As Above, So Below

by Richard Lawther

  Music fades...

  Burns: Alright, wind your neck in, Higgis. Good morning ladies and gentlemen, it’s just gone eleven, and it’s Thursday, so that means it’s time for... The Ribblehead Round Table!

  The Ribblehead Round Table theme music plays for twenty seconds.

  The sound of laughter in the background...

  Burns: Today, lending thur wise, and in Higgis’s case, ancient, wisdom, we have, Steve, Greg, Higgis, myself, and our guest reviewer today is Wendy ... Good mornin’ fella’s – girl.

  All: Hello.

  Burns: Right! let’s get on with it, the first record up is called: It Was A Tuesday When It Happened, by a band called: Learned Leonard.

  Higgis: Stupid name.

  Learned Leonard plays for just over three minutes.

  Burns: Okay, let’s kick off with Steve. What did you think, Steve?

  Steve: Yeah, not bad, strong beat, should be a big hit at the dance clubs, but I don’t think I’d download it or go out and buy it. It’s too derivative, like everything these days, it’s playing safe.

  Burns: Greg?

  Greg: Yes... got to agree with Stevie. I prefer my bands to take risks. I like to listen to someone folding the envelop.

  Steve: That’s pushing the envelop, Greg.

  Greg: Yes, that’s what I meant.

  Wendy: HA! HA! HA!

  Higgis: God, I’m working with a bunch of chimpanzees. Someone should post your envelope, Greg!

  Wendy: HA! HA! HAAAA!!!

  Burns: Okay, now, Wendy – calm down – what did–

  Steve: Who are you calling a chimpanzee, you old–

  Burns: Wendy, your opin–

  Wendy: I DIDN’T LIKE IT!!

  Burns: Whoa!! steady there, Wendy, you’re coming through louder than clear.

  More laughter in the background and the beginnings of a scuffle...

  Higgis: Oy!! Get yer ’ands off me, you great oaf–

  Click...

  ‘Ahh, come on!’ I “cried” – but to no effect.

  With the radio off I became – for the first time since waking up – fully aware of my surroundings. They hadn’t changed, nor had my circumstances: Back to the land of the conscious. And back in my box.

  What should I do now? I wondered. Ten seconds had passed and already I was growing restless. I couldn’t stand a whole day of this, I needed stimulation...

  Hargreaves let out a series of violent coughs; they stopped as suddenly as they had begun. There had to be better stimulation than this...

  I thought back to the strange ‘dreams’ of the previous night, recalling the details with perfect clarity: the great chandelier, Edward Trunk, the Matterhorn and so much more.

  For some reason, I had retained all of my conscious powers whilst participant in Hargreaves’ dreams. That meant I could recognize absurdities for what they were – absurd. And I could recollect the separate elements, clearly, and in the right order. Also – and this is hard to put into words – I was fully there. I wondered how Hargreaves remembered these dreams. Did he remember them at all? The dreaming Hargreaves seemed incomplete, little more than a ghost, he’d been a slave to the circumstances of the dreams and to his deep-seated subconscious fears.

  This is not to say, however, that I enjoyed a complete freedom myself: take the Matterhorn, for example. I had been drawn up its slopes, just like any other unthinking dreamer; as I clung to that rock, I genuinely feared for my life – the terror, all too real.

  I recalled the grey castle. That element had turned up in at least two dreamscapes and perhaps the two banqueting-hall dreams had been set in its interior. The details shifted from dream to dream, however: the two halls were clearly different, and the two exterior views weren’t exactly matched either. Maybe that was simply the nature of dreams. It probably explained why the Lake District was wrong in so many details; only the essence of the place was reproduced accurately.

  Now what did Edward Trunk signify, if anything? Probably nothing at all, but then I suddenly made a connection! Trunk had run off towards the castle. Of course, the Elephant & Castle! The radio DJ – Burns had mentioned that yesterday, it was the name of a pub! Wow! The DJ had only mentioned it once and it had made no real impact at the time and yet it had led to all this dream paraphernalia! I guess if it was on the radio then either myself or Hargreaves had been the driver of all that. God, how pointless; why does the brain bother to do this?

  And what of the mocking figure on the roof? Wasn’t that the woman from the ‘Great Hall’? It seemed so: although distant, I thought I recognized her patronizing smile.

  ‘Madam’ had popped up in several of the dream sequences and she even uttered my name on a couple of occasions. Had she been my creation? Maybe I knew her in real life – one of my mother’s friends perhaps. I tried, but failed to make a positive ID. I considered this more thoroughly and concluded that knowledge of my name signified little. Edward Trunk knew my name – he’d rhymed it – and I felt sure I’d never met him in real life.

  My mood, for the first time since before the coma, began to lighten. I may be confined during the day, ...but at night, in theory, anything could happen! I made the decision to ‘guest’ in someone else’s dream this coming night. But to make the most of the experience I needed to gain more control, I needed to develop more effective techniques for holding the dreams together. No more behaving like a “dog on a leash”!

  I heard the sound of heavy nasal breathing. Clinician Adenoids hovered nearby.

  ‘Good morning, Geoff, did we sleep well?’

  Red.

  ‘Good! Good, that’s excellent.’

  ...Red.

  ‘Are you in any discomfort, Geoff?’

  I formed a mental image of the Matterhorn, but not the picture-postcard image of yesterday; I felt a tingle of emotion. Judging from the silence, my trace wasn’t recognizable as “no”.

  ‘I’m sorry, Geoff, you weren’t very clear on that one, do you feel a.n.y d.i.s.c.o.m.f.o.r.t?’

  I was looking forward to having some fun tonight, but before that I would have to endure hours of tiresome drudgery.

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