The Dream Catcher Diaries

by Alexander Patrick

  Morgan walked up to the bed and peered down. So this was the great Matrix! This was the man who had set out to conquer the world.

  ‘His eyes are open,’ he said, surprised.

  The doctor had been ignoring him, now she looked across. ‘Yes,’ she said shortly. She was a small Indian woman, very pretty and petite but with eyes of steel. He felt she didn’t approve of him. He asked her the same question he had asked his men. ‘Anything to report?’

  ‘Nothing.’ She carried on scanning the body lying on the bed.

  ‘I need more than that,’ he insisted.

  She gave a deep sigh and motioned the nurse to leave. The nurse was also Indian, tall and big boned. She gave the impression of strength and confidence, just the person you would want to have in an emergency. She gave Morgan one quick appraising glance and softly left the room.

  Dr Gupta placed her scanner on the table next to the bed. ‘He’s alive – technically. That is to say, his heart beats and there is brain activity.’ She paused and looked down at the man lying there. ‘I can’t say any more than that – not with any certainty.’

  ‘Can he hear us?’

  She shook her head. ‘He can’t see, hear or feel us touch him, and he can’t move. If it wasn’t for these machines here, he wouldn’t be able to draw breath. If you’d arrived at that house much later, he would be dead. Completely dead that is.’ She spoke with a certain finality and neutrality, but he felt there was something in her voice, something he wasn’t expecting.

  ‘You know who this is?’ he asked.

  She grimaced. ‘We’ve not been told who he is and we’ve been instructed not to discuss the matter even between ourselves. We’ve all been sworn to secrecy.’

  ‘Even so.’

  ‘I’m not a fool, if that is what you’re suggesting.’

  ‘Do the nurses know who he is?’

  ‘Since we’ve been forbidden to discuss it how could I possibly comment?’

  ‘This is just another job for you.’

  ‘Certainly, it is.’

  He motioned to the life support machines. ‘How long before we can turn these things off?’

  ‘Unless the family objects, the standard time now is three months.’

  ‘There is no family to object, except me. I’ve been given authority.’

  She pursed her lips but said nothing. He knew she didn’t approve.

  ‘They tried to murder him,’ he said.

  ‘Will you prosecute?’

  ‘Of course not; he died in a warehouse in Bristol. It’s official, haven’t you heard?’ He smiled. ‘I’m his guardian so I decide when these machines get switched off.’

  ‘He’s in hell.’ She suddenly sounded passionate. ‘Why prolong his hell?’

  He leaned forward and allowed himself to smile even more. ‘Best place for him, I’d say.’

  She glared at him, was about to say something then seemed to change her mind; instead, she bit her lip and frowned. Then she, too, leaned forward. He thought she was going to say something, but she didn’t. Instead, she took Matrix’s hand, heavily tattooed with the swastika, and gently raised it to her lips. She didn’t kiss the hand as he would have expected, she simply caressed it lovingly with her lips. She placed the hand down on the bed. It was then he saw that she was crying.

  ***********************

  When Steve had recovered from his operation he asked to be allowed to visit Adam. It was his prerogative; Simeon couldn’t say no. I wheeled him in and left him to spend some time with Adam, who was still unconscious. Steve sat at his bedside for a couple of hours and I know that during that time he talked to Adam; he knew he couldn’t hear him and that’s why he was able to talk.

  He told Adam how much he loved and cared for him; he told him how guilty he felt about what had happened and he told him something about his life. He talked because no one could hear. Except – I was there.

  Steve had asked me to wait for him, and so I sat out of earshot with a book – well, I may have been out of earshot but I could still read his lips. I tried not to, but it was almost impossible not to be drawn into his narrative. He told Adam about the time he had raped a girl of twelve. Steve knew afterwards that I had ‘heard’ – one look at my face said it all.

  ‘I want to tell you how proud I am that, finally, I’ve done something worthwhile,’ he began, ‘and to say thank you for that. I’ve done terrible things in my life. I could blame others, but, in the end, we always have a choice and so often I have chosen the easy way: the way that would hurt me the least. That makes me weak, a coward and a bad person. That’s what I am; I’m all those things.’ He took Adam’s hand in his. I imagined he was whispering, but I could read his lips perfectly.

  ‘Once,’ he said. ‘I raped a girl of twelve. It’s part of the reason they sectioned me in the end. They said I could never be trusted; that I had been too badly damaged; that I would always be a liability.’ He smiled that wonderful smile of his. ‘Everything you’ve said to me, everything that Simeon has said, is true. You told me once that I wasn’t fit to be in decent company and you were right. You said that I was worse than the lowest animal and you were right. You’ve looked at me with such contempt and I deserved it.’ He shrugged his shoulders. ‘But you can never take away the fact that now I’ve done something worthwhile: I’ve saved your life.’

  He paused and seemed to think a while. ‘Can I tell you about the time I raped the girl?’ He stroked Adam’s hand. ‘Yes, I can, because I’ve wanted to for so long – and now I can talk because you can’t hear me.’

  He settled himself and began. ‘There was a man I used to visit. His name was Lucas. It wasn’t his real name, you understand, but it was the only name I ever knew him by. He liked me to come and visit, usually when he had his friends there: a small discreet party of men who liked boys – boys like me. I wasn’t even twelve the first time I went to his house; I was eleven. They were important men, wealthy, famous men, who all liked pretty boys.

  ‘Whenever Tam sent me there they always put drops in my eyes so that I couldn’t see. It was temporary, but these men didn’t want to be recognised by some nasty little rent boy some time in the future, so they always blinded me. I didn’t make a particularly good blind boy. I always stumbled about, knocking into things. They would laugh at me fumbling and bumping into furniture and people. It was all part of the fun for them. They thought they were safe from me because they blinded me and used fake names. They forgot about the power of voices. Being blind made me notice their voices; what they did to me - the terrible things they did to me - made me remember their voices. I was never to forget.

  ‘Then, one night when I came to visit, there was a girl there. She wasn’t a pleasant girl. She was the daughter of one of the men who called himself Bob. She took an instinctive dislike to me; she knew what I was, what I did, and she had nothing but contempt for me. She did things to me – nasty, spiteful things – and the men laughed. That only encouraged her and she became more vindictive – and they laughed even more. They laughed because they enjoyed my humiliation. They laughed for other reasons too – reasons that she and I were completely unaware of.

  ‘I closed my mind. That’s what I’d do; that’s how I’d survived – I would close my mind. I couldn’t take my body away but I could take my mind away. I would go surfing; find the perfect wave and ride it for ever and ever. That perfect wave was so big and rolling and I was surfing it high on top!

  ‘Then the laughing stopped and the screaming began – her screaming. They tied her down on top of the table where they had just been eating their meal. They tied her down and they led me to her. “Time for your revenge, rent boy,” they said. “The little bitch has done her worst to you. Now you do your worst to her. Screw her hard; make it hurt. Let’s hear her scream!”

  ‘I thought it must be some sort of twisted joke. I hesitated. They lifted me up onto the table. I could feel the table rock as she writhed and pulled at the bonds; but they had tied her down firmly.
She couldn’t escape. She screamed all sorts of obscenities at me. It didn’t make any difference; she couldn’t escape, any more than I could. She was as much a prisoner as I was. Still I hesitated. “Do it, rent boy!” screamed her father. “Or you’ll really know what pain is!”

  ‘She continued to shout abuse and I whispered in her ear. “I’m going to fuck you, you little bitch.” For a moment she stopped. I knew that would silence her. I continued quickly. “I’ll try not to hurt you. I’ll make it look good; make sure you scream.’’'

  Steve stopped for a moment. He seemed stunned by the memory. Slowly he continued. ‘I didn’t want to hurt her, but I did. I fucked her.’ He closed his eyes, drawing in breath. ‘I did it because I was afraid, because I couldn’t see a way out, because I was trapped, like some animal. I didn’t want to hurt her, even though she had done terrible things to me. Hurting her meant they had won – again. But then they always won.’

  Gently he stroked Adam’s hand. ‘I did it because I was weak,’ he continued, ‘and because of all those things you have accused me of. I didn’t have to try very hard to make her scream. She was in hell. She was in my hell; after that, they took her away and each one of them fucked her, even her father, even he ...’

  He stopped again and there were tears in his eyes. The memory still had the power to hurt, even now. ‘It turns out,’ he said, ‘the father hated the mother; she’d been cheating on him. This was his revenge. When they finished with her that weekend, he sold her to a pimp.

  ‘Before they took her away, we spoke briefly to each other. She thanked me for trying to be gentle and said she was sorry for all the things she’d done to me. And that was it; she was just another voice. I didn’t see her until years later when we met in court: I was a witness against a high profile paedophile ring – but I only knew voices; she knew faces, as well.’

  ‘We took them to the cleaners, the bastards!’ he said with some satisfaction. He leaned forward. ‘It turned out that Lucas was a judge. I recognised his voice the first time he sent me down. It took a while, but I eventually agreed to give evidence. I didn’t want to. I was scared shitless of them. I’m glad I did in the end. She stood up in court and testified against her own father and she said some nice things about me. It didn’t change anything, though. They still said I should be sectioned; they still said I was dangerous – and perhaps they were right, perhaps I am.’

  If he said anything else I was not aware of it. I turned my head away. Not long after, he called me over to wheel him out. He looked tired and haggard. I took Steve back to his room but, as the door closed behind us, Adam opened his eyes.

  Chapter 27

  ‘Tears for a terrorist?’ he asked.

  She glanced up and he saw her anger. ‘How do you sleep at night?’ she asked.

  He stopped smiling. As a matter of fact, he was a poor sleeper, always had been. ‘I manage,’ he said. ‘You didn’t answer my question, or are you one of those misguided people who claim he was a freedom fighter?’

  Still she said nothing. He was determined to bait her. He was bored and she felt like good sport. He had caught her at a vulnerable moment; he guessed that was rare and he couldn’t resist it. ‘You’re a Muslim,’ he said, walking round the bed, around the man who lay there – dead, but not dead.

  She gave a contemptuous laugh. ‘I am Hindu,’ she said. He had known that. He knew that Gupta was not a Muslim name. He had wanted to provoke a response and he had succeeded.

  He came up behind her and hissed in her ear. ‘You worship many gods. Is the Dream Catcher one of them?’

  ‘You know nothing!’

  ‘Enlighten me.’

  She hesitated. ‘We all go through life,’ she said, carefully, ‘with the ability to cause grief or joy.’

  ‘Or both,’ he added, just to show he was listening.

  ‘Or both,’ she acknowledged. ‘For most of us, it is both.’ She was silent again.

  ‘What are you claiming for Matrix?’

  She smiled and reached out to touch her patient again.

  ‘I am claiming that he was indeed a God,’ she said.

  ***********************

  I have already mentioned Sam, the wonderfully attractive, clever Sam. She and Davey met at Cambridge. She was a year in front of Davey and for a while watched – and perhaps even joined in with – the general abuse and bullying that took place against him. Then, at some point, she must have thought that he was worth getting to know. She wasn’t the only woman who was attracted to Davey. He was as beautiful to look at as his father – clever and funny as well.

  But, to be honest, it was his body that most of the women were interested in. It has to be said that a lot of those women just wanted to be fucked by a blind man and so they came, a steady stream of anonymous women, into his bedroom. He was quite indiscriminate – until one night when he was convinced that a rather strange woman who he had bedded had not, in fact, left. He became convinced that she was still lurking in his room. It was the middle of the night and a weekend. Ian was visiting and was sleeping nearby. Davey got out of bed and woke Ian up to make sure she had gone; he checked the room and found it empty. Unfortunately, he was seen leaving the room.

  A gay older man being seen leaving the room of a young deafblind student is not good news. Ian was ordered off the campus immediately, and Davey vowed to be more careful in future.

  All of this became academic because it was at this point that Sam finally entered Davey’s life. She was a green-eyed, red-headed philosophy student and she enrolled in Davey’s chess class just to meet him. We both fell in love with her, but it was Davey she loved and eventually married. I was best man at their wedding; although, it has to be said that Sam knew all too well that to marry Davey was – to a certain extent, with obvious limitations – to marry me. I would always be there. I had promised Davey I would never leave him, and he had every intention of keeping me to my promise. She knew that and it would have been important to her. She was an ambitious woman. She wanted to make a difference, change the world and travel. Looking after Davey simply did not fit into any of those plans, but she loved him. Theirs was a deep and abiding love.

  Davey had always said he wouldn’t marry. He couldn’t imagine any woman wanting to marry him. Then, at a friend’s wedding in Ireland where Davey was best man, Sam proposed to him and he accepted. They had been on a deserted beach, standing in the waves and she had asked him to marry her. She knew he would never ask her.

  It was very romantic – except for the fact that I was hovering nearby, trying not to be there. She’d asked me to come; she couldn’t manage him down that rocky slope to the beach without me. I’m only surprised she didn’t ask me to sign the proposal: her signing was very poor.

  Afterwards we went back to the wedding feast; Sam disappeared to dance and get drunk and I stayed and looked after Davey. I knew exactly what married life with Sam would be like. I saw the future. Sam would have her career, her trips to save the world, and the man she loved and I would be there to do the caring – and, guess what, I didn’t mind. I loved them both too much for that.

  Robert, of course, was furious; he was always very protective of me.

  Chapter 28

  ‘I take it you have chosen his nurses with care?’ Morgan asked.

  She breathed in deeply. ‘Yes.’

  ‘You tread a dangerous path.’

  ‘No one said I had to pick people who hated him.’

  ‘Instead, you chose misguided acolytes.’

  ‘He is totally reliant on our care. I have made sure he will get only the best – until, that is, you decide to end it for him; release him from his hell.’

  ‘Do you believe he can still think?’

  ‘I have no idea, but there is no reason to suppose that he is not totally aware of the prison you have placed him in.’

  ‘Emotional words for a doctor.’

  ‘The truth.’

  ‘Well, we shall see. I may just decide to keep him hanging in his
prison for a while; who knows? With such devoted care and attention does it really matter?’ He flung out his words to hurt and he knew he was succeeding.

  ‘As I said, you know nothing.’

  ‘And, as I said, enlighten me.’

  ‘Why not ask him?’

  He stopped. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘You know nothing about him do you? Except what your shabby media have told you to think.’

  He was staring at her in genuine confusion. ‘I still don’t understand ...’

  ‘Have you read his book?’

  Now he understood. ‘A book of lies, I expect.’

  ‘You’re afraid!’

  ‘Afraid of what?’

  ‘The truth.’

  ‘Whose truth?’

  ‘Are you telling me that if you were to read his book you couldn’t tell whether it was true or not?’

  ‘I don’t need to read it to know.’

  ‘As I said, you’re afraid.’

  He was silent. He knew she was right and he knew exactly what he was afraid of. He scowled and then left the room.

  ***********************

  I made very few friends when I was a student at Oxford. Part of the reason being I was simply too busy. I was taking a double degree, studying philosophy and literature, and I was working as Davey’s research assistant. Sam was away working abroad for most of the time, leaving me to do what I did best, look after Davey.

  The other reason I had no friends was the old one: I was different and, by then, young people had already become intolerant of anyone different. To my dismay, I was immediately nicknamed Matrix and sneered at by my peer group. I simply didn’t have the time to change their minds; Davey took up all my time and energy.