Dangerous Dreams: A Novel (91 page)

“Hi, Allie. It’s Dad. Wanted to see how you’re doing, kiddo. How’s my girl?”

Allie melted as she always did when her dad spoke to her. She’d never understood why; but it was like meeting a guy she didn’t know and falling instantly in love with him, complete with flushed, mushy brain, and shaky legs. She’d concluded it was because she so admired him—to the point that she’d subsumed his persona into her vision of what the man she’d ultimately love and marry would be like. “I’m okay, Dad. How are you and Mom?”

“We’re good; and we were just thinking how cool it would be if you could get a couple days off and come hang out at the ranch with us, like maybe a four-day weekend. Got a few cattle to move around—nothing big—and a few other things to do. Would really love your company if you can pull it off. Been a long time, Allie.”

Allie’s heart pumped furiously. Nothing pleased her more than a few days at the ranch with her family. But how can I look them in the eye? It’s kind of like Emily and Isna. Damn it, I’ll find a way. “Sure, Dad. I’d love that. Let me talk to Steve and see if I can skip a few days of data.” She lightly slapped her cheek. That’s wrong! I can bring the equipment with me and do my reports there; gonna dream regardless of where I am. But how will I do the sleeping pills and Mestinon? They’ll get suspicious if I’m out for half the day and all night. But I sure need a break, and maybe nothing big will happen with Emily for a while. “Yeah, that’d be awesome. I’ll ask and get back to you.”

“Great. We’re really looking forward to it. Hope to see you Friday. Here’s Mom.”

“Bye, Dad. Love you.”

“Hi, Allie. Can’t wait to see you, Hon.”

“Me too, Mom . . . hey, Mom. I really need to ask you some questions about Ian. It’ll really help Steve and me with the analysis if you can level
with me. I know you’ve been holding things back, probably because you’re worried about me, but I can handle it, and it’s really important that I know
everything
.” Wrong, Allie, it’s not at all likely you can handle it. Another lie; and once they start, they just keep coming, don’t they?

Nancy remained silent.

“Mom?”

Nancy sighed. “You’re right, Allie. I
am
afraid because some really awful things happened . . . but you’re also right that since the dreams are happening to
you
now, maybe knowing what’s happened to others will help you deal with them better than Ian and some others did.”

“Others? You know about other dreamers besides Ian?”

“A little.”

“Okay. Thanks, Mom. It’ll really help me. So first—and this is a pure curiosity question—what was Ian’s real name?”

“Don’t know. Because it was too complicated for me to say, I never learned it. But I know where I can find out, and I’ll check it out before you come home. You know, Ian was—”

“Great. So the next question is how did Ian and the other dreamers keep the dreams from dominating or ruining their lives?”

Long silence. “They didn’t.”

A sudden chill trickled down Allie’s neck and back. “They didn’t?”

“No.”

“What happened to them?”

Another long silence. “My mother told me Ian’s great-great-grandmother killed herself. Don’t know how, or even if it was because of the dreams. It was back in the early 1800s.”

Allie swallowed hard. I knew it! What a great thing to look forward to. “And what about Ian?”

More silence, then a sigh. “They said she died from . . . from a sleeping pill overdose, but no one knew for sure if it was accidental or planned. You see, most of them thought she was crazy because she talked about the dreams, and they didn’t believe they were real. But
I
know they were real because she told me so. I’m also convinced—with no proof, mind you— that if she
did
die from an overdose, it was accidental, but I can’t be sure
because . . . because there’s a part of me that fears the dreams are so severely debilitating they actually
could
lead to suicide. You know, my mother told me Ian was quite addicted to the dreams. And, Allie, that’s what scares the hell out of me now. ”

Allie stared at the desktop for a moment. “Me too, Mom.”

“Oh, Allie, don’t tell me that.”

“It’s true, Mom; they’re very addictive, like a TV series you just can’t miss, but don’t get me wrong. I’m not thinking about bad endings. I’m only saying I see how it could happen. It’s probably like working with terminally ill people day after day—you probably get depressed, but you can’t escape. Then you either go crazy or . . .”

“Allie, I’m worried about you.”

Allie heard her mother crying softly. “Mom, don’t cry. I’m not saying I’m there, only that I can see how someone
could
get there. And as far as the sleeping pills go, if I had to guess, I’d say that Ian overdosed; because before she ever got to the point of suicide, she’d be addicted to the dreams to the point that she had to do everything possible to dream more. And I doubt there was much savvy about the dangers of sleeping pills in those early days.” Damn it. Said too much. Now she’ll think I’m doing pills and worry all the more. Dummy!

“Well, that makes sense; but
you
aren’t taking pills are you, Allie?”

“Like I said the other day, only enough to fall asleep if I can’t get there on my own.” Another lie, Allie Girl. “Enough on that. What more can you tell me about how the dreams end?”

“Only that Ian told me they sometimes end badly, very badly. But she said some end happily. She never said how far into a character’s life they go. I mean, if you dream of someone long enough, they’re eventually going to die; but maybe, like real life, it doesn’t get you down as much when they’re real old and had a full life.”

“That fits. So have you had any more thoughts about how Ian knew the dreams were real and that they were about our ancestors?” She heard a call-waiting beep, glanced at the caller ID. Steve. Better get back to him.

“Nope. She never told me; but when I look through the box of her stuff, maybe I’ll find the answer.”

“You have a box of her stuff?”

“Yeah. My mother put it away after Ian died, and frankly, I forgot about it until this very moment. Don’t know why I haven’t thought of it, but there might be some interesting things in there. Maybe we can do that together when you’re here.”

Allie pulsed with excitement, but her hands trembled with latent fear of what they might find. “That’d be awesome, Mom. Let’s do it. Might even find something about Emily.” But what if we do, and what if it’s bad? She sighed. Toughen up, kid.

“Great. I’ll dig it out before you get here.”

“Thanks, Mom. I know you’re afraid for me; but honestly, I can handle it. Like I said, working with Steve and getting to the bottom of the dreams will be a big help, something my predecessors didn’t have going for them. And it’ll tell me a lot about how to deal with them, no matter what we find.”

“Well, I’m not going to lie to you, Allie. This is scary stuff, and I’m right there in the middle of the fear department. But what you say makes sense. So let’s get into that box. Should be interesting, at the least.”

Maybe scary as hell, too. “Great, Mom. See you Friday. I’ll let you know in a bit if it’s okay with Steve.”

Dressler picked up the phone. “Hi, Allie. How’d it go last night?”

“Pretty good. Must’ve been really tired because I slept a long time, but got a lot of dreaming in.”

“And how are things with Emily?”

“Bad and getting worse. A long story, but I got it all on the recorder. Was getting ready to head in for the debrief.”

“Well, that’s why I called. Had a meeting pop up for our debrief time. So why don’t you drop the disc and the recorder off with Ginger and meet me for lunch at Reed’s Bar and Grill around noon. It’s a nice, quiet place,
and we can hang out there for a couple hours while you tell me about Emily and we talk a little more theory. Will that work?”

“Sure.” At least he won’t see the long sleep and REM times yet . . . unless Ginger calls him. Don’t do it, Ginger.

“Great. See you then. Oh, make sure you pick up another recorder from Ginger, so you have one tonight.”

“Will do. Steve, I need to ask you something. I was talking to my folks when you called, and they asked if I could come home for a long weekend, like Friday through Monday. I know you want to press hard on the data, and I don’t want to miss any sessions either. But I’ll dream as much there as I do here; so if I take the equipment and recorder with me, we shouldn’t lose anything. And I can do my reports anywhere. Would that be okay? Haven’t been home in a long time.”

Pause. “Sure. I know how much you love the ranch, and you’re overdue for a break from city life. That’ll be fine. Just bring good data and reports on Tuesday, okay?”

“I will. Thanks, Steve. See you at noon.” She hung up, closed her eyes and thought of home, felt her newly freed spirits rise like air over a hot fire. She smiled, imagined herself mounted on Petey, loping through the tall grass after a runaway calf, then seated on the front porch with a cold beer in her hand, staring in awe at the grand, towering mountains before her; she felt the familiar surge of warmth and freedom that permeated her mind and soul whenever she was there. But a conflicted thought suddenly nibbled its way into her mind. Her freedom would be different this time— not lessened, just different—because Emily and the dreams, and whatever they brought, would be with her, constantly beckoning like Ahab after he’d drowned on Moby Dick’s back. Dealing with them in that environment could be challenging; but, she admitted, she could have it no other way. So let’s get on with business.

Need to start matching dream characteristics with theories. But first, let’s review and summarize a bit. She opened a new Word file, reviewed her old notes, re-examined activation synthesis, formative causation, and morphic resonance. As a first step in her
devil’s advocacy
of formative causation
and morphic resonance, she read a paper by G. William Domhoff on the neurocognitive debate between Hobson and a man named Solms. She then listed the highlights of her paraphrased notes and reviewed them again.

1.
Goodwin, “Dreamlife”

                
-
With the right cognitive stimuli, dreams can draw upon temporarily suspended or sleeping powers of the mind
.

                
-
Can access other peoples’ (including past generations) “experiences”— stored in mankind’s collective memory
.

2.
Hobson, “The Dreaming Brain”

                
-
The “dream plot” is crafted from our “experiences.”

So assuming I really am dreaming ancestral experiences,
past experiences
and
memories
must include
ancestors’
experiences and memories; otherwise, I couldn’t dream them. Okay, that sets the stage; but how do ancestral memories and experiences get into
my
head as dreams, when they
don’t
do that for other people?

3.
Sheldrake, “The Presence of the Past” & “Morphic Resonance”

                
-
Some view the “mind-brain” (Note: Hobson calls it “brain-mind”) association like that of computer software and hardware: mind=software (input), brain=hardware (computer)
.

“So maybe my dreaming gift somehow activates or commands the right software in my
mind
to access a specific story; and the
brain
, the main computer, then runs the software and finds that specific story somewhere. But how?”

                
-
(Steve’s extrapolation of Sheldrake) Our own memories and experiences, as well as those of our ancestors, are thought to be in morphic units organized by morphic fields, which are stabilized by morphic resonance
.

                
-
TV analogy for morphic resonance (Barasch, “Healing Dreams,” on Sheldrake)

                        
o
TV programs not in the TV itself—they’re at the TV station/transmitter
.

                        
o
And the TV station/transmitter continues to exist and transmit, even if the TV itself is turned off or destroyed
.

So when you want to watch a specific program or movie, you select the channel that tunes the TV to the station and transmitter that have that program or movie. And if your TV croaks, all the programs and movies are still at the station, playing for all the other TVs that tune to the right channels. “Awesome analogy.”

                
-
Similarly, the content of our dreams isn’t in our heads—instead, the brain (TV) is a receiver for dream images transmitted by a morphic unit (TV station/transmitter) organized by a morphic field that’s stabilized/tuned by morphic resonance that contains mankind’s individual and collective memories—like a TV station’s library of programs and movies
.

                        
o
And the morphic unit still contains those individual and collective memories when a given dreamer dies
.

“Makes sense to Allie O’Shay, but same question: how can
I
dream
my
ancestors’ memories like a movie when
normal
people can’t dream theirs?” Somehow I always find exactly the right place in the collective memory to find Emily’s story . . . every time I dream. So it’s gotta be in the genes and DNA, maybe even some kind of mutation. She shook her head, pressed her lips together. The gift has to be what starts the sequence: gift activates right software in mind; brain runs software; brain finds right story in personal memory, which includes ancestors’ memories; personal memory then goes to
greater
collective memory to find memories and experiences of other players in the story; and I dream the story. She picked up a pencil, placed a pad of paper on the desk in front of her, quickly sketched several boxes with arrows between them, wrote words in the boxes. “That makes it much easier; probably ought to make a PowerPoint of it.”