The Dream Catcher Diaries

by Alexander Patrick

  ‘So, how are things?’ asked Judith.

  Sonia shrugged her shoulders and picked up a biscuit.

  ‘How is the Reverend?’ persisted Judith.

  ‘You saw him on Sunday.’

  ‘Aye, but you work with him. How’s he settling in? I do hope he intends to stay.’

  ‘Oh, he has no intention of leaving.’

  ‘Is that right?’

  ‘Oh, Judith!’

  ‘Come on, Sonia, we’ve all seen how he looks at you!’

  Sonia blushed and bit her biscuit hard. As she stood there, I thought for the first time that she actually looked quite pretty; being in love obviously suited her. She glanced up and looked across at me; she saw me looking. I smiled, just to annoy her, and she turned away again.

  ‘A man of God!’ exclaimed Judith. ‘Oh, Sonia, I’m so happy for you!’

  Sonia looked across at me again. She frowned. I always made her frown. She chose to change the subject. ‘He’s quite shocked at the state of the village,’ she said thoughtfully, still looking at me.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Too much rubbish,’ she said.

  I was about to feel suitably insulted when I realised she wasn’t actually referring to me.

  ‘Oh, I know,’ agreed Judith. ‘The park’s in a terrible state. I blame the tourists.’

  I couldn’t think why, since we hardly had any.

  ‘We’ve had an idea,’ she said.

  My heart sank. I knew I would not like any idea dreamed up by Drummond and Sonia.

  ‘Fraser has managed to get a cleaner’s trolley and some funding to pay someone to clean the park and village.’ She paused and then added apologetically. ‘It’s not much; we can’t afford to pay someone too much. It is only a menial job after all, but it’s something.’

  ‘Why, Sonia, that’s grand! What a clever idea! But who would do it?’

  Sonia looked astonished; the answer was so obvious to her. It was obvious to me, too, since I knew how her sharp little mind worked. ‘Why David!’ she said.

  Judith opened her mouth and closed it again. ‘No, I don’t think so, Sonia,’ she said.

  Well, that was a relief.

  ‘But why not? He needs to do something. He’s a grown man. He sits around the house all day; that can’t be good for him. He should be using that leg more, and he drinks too much, you know that; it would get him out, give him some pride.’ She paused for breath.

  Judith was shaking her head. ‘That’s all very well, my dear, but what about the Mackay brothers? After what happened before, I’m frightened to let him out on his own.’

  ‘David would do the cleaning first light, before anyone else is up. That’s when these sort of people do it. The Mackay brothers are not going to be around then. This is perfect for him. After all, he’s not really capable of very much, is he?’

  Judith still hesitated, but I could see the idea was starting to appeal. ‘I’ll ask him,’ she said at last.

  ‘He’ll say no, for sure,’ said Sonia. ‘I’m afraid he’s inclined to be lazy, and you spoiling him hasn’t helped.’

  ‘No, I think he’ll say yes,’ said Judith with confidence.

  Well, that settled it then.

  ***********************

  My cleaning trolley was kept in a lockup situated near the park behind the shop. I couldn’t manoeuvre it and my crutches – but I didn’t have to: I leaned on the trolley.

  Every morning my working day started just after dawn; the light would be breaking through as I pulled the trolley out and began clearing up. Initially, I was told my route and someone walked through it with me a number of times, but, after a few days, I was trusted to get on with it on my own. I was responsible for cleaning the main roads, the park, the playground, flowerbeds and anything else I might see on my way. It was a simple enough task: I had long tongs with which to pick up the rubbish and so had little bending down to do. Sonia was right, even I was capable of doing this job and, in truth, once I started, I found that I actually enjoyed it; I was pleased to be contributing something. I don’t know how much I was being paid; the money went straight to Judith. I know it wasn’t very much because Sonia went to great pains to tell me. I didn’t care; it was something, at least.

  At that time in the morning, no one else was about and that is what made it so special; it was just me, an empty world and my thoughts. I moved slowly – anybody else would have finished the work twice as quickly – but each morning I completed my task to my employer’s satisfaction. He – Fraser Drummond that is – would, on occasion, come and strut and watch me work, condescending to telling Judith what a good job I was doing. She preened and let me do lots of nice things to her in bed as a reward.

  It didn’t last; these things never do.

  One morning, I had just finished clearing the playground area and was about to push my trolley back, when I heard footsteps. I straightened up, assuming it was Drummond come to tell me what a good boy I was. It was not. It was the Mackay brothers – all three of them.

  I had, of course, bumped into them on a number of occasions since they had beaten me senseless. These had always been minor skirmishes, with the brothers taking the opportunity to catch me when I was alone – sitting outside the shop waiting for Judith, going to the public toilet, that sort of thing. They were always brief but painful – for me anyway. They were careful; I had by now become a popular figure in the village; Judith wasn’t the only one ready to protect me.

  But now, here in the park, alone, in the early hours of the morning, there was no one to protect me. They were each carrying huge bulging bags. They walked past me, as if I wasn’t there, and emptied their bags all over the park – they were full of the most disgusting refuse, gleaned from the local landfill site no doubt; one family could not have accumulated quite so much rubbish – and then they walked away again, without a word. I was left to clean it up. I was late going home that morning.

  The next day, the same thing happened again, and the morning after, each time right at the end of my shift. For a week the pattern didn’t change. Judith complained about me taking longer to complete my work but nothing more.

  Then they changed their tactics; they were evidently bored with that. This time they brought their bags, emptied them, then sat and watched me clear up. After that they started to follow me around, tripping me up, taunting me. As the days and the weeks progressed they began to think up new and more imaginative ways to make it difficult for me, new ways to hurt me, nothing too obvious – nothing that would raise suspicion.

  Sometimes there were mornings when they didn’t turn up. I suppose that even they, with that rundown farm of theirs, had to do some work. Sometimes only one came. I never really knew who or what to expect. I do know that occasionally they had an audience. I could see him standing in the shadows, tall and dressed in black: the Reverend Drummond himself. I don’t for a moment suggest that he put them up to it; my guess is that he came over to check up on me, as usual, and then stayed for the entertainment.

  It was taking me longer and longer to finish my work and I was getting more and more tired. Judith didn’t notice the cuts and bruises; they may have been hidden from everyone else, but she was my lover, she should have noticed – but she didn’t. Instead, she started telling me how disappointed she was in me. I would come home tired, dispirited and sore, only to receive long lectures on how lazy I had become, how I took her and everyone else for granted, and so on. She complained about me to others too, including Drummond. I remember standing in his kirk as she stood wringing her hands grumbling about me. He gave nothing away. His face remained impassive, unmoved; he knew, and even I would never have known it.

  People started to complain about the mess; it was, it seemed, much worse than before. I simply wasn’t doing my job properly. Judith threatened to send me away from her bed. I was distraught, and she knew it. She didn’t do it, but she withdrew into herself, turning her back on me in bed, withdrawing her affection. This had beco
me very important to her.

  Then, one morning as I stood in the park surrounded by three Mackay brothers carrying small knives and sticks and piles of rubbish strewn all around, I heard a voice behind me.

  ‘What on earth is going on?’ it said.

  I turned round to see Sonia standing there with her hands on her hips. That was all I needed.

  She marched up, a tiny dark figure, and looked up at the three brothers. ‘You have exactly thirty seconds to leave this park!’ she said, and her voice was like ice.

  They left.

  With a sigh I began clearing up. She watched me in silence for a short while and then she helped me. She never said a word.

  When we had finished clearing up she left me to put away my trolley. By the time I got home Judith had been told. I know she had been told because that evening she informed me that they had found someone else to clean the village, and, more important, she started being nice to me again.

  Nothing was ever said.

  No one needs to apologise to a retard – that’s my experience anyway.

  Chapter 15

  January 2037

  That winter brought cold rain, sleet, freezing snow and fog and then a flu virus that swept though the country. I immediately became very nervous; I was terrified of the flu.

  Andrew came round late one evening for a game of chess with Judith. He bustled in from the cold and soon the two of them were immersed in the game. I was allowed to sit and watch as long as I didn’t move. Judith was always concerned I would knock something over, like a chess piece. She generally lectured me about the rules of chess, complaining to Andrew at the same time about how little I was capable of understanding. Andrew said nothing; he had learnt his lesson; at least, so I thought.

  After their game they were drinking their coffee, when Andrew decided to risk another attack on Judith’s mindset. They talked in Gaelic, making the assumption that I couldn’t understand. They talked about me as if I wasn’t there. I felt invisible; it was the strangest feeling.

  ‘Have you heard about this flu virus sweeping the country?’ he began rather tentatively.

  Judith was busy putting the chess pieces back on the board. I looked longingly at them. I so wanted to play chess with her. At that moment I would have given anything to be able to sit in front of the fire, just the two of us, playing a game of chess, discussing the moves, meeting intellectually as well as physically. ‘Aye,’ she said. ‘It’s all around the village. We’re going visiting tomorrow to see if we can help some of the afflicted.’

  I looked across at her, startled, my dream suddenly broken. This was news to me.

  ‘We? You’re not taking David with you?’

  ‘Aye, I am.’ Her tone was brisk. I knew it well.

  ‘But you can’t take him into houses where there’s flu!’

  ‘Nonsense! Flu can’t kill you, not if you’re fit and healthy – and we’re both.’

  ‘You don’t understand, you mustn’t expose David to the flu virus. He has Hynes’ Syndrome; his eyes are too sensitive ...’

  ‘Don’t start that again, Andrew. We’ve already decided that’s all rubbish.’

  ‘Judith, listen to me. By all means, go and visit these people, but don’t take David with you. The flu can lead to a secondary condition for someone like him. It can lead to blindness. This is too serious ...’

  Judith stood up abruptly. ‘I’d be thankful if you’d let me make the decisions with regard to David’s welfare – or do you think I’m incapable now?’

  But Andrew was frowning and thinking hard. ‘On second thoughts,’ he said. ‘It might be better if you stay away as well; after all, if you catch the flu you might infect David.’

  ‘More coffee, Andrew?’

  He looked at her sharply. ‘I’m serious, Judith. Don’t go near these people. David’s got enough to contend with; he doesn’t need blindness, as well. If he fell ill we wouldn’t be able to take him to a hospital.’

  ‘He wouldn’t need a hospital just for the flu. Really, Andrew, you’re more than capable of looking after either of us, should we be so unlucky!’

  He sounded exasperated. ‘I don’t believe you’ve been listening to anything I’ve been saying!’ he cried. ‘David could go completely blind if he catches the flu!’

  I watched her anxiously. This one time I really needed her to listen. She glanced down at me, saw my worried face and made up her mind. ‘Time for you to go home now, Andrew,’ she said.

  The next morning we were out visiting the flu victims.

  It was a freezing cold day in January and Judith planned to visit five houses, to check that people were warm and whether they needed extra provisions, to keep them company and to pray with them. This was part of her role. It was what people expected from her. It was what she expected from herself – and she took it seriously.

  We arrived at the first house. I glanced across at Judith nervously. Her lips were compressed in a familiar way. If I’d hoped for a last minute reprieve, seeing that look told me I would be disappointed, she had no intention of changing her mind.

  She knocked on the door. I stood next to her and, despite the cold, felt hot and sweaty. I was terrified. We were ushered in by Mrs Yates. We stood in the hallway and they talked in hushed whispers. Mr Yates was in bed with the flu; no, they were fine, their daughter was visiting and looking after them; yes, the minister had been and prayed with them and wasn’t he a wonderful young man, so kind, so thoughtful so ... Mrs Yates glanced across at me.

  ‘Thank you,’ she whispered as we left.

  One down, four to go.

  The next household was very grateful to see us. We were given a long shopping list and we sat in the invalid’s bedroom for over an hour praying. I was praying too – though not for the same things as everyone else. I tried not to breathe too deeply.

  At the next house, Judith decided that I should wait outside. It was a tiny house and, she said, very cluttered. ‘You’re bound to break something!’ she scolded me gently. I sat down on the stone wall and shivered. I didn’t care; it was better than the flu. I hunched my shoulders against the cold, three more houses to go. What would I do if I caught the flu?

  I remembered the last time. I had been fifteen, nearly sixteen. It was a birthday spent in hospital, my eyes bandaged, my life changed forever. They had operated and told me it was a success; their definition of success was that I was not completely blind, merely partially sighted. But it was enough – enough to change my life. It had led, inevitably, to me sitting here on a cold winter’s day a cripple, living a nightmare, trapped in a nightmare. I closed my eyes and suddenly I was no longer sitting on a wall; instead, I was kneeling in a room.

  ***********************

  The room was dark and cold and I was naked. I had been kneeling for some time and my knees were red and sore. My arms were bound behind me in manacles; they were wrapped around my wrists and arms right up to my elbows. They bit into my flesh, cutting me. Around my neck was a broad collar, preventing me from moving my neck, coming out of the front of the collar was a metal rod. In turn it was attached to a band around my waist. I could hardly move; my bonds made movement and standing up straight almost impossible. Anyway, I had been told not to move and so I didn’t. I had been told to keep my head bowed; I kept it bowed.

  I waited; I waited. I wanted to stand up but I couldn’t; instead, I waited.

  Then I heard footsteps behind me.

  ‘Bend over!’ a man’s voice growled.

  I did exactly what I was told.

  He pushed my face down to the ground, my face pressed against the floor and he mounted me from behind,

  It hurt, it hurt so much and I couldn’t even cry out.

  Silent pain. Blood seeping down my legs.

  Silent pain.

  **********************

  ‘David?’

  I opened my eyes. I was still sitting on the wall and shivering violently. Not just from the cold.

  Andrew was standing
in front of me, staring at me. ‘David, are you alright? You look pale. What are you doing sitting out here in the cold? Where’s Judith?’ He stopped asking questions and looked up at the house. I could see he knew. He frowned, glanced down at me and then back at the house. He seemed to make up his mind. ‘Come with me,’ he said decisively. I didn’t move. ‘Now!’ he said. Reluctantly, I stood up and looked back at the house. ‘Oh, she’ll be ages in there. These people love their prayers!’ He spoke scathingly. There was a reason why I never saw him in the kirk on Sundays.

  We walked down the street. He walked slowly and I knew he was doing that for me. We came to the doctor’s surgery. He opened the door and gestured me in with an impatient wave of the hand. I went into the gloomy reception area and stood a moment to adjust to the change in light.

  A woman’s voice came to me from out of the gloom. ‘Surgery’s closed!’ she said sharply and then, ‘Oh, Doctor!’

  ‘It’s alright, Jean, David’s with me,’ he said. ‘You can go home. I’ll lock up.’

  She nodded, looking at me with suspicion.

  He turned to me. ‘It’s this way,’ he said, and he led me into his surgery.

  I could smell the surgery immediately. It was a familiar mixture of antiseptics, medicines and that indefinable stale smell of a room where the windows were rarely opened. He took his jacket off as he walked over to his desk. ‘Take your clothes off,’ he said, pointing to a modesty curtain. ‘Might as well give you a check up whilst you’re here.’

  I glanced across at him sharply.

  He caught the look. ‘Don’t worry,’ he said, opening some cupboard doors and pulling things out. ‘You’re not my type. Now get undressed.’