hears now, always the same question which so lovingly framed
commands the answer it seeks, "Isn't that enough work for tonight, L.
P.?"
"Yes,
my love," and he obediently puts down his pencil and returns his notebook
to the top drawer of his desk.
Shadows
thicken outside. Burns gets up and lowers the sash window, fastening the clasp
at the top. On his way out he switches off the light. Talking to myself, he
thinks with a brief smile, those kids will think me more senile than then they
already do, and he closes the study door behind him.
T
E N
Our dreams are a second life —Gerard de Nerval
Then something astonishing
happened. It was the morning of their next scheduled meeting with Professor Burns.
Near the waking moment, with the darkness peeling away, the flakes of light
stealing between blinds and through the partings in dreams, Lee was lying asleep
in his own room away from Ella, dreaming vividly and with clear control. In the
dream he looked down at his hands and remembered, with absolute clarity, the
appointment. There was a whisper from somewhere, a message: Do it.
With ease
he dissolved his surroundings and found himself in the park, standing by the
cherry tree close to the tennis courts where he and Ella had had their first
sexual encounter. The place was absolutely still, cocooned in the grey light of
a false dawn. A mist hung around like wisps of cotton, as if trailed by a wind.
The air seemed unbearably tense. Lee could feel, physically feel, the dawn
about to crack, to split the light and open up a terrible, joyous new day.
He
waited. He had no sense of impatience. In the distance, taking shape through
the mist, or perhaps just from the mist at the end of the path, he could see
someone walking towards him. It was not Ella but Honora. She seemed somehow
uncertain, hesitant. Then, as she got nearer, he realized he was mistaken. It
was not Honora after all, but Ella. Ella had found her way to him! They were
going to meet.
When
Ella reached him, she smiled and stretched out a hand to touch his cheek; she
was not shadow, nor phantom, but flesh and blood, warm and vital. He could feel
the palm of her hand against the coolness of his cheek. He was gripped by a
rage of excitement; he wanted to embrace her and shout. But at the same time he
was caught in a kind of paralysis that inhibited and slowed his every move. His
limbs were locked, his muscles contracted, the air around him congealed and
thick, inhibiting movement and constraining all action, though his brain raced
and his skin crawled, and a fist squeezed inside his belly. He wanted to shout, This is it! We did it! This is the meeting! But something
happened to the breath that contained his words, and instead, in a voice that
hardly seemed his own, he said: There are more things in heaven and earth
than are dreamt of in your philosophy . Ella smiled back at him, wordlessly,
unmoving. They stood like that for some time, without discomfort, and then the
dream dissolved.
Lee
woke with a dull headache but with the dream clear in his mind. Shivering with
excitement he pulled on his clothes and ran the full distance to Ella's house.
Before hammering on the door, he leaned against the wall, panting heavily,
trying to recover his breath, still shaking with anticipation; praying that
Ella would confirm that the rendezvous had taken place and yet terrified that
she would prove that all he had experienced was delusion cupped in a dream. He
found the front door of the house ajar, and went through to Ella's room. Inside he found Ella already dressed, sitting
cross-legged on her mattress bed and writing in a book. She got up.
"I
left the front door open for you."
"So,"
said Lee, "you were expecting me."
"There
are more things in heaven and earth . . ."
Lee released a triumphant roar and took hold
of Ella, the two of them dancing around the room in an ecstatic jig. He ran out
into the yard, leaping and punching the air like a Cup Final goal
commands the answer it seeks, "Isn't that enough work for tonight, L.
P.?"
"Yes,
my love," and he obediently puts down his pencil and returns his notebook
to the top drawer of his desk.
Shadows
thicken outside. Burns gets up and lowers the sash window, fastening the clasp
at the top. On his way out he switches off the light. Talking to myself, he
thinks with a brief smile, those kids will think me more senile than then they
already do, and he closes the study door behind him.
T
E N
Our dreams are a second life —Gerard de Nerval
Then something astonishing
happened. It was the morning of their next scheduled meeting with Professor Burns.
Near the waking moment, with the darkness peeling away, the flakes of light
stealing between blinds and through the partings in dreams, Lee was lying asleep
in his own room away from Ella, dreaming vividly and with clear control. In the
dream he looked down at his hands and remembered, with absolute clarity, the
appointment. There was a whisper from somewhere, a message: Do it.
With ease
he dissolved his surroundings and found himself in the park, standing by the
cherry tree close to the tennis courts where he and Ella had had their first
sexual encounter. The place was absolutely still, cocooned in the grey light of
a false dawn. A mist hung around like wisps of cotton, as if trailed by a wind.
The air seemed unbearably tense. Lee could feel, physically feel, the dawn
about to crack, to split the light and open up a terrible, joyous new day.
He
waited. He had no sense of impatience. In the distance, taking shape through
the mist, or perhaps just from the mist at the end of the path, he could see
someone walking towards him. It was not Ella but Honora. She seemed somehow
uncertain, hesitant. Then, as she got nearer, he realized he was mistaken. It
was not Honora after all, but Ella. Ella had found her way to him! They were
going to meet.
When
Ella reached him, she smiled and stretched out a hand to touch his cheek; she
was not shadow, nor phantom, but flesh and blood, warm and vital. He could feel
the palm of her hand against the coolness of his cheek. He was gripped by a
rage of excitement; he wanted to embrace her and shout. But at the same time he
was caught in a kind of paralysis that inhibited and slowed his every move. His
limbs were locked, his muscles contracted, the air around him congealed and
thick, inhibiting movement and constraining all action, though his brain raced
and his skin crawled, and a fist squeezed inside his belly. He wanted to shout, This is it! We did it! This is the meeting! But something
happened to the breath that contained his words, and instead, in a voice that
hardly seemed his own, he said: There are more things in heaven and earth
than are dreamt of in your philosophy . Ella smiled back at him, wordlessly,
unmoving. They stood like that for some time, without discomfort, and then the
dream dissolved.
Lee
woke with a dull headache but with the dream clear in his mind. Shivering with
excitement he pulled on his clothes and ran the full distance to Ella's house.
Before hammering on the door, he leaned against the wall, panting heavily,
trying to recover his breath, still shaking with anticipation; praying that
Ella would confirm that the rendezvous had taken place and yet terrified that
she would prove that all he had experienced was delusion cupped in a dream. He
found the front door of the house ajar, and went through to Ella's room. Inside he found Ella already dressed, sitting
cross-legged on her mattress bed and writing in a book. She got up.
"I
left the front door open for you."
"So,"
said Lee, "you were expecting me."
"There
are more things in heaven and earth . . ."
Lee released a triumphant roar and took hold
of Ella, the two of them dancing around the room in an ecstatic jig. He ran out
into the yard, leaping and punching the air like a Cup Final goal
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