After the Dream

by Stan Mason

  ‘Buses!’ she yelled again as she stopped trembling before coming back to reality and sitting down in her seat again. Her embarrassment was rife as all the passengers stared in her direction.

  Within a few moments a stewardess came to her rather concerned. ‘Are you all right, Madam?’ she asked pleasantly. ‘Is there anything I can get you?’

  Diana shook her head and waved her hand in despair to usher her away. ‘I’m fine, thank you. I just had a moment,’ she managed to say. ‘But I’m all right now.’ She swallowed hard when she realised what she had done. Buses! Her mind moved to Vivien Williams, the therapist, and his method of word association. Perhaps after all that was the way forward to recovering her memory. Word association! He had told her that the brain functioned in mysterious ways. Maybe she had been wrong to stop seeing the man but it was too late now. Ten years too late! She had cut the proverbial umbilical cord after the first session.

  After arriving in Agadir, she entered Dr. Mahmoud’s office to find him sleeping at his desk.

  ‘Dr. Mahmoud!’ she called out, shaking him gently when he failed to awaken.

  He opened his eyes, grunted and stared at her bleakly for a moment.

  ‘Mrs. Templeton,’ he muttered gruffly. ‘Has six months gone by already? It’s like I saw you only a month ago.’

  ‘You don’t look so good, if you don’t mind me saying so, doctor,’ she told him, sitting down opposite the scientist. She noticed the thinness of his face, the way his body seemed to have shrunk. He had lost a lot of weight. He puckered up his face tiredly, staring directly into her eyes. ‘I haven’t been too well lately,’ he muttered softly. ‘The side-effects I suffered were totally different to the ones you experienced. With me there was a great deal of vomiting, lack of appetite, lots of shaking, and much sleep. Too much sleep. I find myself away for only ten hours a day. The ferradil-x tablets are very effective.’

  ‘I’m sorry to hear that,’ she told him sadly. ‘How do you account for it?’

  ‘It’s an experiment,’ he replied earnestly, shaking his head slowly. ‘Our bodies are made up of chemical which work in different ways. The effects are not the same for each person. You suffered some strange effects....with me they were different.’

  She looked at him perceptively. ‘I think that you’ve take too many ferradil-x tablets in your research and they’ve taken their toll on your body. You need to take on two each morning and two each night. What you’re probably doing is taking three or even four tablets at a time. You’re pushing yourself beyond the limit.’

  He smiled easily. ‘You know, I’m the scientist; you’re my patient, yet you have put your finger on the pulse. I shall take your advice. What about yourself?’

  Diana shrugged her shoulders. ‘As for myself, well I haven’t had any more side-effects. The tablets seemed to have settled down.’

  ‘And your memory? What about that?’

  She explained that it was returning in fits and starts elaborating on the interview with Vivien Williams.

  He nodded his head when she had finished. ‘You should have continued with the treatment,’ he told her sagely. ‘It would do you no harm. It’s devoid of drugs or surgical treatment.’

  ‘Except that he suggested electroshock treatment,’ she riposted. ‘I think he went too far on that one.’

  ‘It might possibly be considered the swiftest answer although I would not recommend it myself. It’s brutal to the brain and it could cause you to regress further.’

  She had already dismissed the idea so she changed the subject quickly to pose an important question to the scientist. ‘How are the animals in the experiment?’ she asked point-blank.

  ‘They’re all doing fine. None of them appear to be ageing. They’re all very well.’ He placed a hand under his chin as if he was about to fall asleep again.

  ‘You’ve lost a lot of weight,’ she called out in a loud voice hoping that he could keep his eyes open.

  He stared at her blearily. ‘That’s another of the side-effects but I’ve started to eat better. The tablets seem to be using up all the fat in my body. If I reduce the does, I should return to good health in due course.’

  She left the office with the renowned scientist fast asleep in his chair. It was a worrying thought that he might fade away with either weight loss or in his sleep. She had never experience side-effects of that nature but, as the scientist had told her, everyone’s chemical make-up was different. If he was taking more that two ferradil-x tablets at a time, there was no doubt he would have violent changes in his metabolism.

  After leaving, she took a taxi to Ahmed’s office, determined to repair the bridge between them. To her dismay he wasn’t there. The man in the next office saw her banging on the lawyer’s door and he told her that it was a public holiday and the office was closed. Diana was in a dilemma. Should she go to the hovel where he lived or would he be in the public square? She decided on the latter and eventually passed the man in rags playing the flute in front of the swaying cobra in the tall wicker basket to enter. Ahmed was sitting on the same bench sea where he had first met her. He was holding his head in his hands as though thinking deeply and he didn’t know that she was there until she sat down beside him and spoke to him.

  ‘It seems that most days are public holidays in Morocco,’ she joked.

  He looked up and gave a gasp of amazement as an expression of delight appeared on his face. ‘Diana!’ he exclaimed brightly. ‘What ae you doing here?’ He clasped her hands and moved slightly towards her with joy.

  ‘I came to see Dr. Mahmoud,’ she informed him.

  He thought for a moment. ‘Is there something between you and him?’ he asked suspiciously, with a tinge of jealousy sounding in his voice. ‘Surely you don’t come to Agadir just to see him!’ He paused to look at her face. ‘Or is it because you come to see me?’

  ‘Just listen to yourself,’ she laughed loudly, teasing him in mock anger. ‘You’re an arrogant pretentious lawyer! Do you really think I travelled all this way just to see you? Well you’re truly mistaken!’

  This time it was his turn to burst into laughter at her tirade. ‘Oh you beautiful lovely lady,’ he expressed in the warmest of tones. ‘You are humorous. I think I’m in love with you.’

  ‘I bet you say that to all the young women in Agadir,’ she riposted smiling at him. ‘Do you have a wife or a girlfriend?’

  ‘I don’t have much time for women,’ he replied with a smile on his face. ‘My work takes up most of my time.’

  ‘And pigs have wings!’ she guffawed. ‘Don’t you ever want to get married?’

  He became serious for a moment. ‘When the right woman comes along.’ He paused to clarify the comment. ‘In my religion, a man can have four wives if he wants. The problem is financial....one has to pay for their keep. My firm only makes a limited amount of money each year. If I had four wives I would almost be bankrupt.’

  ‘Why don’t you stare with just one?’ she suggested plainly. ‘Find one that you love and go on from there.’

  ‘You have wonderful romantic ideas, Diana,’ he countered, ‘but I’m not in love with anyone.....except for you, of course.’

  ‘Of course,’ she concurred with amusement although she didn’t believe he was being serious.

  ‘How’s your memory?’ he asked eventually having carefully avoided the subject so far.

  ‘Improving,’ she told him tersely. ‘I still can’t remember much’

  ‘You don’t recall how we met and you told me how much you loved me,’ he said teasingly.

  ‘You know the one thing I can’t stand in life is a person who lies to me,’ she told him with a serious expression on her face although she was laughing inside.

  ‘Perhaps if we go back to the Forest of Snakes where you lost your memory something might come back to you.’

&nb
sp; She considered his idea for a moment and then decided to follow it through. ‘Okay,’ she told him bluntly. ‘Let’s do it but I don’t think we’ll have much luck.’

  ‘Think positively,’ he responded quickly. ‘Negativity will get you nowhere.’

  He took her hand and they stood up and walked out of the public square, past the ragged flautist playing to the cobra in the basket.. They walked up the road which was littered with palm trees on the pavement of both sides. She felt comfortably in his company, holding his hand tightly while he was delighted to be in her presence.

  ‘Had any dreams about me lately? He stared adoringly at her

  beautiful face.

  ‘Not a thing,’ she answered flatly. ‘I haven’t had any dreams at all. I’m sure I used to enjoy them but they don’t come any more.’

  They moved on fairly swiftly in the hot sunshine and soon arrived at the Hotel Sahara which stood opposite the Forest of Snakes. They sat on the same seat as they had done before she was attacked and continued their conversation.

  ‘I left you here sitting on this seat,’ he reminded, hoping to achieve a positive result.

  She hesitated trying to focus her mind on the past. ‘You did and I believe I watched you walk away, although I cannot be certain. At lease I might have remembered that.’

  ‘I kissed you on the hand and then left. You watched me go.’

  She pressed her mind to try to reveal what actually happened. ‘The man must have come out of the wood and attacked me.’

  ‘What did he look like? What did he say? Was he wearing a black mask? Did you tell him you had no money?’

  ‘Easy...easy!’ she countered sharply. ‘If I knew the answers to those questions I’d have my memory back.’

  ‘You have to remember something!’

  ‘I must have told him that my money was all in the hotel. I didn’t have any on me. But it’s all conjecture. I didn’t have any on me.’

  ‘Then a gun went off. Did you hear the shot?’

  ‘I was once told that you never hear the shot of the bullet that gets you. Look, I appreciate your efforts in trying to help me but this is a waste of time.’

  ‘I’m not a psychologist....I’m a lawyer,’ he ventured, ‘but I think I have the answer to your problem although it won’t be easy to resolve.’

  ‘And what is this fantastic idea that’ll resolve all my problems?’

  ‘You need to visit every place where something happened to you in the past. Places where you once lived, houses where you stayed, people you once knew, and so on. As I said, it won’t be easy but it’s a way for you to bring back all those memories.’

  ‘Oh, Ahmed,’ she retorted sadly. ‘What about all those people who have gone....the houses that have been demolished, the change in the places where I used to live. My parents died in a car crash in the South of France. I can’t bring them back! How is it possible to go back?’

  He screwed up his face in annoyance at the holes she had found in his suggestion and fell silent. They walked back into the town and sat in a restaurant facing each other, ordering a meal which was placed before them.

  ‘Did you receive my letter?’ he asked fervently, toying with the food on his plate. ‘I hope you weren’t offended.’

  ‘Of course not,’ she replied easily. ‘I was pleased to receive it. You’re my friend in Agadir. People have so few friends....real friends...in life I regard you as one of mine.’

  ‘I’m happy you think so,’ he added solemnly, ‘but you still consider me as a friend and nothing more. I’ve been thinking a lot about you lately. You have such a beautiful face....such a wonderful mind...and a remarkable calm attitude to life. I can’t get you out of my mind.’

  ‘I’m flattered,’ she returned modestly, ‘but I’m a married woman.’ She had never thought that not getting divorced from her husband would be something to her advantage.

  ‘I know... I know and I’m a Muslim... you’re a Christian but there are lines which can be crossed between a man and a woman when chemistry aligns them closely together however remote the circumstances.’

  ‘What are you saying, Ahmed?’ Her tone was sharp and direct.

  ‘I don’t really know,’ he admitted gloomily. ‘I’m scared to say it but I’ve fallen in love with you.’

  ‘Ahmed!’ she admonished. ‘You so many years younger than me. I’d be more like a mother to you than a lover.’

  ‘No...nothing like that!’ he snapped. ‘I’d treat you in a way no other man would. I’d love you, caress you, take good care of you...’

  She raised her hand to interrupt him. ‘You don’t realise what you’re saying,’ she chided gently. ‘For one thing, I’m too old to have children. There would be no family and I know how important family is to Muslims. That’s just the starter.’

  ‘I don’t care about children,’ he retorted swiftly. ‘I just want you!’

  ‘Your comments are appreciated but you fail to realise that I’m still a married woman. In any case, I don’t think I want to be the first of four wives,’ she told him with a lilt of laughter in her voice.

  ‘There would be no others!’

  ‘You say that now but you might feel different in the future. I also don’t think your family would condone my divorce from my husband.’

  ‘I don’t care what they’d say. It’s my business!’ He was certainly laying his cards on the table.

  ‘And what happens after the honeymoon when your ardour has faded? What happens then?’

  He hardly needed time to answer the questions. ‘My ardour will never fade as far as you’re concerned.’

  They finished the meal and he led her back to the Hotel Sahara.

  ‘Think about what I said,’ he told her finally, taking her hand and kissing it gently. ‘I’ll wait for you however long it takes.’

  On that note he departed leaving her bemused by their conversation. He had clearly fallen in love with her but she felt that he was more like a friend than a lover. After all, he was so much younger to say the least. And there were all the other matters to take into account. Yet he still said that he loved her. What a thing to say? She really had no idea how to deal with his sudden display of ardour. If she took him on board as a lover it would provide her with too many problems none of which she intended to handle at this point in her life. And then came the image of that awful hovel he called a home. No...she simply wanted him as a friend. There was nothing more than that between them!

  * * *

  When she arrived back in England, she found a letter on the doormat which stated that Gloria had been sent to a hospice. Without delay she went directly to see her and was shown into a small room where her friend was resting. Gloria had lost at least two stone in weight in a very short time and she was looking dreadfully ill.

  ‘This is a fine kettle of fish,’ began Diana, taking hold of her friend’s skinny hand. ‘How are you feeling.’

  ‘How do you think?’ snapped Gloria with a wry expression on her wrinkled face. ‘I’m dying....probably just a few days or weeks to live’ She paused to gaze out of the window. ‘There are so many thing I wanted to do in life and I put them aside to do later. Now it’s too late. You never realise it until it’s too late!’

  ‘Is there anything I can do for you?’ uttered Diana softly.

  ‘You could cure me but you don’t have the power,’ came the caustic reply.

  ‘But I do, Gloria,’ confided her friend boldly. ‘I had a friend in Agadir...an English woman who was cured of cancer by this brilliant scientist. Every doctor in England had given up on her. I’m under the same man....he treats me. I could take you to Morocco and he might be able to cure you.’

  ‘Go abroad... to Morocco!’ savaged her friend in disbelief. ‘I think I’d rather die. I’m not letting those foreigners get their hands
on me...no way!’

  ‘Forgive me for saying this,’ continued Diana bluntly, ‘but you will die if you just stay here and let it happen.’

  ‘I’m not going abroad!’ cried Gloria adamantly with tears running down her face. ‘I can’t stand foreigners. It’s bad enough that some of the staff here come from Africa or the West Indies. Can’t stand them!’

  ‘This has to be the time when you dispense with these crazy ideas!’ declared Diana curtly. ‘It’s only a short flight. You could be there tomorrow morning having the treatment that might save you.’

  ‘Look at this wig,’ stated her friend ignoring the recommendation. ‘I lost my hair through chemotherapy. It was terrible!’

  ‘You’re not listening to me, Gloria,’ persisted Diana firmly. ‘Come with me to Agadir!’

  ‘Leave me alone and let me die in peace,’ bleated Gloria lamely. ‘I’m going to die so let it be in peace.’

  Diana sat back in the visitor’s chair exhaling loudly. ‘I remember something that you said about me,’ she rattled angrily. ‘You said there’s none so deaf as those who don’t hear. Well you’re the one not listening now. I’ll ask you one more time. Come with me to Morocco and let my good doctor treat you. I ask for nothing more.’

  ‘Let it go, Diana,’ came the response. ‘I’m not going abroad...not for any reason.’

  Diana shook her head sadly. ‘I’m sorry to hear that, Gloria. I’m sure Dr. Mahmoud would be able to help you.’