“Doctor, this is very frustrating. I have no idea why a monkey would be climbing a water tower, other than the fact that he is a monkey, and the water tower looks like a giant jungle gym.”
“Humor me Ben. You have told me that the monkey ruined your family’s resort business. The monkey signifies a menacing presence from your past. I am merely trying to ascertain whether or not the water tower menaces you as well.”
“How on earth could a water tower be a menace to me?”
“Let me ask you this Ben. Are you afraid of heights?”
There was a quiet knock on the office door. Doctor Levine opened it and in walked Cathy with a silver tray with a decorative ceramic Chinese pot and matching tea cups. She set the tray down on the coffee table and began to pour tea.
“Hello Mister Fisher. How is your head?” She didn’t wait for an answer, but continued pouring. “Do you use cream or sugar?”
“I will take some cream, thanks, and my head is doing just fine.”
Ben felt like a pure-bred, bona fide idiot and wished he could take back what he had just said. He wished that he could think more quickly and actually say something marginally witty now and then.
Cathy smiled at him as she left the room. Doctor Levine took his sweet time sipping his tea. After a couple of minutes he asked the question again. “Where were we Ben, let me see— oh here we are. Ben, are you afraid of heights?”
“Well, Doctor, I will not be climbing El Capitan anytime soon if that’s what you mean.”
“Have you ever noticed Ben, that you resort to sarcasm when you are faced with answering a difficult question?”
Ben thought. “Difficult question? How on earth does a question about a water tower come into the category of difficult?”
“Doctor, I really think that seeing the monkey climbing the water tower in my dream is just random. I don’t have any fears of the old wooden water tower.”
“Ben, it is my opinion that there is nothing random at all in your recurring dream. Your subconscious mind is trying to tell you something. We are trying to discover what that something is.”
Ben rubbed his eyes and yawned. He had another bad night with little sleep. He was up all night wondering how he would be able to make his bills, and when he finally got to sleep, the dream woke him. He was also tired of talking about his dream with the doctor. He wished it would just go away. If he could only get a job and be productive again. He knew that his lack of employment, his home in foreclosure, and the dream were all somehow linked together, and that getting a job would probably solve all three.
“Alright Doctor, let’s say that the entire dream is not random at all. That every bit of it is there for a reason. I have had this dream wake me up each and every night for so long that I remember it by heart. The monkey climbing the water tower is just what it is. It makes no damn sense. What could it possibly mean?”
“Okay Ben, lets just shelf the water tower for now. The monkey shows up the second time during the storm and the mansion fire—”
“Doctor Levine, I am sorry for interrupting, but I just can’t talk about this any more today. I have too many other things on my mind. I don’t want to talk about the frigging monkey. I want to know why it is that I can’t get a job. I want to know how to make payments on my home again. My life is a train wreck. This all seems so fruitless, so hopeless.”
Ben put his head down into his crossed arms. He was tired, and depressed, and he felt that if he heard the word “monkey” one more time, he might completely melt down. He imagined himself being hauled away in a straight jacket to the funny farm, where everything was kind of soft-lensed fuzzy, and he was drooling on the daisies just to pass the time.
Doctor Levine sat still and made no reply. He resisted the urge to write in his notebook, and was careful not to steer the conversation back to where he just left off. He thought about a different approach. “You are right Ben. We are just spinning our wheels here. I have an idea which may get us more quickly to understanding your dream. I would like to schedule you for a sleep study.”
Ben looked up at the doctor. “A sleep study?”
“Yes, Ben. I would need to attend of course. Generally, when I order a sleep study it is to ascertain whether or not a patient has a physical problem such as sleep apnea, or restless leg syndrome. In your case, I would be on hand to wake you precisely when you reach the R. E. M. or rapid eye movement, phase of sleep. If we time your waking correctly, you may remember some new detail in your dream that has so far, eluded you.”
“How would you know when to wake me?”
“Well, Ben, the sleep clinic technician will place sticky patches with sensors called electrodes on your scalp, face, chest, limbs, and finger. While you sleep, these sensors will record your brain activity, eye movements, heart rate and rhythm, blood pressure, and the amount of oxygen in your blood. In most cases, the recorded data is later read by a specialist, and a treatment is recommended. In your case however, the data will be closely monitored in real time by yours truly, and I will wake you precisely when your data reveals that you are in the REM dream state.”
“How will you know if I am dreaming the right dream?”
“Duck soup Ben. Your dream wakes your wife each night, does it not? When you begin to vocalize or cry out, I will watch your data and wake you at the appropriate time.”
“Do you think it will work?”
“I think that there is a strong possibility that you are missing some small detail which would shed some new light and give us a better understanding of your persistent dream. It is my opinion that when you connect all the dots, the dream will go away. If waking you helps us to get to your answers more quickly, it is certainly worth the effort.”
“Let’s do it then.”
“Okay Ben. I am going to try and get you in either this Friday or Saturday night. These are the only two nights that will not disrupt my day schedule. Could you be available this weekend?”
“Sure I can Doctor Levine, but can I ask you something?”
“Of course Ben, what is your question?”
“Is this something you would normally do? I mean, will you be up all night? Is this going to cost me a fortune?”
“Keeping crazy hours is all part of the job Ben, no pun intended. I will get some rest before the sleep study. As for my payment, I will bill you as I would a regular office visit. Nothing more. Is this agreeable to you?”
“Yes, Doctor it is, and thanks.”
Doctor Levine pressed the intercom switch.
“Cathy, please schedule a sleep study appointment for Mr.. Fisher for this coming Friday or Saturday in the Vernon Hills facility. Also let them know that I plan on being in attendance during the study.”
It felt like some kind of strange medical sleep-over to Ben when the Saturday of the sleep study finally arrived. The sleep clinic was located in a strip mall squeezed in-between a tanning salon and a submarine sandwich shop. Ben wondered if he would even be able to sleep with the many electrodes and wires taped all over his body.
Doctor Levine sat with his feet up in a large reclining chair next to the bed where Ben was lying. He was reading a paperback, and spoke very little to the sleep technician as she was wiring Ben up. After testing all of the connections and giving Ben a sleep mask, she moved to an adjoining room where all the computer hardware was located and spoke to Ben over an intercom.
“Okay Mister Fisher, all of the sensors are working properly. Just try to relax. There is no hurry for you to fall asleep. You can watch TV or read if you wish. If you need me for anything, press the intercom button on your bed.”
Ben wondered how he would ever be able to fall asleep in the strange environment, but much to his surprise, he was sound asleep within the hour. A few hours later the dream came. It began as it always did, with the tourist town and the horseback riders. The bus crashed as always into the mansion on the river, followed by the cocktail party next door. The old man once again gave his hug, still smelling like Aqua
Velva after shave.
The dream continued on to the row boat and Matt and Ben watching the monkey on the water tower and then the storm and the fire and the monkey again headed straight for the boat and shrieking.
“Ben wake up.”
Ben could feel the wind shaking the boat above him. Something was different. Was it Matt asking him to wake up?
“Mister Fisher wake up.”
More shaking.
“Ben, wake up.”
Ben opened his eyes. Above him stood a man and a woman. The man was gently shaking him on his shoulders. Then he remembered where he was, in the strip mall. He also remembered why he was there, and he knew what the missing piece was in his dream. He also knew he wasn’t going to tell what the detail was to his doctor, nor anyone else.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
An Unexpected Connection ( Present Day )
t first, right after the psychiatrist woke him from his dream, Ben felt kind of — disconnected. It took him a minute to sort out where he was. It was that same feeling you get when you sleep in a place other than your own bed and you have to remember where you are. He also felt an unfamiliar pinching, which was caused by the many electrodes that were taped all over his head, chest, arms and legs. The voice of Doctor Levine brought him back to a full realization of where he was.
There was another thought swimming around in Ben’s head, which had a much higher priority than just waking up and remembering where he was. He knew what the unremembered element was that had been trying to be revealed by his subconscious all these many months. He wanted to spring to his feet, pat his doctor on the back and thank him for a job well done; and get the heck out of the strip-mall clinic as fast as his feet would carry him. Something deeper inside him told him to not share his new-found revelation. That same voice told him to play it very cool right now, and act as if there was no new information.
Another thing Ben knew instinctively that early morning was that he would never have the dream again. Knowing this made him feel a kind of beatific melancholy. One side knew that he would sleep better than he had in months, but the other side of him had gotten used to the dream. It had become a familiar part of his daily routine, and he thought for the first time that he might even miss it. Perhaps it was just the uneasiness that change brings that was giving him this nostalgic feeling.
“Ben, are you aware of where you are?”
Ben moved his hard-wired arms slowly towards his face, and rubbing his eyes, he stared blankly at Doctor Levine. He hadn’t expected that upon waking, he would have to put on an act, and that he was already beginning his charade by playing the role of a sleepy-headed semi-conscious Ben Fisher. In reality, he was so exited he could hardly hold still.
A voice over the intercom revealed to his doctor that Ben’s brain activity was showing that he was fully awake and aware, and indicating above average activity in the hypothalamus. “Thanks a lot!” He thought to himself. He could not play the sleepy role any longer. He wondered what in the world the hypothalamus was.
“Ben, the technician and I believe we woke you during the dream. Can you remember what you were dreaming and if so, was it your recurring dream?”
Ben wondered if the trained psychiatrist would see through him if he held his new information back. Would Doctor Levine know he was not being altogether truthful? Maybe his doctor would not be as perceptive in the middle of the night. It was the moment of truth. He was going to have to say something, but how should he respond? Should he say that it was not the recurring dream at all, or that it was the dream and there was no new information. Did he talk in his sleep? Jill had heard him do so hundreds of times. He decided he better play it safe and acknowledge that it was indeed the recurring dream.
“Hi Doctor Levine, yes, it was the dream.”
“Ben, it is important that we put down very quickly in writing anything that you can remember, albeit it may be the same ground we have already covered. It is also very important that we do this immediately.”
“Doctor Levine, I don’t think there is anything new—”
“Ben forgive me for interrupting, but you should not deviate in any way from the narrative of your dream. It is vital that you tell me now whatever you remember.”
Ben gave the psychiatrist a rudimentary accounting of his dream, being careful to try not to get excited in the segment of the dream which held the newly revealed secret. He thought that the electrodes might be a kind of sophisticated lie detector, and that his hypothalamus would surely tell on him, but after narrating the dream in it’s entirety, his doctor merely made some notes in his notebook. Doctor Levine was as expressionless as a professional poker player, and Ben could not read anything in his doctor’s demeanor which would indicate that he was found out. There was no usual raising of the eyebrow, no tell-tale tapping of his pen. If the doctor had any suspicion that Ben was holding back, he masked it very well.
Ben felt very odd, even guilty with the sudden change of his relationship with his doctor. The very man who helped him solve his problem was now being kept entirely out of the loop. Ben was sad that he could not tell Levine that he had not only had a break-through, but an instant cure for his recurring dream. He would tell the doctor when the whole thing was played out, when it was over, but it would have to wait for now.
“Ben, I suggest that you try and go to sleep again. You are scheduled for an entire night of sleep-study, and we may get more information if the dream comes back. Even if the dream does not occur again tonight, we may learn some physiological things about your sleep which may play a part in your sleep difficulties.”
“Okay Doctor, I will give it a shot. Will you be staying? I hate to have you stay up all night on my account.”
“Yes, Ben, but I will be in another room. The facility has another bed for doctors who need to be on site. I will give the technician instructions to wake me if she sees any indications that would suggest you are dreaming again.”
The doctor looked up from his notebook, and looked directly at Ben. He paused for a long moment, and then he said, “I have the feeling you will not dream again tonight.”
Ben clearly seen the raised eyebrow that he was looking for earlier. He wondered if the doctor learned more from the exchange that he had let on, but Ben decided he was just being paranoid and shrugged it off.
The doctor was right though. Ben fell back asleep, and slept better than he had in years. His sleep was not visited by any dream. It was a deep, dark, refreshing sleep which was unbroken until the morning when he was awoken by an entirely new face gently shaking his right shoulder.
“Good morning Mister Fisher. Time to wake up. Your sleep study is complete. We will send all the data to your doctor. Feel free to take a shower if you wish. Your personal effects are in the dressing room closet adjacent to the shower. Take your time. We have all day to prepare the room for our next patient.”
Ben decided to just splash some water on his face and dress quickly. He couldn’t wait to get home and talk to Jill. He packed his pajamas into his duffel and took one last look around the room where he had slept. He was slightly embarrassed to find that during his deep sleep he had drooled quite a bit on the white linen pillow case. He made no apology, but just said goodbye to the technician and left.
Then, as he was driving back home, another thought occurred to him. What if his hunch was wrong. What would happen if he told Jill everything and he took the trip to his boyhood home, only to find that it was a dead end? Jill would not understand the trip in the first place. She would certainly have great reservations justifying the expense of his traveling all the way to Rhinelander because of a dream. They were living on her part-time salary and food stamps and when things were very tight, they had to ask her family for help just to pay the utilities.
He knew in his heart that he had to make the trip, and his gut told him to do it quickly. He had to think fast and come up with a good reason to go without letting on entirely to Jill what his reason is for going. He did not lie to his
wife. He never had a reason to. He was a pretty much a home-body, rarely making plans which did not include his family. On rare occasions he would go out to visit his old friends, usually when one of them was back in town.
This trip posed a difficult problem. How much should he tell Jill? He knew that a lie of prevarication was after all, still a lie. He decided to just ask her to trust him, and he would tell her all when he got back.
When Ben pulled into the driveway, Jill and the boys were already outside on the front deck. She was dressed in an off-white lightly printed floral dress, and the early morning sun washed his wife in a warm inviting light, which made her look beautiful to him. The twins were dressed in matching little grey suits, which made them look like undersized little ushers at an imaginary wedding. The twins wasted little time in climbing directly into the van’s back seat. Ben had forgotten it was Sunday morning, and that they would be waiting for him to make use of their only vehicle. Jill kissed him and asked how the sleep study went, but had no time to really wait for an answer. Ben told her through the open car window that she looked beautiful and that he would fill her in when she returned. She smiled and began backing the van down the driveway. Ben was happy he had a couple hours to formulate his plan to go north, and how he would approach breaking the news of the trip to her.
He went in and poured himself a cup of coffee. It was always a crapshoot as to whether the coffee would be rocket fuel brewed by the scientists at NASA, or whether it would be the way he liked it, which was slightly more on the mild side. This morning Jill had hit the magic number of scoops, and to his delight the coffee was perfect. He went back out on the deck. The aroma of the coffee mingled with the sweet scent of the blooming lilac bushes which bordered the front deck. He was watching a bumble-bee moving from flower to flower and he thought about how much he would miss this place when his family would be forced to move.
He ruminated once again about how he owed so little on his home, and was nearly finished paying off his mortgage when his life was turned upside-down with the loss of his job. He tried to concentrate on the nearfuture and the immediate task at hand.
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