I'll See You In Your Dreams

by Miller, Tony

  “Your cunning is remarkable,” said Ludwig

  Paul walked over to the window and peered out.

  “It’s a perfect cover for our future that we’re building. Hell, one day we’ll buy the press and write history as we see fit.”

  “Sometimes, Paul, you make me shiver. Genius. It is no wonder Sigmund wanted little Eddie Bernays to spend time with you,” Ludwig said.

  “Now there is a genius who makes me shiver. When a ten-year-old can make a vow with such intensity, it’s worth paying attention to his accomplishments. What was the vow he made to us that night?” asked Paul.

  ”Fools attempt to rule the world by taking land by force; I will conquer all by ruling their minds without a peep of protest. Something like that,” Ludwig said.

  “It’s hard to believe he’s a kid,” mused Paul.

  “Speaking of kids,” piped up Ludwig, “let me treat Tillie next time … for her own good.”

  They chuckled.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  “Oh, my word, my big mouth. What time is it?” Anne said in a panic.

  “If you were right when you asked earlier about it being 2:00 P.M., then it is about 5:00 P.M.” Colton replied.

  “Oh my, I must get inside. Father will be home any moment, and I told mother I was going to help at our church and be back by five.”

  Colton raised a finger. “Anne, just one moment. We won’t be able to sleep unless we know. Where is this moment in time? Is it before or after the Tillie, umm?”

  “Before. Paul is planning to propose tomorrow night. My fiancé will be different this time!”

  Sam looked at Colton and sighed.

  “My god, what a story. My mind filled it all in as she spoke it. The Stanley part of me will be contemplating this for quite some time. The Sam part just wants to get Paul.”

  “I know what you mean. The Charlie part just wants to be with Anne. The Colton part just wants to be with Anne and choke Paul to death!”

  Sam thought for a moment.

  “There’s something we must consider. It’s called a paradox. If we change anything, what will that change result in?”

  “Huh,” replied Colton.

  “Well, let’s say she says no to Paul, and you become her fiancé. How will that change the future? Remember, in a few days Paul will send Bessie to mail a letter. He will ask her to leave Tillie to help prepare for Anne’s visit. How will that change the outcome of all this? Does no Anne visit, mean no Tillie rape?”

  “We don’t know the outcome yet, until she finishes the story of our last little visit to this parallel universe, whichever universe is the real universe.”

  “Now, think about this, Colton. The other way it turned out, no matter how bad, ended up in us as Stanley and Charlie, which is not too bad. What if we change something, and we never know each other or maybe we end up in some other country?”

  “Oh, my god, we could end up in one of those little jungle villages with all those flies and a preacher whining for someone in America to send us food,” Colton replied with his best sarcastic humor.

  “I’m serious, Colton, if we change anything in the past, it will change the future and in an unpredictable manner.”

  “So we have to decide if we’re going to risk Stanley and Charlie for Sam and Colton. That seems to be the decision that faces us,” Colton reasoned.

  “Sometimes you are smarter than you look, Colton.”

  “There’s one more thing before we decide, Sam.”

  “What’s that, Colton?”

  “What is the right thing to do for everyone involved, not just us?” For several minutes they were lost in contemplation, until Sam spoke up with a calm determination.

  “Well, I’ll have to answer as Sam. We’re going to make some changes!” Colton paused, and then answered with equal determination.

  “Here’s to change!” They touched fists. Colton scratched his head. “Well, we could let things go as before and hide the sheriff, and of course, us, or some such, in the room as witnesses to stop the rape.”

  “That would be impossible, and of course, we’d be accused of setting him up,” Sam said.

  “So, what’s your proposal?” asked Colton.

  “All we have to do is stop the rape, which is easy. We can just warn Bessie and Tillie or any number of things. We will have to hear the rest of the story of what transpired last time to see the magnitude of evil we’re up against,” Sam said.

  “It’s too bad we can’t just shoot him and the three of us head back to the future,” Colton replied.

  “There may not be a way to get back once we change anything. So we must be able to stop Paul and still live as free men. And of course not die at the end of a hangman’s noose,” Sam added.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Sam and Colton discussed their Arabian horse business and how best to expand it. During this discussion, they said if they were to be stuck in this era, they would most assuredly become rich on the hindsight, which would be foresight for them. All they had to do was invest in Ford Motor Company out of all the upstart car makers. Then airplanes, plastics, etc. Why, they most certainly would be wealthy beyond their dreams if they were stuck in this time and place.

  At 9:00 P.M. there was a tapping at the door, and Colton opened it. It was Anne, who held a finger to her lips for silence. “My mother and father are in bed sleeping, so I sneaked out. I must tell you the rest of the story so we can prepare for what may happen when I refuse to become engaged to Paul tomorrow night.”

  Anne sat on the bench with them and took a breath. She looked from Colton to Sam.

  “Okay, here is the rest of the story as told to me by Merlin, who has seen all the mental pictures of all the players in this drama.”

  Sam raised a finger, “Does Merlin know the outcome?”

  “Oh, no, the future is created; the future is off limits to him.”

  “But wait, Anne, you could say you, Colton, and I know the future. We can even know which businesses to invest in. How come Merlin doesn’t?”

  “Sam, this story isn’t the future. It is the past. When we change it, it will cease to exist. Even our memory of it will vanish.”

  “I was afraid of that. So, that means that, hmmm, that means that when this new past replaces the old one, we will lose all memory of the old one, including any memories of a future, damn. There go some good investments. Also, it’ll be Sam and Colton and no Charlie and Stanley.”

  “Even Merlin can’t predict the future.”

  “There’s something I read in physics, umm, there’s a sort of quirk of time that may apply here. I just can’t recall it,” Stanley mused.

  “Well, I must get on with the story of our past as we haven’t much time,” Anne said.

  “Of course,” Sam replied as Colton nodded in agreement.

  <><><>

  Paul met with Sheriff Willard at Angelo’s Café downtown. The sheriff was a family friend of Judge Hawthorne’s.

  They both ordered coffee, and as the waitress slowly walked away to get it, Paul began. “Bill, I need your help with a serious problem.”

  “I’m all ears, Paul. How can I help?”

  “Well, Bill, this nasty business with Sam Novak raping the twelve-year-old girl has motivated me to do all I can to help Tillie. She must be devastated, and I feel it my civic duty to step forward with my professional training in psychiatry and offer her at least an ear. In fact, I’m willing to furnish her with some of the new wonder drugs so sought after for their proven ability to relieve mental stress.”

  “Well, Paul, things happen among these people. You shouldn’t worry yourself on matters like this.” He pulled out a cigar from his shirt pocket and a penknife from his pants pockets. He began to carefully cut the tip off.

  “I suppose you’re right, but nevertheless I feel I must do all I can to help Tillie.”

  “That’s commendable of you, Paul, but I still say not to fret over such trivial concerns.”

  He now struck a m
atch and puffed profusely, intently staring at the end of his cigar. He then continued. “So how can I help you with all this?”

  “I’ve attained an involuntary commitment for Tillie and Bessie, to help them. They currently suffer from a recognized mental illness called hysteria. It is characterized by volatile emotions and often delusions. It’s common among women.”

  “Amen to that!” the sheriff acknowledged, blowing a huge puff of smoke to the ceiling.

  “I need you to get them both picked up and Bessie delivered to the asylum in Sacramento and Tillie delivered to my house where I can work with her in a more familiar surrounding. The young ones respond better this way. Bessie, on the other hand, may need the help of orderlies to fully respond to treatment.”

  “I can do that for you, Paul, although it may take some orderlies to arrest Bessie.” He laughed and his belly shook.

  “One more thing, Bill.”

  “Sure, Paul, what’s that?”

  “Could you set up a meeting between me, Sam and Colton at the jail? From a distance, of course, but private. I need some preliminary information for any attorney I may find for them.”

  “You’re too good, Paul, but sure. How about tomorrow morning at ten?”

  “Perfect.”

  Bill drew in another puff of smoke, and then reached across the table to shake Paul’s hand as he exhaled and hissed. “Always willing to help a good man.”

  Paul left Angelo’s in a good mood. He envisioned Tillie being delivered to him in restraints. If she screamed that he had raped her, she would probably be gagged as if a hysterical woman undergoing a delusion. He couldn’t wait to be alone with her and slowly remind her of the promise she broke.

  He could mentally torture her for days at his leisure, and enjoy her each step down into the oblivion of total mental collapse. At that point, of course, she would be of no threat with her babblings. Naturally, there would be the pleasures of the flesh he and Ludwig could enjoy while escorting miss promise breaking Tillie to lala land. He felt a stirring in his loins and a growing erection at the thought of this mind torture, more even than the rape du jour being handed him. All, courtesy of a society of little mice, easily herded through a carefully crafted maze of pretended authority.

  The future looked bright indeed. He would make a fortune with the foundations he could set up to handle almost any illness. He was certainly onto the leading edge of an avalanche of illness mining. It would surely put gold mining to shame.

  The golden emotion was fear. Anyone in fear would believe if they were promised some hope of relief from that fear. ‘Science tells us’ gave instant legitimacy to any statement. No one ever asked, specifically what science are you referring to? Who would ask? Not the poor fear-drenched mouse that lived by the proverb, ignorance is bliss. It was that proverb that was the golden brick paving the way to hell for the ignorant masses, and the very same brick Paul planned to melt down and use as pure gold to line his life with.

  Another tool Dr. Freud gleaned from his research was that people wanted someone they could trust, and the trio began to develop the folksy sincerity and brow wrinkling concern that would avert suspicions and lower guards. Faking sincerity was an art form, and Paul was Rembrandt.

  He once worried about the police catching on to his game, but realized that insanity scared almost everyone, as all they wanted was the crazies gone. The police, judges, and even newspapers looked the other way. They were just glad to be rid of those who were just a bit too different.

  Paul pondered at some of the tools he, Ludwig, and little Eddie Bernays had developed from the vulnerabilities and weaknesses gleaned from Sigmund’s little mice. Thank God for the cocaine Freud was on daily. It made him quite chatty, and he constantly expounded to anyone who would listen on all he found. Fortunately, he seldom left his house. Others may have stolen these ideas if it wasn’t for Freud’s clever nephew, little Eddie Bernays listening to Freud’s babblings, this was Paul and Ludwigs ticket to acquiring the tools they needed.

  Paul sauntered down to the Republican Newspaper. He went in and crossed the lobby to the receptionist. “Hello there, my name is Paul Hawthorne, an old family friend of Bill’s. Is he in just now?”

  “Bill Brass, the owner?” the receptionist asked curiously.

  “Is there any other?”

  “Actually, there’s a reporter, Bill Snodgrass, but somehow I guessed you as seeking Bill Brass.”

  “Your powers of discernment are commendable, and about Bill?”

  “Oh yes, just one moment.” She rose, and then stepped through a door behind her.

  A moment later she reappeared and told Paul that Bill Brass would see him in one moment. The words had barely left her lips, when suddenly a bulldog-faced and jovial Bill Brass burst through the door. “Paul, you scallywag, how in the hell are you?” Brass extended his meaty hand and took Paul’s. He shook Paul’s hand emphatically while his jowls jiggled over his collar and tie. “Step into my office, and hell, we’ll open a keg, of nails, that is.” He laughed at his joke even though all had heard it many times. They went into Brass’s office. Bill sat behind his desk, and Paul sat facing him.

  “How’s your father, my favorite hanging judge?” Bill said, laughing.

  “He’s fine, Bill. Still seeking justice in this untamed wilderness. Which is why I need your help with a problem.”

  “Hey, if it’s that phony rape allegation, you have nothing to worry about. This old reporter’s nose can spot a frame in less time it takes me to fart after peeing.” He laughed and Paul joined in.

  “Well, thanks for the confidence. It’s not my good name that I worry about as much as my father’s. I couldn’t live with myself knowing that I may’ve tarnished his impeccable reputation.”

  “You’re a good man, Paul. You can count on the Republican to squash any nasty rumors and defend the truth and the Hawthorne good name.”

  “Thanks again, Bill, but the main reason I came here today is to ask you to help me help Tillie, Bessie, and yes, even Sam.”

  Bill Brass’s eyebrows rose. “Help your accuser? Are you nuts, Paul?”

  “Well, I may be, but I’m a professional and must do all I can to help these unfortunate creatures. They can’t help themselves. I’m volunteering my time and medications to help Tillie and Bessie. The course of treatment will be expensive to affect a cure, as is happening daily in Germany for Dr. Freud.”

  “Yes, I get the reports and have published them in the paper. The miraculous results are irrefutable.”

  “We must also assure Sam gets a fair trial, so money for his defense must be raised. Ludwig and I have set up a foundation to raise money for all, called, SCAT. Stands for Sam, Colton and Tillie.”

  “What’s Colton included for?”

  “He attacked a police officer and has obviously succumbed to the hysteria suffered by Bessie and Tillie, not to mention his anger issues. He’s also suffering denial syndrome; which often affects those closest to a perpetrator. I have several treatments lined up for him.”

  “Why isn’t Bessie’s name included?” Paul studied Bill for a moment and decided he must interrupt this reporter’s line of questioning. “Well, for one, that would make our acronym SCAB.” They both laughed.

  “We wouldn’t want anyone picking on the name. It might bleed!” added Bill. More laughter ensued. “We had a similar problem with the Fresno Area Rail Transit, FART!” Bill continued.

  He burst into a belly laugh and bent over until his forehead was resting on his desk. Paul watched and knew he was home free. Bill Brass finally composed himself. “I’ll help you any way I can, Paul. You’re a good man; a foolish man, perhaps, to help an enemy, but I respect your good intentions.”

  “Thanks, Bill. Maybe some publicity for the foundation would get us off to a good start.”

  “You got it Paul, and if you ever need to ship anything just remember, in our town we can FART it to anywhere in the country!” Bill Brass screamed with laughter once again. Paul was happy,
too.

  When Paul got back to his house, he found Ludwig sitting in the swing on the front porch. “So, how’s the adventure shaping up, Paul?”

  Paul gave him a thumbs up and sat in a chair on the porch. “I can safely say we have police protection and free publicity for the foundation. And a potentially staggering future income.”

  “Yes, I’ve calculated the revenues possible in cocaine sales alone. The worldwide promotion heroin and cocaine are getting will make us rich. All we have to do is align ourselves as the local representatives and suppliers of the cure for mental illness, and more important the cure for a cough. There are more coughers than coo coos and, until now, only prunes were used for a cough.”

  “Prunes for a cough?” inquired Paul.

  “According to my grandmother, if you eat enough prunes, you’ll be afraid to cough!”

  They both chuckled and Paul added, “I must remember that for Bill Brass.”

  “So, what’s on the agenda for tomorrow?” asked Ludwig with mild interest.

  “Ah, tomorrow I have a little fun.” Paul looked off into space, and a smirk formed on his lips. “I’m going to pay a little visit to our friends Sam and Colton. I hear they’re in adjoining cells. Perhaps I will expound on the treatment you and I have in mind for Tillie. It might be amusing to study their reactions.”

  “Science can be amusing, indeed,” Ludwig agreed.

  “I will, of course, keep just out of reach,” added Paul, coolly.

  Paul arrived at the Fresno County Jail at 10:00 A.M., on time. He strolled into the jail and went up to a deputy behind a desk. “I’m Paul Hawthorne and have an appointment to see Sam Novak and Colton Johanson.”

  “Oh, yeah, Bill said you’d be by this morning.” The deputy stood and took some keys from his desk.

  “Right this way. My name is Jim; most call me Jimbo.”

  “Thanks for your help, Jimbo.”

  “Glad to help you, Mr. Hawthorne, even though these child rapists sure don’t deserve any help. They need a hanging. Yes, sir, a neck stretching is just the thing for these two.”