is a band of ‘dream weather’ full of powerful, beneficial dreams. Tziga Hame emerged from his second, deliberate excursion into the Place with the dream now known as Starry Beach. Starry Beach is a less effective dream than Convalescent One. It is soothing rather than healing. The dream did make Hame feel better, but it wasn’t enough in itself. Hame decided to use it to somehow bargain for better medical treatment. He hoped to persuade Dr Chambers to do something more for him.
Tziga Hame took the dream back to Founderston and to Chambers. He asked the doctor if he might spend the night in the doctor’s house. Hame attempted to explain, but Chambers wasn’t of a mind to listen. It was totally outof the question, Chambers said, preposterous — what was the young man thinking?
Hame left the doctor’s residence, but returned at nightfall and camped on the area stairs. He went to sleep with his head resting on the back doorsill.
Walter Chambers later reported what happened that night. He said that he had a wonderful, refreshing sleep and a blissful dream. The following morning over breakfast his wife told him about her dream. The doctor recognised his wife’s description of the warm sea, golden beach, the fish baking in crumbling white coals, the sunset, kind friends, campfire singing. Chambers recognised the dream’s air of languid wonder, and its mysteries he’d marvelled at, like the sight of a line of lights moving through the forest behind the beach. He and his wife had had the same dream. And, it turned out on further investigation, the couple’s daughters, and their household staff, had all shared it. The whole household was in a gentle mood so that when the butler appeared to tell the doctor that the young man from yesterday was back, and refused to be seen off, Chambers was welcoming. He hurried out to Hame and the young man explained what had happened to him.
Chambers was amazed, but could immediately see advantage for himself in Tziga Hame’s gift. The doctor took the young man on an overnight visit to one of his wealthy spinal patients. Chambers later gave an account of this first experiment. He said that, as he sat by his patient’s bed he’d watched something in the sick man’s sleep, but more effective than sleep, smoothing the man’s tense face.
Hame spent a week in the rooms of several of Dr Chambers’ chronic patients. Much to the families’puzzlement the doctor turned up when no crisis was anticipated, but in the morning the patients were better, one even saying she felt she’d been bathed in a whole summer overnight.
When the dream faded the doctor gave Tziga Hame money so that he could return to Doorhandle, and the strange territory it seemed only he could enter. This was Hame’s first commission — his third dream, for which he was paid only expenses and meals. The young man was still proving what he could do, and neither he nor Dr Chambers had yet thought to put a price on what they regarded as a miracle and a gift.
But, of course, a cure is a saleable commodity. Two years after his fall Tziga Hame had subscribers — sanatoria, and private and charitable hospitals. He was taking his dreams to any sizeable town within two days’ travel by sea or rail.
He had given up his violin, but paid his sister Marta’s way through the Conservatory. He had bought himself and his family houses. He was a wealthy man.
NEWS SPREAD QUICKLY about the help Tziga Hame was bringing to the suffering. And of the fortune he was making. Others were inspired to try to see if they too could cross over into the dry, silent Place and catch dreams. These early adventurers came alone to face their failure privately: that moment when they turned on the road to look back at the piled stones of the border marker. Some came in groups, egging one another on. A group of clerks from a bank. A group of weavers from a textile factory. A mixed group of philosophy and divinity students. They arrived noisy, and stayed
Tziga Hame took the dream back to Founderston and to Chambers. He asked the doctor if he might spend the night in the doctor’s house. Hame attempted to explain, but Chambers wasn’t of a mind to listen. It was totally outof the question, Chambers said, preposterous — what was the young man thinking?
Hame left the doctor’s residence, but returned at nightfall and camped on the area stairs. He went to sleep with his head resting on the back doorsill.
Walter Chambers later reported what happened that night. He said that he had a wonderful, refreshing sleep and a blissful dream. The following morning over breakfast his wife told him about her dream. The doctor recognised his wife’s description of the warm sea, golden beach, the fish baking in crumbling white coals, the sunset, kind friends, campfire singing. Chambers recognised the dream’s air of languid wonder, and its mysteries he’d marvelled at, like the sight of a line of lights moving through the forest behind the beach. He and his wife had had the same dream. And, it turned out on further investigation, the couple’s daughters, and their household staff, had all shared it. The whole household was in a gentle mood so that when the butler appeared to tell the doctor that the young man from yesterday was back, and refused to be seen off, Chambers was welcoming. He hurried out to Hame and the young man explained what had happened to him.
Chambers was amazed, but could immediately see advantage for himself in Tziga Hame’s gift. The doctor took the young man on an overnight visit to one of his wealthy spinal patients. Chambers later gave an account of this first experiment. He said that, as he sat by his patient’s bed he’d watched something in the sick man’s sleep, but more effective than sleep, smoothing the man’s tense face.
Hame spent a week in the rooms of several of Dr Chambers’ chronic patients. Much to the families’puzzlement the doctor turned up when no crisis was anticipated, but in the morning the patients were better, one even saying she felt she’d been bathed in a whole summer overnight.
When the dream faded the doctor gave Tziga Hame money so that he could return to Doorhandle, and the strange territory it seemed only he could enter. This was Hame’s first commission — his third dream, for which he was paid only expenses and meals. The young man was still proving what he could do, and neither he nor Dr Chambers had yet thought to put a price on what they regarded as a miracle and a gift.
But, of course, a cure is a saleable commodity. Two years after his fall Tziga Hame had subscribers — sanatoria, and private and charitable hospitals. He was taking his dreams to any sizeable town within two days’ travel by sea or rail.
He had given up his violin, but paid his sister Marta’s way through the Conservatory. He had bought himself and his family houses. He was a wealthy man.
NEWS SPREAD QUICKLY about the help Tziga Hame was bringing to the suffering. And of the fortune he was making. Others were inspired to try to see if they too could cross over into the dry, silent Place and catch dreams. These early adventurers came alone to face their failure privately: that moment when they turned on the road to look back at the piled stones of the border marker. Some came in groups, egging one another on. A group of clerks from a bank. A group of weavers from a textile factory. A mixed group of philosophy and divinity students. They arrived noisy, and stayed
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