The guy looked up sullenly, surprised that someone he didn’t know should know his boss. “Who wants to know?”
“Garrett Moon.”
The guy spoke into an intercom and a minute later a side door opened. Milo Landry stepped into the room, tall and lean in his black chinos and navy polo shirt, his face impassive, his eyes empty of any emotion. “What do you want, Moon?”
“I want to talk with Drake.”
“What about?”
Moon felt the tension in the back of his neck. “I want to talk with him,” he said. “Not you.”
Milo shrugged and nodded towards the door. Moon followed him down a hall to an office at the rear of the building. Milo opened the door and they went inside. “A ghost come to pay a visit.”
Drake looked up from a computer and studied Moon. After a while, he said, “Garrett Moon, back from the dead. How are the dreams?”
“Good as they ever were.”
“Tell me about them.”
Moon shook his head. “Some other time. There’s something else I want to talk to you about. Alone.”
Drake glanced at Milo. “You should know Milo’s a trusted business associate.” He turned round in his chair, reached into a cabinet and brought out a bottle of scotch and two glasses. “Sit, pretend he’s not here.”
Moon sat and took the drink. He needed something to lubricate his mouth. “You got a kid working for you—Lucas.”
“I have lots of people work for me these days.”
Moon looked at Milo, saw nothing written on his face. “Lucas, who you’re going to put in a dreamflick.”
Drake leaned back in his seat and ran his hands over his blond hair. “And?”
“I’d appreciate it if you didn’t use him.”
“Why are you interested in this kid?”
“Maybe Moon’s queer for him,” Milo said.
Moon ignored the jibe. “He’s a friend.”
“You never had any friends,” Drake said. “Except me.”
“And that spaced out pigeon,” Milo said, his mouth splitting in a wide grin. “What was her name?”
“Her name was Lacey,” Moon said, through gritted teeth.
“Lacey,” Drake frowned. “I forgot about her. We all did. I guess that’s what happens when you get dreamed out of existence. Isn’t that so, Garrett?”
Milo caught Moon’s eye. “You ever dream about her, Moon? Or about Despern?”
“I didn’t come here to talk history.”
“You were supposed to be history,” Drake said. “Despern was a close associate of Astorbilt. He’s still aggrieved at the loss.”
“Aggrieved is the word.” Milo nodded. “But what Moon’s getting at is this Lucas kid’s got a girlfriend. The one I told you about.”
Moon spoke to Drake. “Do this and I’ll be in your debt.”
“Jesus Garrett, you’ve always been in my debt. Or are you still dreaming? Anyway, that’s Milo’s area of expertise.”
“You could tell him to let the kid go.”
“What do you think, Milo? Can you do that?”
Milo’s smile barely concealed the threat. “Can’t do it, boss. I’ve got a lot invested in the kid. Besides, he shows real potential.”
“There you are, Garrett. My hands are tied.”
Moon turned to Milo. “You don’t need them. Find someone else.”
“Don’t tell me what I need, Mitty,” Milo said.
“I think you better go now,” Drake said.
Moon stood. “Leave the girl alone.”
Milo grabbed a fistful of his shirt. “Don’t ever tell me what to do.”
“Come on, now, Milo,” Drake said. “Let him go.”
Milo released him and pulled the door open. “On your way.”
Moon stopped at the door and looked back at Drake.
“Get a hold of yourself,” Drake said. “You’re too fucked up to be dreaming of little girls.”
*
Moon stared across the darkened street at the Orpheum, trying to remember what it had been like when he had dreamed for a living. After Lacey disappeared, he’d searched for her in his dreams. He’d spent so long in dreams he’d burned himself out. He hadn’t dreamt since then, not until a couple of nights ago. Now he felt that if he returned to the room, he might never come out.
He crossed the street, believing he had no choice.
The room was empty. He stood in the doorway, tremors running through his body. He felt weak and a little unhinged. What’s the matter with you, he asked himself. She’s not yours. You owe her nothing. It was true, but even so, she had a hold on him. He stumbled to the bed and collapsed, his body trembling with relief and anticipation. So be it. If this is what I’m reduced to, then let the dreams come. And very soon, they did.
*
Together we walk hand in hand through the snow-carpeted rooms, removing footprints from the white as we go. It’s like we’re heading backwards in time, erasing the past and preparing the ground for some new future. This is how it works, she tells me. This is how they don’t find us. Snowflakes as big as my fist sail through the air and cling to the walls like painted stars, creating a universe as real as the one I’ve left behind. I understand that we are losing ourselves.
Shannon lays her head on my shoulder and I turn, wanting to tell her something real. Except it’s not her face I see but my own reflection in a mirror and just for one second I glimpse the skull beneath my skin, grinning back at me, and inside the skull there’s only darkness. It feels like I’m missing from the world I made for myself. It is too much truth for one dream.
I find her again in another room and tell her all the things I believe she wants to hear. They don’t feel like lies when she opens her mouth and lets her tongue dance around mine, letting me taste the sweetness of her being.
The taste of her is still on my lips as something changes and I pull away as she screams and clutches at her face. I stare in horror at the raw, bloody creature that rips itself from her mouth and hits the floor with a wet smack. The viscid creature pulls itself together and looks up at me with the face of Lacey and opens her arms.
I make the moon spin me to another world.
We lay together on a bed of soft grass, touching each other with a mixture of curiosity and desire. The drowsy heat evaporates the sweat from our bodies and adds a touch of restraint to our lovemaking, creating a bubble of unreality about us. It feels like I’ve finally made a world that other dreamers cannot invade. Afterwards, I flesh out the dream with borrowed images. I lay on my back to smoke a cigarette and watch clouds scud across the sky like balls of cotton. A breeze carries the music of the carnival from faraway and cools my body. Feeling her shiver beside me, I squeeze her reassuringly and look up to see more clouds coming together to form a continuous sheet of white. My heart trips a little faster as the mist settles over us and leeches all the warmth from the world.
A click-clacking noise comes from a nearby room, a harsh tune played on a bone marimba. “We’re coming for ya,” the clowns sing. “We’re coming for ya, we were always coming for ya.”
*
He woke abruptly, the unsettling rhythm still pounding in his brain. He fell off the bed and tried to puke. Crawling to the window he opened the curtain a crack and looked out on a world he didn’t know. He couldn’t make sense of the dream. It was as though Shannon had been there with him but they’d failed to connect. You don’t really know her. The Shannon you dreamed is not who she really is. He remembered something she’d told him before, about hiding in dreams, or between them. Except, that had been a dream too.
He started down, trying to escape the feeling of intrusion. Are these your dreams, or someone else’s? Had he left some part of himself in the dreaming room years ago? He heard a scream from down in the foyer. For a moment he thought it must be an echo of his dream, but when it came again he recognised the voice. He sped downstairs to see Shannon on the floor in front of the reception counter, Lucas standing over her, the vei
ns bulging in his neck and forehead.
“No, no, no,” he roared. “Stupid fucking cunt.”
Moon raced across the floor and smashed into him, knocking the kid to the floor. He rolled away and scrambled to his feet, looking for Shannon who was struggling to her feet. Lucas pushed himself up onto his hands and knees and dabbed at his mouth. He looked at Shannon. “Fucking crazy bitch,” he snarled as he moved towards her.
Moon punched him in the face and kicked him in the ribs. Shannon screamed for him to stop but he didn’t, not until Lucas was still. He kneeled, rolled him over on his back and saw that he was out. He went to Shannon who lashed out with her fists. He made no effort to defend himself, relishing the fact that he could feel pain. It meant that this was real. Finally, she wore herself out and collapsed against him.
“I dumped his pills,” she sobbed. “I thought it would break the hold.”
“You did right,” Moon said.
“He told me what they want. I said no. He started hitting me.”
“It’s all right now.”
“You hurt him.”
“He’ll live. He’ll come to in a while but you need to be gone.”
She nodded and he helped her stand. Outside, Moon hailed a cab and took her back to his apartment. She sat in the armchair in front of the TV, watching a game show while he made coffee. She spoke little and he asked her no questions. The nightmares that had tormented him a little while ago began to fade and he allowed himself to believe that he had done the right thing.
Soon, he saw a smile come over her face as she watched the TV and he imagined her watching something else, something more real, like Lara Flynn Boyle in The Way Some People Die, or Kathleen Turner in Double Indemnity. Would she see something of herself in them? Somebody she could be?
“What you looking at me that way for?” she said, bringing him out of his daydream.
“No reason. How do you feel?”
“I’m okay,” she said, yawning. “Tired.”
He pointed to the bedroom. “Why don’t you grab some sleep,” he told her. “I have to go out a while.”
“Do you have to?” He nodded. “Would you stay with me a while?”
His brain felt fogged and he could hardly speak. “I…” he began, and started again. “You should get some rest.”
Shannon stood and pulled the jacket and hoody over her head. Beneath it she wore a loose black t-shirt. She walked to the bedroom, stopped in the doorway and turned to him. “I don’t want to be alone right now,” she said, as she pulled off the t-shirt, revealing her small, pale breasts.
Moon’s head swam with desire. He looked away from her, trying to tell himself it was only a dream. “Why are you doing this?”
“Because you want me.”
“You don’t owe me anything.
“What are you frightened of?”
“You.”
She laughed softly. “I don’t believe that.”
“Of getting close and…and losing you.”
“I lose myself sometimes.” She went to the bed.
He followed her into the room. “I know.”
“You shouldn’t let that stop you.” She reached up, took hold of his hand and pulled him down. He didn’t have the heart to tell her that in his dreams it never had. Instead, as they fucked, he let himself believe he was no longer dreaming.
*
She woke before him. He found her in the living room watching TV and eating a bowl of Banana Nut Cheerios. “I was hungry,” she said, her back to him. “I used to eat these all the time.”
“There’s eggs and bacon,” Moon said, as he put the kettle on.
“This is good.”
He spooned instant coffee into a cup, and tried to understand what had happened. As he watched Shannon, his emotions hovered somewhere between elation and panic. He couldn’t remember when he’d last been with a woman he’d hadn’t paid for. Maybe not since Lacey. What he felt seemed real and vital, worth holding on to. But that possibility made him anxious. One false move and you’re left holding nothing. You should never have brought her here, never got involved. Too late for that, he knew. She’s here now. You made this real, so figure how to help her.
Later, he told her he had to go see someone. She asked if he was going back to the hotel. He shook his head. “Milo will be watching it, looking out for you.”
“What about Lucas?”
He pulled on a leather sports jacket. “You should forget about him.”
Shannon avoided his gaze and looked down at her hands. “I can’t.”
“Yes you can.”
“He’s not a bad person, really. He—he just wants to be someone.”
“You don’t owe him anything.”
“He helped me get out of a bad situation.”
“Now you have to help yourself.” He took hold of her hand. “Stay here a while. A few days till we can figure something out.”
She nodded. “I’ll wait.”
It was past three by the time he returned to Wharfdale. He was tired and edgy, unable to shake off the feeling he was being watched. He’d gone to see Arctor, asked him if he could get papers for the girl. Arctor said he could get most things for the right price. He told Moon it would take a few days. Moon returned via Smoketown, had the taxi slide by the Orpheum but saw no sign of Lucas. It was for the best. There was nothing he wanted to say to the kid. Shannon was better off without him. Where did that leave her? Last night meant something. At least to him. But that didn’t mean she felt the same. The truth was, he didn’t know what was happening. The uncertainty scared him. If he could get her ID, she had a chance. If she was safe, he could live with the fear.
The curtains were shut and the room was dark except for the TV flickering in the corner. He recognised Ellen Barkin as Marion Crane, listening to Kyle MacLachlan tell her about stuffed birds. He called Shannon’s name and went through to the bedroom. The light came on behind him and in the moment before his eyes could adapt, a voice said, “She’s gone, fuckhead.”
Somebody hit the back of his head. As he went down another punch caught him in the chest. His assailants worked him over with methodical determination. After a while, he couldn’t tell one blow from another. His mind reacted like it was all one impact, all one big bruise. Finally, the room was still and he felt a hand on his throat, lifting him, forcing him to connect. One eye opened but his vision was blurred. Something wiped the mess from his face, tenderly it seemed, and for a moment he believed that Shannon had come back. Then Milo’s face came into focus, six inches above his own.
“You get it now, Moon? The dream?”
He tried to speak but his mouth was thick and full. He turned his head to one side and coughed up a gob of dark blood. “The girl?” he asked, like it was a question to which only Milo knew the answer.
Milo smiled and let him go. “Drake said you shouldn’t dream of little girls.” Moon sank to the floor. The last thing he heard was the screech of Bernard Herrmann’s violins.
*
He became aware of different gradations of pain. It started in his feet and slowly worked its way up his body, reaching a peak by the time it hit his brain. It was worse when he tried to move but the thought of what Milo might be doing to Shannon forced him to his knees. He knelt for a minute, head hanging between his arms, trying to get to grips with the nausea that washed over him. Finally, he looked up and saw daylight streaming through the window. Slowly, he got to his feet.
He barely recognised himself in the bathroom mirror. He’d taken a hard beating, worse than any he remembered. He stripped off and stepped into the shower, wincing at the touch of the cold water, before it ran hot. His memories were opaque, like his dreams, and he began to question whether Shannon had really been there. Unlike the bruises that verified his encounter with Milo, he had nothing to confirm her presence. His thoughts were slow and confused, and he began to doubt himself, believing that nothing that had happened between them had been real.
It was past midday
when he left the apartment, acknowledging that he didn’t care if it had been a dream. He couldn’t let her go that easy. Tramadol dulled the pain and he took a cab to the Orpheum, knowing she wouldn’t be there, but hoping to find some clue to where Milo had taken her. The room on the second floor was empty. It smelled of stale memories. He searched the other rooms on the floor but found no trace of either of them. He felt more like a fool than her saviour but he kept on anyway, climbing to the third floor and then up to the fourth, the feeling growing stronger that she wasn’t far away.
He reached the hidden door to the attic and hesitated. She won’t be up there, he told himself. You already know that. This is not where you should be. You need to be out there, looking for her. He opened the door and started up the winding stairs. He told himself he was a coward and felt the weight of his self-loathing. The room was untouched since he had last dreamed there. He hated himself but it was the only way he knew. He sat heavily, full of impotent rage. Do it, he told himself. Dream her back.
*
At Amity Park, the carnival waits. I stroll along Cockaigne with my girl on my arm and the people lining both sides of the avenue watch us with dead eyes and mouths frozen in attitudes of envy. They yearn for something more than this approximation of life. I turn to Lacey and pull the string in her chest. An electronic voice tells me this is what she dreams. The good life we can still have. Her voice sounds older than it should, the words weighted by years of regret. The creatures on the sidewalks laugh and talk at the same time and what comes out of their mouths is not speech, just an ugly noise, like the sound of glass in a garbage disposal unit. I feel my own limbs seizing up, and my processor starting to shut down.
The void swallows me whole and spits me out in another part of the city. There’s a silver light from beyond which another voice speaks. The light fades and I hear water dripping and watch as damp paper unfurls from the walls as if the room is undressing itself. These are not my dreams. Not yet.
The Dream Operator Page 30