The dream

Come in Kevin. Thank you, Christine. Could you bring two teas please? White no sugar, isn't it Kevin?

I don't mind. Yes. Please. That'll be nice. Thank you.

Sit down Kevin. Anywhere. How are you?

I’m alright, thanks Glenn. How are you?

Oh, I’m fine. Just the usual, you know. Back pain. Cigarette? Shouldn’t encourage it, I know. Supposed to be a place of work, but. Well.

Yes I will, thanks.

Don’t mention it. I don’t feel I should smoke if you don’t. Some clients are very sensitive about it.

So. Ah, thanks Christine. Just pop them on the table if you don’t mind. Yes please. If you could close it behind you.

So. Light? Ah, where were we? How have you been this week? Any dreams?

Yes. Quite a few. I’ve been keeping my journal.

Good. Anything bothering you? Here. Use this ashtray.

Quite a few about being on trains and things, as usual. One about my mum being in hospital. Last night I had a strange one. I dreamed I was in a car. Parked outside a parade of shops. Grey concrete like those late 1960s, early 70s ones with the nasty little square or piazza thing in front. It had a fish and chip shop at the end nearest the road. I suppose it must have been about lunchtime. The fish and chip shop was open but not busy and it was daylight, but a bit grey. No sun.

What were you doing?

Just sitting. In the car. Parked against the kerb. I think the engine was turned off. It was just a small modest car a bit like our old Fiesta. The radio was broken so it probably was. I was sitting there with my seat belt on. It was the Fiesta. It was light grey. I can see it now. Everything was grey. Like black and white, but I’m sure it was colour like in real life. Well it was real life. The only thing with the car was it had a bomb in it.

Go on.

Well that was it really.

Had you made the bomb? Sorry, go on.

No! It was just there. Like a fact of life. Nothing to do with me. Look, I’m not planning to go out and leave car bombs in streets if that’s what you're thinking.

No Kevin. Nothing of the sort. Excuse me. I’m sorry. So was there more?

I don’t know. I don’t know whether it’s the dream or when I woke up. I don’t think the bomb was aimed at anyone. Just primed and timed to go off. It was going to explode, but I don’t know when. Soon. It was going to take me with it. That scared me. It worries me now.

Do you want that re-lighting?

Thanks. There’s no “why?” with this, you know. It just is. It just happened. I was sitting there in the seat in which I would be blown to pieces. Strapped in. Although I needn’t have been. I wasn’t going anywhere. Blown to pieces. Nothing left but a few bloody parts. And maybe something else. Maybe. I don’t know. I was just sitting there with this thing. Staring through the windscreen watching all the things I like. All the little things. The ordinary things you don’t see if you are at work or school. The drain cleaners. The man emptying the bins. The women with their kids in push chairs. Empty buses going by. The secret world that men at work don’t see. I love that. But this bomb. It was going to kill me and I just sat there waiting for it. Sorry, I’ve dropped my ash.

Don’t worry.

I suppose I was hoping it would all be quick, you know? It was going to happen and all I was worried about was that it would be slow and horrible or messy. I hoped it would work properly but I had no idea if it would. A cock up on the bomb front. It happens.

I’m sure.

I just remember looking out of the windscreen thinking about it. Here and then gone. What does that mean? I know what it means in terms of body parts or someone being here with us one minute and then gone. I get that. I’ve known so much death. But what does it mean in terms of consciousness? Self-awareness? The spirit or the soul. People don’t like to talk about the soul. A bit unfashionable. But … I don’t know. I don’t know. It scares me. Does it scare everyone?

I think it does if they put enough thought into it. But we insulate ourselves. Entertain ourselves. It’s like a coping mechanism I suppose. There’s nothing wrong with you thinking like this. It’s just about perspective. It’s when it becomes a problem. Like now. We are all aware. Or capable of being. People keep themselves busy in different ways. Others think about this, but they find a form of separation so they can function and enjoy everything else that life has to offer. It’s about focus I think, Kevin. Maybe your focus on this is affecting everything else.

I know Glenn. I know all that. But it doesn’t change it. I want to know about it. I feel like I have to. It’s not an option. Are we the only forms of life that do this? What are we part of? What the hell is going on?

Kevin, I want you to keep your journal. But I also want you to think about catching up with a few practical things. Do you still fish?

No. I let my license lapse.

It might be an idea to join the club again. Try again. And maybe increase the work hours again. I can write a letter for your employer.

It won’t stop me thinking.

I know. But let’s see how it goes. I’ll see you again in two weeks. It’s OK, I’ll take care of the cups. Can you fix an appointment with Christine? Good. Take care Kevin. And I’ll see you in a couple of weeks. I expect to hear a fisherman’s tale or two. Bye.

Thanks Glenn. Bye.

It’s OK. Leave the door open.