5
The Waking Dream
Saturday 3rd November 1990
Why does it always take so long to recover from a hangover? Ava thought, finally able to stomach a meal.
Sam’s 18th birthday had necessitated a legal drinking session, and she’d joined a large group of college art students in his local pub. She felt like the odd one out at first but as the night had progressed, she’d drunk sufficient alcohol to adapt to a younger mind set and by the end of the night, it became clear she’d regret it in the morning. It had been great to see Sam again, and what a polite yet intense young man he’d become. After vowing to keep in regular contact with him, they’d hugged and then she’d fallen out of the taxi.
Life had moved on since the completion of her degree, with repeated job searches and deliberation over whether to continue studies at a higher level, all tainted with financial stress. Ava finally secured a job at a small laboratory not too far away, although she did wonder sometimes what the prospects were for promotion. She wanted to make it independent of family help, despite her uncle’s offer of assistance.
She fancied a quiet Saturday night. As a student, she’d pored over text books about genetics. Now she’d finished, she felt like indulging in something superficial and steamy. A dusty Jackie Collins book sat on her bedside table, so she dismissed the unwanted particles with a gust of breath and located her bookmark. Before long, the words and ticking clock caused her to drift off to sleep.
However, she awoke not too long after. An odd tingle crept across her skin, as if the air were filled with static electricity, penetrating her body and pulsing through her nervous system. A shift of perception occurred, like a blurring and a crackle of the air itself.
She sensed a presence in her room and a humanoid figure emerged. It moved towards her, emitting a soothing energy, although the only features it possessed were eyes that glowed iridescently, moving through the hues of blue, purple, and pink. Strangely, it seemed to have large wings that were folded behind its back. There was nothing rational about this visitation, yet it felt real and gripping, holding her attention like a visual vice. As it neared her, however, its face began to take on form and transmuted into a young man with fair hair, whom Ava instantly recognised.
“Michael?”
The figure of her ex, Michael, albeit with wings and no clothing, sat on the end of her bed.
“I think it is essential you believe that,” he said.
The angelic entity in her room must have drawn a memory from her subconscious, one long suppressed, one that held a yearning for something no longer in her life.
“If you’re not Michael, then who are you?”
The figure posing as Michael fell silent, as if in deep thought, then answered, “I don’t think you’re ready for that knowledge yet.”
She surveyed his face and found that the usual imperfections were absent, such as the slight kink in his nose where it had been previously broken and re-set, but the likeness was very convincing.
“You must be wondering why your perception of the world around you seems distorted at times.”
Ava felt reluctant to discuss the matter, how could she admit to anyone the psychological condition of her sister, and her own leanings in that direction?
The Michael figure continued. “It is an essential process in your development and crucial to discover who you are, and why you are here.”
“Do you mean where I came from and who my parents are?”
“It runs deeper than mere material relations, although your parentage will help you understand a great deal. You need to discover yourself too, and in these things you will ascertain your purpose. There is a natural process that must run its course, one that has been postponed for a number of years.”
Despite this all being so illogical, his words intrigued her.
“Why has it been postponed?” she asked.
The Michael figure pondered, apparently reluctant to give away the solution, much like a good teacher would encourage discovery in his students.
“The environment was unfortunate.”
“My childhood?” she assumed, pensive. “Why can’t I remember my parents?”
“Some things are simply too painful, especially for such a young child. The truth will become known, but you must look deep within. You are like a bookshop that has been closed for a long period of time, the knowledge has been abandoned and left disorganised. Events will soon set in motion which will enable you to begin reading these books again, and add new ones to the collection. There is a new job on the horizon, which you should be humble enough to accept. It is not charity, it is the beginning of the true path and yet, only the beginning. It is not, however, your final destination.”
“And what is my final destination?”
The Michael figure responded emphatically. “Something you cannot yet comprehend.”
“You’re suggesting that everything is…preordained. I believe in free will.”
“What is free will? You have already chosen your path, you just don’t know it yet.”
The figure started to fade subtly. Ava had one last question that had been sidelined, despite being a burning issue.
“Why did Michael disappear from my life?”
The fading continued but, as if he had a sudden change of heart, the figure leaned forward and kissed her on the cheek. She felt a strange burning sensation, then nothing. The moon shone through the window and the clock still ticked. Glancing over at the clock, she saw it was 4am, such a lonely time of night, and the appearance of a figure that looked just like Michael exacerbated the emotional famine.
On their last day together, he’d held her face in his hands, kissed her softly and told her with sincerity that their new life in the States was going to be wonderful. After that, she got no answer on his phone and found no one at his flat. In fact, she discovered a ‘to let’ board attached to the brickwork. It had been so abrupt.
The old hurt almost drowned out the lucidity of the vision. In an absent minded manner, she touched her cheek and found it felt rough to the touch. Startled, she jumped up and examined her face in the bathroom mirror. A red mark stood out, as if it had been previously exposed to the sun. The Michael figure had left physical evidence to suggest that the lucid dream had been more real than she wanted to believe. How could such a meeting ever have taken place, and how could something imaginary leave physical evidence though?
It called into question the other hallucinations she’d experienced. Did they have any basis in reality after all, no matter how absurd that reality? Or was someone slipping psychedelic drugs into her food or drink? No, that was really paranoid thinking. It led her back to an unfortunate conclusion: she was developing schizophrenia. Her sister, Maria, had been institutionalised due to this and if Ava developed the same condition, it would ruin her career. Should she seek help with the condition, or as the ‘angel’ indicated, let the process take its course?