by A. Q. Moser
Billy moved to the far side and opened his arms out. “These are my relatives on very expensive portraits that were handed down to me over the years. Can you find my portrait?”
Scanning the wall behind Billy I found it. The life-sized painting had a teenager Billy dressed in an army uniform posing tall with one hand nested inside the front opening of a white dress shirt. “That one.” I pointed to a portrait hidden in the top corner slightly obscured by some bad lighting.
“That’s pretty good.” Billy was impressed. “I think you’re the fastest ever to do that.”
Turning my head to one side, I cracked and adjusted my neck. I was always good with noticing small details especially when challenged. The impression was first-rate.
“How’s the poster I gave you?” Billy oddly inquired.
“It’s fine.” The poster was for Marie but under the current circumstances, she would not talk to me because I abandoned her.
“So you went to Toronto High too?” Billy recollected.
“Yeah, you were three grades below me. Maybe we ran into each other in the school hallways?” I suggested, not believing we ever did meet previously.
“Hmm … maybe.” Billy looked impressed on how I responded. “Come I’ll show you some more.” Turning around he headed to the adjoining room.
From the ballroom through a different doorway, the portrait ballroom expanded to an exquisitely decorated dining room with matching dark hardwood floors. An elongated mahogany table, capable of seating over twenty people comfortably, lay as the centrepiece of the room. An empty Greek vase sat on the ornate table and four modern chairs positioned about one for each side of the table. An enormous fireplace with handmade bricks situated on the side the wall with a mantle shelf boasting five pyramid-shaped crystal trophies won at the American Music Awards. The brilliant twinkle in the room was from a crystal-ceiling chandelier. The walls were stained a deep bronze that bestowed the room its exquisite appeal.
“Do you like?” Billy checked for my approval.
“I have to admit that this is very impressive.” I smiled to appease Billy’s ego.
This room was comforting since it lacked the egotistical signature of a rich person that was so prominent in the previous room. And then it dawned on me. Was Billy playing me? Could the expensive portraits in the ballroom really be of his relatives? We attended the same high school but he was not rich back then?
“I thought you earned your money through singing? I thought you said the portraits were handed down?” I questioned.
Billy angled his head sideways. “Yeah, whatever. But I did have them painted later on.” Caught off guard, his selfish grin beamed with disregard.
I stared on examining Billy’s odd behaviour. What point was he trying to make? Why lie about the time period of the portraits?
“Money can do anythink and nobody’s the wiser,” Billy explained without any regret. “Let’s get down to business.”
We strode out of the dining room, down a poorly lit corridor. Billy opened a door and ushered me inside a plain, windowless room. Barring any sort of stimuli the room housed a three-screen peripheral monitor on top of a computer desk—a set-up to match the peripheral vision of the user. Six padded chairs on wheels were precariously scattered throughout the undecorated room.
Billy closed the door behind me and then sat down at the computer desk.
I followed suit and comfortably enjoyed the chair I choose. The air was stale as no vent was visible.
“How’s work?” Billy asked while admiring at his monitor.
“It’s the same thing as every other day. I go through a checklist to see if any computer parts are missing, run some tests, package the computers, and write reports. Nothing out of the ordinary,” I simplified easily.
Billy nodded. “You know a lot about computers?”
“Enough for me to keep my job, I guess.” I smiled but stopped short of laughing at my own joke.
“I was kind-of a tech geek durink my elementary days,” Billy proudly admitted. “I loved to play video games and chat with people across the world. I created my own computer games as a kid. I posted some of my good games and got a few thousand downloads.” He continued his pronunciation of words ending in ing with an ink sound.
“Really?” I was taken aback; my jaw dropped a notch by the revelation. Funny how fast people changed when given the opportunity? I could not imagine Billy the world famous rock star being anything other than a musician.
“My recent rock video game was a big hit, sold over ten million copies worldwide because of my ideas,” Billy claimed proudly.
“I think I played your game once.” Billy’s game was a first person adventure mixed with an interactive musical element.
“I’ve got tons of ideas.” Billy smugly grinned at his success.
I grew weary of the stale conceit in the computer room. “At the concert you mentioned that there were two others who tried to contact you.” I jumped directly to the prevailing issue. Enough of evading our purpose especially since Billy was more concerned with his ego than anything else.
“Um—” Billy swivelled in his chair. “Let me show you somethink. Computer on.”
I peered over Billy’s shoulder to watch.
“Yeah, there were two others,” Billy muttered. “They contacted me about a week ago.”
“Who are they?” I asked with a strong distaste in my mouth.
“Hold your horses. I only have their e-mail addresses. I need to find them first.” Billy searched through his bundles of e-mail folders.
“We should contact them to find out what they know. We could help each other to find out what is going on.” I wanted to know who these individuals were.
“You know I get thousands of e-mails each day.” Billy bragged. “I’ve saved every single one ever since I had my first computer. I care about my fans.”
Billy’s e-mails seemed to mean a lot to him, some sort of e-scrapbook of events and prospects. Strange how meticulous he was with his treatment of e-mails whereas his life was known to be the exact opposite. He was fast to hide folders that he did not want to reveal or have me peer into. Many folders contained what appeared to be girls’ names. He settled on an e-mail folder named ‘weird’.
“Here they are. Read this and imagine how I felt,” Billy postulated, expecting my reaction to be more shocked than the time I saw his Dolphin music video.
Subject: Five people under the lamppost, not three.
Dear Mister Coax,
I am not a fan of your music nor do I want to come across as some sort of nut-job but I have an important question to ask you. It has been brought to my attention by my wife that I should see your newly released music video entitled, ‘Dolphins know the way’. My question is simple, where did you get the idea for the video?
I was extremely shocked not by the content of the lyrics but by the imagery used. Please allow me to explain the situation. When I was child, I had a dream that was virtually identical to your video. However, there were a few minor differences.
One. The chimney stack of the steamboat was striped and set in the following colour sequence: red, white, red;
Two. The number of people under the lamppost on the beach boardwalk was five not three;
Three. The green lamppost that lit the group was curved over the people on the beach boardwalk and not directed towards the water.
I am not trying to reclaim any creative ideas nor do I intend this e-mail to be any threat. I am only seeking answers into how your video resembled a dream I had as a child. Yet, I do not recall telling anyone about the horrific dream other than my wife. I was also made aware that we grew up in the same part of the city of Toronto, York West. Can you help me shed some light on this question? Any help would be greatly appreciated.
Best regards,
W. T. Pauli
I looked at Billy in utter shock. “He knows about that nightmare? This means we’re not alone.”
Billy did not blink. “Here’s
another one,” he stated intelligently, rolling away from the desk with his chair.
Subject: High school classmate looking for answers
Hello Billy,
My name is May Chao, maybe you’ve heard of me. Well, we use to go to the same high school Toronto High. Remember? We were in the same year. Now you remember me? I hung out with the group known as the Hip. Remember them? I love your music and your videos. Maybe we could go for some coffee and talk about old times.
Anyways, I have a weird question for you. Where did you get the idea for your Dolphin video? You know, Dolphins know the way. I had a bad dream that was very similar to your video minus a few differences. The lamppost curved over the boardwalk and it had five people instead of three as in your video. I can’t explain why I remember this dream so clearly despite having it a long time ago. Is this a coincidence? I have more questions for you about this. Please reply back, I’m desperately looking for answers on this. Ciao.
Sincerely,
May Eva Chao
“I’m speechless,” I replied with the understanding that this nightmare that has been virtually encapsulated inside my head could possibly be linked to three people. All my feelings of personal doubts were gone—or maybe just pushed aside probably—simply because I was not alone. I felt myself rising above this self-blame game that has plagued me for such a long time. Somehow I was coming to terms with my doubts. Could a personal resolution be possible?
“We need to find these people.” My emphasis of ‘need’ echoed in the room. These were the only words that I could imagine worthy to come out of a perplexing situation like this. “I’m in total disbelief.” I focused in on Billy and then at the screen again. “We need to find these people,” I repeated without any doubts.
“I never thought I’d be replyink to any of the weird e-mail.” Billy ventured to joke about this. “I guess there’s always a first for everythink.”
16
“It’s been nine years since the termination of Phase II of the project.” the lead scientist recalled. “Do you feel we have the right subjects?”
“Yes, the chosen ones were chosen correctly. Those with high potential exceeded our expectations and the few with low potential did as well as they could offer.” The Director was pleased with the results. “We’re on track as expected.”
17
If one person of an entire planet shared an ounce in common with one of my nightmares, I would have dropped everything and sought that individual like blood hounds after a fox. Billy was different he was quick to dismiss things. Maybe this explained his selfish behaviour, he was rumoured to have invested a short amount of his lifetime to responding to his fans, few charities carried his name, and few donations were made on his behalf. He was only out for himself.
Billy pulled up to the desk and reluctantly hit the Reply button to May’s e-mail. His mouth opened but his dark eyes fixed up to the plain white ceiling. On closer scrutiny, the plain ceiling was cracked and broken glass pieces were lodged in the cracks. Very unusual.
“I threw some bottles at the ceilink,” Billy blurted, direct and to the point. “Just one of those crazy parties.”
A rock star and wild parties was a match made in heaven. What were the neighbours thinking with the ruckus?
“Should I enable the instant e-mail notification?” Billy inquired while hovering delicately the mouse icon over the checkbox next to the May’s email address.
“I think we should. The instant e-mail notification will notify May Chao and W. T. Pauli to expect an e-mail and maybe get a quicker response from them.” I was eager to talk to talk to them.
On my suggestion, Billy sent an instant signature e-mail advising to expect a full e-mail. He reached out to the keyboard.
Thank you for your e-mail. I’m happy that you enjoed my music.
Billy abruptly stopped typing as if he was stuck in mid-thought. He lowered his eyes and studied the diamond watch.
“You spelled enjoyed wrong,” I softly mentioned to break the pause.
“Yeah,” Billy reacted, looking like he was stuck on a hard question from a high school exam. “But what else should I write? This doesn’t feel right like I can’t believe I’m respondink to these people.” He turned to me. “Nothink against you.”
“None taken,” I responded not persuaded by Billy’s objection. “Are you not interested in finding out how the four of us had the same nightmare?” I was excited to know what was going on was he?
“Nightmare? Stop callink it a nightmare. It’s just a weird dream. Maybe even a bad dream, but not a nightmare,” Billy sternly emphasized. But his dilated eyes showed something else, something hidden inside—in his thoughts.
I shook my head in disagreement. Billy would not acknowledge the nightmare as nightmare. For me, the dissatisfaction of this weighed deeply within my heart. I felt compelled to explain to Billy how this nightmare had damaged my life. How the repeated blow from each and every single nightmare robbed me from something as simple as a good night’s sleep. The fear instilled by the nightmares destroyed me mentally. Physically, it prevented me from leading a normal life. I wanted to grab him by the shoulders and shout in his ears, ‘why are you being so difficult?’.
I took a deep breath and calmed down. A different approach was needed to Billy’s defensive manoeuvre. “Didn’t you mention that you had more than one?” I believed he was holding back and it needed to be called out.
“Nay, I don’t remember ever saying that,” Billy rejected distraught, then scratching the tip of his nose.
Was I mistaken? Did Billy say something at the concert? “I thought you did.”
“So what if I did,” Billy remarked with an air of arrogance and defiance.
“Well which one is it?” I argued back.
“Stop pesterink me.” Billy looked agitated like I was invading his personal space.
“I had more than one nightmare. In fact, every night since I was eight I’d wake up in the middle of the night from a nightmare. This has caused a lot of stress for me.” Billy watched like I was boring him to death. Did I offend him somehow? “Can I explain how these nightmares have affected me personally?” I asked for his permission, hoping he would listen attentively.
“Go ahead.” Offended by my persistence, Billy’s face turned red.
“I … I …” I did not know where to start. A deep breath helped me to poise my thoughts. “I cannot sleep more than a few hours every night. Because of this I go through a day like a messed up zombie. Each nightmare leaves me confused as to what’s going on. I feel like I’m stuck in rewind mode. Do you understand? I feel like I’m being robbed of my life.” I added the final comment to make my point despite its emotional hard-hitting truth.
Eyes glazed over, Billy withdrew from the conversation both physically and mentally. He was in another world. His eyes peered beyond me crossing to a focal point behind my head never once blinking. The directions of the blood vessels on his eyeballs grew thicker right before my eyes. Was he breathing?
“What are you thinking?” I asked, not expecting an immediate reply.
Billy’s lips puffed out and then returned to a resting state. Nothing came out. I moved in closer to check for any sounds that I may have missed. Maybe the illegal drugs and binge drinking damaged some critical brain cells?
“Um thinkink,” Billy finally mumbled, sounding something like ‘I’m thinking’. For a creative artist, he never produced a single straight answer, despite his directness.
“What is it?” I wanted to understand. Did Billy know something I should know?
“It doesn’t make sense.” A clearer Billy spoke up. “More happened but I shouldn’t tell you.” He quickly returned to his trance again, staring out into the great beyond.
“What else is there?” I could feel my heart race for Billy did know something. “You have to tell me,” I begged to the point of sounding whiny.
Billy’s eyes refocused. “These thinks don’t make sense to me. You had other dream
s that stick out?” he asked perplexingly. “Like a ninja dream, where you’re chased by knee-high ninjas dressed in the black hood and mask uniform?”
“Yeah!” I agreed in utter amazement to Billy’s description of a nightmare. “I had it when I was ten years old.”
“I was seven.” Billy recalled with certainty.
“How about the one that begins with a bus driver unhappy about his weight?” I rolled forward with eagerness.
Billy nodded dismissively. “I can’t believe how you know this dream. You know it so well,” he amazed at my haunting perception.
“In an unfortunate turn of events, the orange school bus crashes into a compact car driven by a muscular man. An accident so bad the overweight bus driver is crushed,” I jumped to the ending. “It was a freakish accident at a busy intersection caused by bad weather. The traffic lights swayed and the hydro pole was bent,” I added some extra detail.
“And the bus driver becomes what he desired.” Billy titled his head up and returned his gaze to the ceiling.
Billy had finished what I started. Another nightmare we shared. Two people linked by the same subconscious thoughts.
“Yeah!” Billy signed, trying to catch his breath. “How about the dream about where you’re crossing a foot-wide bridge while wearing only poorly designed white slippers with a blue trim on the sides?”
“Yeah!” I repeated. “And you start losing control of your balance but you never fall off the bridge and all the while the blue trim from the shoes starts peeling off.”
“Yeah!” Billy agreed while robotically bobbing his head up and down. “How can we be havink the same dreams? … It doesn’t make any sense. I was eight when I had this dream.”