties wandering through Asia searching for Nirvana and getting stoned a lot.’

Daniel thought Janice was putting him on. He tried to imagine her - as she so rightly said, thoroughly respectable and utterly middle-class - wearing loon pants, rose-coloured Lennon specs and a tie-dyed T-shirt, blissing out in Kathmandu and reciting lengthy extracts from Kahlil Gibran’s
The Prophet
, but, try as he might, the vision refused to materialise. 

‘What’s so funny?’

‘Nothing. I just can’t visualise you in a kaftan.’

‘Oh piss off, Daniel. You’re too young to remember, anyway.’

‘Wait a minute, I’m thirty-six-’

‘Precisely, which puts you right in the heart of that lost generation, too young to remember the Beatles and too old to have gobbed at the Sex Pistols.’

‘Yes, well, I wouldn’t have put it quite that way...’

‘Doesn’t matter. The point is, for those of us who came of age during the late sixties life has always meant more than just earning your pile and getting ahead, even if we do tend to lose sight of it with each passing year. All I’m saying, Daniel, is that whatever it’s about, your dream is precious, deeply precious, and on no account must you allow anyone to take it away from you. Most people’s lives are so cram-packed with activities - jobs, babies, bills, social commitments - that they haven’t time to catch their breath, let alone enjoy an excursion to a different world. I envy you, Daniel. You’ve been through the mill, I know, but I suspect that your life has become all the richer for it.’

Daniel shrugged. ‘I wish I could be so sure, Sometimes I wish this dream thing had never started. I can’t help feeling that all it’s going to do is cause confusion or heartbreak.’

Janice frowned. ‘Why do you say that?’

‘I don’t know... like I said, just a feeling.’

By the time they had stepped out on to the pavement the rain had stopped.

‘Can I give you a lift?’

‘Uh, no, thanks. I’d rather walk.’

‘Sure?’

‘Yeah. I have some things to think about.’ Daniel reached out and took Janice’s hand. ‘Thanks Janice; it was really thoughtful of you to see me like this. I appreciate it. And for confiding in me. It can’t have been easy.’

‘I hope I haven’t made matters worse.’

‘Of course not.’ 

‘And if you want the number of that analyst, I’m sure I can track it down. You never know, it might come in handy.’

‘I’ll let you know.’ 

Daniel walked Janice to her car and watched her get in. He was about to wave goodbye when she wound the window down and beckoned to him.

‘Just one thing Daniel. This bit really isn’t my business, and I don’t want to put any pressure on you, only I really think you ought to tell Lisanne about all this.’

‘You never told Vince about your dream, did you?’

‘No, but Vince is... well, Vince is Vince. I don’t have to remind you that Lisanne is a sympathetic, intelligent woman who not only has an open mind and sensitive understanding nature but also loves you very dearly. But this isn’t a lecture. Just think about it, will you?’

‘Okay,’ said Daniel. “I will.’

But as Janice pulled away, it was not his sympathetic, sensitive and understanding wife who occupied his thoughts, but a woman of an altogether different cast.

Daniel munched enthusiastically on another stuffed vine leaf.

‘These are delicious,’he said, between mouthfuls. ‘What’s inside them?’ 

Kate laughed. ‘
I
don’t know; you’ll have to ask Stephano.’

‘Stephano?’

‘The cook.’ 

‘Oh yeah, of course,’ replied Daniel, as if he should have known the cook’s name in the first place. ‘Y’know, I never used to like these. At least, not the last time I was in Greece.’

‘When was that?’

‘Oh God... years ago.’

‘And you haven’t eaten them since? At home?’ 

Daniel shook his head. ‘Nope. They’re available, of course, especially in the area I live in. But Lisanne’s none too fond of them either, so...’

Daniel broke off for a moment to refill his glass, but only a few drops trickled out of the carafe. As Kate held up her hand to order some more, Daniel found himself playing an odd game - a sort of thought experiment. If this is a dream, he said to himself, and I’m aware that it’s a dream, then surely I should have some control over it, like those lucid dreamers. And if I had control, then I certainly wouldn’t allow the wine to run dry like that. I’d organise my dream so that the carafes were bottomless and never needed refilling, and food would never disappear from the plates. But this isn’t the case. None of those things is happening, and wonderful as this place is, it isn’t my construction.

While waiting for the wine to arrive, Kate scooped up a mound of pink taramasalata on a crusty piece of bread and stuffed it greedily into her mouth. Daniel loved watching Kate eat and drink; she was positively Bacchanalian in her appetites, and Daniel found this unrestrained hedonism refreshing. So unlike Lisanne. So unlike most of the people he knew.

Daniel sat back in his chair and gave a deep sigh of unadulterated pleasure. Life should always be this way, he thought. He gazed out across the sand to the horizon. The sun was setting over the sea, and the beach was awash with a golden glow. The wine appeared, the glasses were filled and a toast - to pleasure, to Life, to whatever - was proposed and drunk.

Though he now felt comfortable in Atheenaton, Daniel found it impossible to rid himself of the nagging doubts and unresolved queries that surrounded his visits. It was all so good, so perfect, and yet the very question of its authenticity cast something of a pall over what was otherwise nothing short of miraculous. He did not want to spoil the easy, relaxed mood that he and Kate now enjoyed, but decided that, regardless of the risks, he had to have some questions answered.

He took a hefty swig of wine, drew a deep breath and grabbed Kate’s arm.

‘This is a dream, isn’t it, Kate? I mean, it isn’t reality, is it?’

Kate cast her eyes downward, then looked out to sea. ’Does it matter? You’re happy, aren’t you?’

‘But I don’t understand,’ said Daniel. ‘I only come here when I sleep, and yet it’ s not like any-’

‘I know. We all know how you’re feeling. But take it from me, Daniel. You don’t have to understand anything; you’re here, and that’s all that counts.’