by Glen Krisch
"Of course." Gage watched Sophie as they left the Serenity Wing and entered the expansive foyer. He had often wondered what it would have been like if they would have tried harder to keep their relationship together. He imagined they could have been happy, but then he would never have had Nika. For the briefest moment, he felt like his life would have been better off. He felt a twinge of guilt when he remembered why he had come to the museum so late in the first place.
They reached the wooden double doors. Sophie flipped the deadbolt and pulled open the heavy door. "I hope Maury can help you."
"It's what I live for."
Sophie surprised Gage by touching his face with the back of her thin, gentle fingers. She caressed his cheek. She smelled of turpentine and flowery perfume.
He saw tears forming in her eyes. "You've always been a sweet man."
"I'm glad you're in my life again." Gage felt both discomfort and warmth from her touch. Gage took hold of her hand as it lingered at his cheek. He squeezed it before letting go.
"Are you leaving soon?" Sophie asked.
"I came to see my daughter."
She nodded with understanding and gave him a weak smile as she left the museum.
"Drive safely," Gage said. He stepped outside to make sure she made it out safely.
As Sophie walked to her car, Gage noticed the normal sprightly bounce to her step had disappeared and she clutched her purse tightly. She looked so vulnerable. Tired. Maybe it was just age. He didn't get around as well as he once had, either.
After her car's headlights disappeared, and the loud clatter of its muffler faded, he looked at the outside walls of the weathered limestone building. The sunken twelve-panel windows of the old Carnegie Library looked like entrances to abandoned caves. Navy-blue drapes held in the meager interior light. Still thinking of Sophie Marigold, he entered the building, hoping he was making the right decision in opening this museum.
Novelties and concessions would soon fill the island at the middle of the open foyer. T-shirts, cheap plush animals, rainbows of cotton candy. Posters and autographs. A pair of curving stairwells framed the far end of the foyer like a giant's embracing arms. The second floor housed the adult-natured dreams. One branching hallway led to the Nightmare Wing, the other to the Erotica Wing. Originally, Gage didn't want any part of displaying such fodder, but Maury Bennett argued vehemently that their display would more accurately represent the human psyche. Gage eventually conceded after Maury assured him ID checks would be required of anyone wanting to enter the second floor.
The first floor was family-oriented. The Serenity Wing would soon house lush dreamscapes inhabited by liquid flowing pastiches of human-animal hybrids, flocks of laughing, flying children, and any number of indescribable dream-folk. The dream-folk changed both their own shape and the symbolism embedded within their environs with equal ease. Bunches of floating balloons tied to razor sharp ribbon, became bunched ripe grapes, became pillowcases stuffed with goose down and one hundred dollar bills. A dream child, transmuted from the mind of an alcohol abusing truck driver, became an eye-patch wearing pirate, became a green and crimson clothed elf using his saliva to join pieces of a balsa wood airplane became…
The possibilities were limitless.
Gage marveled at the complexity of the dreams, the ironic simplicity of their lives. A year ago, if someone would have told him he would soon walk through a building full of embodied dream people, he would have insisted upon their consignment to a padded cell. The fact that he now owned and financed such a business? Perhaps he too should be committed.
He walked to the elevator set in the back wall of the foyer. He hit the down button and waited for the doors to open. His mind drifted to the day Sophie Marigold reentered his life. Periodically, Maury would update Gage on the dreams he had encountered and the possibilities of including them in the museum. Many of the museum's dreams had come from his work with patients at his private practice. Others had turned up after Maury posted want ads on bulletin boards in the courtyards and hallways at the University of Chicago. The ads solicited lab technicians interested in groundbreaking dream therapy. No experience necessary. While at the university attending an art seminar, Sophie came across one of these ads. A long-time sufferer of recurring dreams, Sophie was immediately interested in hearing what Maury Bennett had to say.
A week after her initial phone call to Maury, she was at the former Carnegie library, gutted of its bookshelves and magazine racks and antiquated card catalogs, walking side by side with her former love, Nolan Gage. They hadn't spoken since their ten year reunion in 1973. Nolan had been amazed by how little she had changed.
The elevator doors inched open, and Gage entered, descending into the bowels of the building.
After exchanging awkward pleasantries, he had shown her his doorway to the sleeping mind. He had explained how the dreams would be divided into separate "wings" of the museum. It wasn't long after Gage had started their impromptu tour of Lucidity that Sophie had stopped walking and had given him a quizzical look.
"I didn't know people were so interested in dreams. Or at least enough to have an entire museum dedicated to them. Aren't you going to do anything about Freud or Jung?"
"Lucidity is a museum dedicated to dreams, but not how you're thinking. It has very little to do with psychology and the interpretation of dreams. Lucidity is a modern museum with a goal of attracting a young, forward-thinking demo."
"What do you mean?"
"Actually, I guess you can consider Lucidity to be more of a zoo than a museum."
Sophie had thought about it for a moment, but was still just as confused.
"All those displays with the four-inch thick glass, the empty chambers roped off from the public--those displays are going to house dreams."
Sophie had no idea what he was talking about.
"I know, it sounds crazy, and I don't really know how it works. I'm just in charge of bankrolling all of this. Maury Bennett is the guy who brings us the dreams."
"Slow down a second. He brings you the dreams?"
"Like I said, it's more like a zoo. It's not the entire dream we house, just people or creatures from within the dream, for the most part."
"Really?"
"I've seen it myself. It's amazing, kind of dumbfounding, really."
An hour later, they had parted company, their decades apart forgotten, and a new bond formed. She had agreed to paint his mural, and in exchange, Maury Bennett would help her with her recurring dreams.
The elevator doors opened to the museum's basement. For decades, the library had been the county's local history archive. The cavernous Carnegie Library basement had been a depository for the largest historical collection for Chicago's history. From shortly before World War I until the early 1960's, collegians and professors alike ventured to the basement, a place that seemed downright cold even on the hottest summer days, to thumb through volume after volume of forgotten news and discarded artifacts.
With the opening of the museum only two weeks away, most of the dreams occupied enclosures in the basement, in the former archives, tucked away in secure environments, unbeknownst to the people walking above them. As the workers finished with their remaining work, Maury would move the dreams to their appropriate locations in the wings of the museum's upper levels. By the day of Lucidity's grand opening, the basement would be empty with the exception of one room. The room held a single, well-worn recliner, an occupied hospital bed, and the brightly colored accoutrements of a child's bedroom.
He would visit his daughter regardless of the success or failure of the museum, until hopefully she would awaken. The doctors had told him there was little point in holding on to hope; there was little chance of her regaining consciousness. As this almost certain situation became clearer, he noticed himself putting more faith into Maury Bennett and his mysterious abilities. If Nika should never awaken, Gage awaited the day when Maury Bennett would transmute a dream-Nika from her comatose mind. As long as her mind continu
ed to function on that most basic and primal level, Gage had something to hold onto.
He could find Nika's room in the dimly lit hallway with his eyes closed. He turned left, walked a short distance, and then made another left. At the end of the hallway was a small antechamber with a number of brown-painted metal doors recessed in the rough stone walls. Behind three of the doors were small rooms with glassed-in enclosures. All kinds of nasty creatures lurked within. In the fourth room, his daughter slept her endless sleep. Safely away from the world above, left in a perpetual dream state. His hand was on the knob to her room when he heard what sounded like thunder emanating from the ground itself. The air seemed to become heavier and much cooler. The hair stood up on his arms, and he had to suppress a shiver.
He tried the nearest doorknob, but it was locked. The museum should be empty, especially with Sophie gone for the night, so any kind of disturbance might mean trouble. He tried another door and found it unlocked. When he opened the door, he found Maury Bennett seated at a battered desk scavenged from the leftover library furniture. He had reams of paper spread before him, a cup of coffee in his hand.
"Hello, Mr. Gage."
"What are you doing here?"
Maury gave him a wry smile. "Working."
"I thought the museum was empty."
"I just brought in a dream." Maury pointed to the wall of glass in front of him.
Behind the glass lurked a woman, or what Gage thought was a woman.
"This is Juliet. She'll be displayed in our Nightmare wing," Maury said, letting Gage step into the room completely to get a better view. "She seems nice enough most of the time, but when she gets in certain moods, it just wouldn't be right for kids to be around."
Within the enclosure, a young woman was sitting on a green park bench, her summer dress hanging limply on her shoulders. Succulent red berries dotted the green backdrop of bushes. Gage didn't recognize the park's setting; Maury could have plucked her from any park anywhere, real or imagined.
"Juliet originated in the mind of a suicidal dreamer named Barbara," Maury said.
"So, why are you still here? She seems secure in her enclosure."
"After Barbara failed with her fourth attempt to kill herself, her injuries left her in a catatonic state. From what I've heard, she really enjoyed jumping from buildings. Her family contacted me through a referral from her family physician. They feared her dreams had subverted the rest of her mind. I went to their house, transmuted the young woman's demon, and now we have the privilege of displaying Juliet. I left her parent's home only a few hours ago, and they've already called my cell to tell me their daughter has pulled out of it, at least somewhat. She has the mind of a five-year-old, and considering she's a jumper, she's lucky to have that much. At least she's conscious."
"What are they going to do now?"
"To tell you the truth, I don't care. They were going to wait until morning to take her to see their family physician. I can guarantee he'll find her as normal as Barbara can be."
"You didn't explain why you're still here."
"Right, sorry about that. I'm observing. Since Barbara is acutely bipolar, and Juliet is a mirror image of her, Juliet's moods also swing wildly. Right now, she appears to be more manic than depressed."
They quietly observed this dream person that simple logic would exclude from the possibility of existence. Natural light--actual sunlight and not the bleached-out variety emanating from fluorescents--shined through a thin veil of clouds that floated along the enclosure's ceiling. The tiny room seemed without boundary. A steady downpour of tepid rain drenched the girl, pressing the flowered fabric of her dress against her skin, accentuated her small breasts. She was quite stunning, and Gage had to remind himself that she was only a dream.
"I'm thinking of breeding her."
"You're thinking of what?"
"She seems to be a perfectly lithesome and fertile sort of dream. Suppose I introduce a perfectly masculine and fertile sort of male dream to her enclosure. Suppose they mate."
Gage's eyes widened at what he was hearing. "I will not stand for that."
"Think of the raw data produced from such an experiment. Think of the possibilities."
"I didn't hire you to perform perverse acts of dream husbandry. Do I need to remind you that your sole focus should be your work with my daughter?"
"It wouldn't take any time away from Nicole. I see progress with your daughter, and I think it's just a matter of time."
"My answer is no." Gage's voice boomed through the little room, making it seem even smaller. He didn't normally raise his voice, but Maury's suggestion threw him off kilter. Maury didn't say a word and appeared hurt by the exchange.
Juliet turned, as if noticing her onlookers for the first time. Gage caught a glimpse of a revolver in her hand.
"She has a gun," Gage said, backing away from the enclosure.
"Don't worry, it's a dream-gun--her own creation and harmless to us. But this never ends pleasantly."
Juliet smiled at her onlookers before putting the gun barrel between her lips.
"No!" Gage went to the enclosure and slammed his hands against the glass. It didn't matter. Juliet held her smile as she squeezed the trigger. A red cloud burst from the back of her head. The smoke from the gun scattered quickly in the rain. Juliet, drowsily struggling to steady herself on the bench, dropped the gun into the deepening puddle at her feet.
"She's remarkably consistent. She kills herself every twenty minutes or so," Maury said.
"I wasn't expecting that," Gage said meekly.
"I know. That's part of the attraction of this place."
Pink-tainted water funneled from her mouth and painted the front of her white dress. She waved emphatically to Maury and Gage, somehow able to smile after her ordeal. She seemed happy to the point of tears just seeing them.
Maury waved back warily. When Gage looked at him, he was comforted in the fact that he also looked uncomfortable. If Maury had appeared unmoved by Juliet's actions, then he would start to doubt if he was doing the right thing.
The blood-tainted water in Juliet's enclosure began to clear, and the exit wound at the back of her skull began to heal. The rain eased to a drizzle and the sun dipped behind darkening clouds. Juliet's mood had drained. The muscles of her face seemed to sag as she dipped toward the darker depths of her personality.
"It doesn't get any easier to watch," Maury said weakly.
"I need to get out of here." Gage opened the door. He didn't wait for a response from Maury before he exited the room.
Maury jumped from his chair and caught the door before it could swing closed. "That's fine. I can show you what I've been working on with Nicole. I can't wait to show you the dreams I've transmuted from her."
As the door closed behind them, Juliet pressed herself against the enclosure glass. She was fascinated by her visitors, especially the man with the sad blue eyes and pink scars on his face and hands. There was something there, she realized, something she wanted to know more about.
Juliet didn't notice the prolonged interval of her relative peace. The twenty minute interval of her repeating life cycle lengthened to thirty. She didn't yet feel the tingling sensation through her fingertips that represented the beginning of the end of her life. No gun had appeared in her hand as thirty minutes stretched to forty, her mind occupied by thoughts of the man with the sad blue eyes. The outside world and all its variable stimuli had presented her with the opportunity to expand her mind beyond that of her dreamer. Her mind was growing. Evolving.
The thin veil of clouds hovering above her head had turned a grimy black. When the fluorescent lights lining the ceiling winked out, jagged lightning replaced their brightness. The enclosure vibrated under the gentle roll of thunder.
Chapter 5
Carin woke groggy and unsure of her surroundings. She saw a shelf overflowing with Girl Scout ribbons and cheerleading trophies. She tossed aside the covers and stood reluctantly. For the briefest moment, she expecte
d to see a teenager staring at her in the mirror hanging near her dresser, but she dismissed the notion when she saw the creases forming at the corners of her eyes and her ratty morning hair.
She heard pleasant sounds coming from the kitchen. Kevin's laughter--a noise she hadn't heard in so long--along with her mother instructing Kevin to break the eggs with a short and sharp blow against the side of the mixing bowl. That's when she remembered that the items sitting on the shelf collecting dust were fading tokens from her childhood. She was in her mother's home, once a place providing comfort with seeming permanence, but now only a rest stop before the next stage of her life could begin.
Carin ducked into the bathroom and grabbed her robe from the hook on the back of the door before heading down the hall to the kitchen.
"Rise and shine!" Kevin said, his laughter becoming a giggle. He was standing on a step stool, towering over his grandma. Flour and cinnamon dusted the front of his pajamas, and he wore a paper chef's hat that was too big for his head.
Her mother turned to Carin, "Sleep well, dear?
"Good enough, I suppose," Carin said through a back-arching yawn.
"We didn't want to wake you, but Kevin practically begged to make you breakfast in bed. We were having too much fun and I guess we ran late with the finished product. You'll just have to eat at the table like any normal person."
Carin looked at the surprisingly well-organized table. Hot tea steeped in a mug at her place at the table. A plate steamed with bacon, none of it burned like her own bacon would turn out. A glass vase holding freshly cut roses from her mother's garden acted as the centerpiece. All that was left to complete the meal was the French toast that Kevin looked well on his way to finishing. He was dipping homemade wheat bread in the batter. Everything looked like it was running smoothly, so she sat down at the table and watched Kevin acting like a kid for the first time in a good while. Carin sipped her tea and noticed a cinnamon stick resting on the saucer's rim. She twirled the cinnamon in her tea and let out a long sigh.
