A Brief Moment of Lucidity.
By
John Vault.
SMASHWORDS EDITION.
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PUBLISHED BY:
HiRisc Publications on Smashwords.
A Brief Moment of Lucidity
Copyright © 2011 by John Vault.
Smashwords Edition License Notes
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HiRisc Publications has rated this work suitable for readers of 16 years or older.
It may contain frequent use of strong language, horror themes, violence or descriptions of a sexual nature. Reader discretion is advised.
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This story is dedicated to those who dream, to those who are awake, and to those who can tell the difference.
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Contents.
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Introduction.
It has often been a source of great puzzlement to me that we disregard our dreams as being meaningless. Would our great Mother have devised such a state of being in which we spend a third of our pitifully short lives if it were not dramatically important? How many occasions are there in our 'waking' world when we run screaming from nameless enemies or experience the joy of soaring free flight? How often in our working day do we feel dark terrors clutching at our throats and see twisted faces form before our unbelieving eyes? And if effect is the measure of reality, the question immediately arises… In which state are we the most alive?
A brief moment of lucidity is the fifth of Uncle John's Bedtime Tales by John Vault.
Enjoy.
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A brief moment of lucidity.
Daniel was standing on an old stone bridge. A wide viaduct, built in the days when men knew how to work stone. Long since closed to traffic due to its age, it was still used as a thoroughfare for people who moved across the valley between home and town on foot. At it's highest it cleared the meandering stream below by one hundred and eighty feet. It was lined on each side with walls that were two and a half feet thick and five feet high, topped with huge rough cut coping stones. At thirteen he'd ridden his bicycle all the way along, almost a kilometre, on top of one of those walls for a dare. The bridge was so exposed that it caught some fairly severe and random cross winds and if he'd been blown over the edge to his death he certainly wouldn't have been the first. It had been possibly the most terrifying experience of his life and even now, at almost sixteen years old his gut rebelled at the thought of even standing on one of those walls.
Yet here he was.
He stood with the toes of his trainers barely in line with the outer edge of the wall. There were rusty and decrepit gas lamp posts set at regular intervals along the bridge. He was holding onto the one immediately to his left with an outstretched arm and peering down into the abyss. The night was dark but the full of the moon cast a jagged silver line onto the still blackness of the dam that had been diverted from the stream for use by the local fishing club. It wasn't particularly deep. Certainly not deep enough to save him from a fall of this height.
A sudden gust of wind unnerved him enough to make him step back slightly. When it subsided he shuffled forward again, ever closer to the edge.
He was waiting for someone. Someone that he remembered arranging this absurd rendezvous with but couldn't actually bring to mind. Why the hell would he possibly have arranged something like this?
His nerves settled down a little, having become more accustomed to his surroundings. He resolved to wait a little longer, a few more minutes perhaps, and then if whoever it was didn't show up he'd go home. He gripped the gas lamp a little tighter in an effort to reassure himself that it was still there.
A pale grey cloud skipped quickly across the face of the moon. Daniel watched the surface of the dam darken. It was then that he heard the sound of a gentle cough behind him.
It was then that he remembered...
It was a school day. Mondays were always a bitch because at fifteen years old Daniel wasn't big on waking up in the morning, especially when he'd spent a late night hanging around the back of the offy with his mates and several bottles of cider.
His mother screamed his name from downstairs for maybe the sixth time. The pitch of her voice was bordering on ultrasound. He threw back the duvet and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. He stood up, yawned, dipped his hand into his undies to scratch his nuts and then ambled toward the bathroom. His younger sister Trina had already commandeered the sink, which pissed him off. She was leaning into the bathroom mirror, brushing her teeth, wearing only panties and a training bra. She spotted him in the mirror as he approached. She turned and slammed the door shut in his face.
He woke up again.
'Bloody hell!' He gasped, having realised that he'd just dreamt the last two or three minutes. His mother screamed his name from downstairs. He rolled out of bed, washed, dressed and headed downstairs for breakfast, squeezing himself in at the table and grabbing a slice of toast. Trina was in the kitchen complaining that there never seemed to be a clean bowl available because Daniel was too lazy to wash up. He ignored her as he always did. He started to tell his dad about his weird dream when Trina cut her finger on a knife at the bottom of the sink. She shrieked and leapt back, knocking the draining board with her elbow. Half a dozen plates shattered on the kitchen floor.
Daniel woke up again.
He couldn't quite believe it this time. His heart thumped loudly and cold sweat stood out on his brow. His mother screamed his name from downstairs...
The bus queue was that in name only. As soon as the old school double decker rounded the corner and came into view all hell broke loose amongst the twenty or so children who had been waiting for the last fifteen minutes in the pouring rain. The concrete bus shelter had been badly vandalised so often that the council had refused to replace it. The doors folded back with a loud hiss and everyone tried to board the bus simultaneously. The driver shouted his usual string of expletives as at least half a dozen of the boarders offered badly faked bus passes or attempted to sneak aboard by ducking in behind the crowd in order to save their bus fare for ciggy money.
'It's fuckin' DT's mate! You're having illucidations.' His friend Scoddy informed him as they sat together amidst the bedlam. 'You need to cut down on the cider.'
'Fuck off, I only had half a bottle.' Daniel replied. 'I wasn't even that pissed!'
'No, honest.' Scoddy insisted. 'My uncle Wally got them on new year’s day last year. He was sitting in the garden and his whole body started shaking. He threw hisself into the fuckin' pond!'
The bus stopped to let more children on.
'Oi! Numb nuts!' Trina called out to Daniel from the back of the bus. 'How come I've got one of your books in my bag?' She pulled out the exercise book and threw it across the bus, hitting him squarely in the face.
He woke up again.
Daniel daren't move. That last dream episode, like the previous ones, had been totally convincing. He didn't know now whether he was awake or not. His mother screamed from downstairs...
The rest of the day rolled past without event but Daniel habitually pinched his forearms in case he was dreaming. By lunchtime his skin had become reddened and bruised.