than sleepwalking?”
“I ask this because many people suffering from somnambulistic activities from time to time wake up out of bed, confused and disoriented.”
Richard shrugged his shoulders. “I wish I could say that’s the case. But it’s not. I never wake up anywhere but in my bed.”
“Do you ever dream of doing these things?”
“You mean dream about messing things up in the house?”
“Yes, and then finding them as you dreamed them. For example, you dream of taking all your clothes out of the closet and throwing them on the floor, and then you wake up and find your clothes on the floor.”
“I’ve done that, too.” Richard smiled. “Actually, no, I’ve never dreamed of the things I’ve done during sleepwalking, nothing that I can recall anyway. I’m always in bed, the dream visitors are always at the side or the front of the bed. Unless you’re the man in black, then you’re on the bed with me, trying to hurt me.”
Delaney paused, thumb and index finger massaging his brow. He seemed to be gathering some thoughts. “Have you ever noticed a physical connection between your dreams, and the nocturnal disarray in your home?”
Curious question, Richard thought. Suddenly, out of the blue, Richard’s conscience appeared. Yeah, I’m curious too. Now we’re getting somewhere!
Nice of you to show up. Where the hell have you been?
“What exactly do you mean?” he asked the doctor.
“Well, I find it interesting that your mother visits you, and you find the phone off the hook. Perhaps this could be associated with a desire to be in contact with her again? Surely your dreams allude to that. And then the table and lamp being knocked over--could this be symbolic of her death? A ‘lights out’ metaphor?” He leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “And then, on a night when the man in black comes, and tries to hurt you, your kitchen is in utter disarray. It seems possible to me that this could be symbolic of you trying to defend yourself. What do you think?”
Sounds like a load of horse shit.
In partial agreement with his conscience, he said, “It sounds like a bit of a stretch, doc. Although, now that I think about it, things are usually a bit more messed up when the man in black comes.”
Delaney nodded. “Well, it is a theory, and theories always seem far-fetched until proven valid.”
“It certainly is an interesting idea, but one I’m not ready to buy into yet. I’m not too sure if it’d really stand up in court, if you get my drift.”
“I understand your skepticism, and by all means it’s natural to feel that way. But if you’ll indulge me for a moment, I’d like for you to let me take you down an altogether different path, one we haven’t explored yet. It’s another theory, Richard. One that ties into the first. But let me tell you, right off the bat: it’s a long shot, and it might seem far-fetched, but it’s entirely possible, and truly exciting if proven correct--which in turn is in itself quite an even longer shot.”
The doctor paused, seemingly waiting for Richard’s approval to continue. Richard stared at the grease spot. What do you think?
I’m waiting with bated breath.
Richard nodded. “Please, go ahead.”
“Richard, the circumstances you’ve described are truly consistent with events that have dated back to the turn of the century, events that are still studied today, albeit on a less than consistent basis. Now I do not doubt the possibility or plausibility of the disarray in your home to be caused by somnambulism. Nor do I doubt the nocturnal reappearances of your departed family members to be produced by a hyperactive subconsciousness sparked through a potent case of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. More than likely we shall be correct to assume these postulations correct.”
“Enough with the Freudian talk, doc. What are you driving at?”
Delaney grinned. “Over the weeks I’ve held myself back from bending the proverbial rules, so to speak,
“I ask this because many people suffering from somnambulistic activities from time to time wake up out of bed, confused and disoriented.”
Richard shrugged his shoulders. “I wish I could say that’s the case. But it’s not. I never wake up anywhere but in my bed.”
“Do you ever dream of doing these things?”
“You mean dream about messing things up in the house?”
“Yes, and then finding them as you dreamed them. For example, you dream of taking all your clothes out of the closet and throwing them on the floor, and then you wake up and find your clothes on the floor.”
“I’ve done that, too.” Richard smiled. “Actually, no, I’ve never dreamed of the things I’ve done during sleepwalking, nothing that I can recall anyway. I’m always in bed, the dream visitors are always at the side or the front of the bed. Unless you’re the man in black, then you’re on the bed with me, trying to hurt me.”
Delaney paused, thumb and index finger massaging his brow. He seemed to be gathering some thoughts. “Have you ever noticed a physical connection between your dreams, and the nocturnal disarray in your home?”
Curious question, Richard thought. Suddenly, out of the blue, Richard’s conscience appeared. Yeah, I’m curious too. Now we’re getting somewhere!
Nice of you to show up. Where the hell have you been?
“What exactly do you mean?” he asked the doctor.
“Well, I find it interesting that your mother visits you, and you find the phone off the hook. Perhaps this could be associated with a desire to be in contact with her again? Surely your dreams allude to that. And then the table and lamp being knocked over--could this be symbolic of her death? A ‘lights out’ metaphor?” He leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “And then, on a night when the man in black comes, and tries to hurt you, your kitchen is in utter disarray. It seems possible to me that this could be symbolic of you trying to defend yourself. What do you think?”
Sounds like a load of horse shit.
In partial agreement with his conscience, he said, “It sounds like a bit of a stretch, doc. Although, now that I think about it, things are usually a bit more messed up when the man in black comes.”
Delaney nodded. “Well, it is a theory, and theories always seem far-fetched until proven valid.”
“It certainly is an interesting idea, but one I’m not ready to buy into yet. I’m not too sure if it’d really stand up in court, if you get my drift.”
“I understand your skepticism, and by all means it’s natural to feel that way. But if you’ll indulge me for a moment, I’d like for you to let me take you down an altogether different path, one we haven’t explored yet. It’s another theory, Richard. One that ties into the first. But let me tell you, right off the bat: it’s a long shot, and it might seem far-fetched, but it’s entirely possible, and truly exciting if proven correct--which in turn is in itself quite an even longer shot.”
The doctor paused, seemingly waiting for Richard’s approval to continue. Richard stared at the grease spot. What do you think?
I’m waiting with bated breath.
Richard nodded. “Please, go ahead.”
“Richard, the circumstances you’ve described are truly consistent with events that have dated back to the turn of the century, events that are still studied today, albeit on a less than consistent basis. Now I do not doubt the possibility or plausibility of the disarray in your home to be caused by somnambulism. Nor do I doubt the nocturnal reappearances of your departed family members to be produced by a hyperactive subconsciousness sparked through a potent case of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. More than likely we shall be correct to assume these postulations correct.”
“Enough with the Freudian talk, doc. What are you driving at?”
Delaney grinned. “Over the weeks I’ve held myself back from bending the proverbial rules, so to speak,
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