Ben got up from the couch. The bottle of Jameson on the counter was calling his name. The thought of a drink made his stomach rumble and his mind swirl, but he could not let the rest of the day be consumed by dwelling on the past. It was too easy to spend hours staring at the painting while drinking to oblivion, as if the painting held some great divinity that he desired—the answers he needed, and the cure for the pain he both longed for and resented.
He licked his lips. His head throbbed. The yearning for a stiff drink stung at his mind, made his mouth salivate. His throat had a dryness only alcohol could soothe. A twinge of pleasure was released at the very thought of taking a sip of whiskey—a foresight into the relief the alcohol would have on his body and mind.
He turned away from the bottle and went to the bedroom, setting the alarm. Sleeping in the middle of the day was tough, but he needed some rest before work. Three hours should do it. He grabbed his blindfold from the bedside table and accidentally brushed off the business card hiding beneath. Bending over, he retrieved the card from the floor, noisily exerting himself from the strain. Printed across the center of the card was the name, “Dr. Peter Wulfric” followed by a telephone number underneath. Dr. Wright had emphasized to Ben that Dr. Wulfric was working on a very exciting project and was looking for a client. He paid very well. Ben had put the card in his pocket and then on the bedside table, then forgot all about it. The same went for the other two.
Then Dr. Peter Wulfric had called him.
The man was happy and pleasant and urged Ben to meet with him. Ben shied away, telling the doctor, ‘I can’t get out of town … I’ve got a lot on my plate right now.’ Dr. Wulfric volunteered to travel to him, to Baltimore, just so they could talk—a quick lunch. Perhaps it was intrigue, or perhaps curiosity when Ben asked what hospital the doctor worked for and the doctor said, ‘We can discuss that when we talk face-to-face,’ that Ben’s interest grew. He conceded to a meeting. Dr. Peter Wulfric was coming to Fells Point in two days, and hopefully he would pick up the lunch tab.
Ben tossed the card back on the bedside table and pulled the covers up to his chin. The blindfold was fastened tightly over his eyes, shielding away the intense rays of sunlight penetrating through the blinds. He took a deep breath and relaxed his mind. Sleep was not going to come easily.
Thoughts of the painting along with visions of Emily flashed in his mind: her dark-curly hair bouncing on her shoulders as she laughed, paint on her face, cheeks, and hair. He saw his own finger dip into a pool of dark blue paint from the pallet and watched his finger move to smear her nose. She shrieked with laughter, grabbed at his palm and fell backward. She was laughing too hard to resist, and his finger found her nose, rubbing it all over with the oily blue paint.
She shrieked, ‘Stop, Ben!’
He heard his own laughter as they kissed. She grabbed him close, not letting him go, holding him by the ears and smearing her paint-covered nose all over his face.
He saw this as it happened, in that paint-speckled studio of hers. He heard the laughter and felt the warmth of love in his heart. His blindfold grew warm with the onset of tears.
Chapter 2
Dr. Peter Wulfric called Ben as soon as he turned off I-95. Although Ben lived in a safe neighborhood just a few blocks from Fells Point, the seeming underbelly of Baltimore was just a stone’s throw away. Dr. Wulfric was an avid fan of The Wire, and the last thing he wanted was to get lost outside the safety of the Inner Harbor or Fells Point.
The phone rang several times, and then a voice rasped in the receiver, “Hello?”
“Ben, is this Ben?”
The voice cleared the sleep from his throat. “Yes—yes, this is Ben. Dr. Wulfric?”
“I’m sorry, did I wake you?”
“No, no. I’m up. Just closed my eyes for a second.”
Dr. Wulfric thought he could hear a shower being turned on in the background.
The doctor checked his watch; it was almost noon. He wasn’t early. Dr. Wulfric knew Ben bartended nights, so twelve in the afternoon was like seven in the morning to him. What he did not know was that Ben, like many other bartenders, had a few drinks at the end of his shift. And then a few more when he got home. Whatever time it was when Ben finally fell into bed, the sun was already up.
Ben reconfirmed with Dr. Wulfric the directions to a coffee house a block away from his apartment—the Still Life Roast. One of these days Dr. Wulfric would start using the GPS on his phone, but whatever the reason might be, he liked to rely on old-fashioned technologies—like a map.
“Okay, Ben; I’ll see you there.”
He hung up, picturing Ben scrambling to brush his teeth to get ready for their meeting.
Guess I’ll take my time, he thought. And try not to get lost.
***
Dr. Wulfric paced before the coffee house, his hand stroking his white beard.
Did he say Still Life Roast?
A moment or two passed, then he saw Ben walking toward him from down the street. He waited until he got closer, then waved and called out, “Ben, It’s nice to finally meet you.”
“Likewise.” Ben extended a hand and the two men shook. Ben’s hair looked wet and his eyes were puffy.
I woke him up. I must have.
“Let’s get some coffee,” the doctor said. “Are you hungry?”
“I could eat.”
It was a beautiful day, and Dr. Wulfric was glad the waitress sat them outside on the sidewalk. Ben removed his windbreaker, and Dr. Wulfric unzipped his brown leather jacket. Under his coat, Dr. Wulfric was wearing his typical attire: a collared shirt and generic tie. Nothing fancy. He had been in a bit of a rush that morning and felt that his hair and beard might look a bit unkempt. I look like freaking Jerry Garcia, he thought. In the rush, he didn’t realize he had put on an old shirt that was too small for his growing girth, and when he sat, he was cautious not to pop a button.
The waitress brought them coffee, a bagel for Dr. Wulfric, and a blueberry muffin for Ben.
“Ben,” Dr. Wulfric began, blowing steam from his coffee, “Ben, do you know why I’ve been trying to meet you? Did Dr. Wright tell you anything about us—about the project?”
Ben shook his head. “No, he gave me your card and told me to call you. Several times. He said you’re working on an exciting project and need someone with my … skill set. I’ve worked with some of Dr. Wright’s associates in the past, so I didn’t think much of it. Now I have to say, and I mean no disrespect, but this is all a bit strange, don’t you think?”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, I’ve done a million tests with Stuart—umm, Dr. Wright. I’ve done clinical trials for hospitals, clinics, and private research companies all over the East Coast. I’m practically on the payroll at the Annapolis Foundation for Sleep Research. A doctor has never taken me out to lunch, or driven out of their way just to talk to me. Trials are always set up the same way—with the same fast-talking receptionist calling to schedule a time and the pay. Sometimes I get a letter in the mail offering fifty dollars to test some new medication, or whatever. That’s how it has always been done. So, I’ll give you this—you have my attention. But all the same, this is quite strange.”
“We understand.” Dr. Wulfric pointed at himself. “… I understand. This is a little strange, even for us—me. I’m not used to hand selecting participants, but we have never before needed a person with, say, your abilities.”
“And what abilities are those?”
“The way you sleep, Benjamin. The control and vividness you have over your subconscious. Dr. Wright and I have been colleagues since grad school—did he tell you any of this? He was a few years behind me in school, but we were good friends, and remain so to this day. He personally recommended you for my project, and after seeing some of the tests you two have accomplished over the years, I can honestly say that he was right to recommend you. I couldn’t have picked a better participant if I had spent months trying.”
“Okay,” Ben
said, “I get it. Let’s cut to the chase: what hospital do I need to go to, and what’s the pay?”
Dr. Wulfric chuckled. The coffee seemed to be waking Ben up. “Aren’t you a bit curious about the experiment?”
“Honestly, no … not really. Whatever it is, I’m sure I’ve done it before, or something similar.”
The doctor leaned over the table, almost whispering. “I can assure you, you’ve never done anything quite like this before, Ben. Not by a long shot.”
“Okay, well … what is it then?”
“I think it would be best for you to see our facility for yourself, with your own eyes. It would be impossible to simply explain it to you. I’ve put together a short presentation back at the lab that I think you would enjoy seeing. However, before we get to that, let me backtrack. There are a few things you need to understand.”
“All right …”
“My employer would—”
“How are we all doing?” The waitress appeared out of nowhere, sneaking up behind Dr. Wulfric, who nearly jumped out of his skin. His hand shook, and a small wave of coffee jolted out of the cup.
“Oh jeez, I’m sorry, sir! Didn’t mean to creep up on you like that. Let me get a towel.”
“No, no. It’s okay. I’m fine, dear; thank you.”
“You’re sure? It’s no problem.”
“Absolutely. As you can see, my nerves don’t need the extra caffeine anyway.” He gave her a big smile and she walked away, returning with a stack of napkins.
“Well,” Dr. Wulfric said, “that was fun.”
“You burn yourself?” Ben asked.
“Oh, I’m fine.”
They were quiet as Dr. Wulfric cleaned the mess, then he heard Ben’s voice crack. The boy was laughing.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry! I wasn’t trying to laugh.”
Dr. Wulfric felt his own face form into a smile, and he started laughing as well.
Good, he thought. That ought to lighten the mood.
“Now,” Dr. Wulfric cleared his throat. “Where was I before I embarrassed myself … our employer. He wants you to know that he appreciates any work you may choose to do for him. Whether or not you decide to go forward with the project is completely your own decision.”
“Um, right … I would hope so.”
“He is truly thankful for the work you’ve done at the hospital and hopes you are happy with the bonus Dr. Wright recently offered you.”
“Right, that … so it was your employer who gave me that money?”
“Yes, in a way. Our employer recently made some very considerable contributions to the Annapolis Foundation for Sleep Research, and he is now on the board of directors as a silent partner. It’s more of a title than anything else—he doesn’t do any hands-on work. He’s not even a doctor … anyway, you could say that the money came from him, the hospital, and all the doctors and staff. The man is, well, a bit of an eccentric. He has many interests both at home and abroad. He contracted us—my assistant and me—not very long ago to continue work on a project we had begun at Johns Hopkins.”
“If you started the project at Johns Hopkins, why not finish it there?”
“Finances, my boy, finances. We ran out of them. Johns Hopkins cancelled the funding for the project. Then, a few months later, our employer approached me with an offer to continue the project under his directive. This project, this work—is too important to simply give up on. We’re onto something big, and when I say big, I mean huge. Enormous.”
“And you’re not going to tell me, right? I have to see it for myself.”
“Until we show you the lab, yes. I think that would be the best course of action.”
They were quiet, sipping their coffee and eating their food. Dr. Wulfric finished eating and folded the napkin over his plate.
“This lab,” Ben went on, “I’m guessing it’s not an ordinary lab, like in a hospital.”
Dr. Wulfric nodded. “By traditional standards, no. Technically, it’s one of a kind. There’s no other lab quite like it anywhere in the world. I’m sure of it.”
Ben nodded. “And the money?”
“Our employer is a generous man. He would like to pay you just to come see the lab, for taking up your time. He knows that you’re a busy man.” Dr. Wulfric doubted Ben was busy at all, but he was not about to say anything.
“Where’s the lab?”
“The Hamptons.”
“The Hamptons? Like, the Hamptons in New York? That’s, what, four hours away?”
“Three and a half, with no traffic.”
“Christ. Well, when does he want me to go? And what’s the pay?”
“He will pay you one thousand dollars for the day. You can drive yourself if you want, or he is willing to have you driven there and back.”
“A thousand dollars just to check it out? That’s nuts!”
“Cash.”
“This is fucking sketchy, pardon my saying so. You want me to get in a car and be driven several hours away to do some unknown, off-the-record experiment in some stranger’s house?”
“Well,” Dr. Wulfric shifted in his seat. He wished that Ben were still laughing. Maybe I should burn myself again. “I understand what you’re saying, but let me explain something—and I would like to be completely honest with you.” Dr. Wulfric put his cup down on the saucer, lacing his fingers. “We didn’t choose you as a participant for your abilities alone, as extraordinary as they are. There are countless other people who can dream lucidly, like yourself. Many have experienced aura migraines throughout their lives as well, just like you. The similarities are extraordinary, although I don’t believe the two are related. Your ability is indeed remarkable. I’ve never seen test results quite like yours, but you’re not the only person on our list of participants.”
“Right, I get it. So why are you choosing me?”
“Because of your willingness, Ben. Because you’re sitting with me right now, contemplating, when most others would turn the other way. Over the years, you agreed to perform each and every test that has come your way. You never say no, no matter what the experiment may be. Your records prove it. It’s how you make a good portion of your income. You are extremely easygoing.” Dr. Wulfric paused, taking in a deep breath. Here it goes, he thought, and continued, “Now, I don’t want to upset you, or cross any personal boundaries, but the fact that you live alone and work part-time at night leaves you with plenty of free time during the day.”
“And the fact that my wife is dead?”
He’s a smart lad. He knows we’ve done our research. “We—well, not exactly because your wife is deceased, but because you are alone, yes. We did our research; I’m not going to lie. It’s all there in your personnel file at the hospital. You’re a perfect fit. This experiment will require a lot of time, of which you have plenty. Your participation would be highly valued and appreciated. Not to mention that you passed our little test.”
“What test was that?”
“You had no problem taking the envelope Dr. Wright gave you.”
“Well, cash is king. So what is the pay if I choose to do the experiment?”
“That would be decided by Mr. Marcus.”
“Mr. Marcus is your employer?”
“No. Mr. Marcus is my employer’s associate.”
They were quiet as Ben finished his coffee. Dr. Wulfric knew that Ben had never before been in a situation like this. It was absurd, completely nuts, absolutely out of the question … yet, Ben was intrigued. Dr. Wulfric could tell. Ben’s mind was processing, trying to decide if he should accept the work, or if he would be nuts to turn it away. Dr. Wright had personally assured Ben that he could trust Dr. Wulfric. Never—even with all the crazy tests and experiments—had Dr. Wright ever put Ben in any serious danger. Dr. Wulfric knew Ben would trust Dr. Wright’s advice and recommendations.
Dr. Wulfric was also privy to the conversation between Dr. Wright and Ben on the phone, just last night. The old doctor had some unfortunate news to tell Ben. He was
set to retire in just a few, short months. Dr. Wright was officially throwing in the towel. That did not necessarily mean that Ben’s work at the hospital would stop completely, but it would significantly decline—by nearly eighty percent. It was bad news for Ben, but good news for Dr. Wulfric. Ben would need a new source of income, and money was something Dr. Wulfric had at his disposal.
Dr. Wulfric could see the thought process churning inside Ben’s mind. He was probably thinking about his conversation with Dr. Stuart Wright. Thinking that it was the old doctor’s wishes for him to start working with Dr. Wulfric.
Ben looked squarely at Dr. Wulfric. “All right, I’m in. You’re right. I live alone, I don’t give a shit, and I take cash. I am the perfect fit for some crazy experiment like this.”
“Oh, that’s great, Benjamin. You’re making the right choice. You won’t be disappointed. I assure you, this is no crazy experiment, so to speak. The science we are creating is revolutionary. This project will change your life. It’s going to change everyone’s life. You’ll be a part of something big.”
“A thousand dollars will change my life, sir, that I assure you. I’m sorry I called it crazy. I don’t know a thing about it. Can you at least tell me who I’m working for?”
“On the way, Ben. We have a long drive ahead of us.”
“Wait—you want to go now, like, right now?”
“Well, yes. Sorry, I assumed you knew. We would like you to start immediately if possible. Is that okay? Our limo is waiting a few blocks away. We can leave whenever is good for you. You’re more than welcome to take your own car if you prefer.”
“A limo?”
They were quiet.
Oh no, I pushed the envelope.
“I see that’s a bit sudden for you. Why don’t you take some time to think it over?” Dr. Wulfric said.
The Experiment of Dreams Page 2