There was one drawback. This developing skill was accompanied by an increase in frequency of the false awakenings. It was not uncommon for three or four such unpleasant and disturbing experiences to be stacked one on top of the other. Another word of special significance crept into the dreamer’s argot: the repeater.
Burns persisted with his interest in information transmission, so rigorously that they began to joke that he was working for the intelligence services, or perhaps for some foreign power. Burns took this in good part, camping it up and telling them that they would never know, would they, but he was not to be deflected from his purposes. Then he suggested that one of them might take a book, any book, to dreamside, and attempt to read it.
The task was beyond their capacity. But, although it proved a failure, it failed spectacularly, yielding some interesting information for Burns, and generating further passionate scribbling.
To begin with, no one could ever “remember” to transport a book to dreamside. Though they planned it conscientiously enough, even selecting a particular work by a favourite author and placing it by their bedsides, the task never occurred to them until they had returned from dreamside and awakened to see the volume lying nearby. After several failures of this kind they told Burns that they thought the books had been too “heavy” to “carry,” and Burns said he thought he knew what they meant by that.
Then, after the task had been dropped, Brad arrived on dreamside holding a book, though, disappointingly, it turned out not to be a book that he had ever chosen to bring with him. Brad and Lee inspected it together. They opened the pages at random and read:
Neither of them recognized the verse, but when they looked at the lines again a few moments later, those very same lines had changed, now reading very differently:
The transformation produced much hilarity. But when they looked back to check the lines a third time, they were changed yet again:
I’ll dreamt that I’ll dwealth mid warblers’ walls when throstles and choughs to my sigh hiehied.
This metamorphosis of the words went on endlessly. All they had to do was look away, and then look back at the page, for the words to undergo another completely new transformation.
When they reported this to Burns, they were unable to recall any of the words at all, only that they changed continually. Burns was fascinated, but ultimately concluded that the effort was wasted and that the exercise with the books could stop.
“It’s disconcerting,” Brad was saying, “you don’t know whether to bother to wash your face in the morning in case you have to do it again.” The repeaters were beginning to disturb them.
“Sometimes it’s not pleasant,” Honora agreed. “You can spend a whole day thinking that you might be going to wake up any time. You only feel sure when you put your head down to go to sleep again, and even then you’re not so sure; you know: dreams within dreams.”
Burns became concerned. “All I can suggest is that you use some signal demonstrably external to your dream to wake you, a telephone call or more practically an alarm clock which you set at different times each night so that you are jolted out of your dream. Beyond that perhaps you should try to enjoy, and live to the full, your other new ‘lives’.”
“Thanks,” said Brad.
Of course, it was possible to dream of being awakened by an alarm clock in repeaters, but in general the professor’s advice was useful, and although the repeaters did not abate, the experience of them became less sinister. Then Burns recalled the failed exercise in reading. He reminded them of the instability of written information on dreamside, and suggested that they might turn to printed material as an acid test of whether or not they were awake. If they read a line or two from a book, then reread it to find that it remained constant, they could assume to have awakened. They found this practice successful, and adopted it as a critical test. Somehow the test eluded them when actually inside the repeaters, but it was easy to remember when awake. It was felt to be an encouraging remedy, and so kept much of the anxiety about repeaters at bay.
Term time came around and students returned en masse to the university. For Honora, Lee and Ella this was to be their final year. On the first day of the new term Ella called around at the professor’s house to deliver her dreamwork notes. The door was answered by his cleaning lady, who told Ella that the professor had been taken to hospital and was in the coronary unit.
Burns was sat up in bed, propped by a mound of pillows, smiling faintly.
“How did I know you would come?”
“Has no one else been?” asked Ella.
Burns shrugged. “I just hoped one of you would come.”
“They told me I could only see you for a few minutes. The others will come when they hear that you’ve been brought in like this. Is there someone to get things for you? I mean I know there isn’t, what I’m saying is, can I get anything…?”
Burns seemed to have barely enough strength to turn his head. He opened and closed his mouth but no words came out. Then he beckoned her to come closer, and as she leaned forward he grasped her wrist with surprising force. He spoke in a hoarse whisper. “I was dreaming. Dreaming of Lilly. My wife, you remember I told you about her that day by the lake? My lovely wife. You were teasing me, remember? Lilly.”
“Yes, I remember you telling us about her.”
“Listen to me. I was dreaming of Lilly. She kissed me and she gave me a telling-off. She said I was to leave you young people alone.”
Ella shook her head. She was a little frightened by his intensity.
“Listen, Ella. I’m very happy with what we achieved but I would like the dreaming to stop now. Lilly’s right, as usual. She’s right. I want you to tell the others that it has gone far enough and that now it should stop.” He let go of her wrist, his own hand falling onto the bed.
“I don’t understand, Professor. Is there anything wrong with what we do?”
“Just understand that I don’t want you to continue.”
“We wouldn’t unless you wanted us to.”
“That’s right. Now I’d like to sleep.”
“I’ll come tomorrow.” But she wasn’t sure if he was already asleep.
Ella returned to the campus and to Lee’s room. They climbed into bed, talking about Burns. At some time during the dark hours close to morning Ella dreamed—and knew that she was dreaming—that Burns came through the door of their room. His right arm was stretched out towards her, his palm open, and he said:
He hath awakened from the dream of life.
In the morning Ella phoned the hospital, and an anonymous voice confirmed what she already knew.
THIRTEEN
I can never decide whether my dreams are the result of my thoughts, or my thoughts the result of my dreams.