Hide All Night

by Tim Kizer

  “I’m already dead, Doc. Dead men fear nothing.”

  “I think you’re afraid of loneliness. That’s why you dreamed up this world, isn’t it?”

  After a long pause, Richard shrugged and replied, “Boredom, loneliness—aren’t they basically the same thing?”

  Stanley glanced at the bag again. Had Richard brought a gun to their meeting last week?

  Why did it matter?

  “Remember that question about a jaywalker who got run over?” Stanley asked. “Why did you ask it?”

  “It was a test.”

  “Why this question in particular?”

  “I chose it because it was tricky.”

  Stanley shook his head. “I suspect you ran over and killed somebody, and now you’re being eaten by guilt. It must have happened at an intersection. Am I right? Did you run over someone?”

  His facial expression unchanged, Richard shook his head. “No, you’re wrong. I didn’t kill anyone. I’m a very careful driver. But you may be interested to hear that my son got run over a while ago.”

  “I’m sorry about your son. Is he okay?”

  “You’re asking if he survived? I think he did.”

  Stanley’s eyes turned glassy, and he froze for a few seconds, absorbed in thought. Then he shifted his look to Richard and said, “I know what scares you. There are people that you’d love to forget, to vanish from your world but can’t. Perhaps people that hurt you, or people you hurt.” He peered at Richard’s face. “Am I correct? I must be correct. My thoughts come from you, don’t they? If I’m thinking it, you’re thinking it, too.”

  “Does this mean you believe my theory?”

  “Or is it Helen? She said that you barely talk.” Stanley paused to sort out all the new ideas rushing into this head. “She said that you leave when she’s in bed and that she’s in bed when you come home. You know what I think?” He fixed his eyes on Richard’s face. “You can’t see your wife. You can’t make her appear in your presence. Did I guess it right, Richard?”

  It was half a minute before Richard replied, “Bravo, Doc. What can I say? Yes, you hit the nail on the head. I can’t see her. I can’t see my wife. And my son—I can’t see him either.”

  “Why? You are the master of this dream, aren’t you?”

  “Maybe they don’t want me to see them. Maybe I’m being punished.”

  “Punished for what?”

  “I wish I knew.” Richard heaved a sigh. “Or maybe I just need more practice.” He folded his arms on his chest. “I’m afraid that someday I’m going to completely forget their faces. That someday I’ll forget they ever existed.”

  “Why are you so pessimistic? If you loved Helen, you’ll remember her forever.”

  Richard shook his head. “Eternity is an awfully long time. Everything that may happen will happen. And I figure eventually I’ll stop caring that I don’t remember what my wife and son looked like.”

  Suddenly, a shiver ran over Stanley as he recalled what he’d done to Richard at their previous session.

  He had pulled the trigger. Yes, he had. The memory was hazy, though.

  What had happened after the shot?

  Richard leaned closer to Stanley and, peering directly into his eyes, said, “Do you know what a medium is, Doc?”

  “A medium? This word has several meanings. Which one are you talking about?”

  “A person who can communicate with the spirits of the dead. Are you a medium, Stanley?” Richard put his hand on Stanley’s knee.

  “I’m a doctor, Richard. I’m not a psychic.”

  “It must be Helen who asked you to contact me. Perhaps she wants to know how I’m doing.” Richard took a deep breath and slowly straightened up, a look of epiphany lighting up his face. “Why haven’t I thought of that before?”

  Richard stood up, bent forward, bringing his face within inches of Stanley’s, and then shouted, as though Stanley’s head was a microphone, “Helen, are you there? Helen? It’s me, Dick. Can you hear me?”

  Keeping calm and collected, Stanley raised his left hand and said, “Helen can’t hear you, Richard. I’m not a medium. Your wife didn’t ask me to contact you.”

  Stanley looked around and was shocked to find that he couldn’t recognize his office. A moment later, he realized it had been a temporary memory glitch.

  14.

  “So how does it work? Will I disappear if you stop thinking of me?” Stanley asked.

  “I suppose so. But you see, the tricky thing is that it’s not that easy to stop thinking about something. Especially, when you’re trying to stop thinking of it. Remember that don’t think of a pink elephant thing?”

  Stanley nodded.

  “After you hear this, all you can think of is a pink elephant.” Richard chuckled. “What do you call that? Is there a scientific term for it?”

  “I’m sure there is.”

  “But you don’t know it, do you?”

  “Unfortunately, I didn’t specialize in pink elephants.” Stanley smiled.

  “Okay.” Richard drew his brows together for a second. “I figure ninety five percent of everything and everyone you see here is coming from my subconsciousness. And as far as I understand, you don’t fully control your subconsciousness. So it could take you a while to vanish completely.”

  “I guess I should be dancing with joy.”

  “If you feel like it.”

  “Why are you so sure that it’s your dream? What if you’re only a character, just like me?”

  Richard lifted his eyebrows and replied in an amazed tone, “What an astute observation! To tell you the truth, I didn’t expect you to say that.”

  “So? Have you ever considered this possibility?”

  Richard rubbed his chin thoughtfully, his eyes fixed on Stanley. “I know it’s my dream, because I was the first one to realize that this world is not real. You see, characters are not capable of making this discovery on their own. They’re puppets, they’re toys, they have no clue what’s going on. You’d still be ignorant of the truth if it weren’t for me.”

  “In other words, you have no direct proof, do you?”

  “I don’t have to prove anything to you, Doc. I know what I know, and I’m sure I’m right.”

  “But what if you’re wrong? Would you like to go and find this guy? Or gal?”

  Richard laced his hands together in his lap and asked, “And how do we find him? Do you have a plan?”

  Stanley was silent.

  Richard sighed. “That’s what I thought.” He leaned back in his chair. “Do you remember shooting me in the head two weeks ago?”

  “I believe I have a partial recollection of that event.”

  “That’s a very big deal. Congratulations! Do you believe me now?”

  “Yes, I do. You have persuaded me that we’re living in your dream.” Stanley licked his lips. “What do I do now?”

  “Is your belief strong enough to jump off the roof of the Allied Bank building?”

  “The one across the street?”

  Richard nodded. “It used to be ten stories high, but today I added five stories more.”

  Stanley could swear that the Allied Bank building had always been fifteen stories tall, but decided not to dwell on that.

  “Will you jump?” Richard asked.

  Stanley bit his lower lip.

  “Yes or no, Doc? If you really believe, you will jump.”

  Still silent, Stanley wiped the sweat from his forehead with his palm.

  “Very well,” Richard said. “I guess you’re not ready yet.”

  As Richard rose to his feet, Stanley cleared his throat and said, “Okay. I’ll jump.”

  15.

  “What made you believe me?” Richard asked when they found themselves on the roof of the Allied Bank building.

  “This.” Stanley pointed at the sky. “Even the best magician, even the richest government in the world wouldn’t have been able to pull this off.”

  A grin appeared on Richard�
��s face. “What is it?”

  “Today, for the first time in my life, the Sun rose in the west. And now it’s setting in the east.” Stanley squinted and looked toward the sunset.

  “Amazing, huh? I was afraid you wouldn’t notice.”

  “I’m ready to jump. I believe you, Richard. I’m ready.” Stanley stepped onto the edge of the roof, adjusted his hair, which had been tousled by the wind, and looked down at the street. The street and the building wall that dropped away below his feet appeared incredibly, undoubtedly real; however, Stanley had no fear at all. He knew he was going to be fine after the fall. The people, the cars, and the trees were very small; Stanley thought that they’d probably be microscopic if he viewed them from the rooftop of a fifty-story skyscraper.

  How long was it going to take him to fall the one hundred feet that separated him from the ground? Four seconds? Six seconds?

  By the way, did the laws of physics of Richard’s universe differ from those of the real world?

  “See you later!” Stanley shouted and plunged off the roof.

  16.

  “Where am I?” Stanley murmured as he sat up.

  “You’re in the hospital,” a young male voice said. It took Stanley only a second to recognize it.

  And then it hit him: he had just woken up, that was what had happened! He had been asleep, and now the dream had ended.

  “It was me,” Stanley whispered, standing up. “It was me.”

  It had been his dream all along. He loved being awake. Reality was beautiful.

  God HD, Stanley thought as he looked around. Everything was stunningly clear and sharp. It was as if someone had washed the windshield with super strength glass cleaner. No, it was as if someone had removed the glass altogether.

  He could see, sense, hear, feel, taste things at a whole new level of awareness. Stanley attempted to find a word to describe what he was experiencing, but God HD was all he was coming up with.

  “What did you say, Dad?”

  Stanley fixed his eyes on his son, who was sitting on the bed, with a computer tablet in his hands. Derek was wearing grey sweatpants and a white T-shirt. He appeared a little tired. It was a hospital room, which meant that Derek, his pride and joy, the smartest and the most handsome nineteen-year-old boy on the planet, could be very sick. Stanley was relieved to see that there was no intravenous drip system or heart monitor in sight. He realized he couldn’t draw any far-reaching conclusions based on this fact, but he was happy nonetheless.

  Stanley walked over to the bed and sat down on its edge, facing his son.

  “How did you get here, Dad? Didn’t we—” Derek stopped halfway through the sentence.

  For some reason, the surprised look his son gave him made Stanley uneasy.

  “Where’s mom?”

  “She left an hour ago. Do you want me to call her? How long are you going to stay?”

  “I’ll call her myself.” Stanley placed his hand on Derek’s forearm and squeezed it lightly just to make sure it was there and he was not imagining it.

  “What happened to you?” he asked. “Why are you in the hospital?”

  “I got into an accident. It was my fault. Everything is fine now.”

  “Were you in a coma?” Stanley didn’t know why, but he had to ask this question.

  “Yes.” Derek nodded.

  “How long were you out?”

  “About two months. But I’m okay now, Dad. I’m fine, don’t worry. They’re releasing me in two days.”

  “When did you wake up?” Stanley squeezed Derek’s hand gently. The hand was warm; he didn’t want to let it go.

  “Five days ago.” Derek smiled. “I’m so glad to see you, Dad.”

  “I’m very glad to see you, too.” Stanley leaned forward and kissed his son on the forehead.

  When his son’s face began to fade, Stanley suddenly remembered that he had seen Derek’s photo in the living room of Richard’s house. It had sat on the fireplace mantel along with a couple of other framed pictures. For some reason he hadn’t realized back then that it was Derek on that photograph.

  17.

  The good news was he was alive. He had survived a fifteen-story fall. Moreover, there was not a scratch on his body.

  Stanley started rubbing his temples. He had an odd nagging feeling in his head, which he suspected wasn’t going to leave on its own. Something was amiss, but he couldn’t put a finger on it. A minute later it finally dawned upon on him. There had been a mirror in that hospital room, and he’d glanced at it at some point. He’d caught a glimpse of his reflection without consciously processing the image. Only now did he recognize that it wasn’t his face he’d seen in the mirror; it was Richard’s face. This, of course, made no sense, but then again it had been a dream, hadn’t it?

  Stanley shut his eyes, and when he opened them seconds later, he was sitting in a chair in his office.

  “Welcome back.” Richard waved at him.

  Stanley gave him a slight nod and looked around. A warm wave of memories—real world memories?—was washing over him. “Did you do that?” he asked.

  “What?”

  “I just saw your son.” Stanley took a gulp of water from the glass. “I think I’ve been to the real world.” He drank the rest of the water.

  “How do you know it was the real world?” Richard leaned forward and drew his brows together.

  “I… It was different. It was… spectacular.” He paused. “I’ve never experienced anything like that before. And for a moment, I thought it was my dream.” Stanley glared at Richard. “Did you do it on purpose?”

  “No, Doc, I didn’t do it on purpose.”

  “Of course you did. You were probably trying to show me who the boss is.”

  “I told you that I don’t control every little thing here. At least not consciously.”

  “Well, I’m not into holding grudges, so let’s move on.”

  “Tell me what you saw there.”

  “I saw your son. He’s out of a coma now. He’s recovering.”

  Richard frowned, lowered his eyes, and then, staring blankly into space, said, “Why are you telling me this? Why do you think my son has ever been in a coma? Why do you think I even have a son?”

  “You told me your son had been run over by a car.”

  “Maybe I lied.”

  “I doubt that you lied. I believe your son was hit by a car and fell into a coma.”

  Richard let out a sigh, put an elbow on his knee, and propped his head with his hand. “Suppose you’re right. How do you know that the person you saw was my son?”

  “I saw his picture in your house. And—” Stanley stood up, walked to his desk, picked up one of the framed photographs that were there, and returned to his chair. “Is this your son?” He handed the picture to Richard.

  After quickly scanning the photo, Richard nodded. “Yes, it’s him. Why do you have his picture on your desk?”

  “You created this desk and everything on it, remember? I’ve always thought it was my son Derek’s photo. But of course, I was programmed to think so by you.”

  Gazing at the photograph, Richard ran his finger along the bottom section of the frame. Stanley thought he saw a tear glint in his eye.

  “Can you prove that you saw him?” Richard asked. “That he’s getting better?”

  Stanley shook his head. “I can’t. I doubt there’s even a way to do it. I can’t bring you a souvenir from the real world, can I?”

  “No, you can’t.”

  “One more thing. I don’t know how it happened, but I believe that your son saw me, too. He saw you in that hospital room.”

  “What do you mean? He saw both of us?”

  “No, he saw you. I had your face when I met him.”

  “This is so…” Richard creased his forehead. “I don’t understand.”

  “You created me. I’m a character in your dream. I guess there’s part of you in me, in all of us populating your dream. That’s how I see it.”

 
“Maybe you’re right.”

  “I’m not sure if I should tell you this.” Stanley let out a quiet sigh. “When your son saw me, he looked as if he saw a ghost. You do know what it means, don’t you?”

  An artificial smile surfaced on Richard’s face. “It must mean I’m dead,” he said. “And I’m okay with that. There’s nothing I can do about it, is there?” He cracked his neck from side to side. “I told you it is an afterlife dream.” Richard got up and walked up to the window. “So you’re saying he actually saw me?”

  “Yes.” Stanley nodded. “By the way, I forgot how long you said you’ve been dead. What’s your most conservative estimate?”

  “At least a year.”

  “Your son said that he’d been in a coma for two months. How did you know that he’d been hit by a car, if you were dead when it happened?”

  There was a short pause, and then Richard replied, “Somebody told me.”

  “Another character like me?”

  “Yes. His name was Luke.” Richard opened the blinds a crack and peeked outside.

  “So it’s been done before. Someone crossed into the real world before I did.”

  “Yes, Sir.” Richard turned around to face Stanley. “Maybe someday I’ll be able to do it, too.”

  “You know, you’re a good man, Richard.” Stanley lowered his eyes to the floor. “Remember you said that an almighty god wouldn’t allow war and diseases? I just realized that there are no wars in our world.”

  “Yes, only in a dream, Doc. Only in a dream.”

  “And I’m pretty sure that cancer hasn’t been eradicated in the real world yet. And neither has flu.” Stanley rose from the chair and sat down on the edge of his desk.

  “You are a very perceptive man.”

  “What do we do now?”

  “I have an idea.” Richard raised his hand. “We were on a week-long Caribbean cruise when I was alive. We had a blast there. Lots of great memories. Do you want to go? I’m pretty sure my version is as good as the original, if not better.”

  “I vote yes.”

  “Excellent.” Then Richard snapped his fingers.

  THE END