Living In A Dream

Alec Rutchman jumps up in bed, surveying his surroundings.

“Uh… I can’t sleep. Where am I?”

The tail of the Felix the Cat clock swishes happily back and forth. The white floral tapestry Angelique worked on for six months hangs on the opposite side of the wall, framing the perfume bottles, lotions, and makeup on her dressing table.

Home. He’s home.

Angelique reaches down, stroking his hair. She worries about the dark circles under her husband’s eyes, and that their once bright blue hue has turned cloudy. Most of all, she fears Alec’s lack of sleep will further distance him from reality.  

“Get up, sleepyhead. We’ve got a big day of shopping ahead of us.”

Alec remains frozen in a sitting position.

“What’s the matter?” Angelique asks. She deftly grips a fistful of her long chestnut hair, tying it into a ponytail.

“I had a dream. Joel was in it.”

“Your friend from high school?”

“Yeah. I kept telling him his tire was going to go flat. I told him not to try and change it by himself.”

“Did he listen this time?” Angelique asks.

“No. He never listens. The car still fell off the jack and…”

Kneeling in front of Alec, Angelique holds him in her arms.

“Maybe next time.”

Stretching and yawning, Alec ambles through the living room intent on raiding the refrigerator for some orange juice. Alec’s senses snap to attention when he realizes he’s not in his house. The Ethan Allan chest, the Persian rugs, the plastic-covered furniture, and glass tables remind him of his parent’s home.

He stops to look at the painting of a teenage strawberry blonde holding a bouquet of flowers walking down the aisle of a church.

“I wish I could have stayed that age. I was so young and innocent,” a female voice says.

“We all were,” Alec replies, turning to face his sister, Anne.

“We had a lot of good times together when we were kids. I remember going on vacation to Mashpee, Massachusetts. You and Dad tried your hand at fishing. You wouldn’t touch the worms, so I took your fishing pole. I ended up catching more fish than you or Dad.”

Alec struggles to remember, visualizing the waves drifting into shore…His mother relaxing in a lounge chair… His exasperated father trying to untangle his line… But he doesn’t see Anne…

“I remember that wedding,” Anne says. “Cousin Jillian in her hippie garb in her parent’s garden. You were nervous about being in the wedding party with that beautiful brunette. What was her name?”

“…I don’t remember…”

“Don’t play dumb. You two wrote to each other every week, and you drove to Rhode Island to see her.”

“No, that never happened.”

Anna gives Alec a mock frown, batting him on the shoulder. “Of course, it did. Next thing you’ll be saying is the wedding never happened.”

“It didn’t. It didn’t happen because none of this is real. You’re not real.”

Alec turns to Anne.

“…You’re not real…”

“You’ll be surprised to find out what’s real and what’s a dream, Alec,” Anne says, laughing as her image disappears.

Angelique shakes Alec.

“Welcome back. I’m a little worried that you’ve added sleepwalking to your repertoire. You can get some exercise sleepwalking, but generally, it’s not good for you to be stumbling around like a zombie.”

“I was talking to Anne.”

“What made you dream about her?” Angelique asks.

“Growing up, all my friends had brothers and sisters. I was an only child. I used to tell them I had a sister, Anne.”

“Your friends never got suspicious that they never met her?”

“When they asked, I told them she was in boarding school, away at camp, or visiting a relative. Then one day I came home, and my parents had bought a picture of a flower girl at a wedding. That became my proof that Anne existed.”

“You might not have gotten a second date with me if you’d told me this,” Angelique teases.

“I know it sounds pathetic.”

“You were just trying to keep up with the Joneses. Maybe in an alternative universe, Anne’s got a picture of you in her living room.”

Alec holds Angelique, kissing her. “Have I told you how much I love you lately?”

“No, go right ahead.”

“Just what we need, more antiques,” Alec jests. Carefully setting down the Victorian rocking chair in the corner of the living room, he adds, “I might be using this bad boy as my base for operations in a few years.”

“Why don’t you try it out?” Angelique asks. “You know, you wouldn’t have all this neat stuff I we hadn’t met by chance in college. We owe our life together to Paul Slack. Paul showed up late to the Earth Day clean-up, and I was partnered with you. I’ll admit I wondered if you were my type when you stepped on a rake and almost knocked yourself out.”

Angelique places the new pillows they bought on the couch. By the time she passes by the rocker again, Alec is asleep.

“Do you think we should get more bags?” Paul Slack asks. The staunch environmentalist brushes some dust off his moccasins.

“Dang it,”

“What?”

“I forgot the rake.”

“Brilliant, Alec. Since you have to go back to the car, bring some more trash bags.”

Alec trudges back to his Mustang. Opening the trunk, he pulls out the rake, standing it next to him.

A group of girls comes toward him, chattering and laughing. A pretty co-ed with her hair in a ponytail catches his eye. He grins at her as she passes by, brushing back his shoulder-length cowl of dark hair, and she smiles in return. Thinking of following her, he takes a step forward.

The rake hits Alec in the face, making his eyes water.

By the time his vision clears, the girl and her friends are gone.

Alec returns to Paul holding the rake like a staff.

“Where’s the bags?”

“Sorry, man. I forgot them. If you got a look at the girl I just saw, you’d have forgotten them too.”

“So where is this beauty who gave you amnesia?” Paul asks.

“Gone. It’s funny, for a moment, I thought she might be the one. I almost chased after her. Then I remembered you were waiting for me.”

“Nice to know I rate so highly in your world,” Paul replies. “I hope you don’t live to regret it.”

Alec sits up in bed. The Felix the Cat clock is missing, replaced by a cuckoo clock. The white floral tapestry has been supplanted by a blue mandala tapestry that would please any hippie. He still has his shoulder-length hair, although he’s sure he’d given up on that style ten years ago.

Walking through the house, Alec can see that the décor has changed. A bean bag chair sits where the rocker should be, and a painting of Anne hangs on the wall.

Distressed, Alec calls out, “ANGEL? ANGELIQUE, WHERE ARE YOU?”

Angelique puts her hands on Alec’s shoulders, shaking him.

“Wake up!”

Alec opens his eyes.

“This isn’t what I meant when I said I wanted you to scream my name in bed,” Angelique jokes.

Alec grabs Angelique, pulling her into his arms.

“Must have been some dream.”

“No, it was a nightmare. I dreamt what life would be like without you.”

Angelique checks on Alec, who is twisting in bed, muttering to himself. Sitting on the edge of the mattress, she brushes back his hair, patting his cheek.

Alec hums to himself in his sleep. Recognizing the tune as Cash Creed’s biggest hit, Angelique feels uneasy, remembering the night she and Alec went to a party at Creed’s house.

“I can’t believe we’re friends with Cash Creed!” Angelique chirps as they climb the stone steps of Creed’s million-dollar mansion.

“It never would have happened if we hadn’t snuck backstage and he took an interest in you, Angel.”

“I still laugh at how quickly his grin turned into a frown when I told him I was married to you.”

“From what I’ve read, that’s never stopped him,” Alec replies.

Knocking on the door, the couple are greeted by a butler with a constipated grin who takes their coats, pointing them toward a ballroom.

Angelique whistles, impressed by the crowd of people in the room. “Half of the rock world is here.”

“Not the sober half,” Alec replies, pointing to the group of heavy metal musicians at the bar downing shots of Wild Turkey.

Avril, Creed’s heavily tattooed current girlfriend, works her way through the crowd, her green eyes wide with concern.

“Thank God somebody sane has finally shown up. C’mon!”

“Is something wrong?” Alec asks.

“Hard to imagine there’d be anything wrong with these choir boys hanging around,” Angelique replies, hooking her arm through Alec’s for protection.

They follow Avril into the next room. Cash Creed leans against a wall covered with publicity pictures, awards, and gold records. The bare-chested, sweaty rock icon is holding a gun to his head. Half a dozen partiers on substances that promote paranoia are ringing their hands, whispering, “Please, Cash. Please don’t,” in jittery tones.

Creed pulls the trigger of the gun. It clicks through an empty round.

“He’s playing Russian Roulette,” Avril shrieks. “He’s not even Russian!”

“Cash, it’s Alec Rutchman. You know, your biggest fan. Look who’s with me.”

“Great, offer me up as a sacrifice to keep him from blowing his brains out,” Angelique comments.

“All the money, all the fame, and what do I really have?” Creed asks. “Groupies. Yes men. Managers ripping me off. I was better off playing for change at the train station!”

“Try and think about all the good things you’ve done,” Alec says. “Your music has touched the hearts of millions of people all over the world. Your song, “Let’s All Work Together,” was chosen by the United Nations for their world peace campaign.”

“And my song, ‘Three Hundred Pounds of Hungry’ is being used by Weight Watchers!” Creed blubbers. “Every good thing I’ve ever done has been taken down by something repulsive and decadent. Did you know there’s a gang in L.A. that uses the lyrics of my song “Ghetto Child” to haze their recruits and torture their enemies? Or that Nixon Clydesdale repeatedly played “What is Love?” before he slaughtered eight elementary school kids in Bitter End, Tennessee?”

Creed spins the tumbler of the gun, pressing the trigger. It echoes emptily.

The crowd trembles, grabbing at each other for support.

“There was a four-year-old girl at the children’s hospital with cancer,” Alec says. “Her doctors gave her a twenty-percent chance of survival. She kept playing your song, ‘Close to Your Heart’ over and over. She’s going to make a full recovery, and she says it’s because of your song.”

Whimpering, Creed drops the gun.

It hits the floor, discharging.

Avril falls backward, a bullet in her eye.

Alec rolls over.

Angelique is sitting next to him in bed.

“What was it this time?”

“Do you remember that girl with all the tattoos at Cash Creed’s party?” Alec asks.

“Avril? Yeah. She was an innocent little doe. Shame. It was a bigger shame Creed never paid for his mistake.”

“He hasn’t released an album in six years. Something tells me he’s been paying for what happened every day.”

“So, you dreamed you could save her again?”

“I’m nearly there, Angel. This time instead of pointing the gun at Avril and killing her, he dropped it on the floor.”

“But she still died, didn’t she?” Angelique asks.

“Yeah. But if I can save her in my dreams…”

“Then she’ll be saved in real life. Do you hear yourself, Alec? You’re so tired, babe, you think your dreams are reality and reality is a dream. I hate to say this, but you need to get back to sleep. Once you get enough rest, everything will be right in both worlds again.”

“Suppose it isn’t?”

“I’ll still be here for you.”

An intoxicating smell brings the elegant surroundings of Cristo’s Restaurant’s Gold Room into focus.

Alec looks down at his salmon entrée.

“I could have sworn I ordered halibut.”

“You did,” Angelique replies.

“…Chris Hammon likes salmon…,” Alec mutters.

Alec looks down at his well-done piece of halibut.

“Something wrong, babe?”

“I’m just feeling a little off.”

Angelique tries to make a scary face. “It’s those dreams you’ve been having. You see dead people. Booga! Booga! You’ll be fine if you get a little sleep, providing I let you… I’m going to powder my nose. Be back in a sec.”

Angelique leaves Alec staring at his halibut.

“Sauce… Where’s the hollandaise sauce?”

Alec rubs his eyes.

Opening his eyes, he notices a small cup of hollandaise sauce next to his plate.

“Maybe I should have asked for a million dollars instead.”

A tall, granite-chinned man in a Mont Blanc suit passes by the table, glancing at Alec. Doing a double take, he backtracks.

“Alec? It’s Chris. Chris Hammon.”

“Chris! I was just thinking about you!”

 “I’d heard you were an attorney,” Chris says, beaming.

“Yeah. It’s a far cry from when we were runny-nosed hoods pulling pranks on the neighbors and outwitting the cops.”

“That didn’t take too much brainpower,” Chris snickers. “Say, I’d love to catch up sometime, but you know who’s waiting outside.”

“Cathy. So, you married your high school flame.”

“Had to. If you know what I mean. At least she let me have salmon croquettes at the reception.”

Chris reaches for his wallet, pulling out a business card. Alec does the same. The pair exchange cards.

“It was really nice running into you, Alec. Seeing you makes me feel more alive.”

Chris rushes away as Angelique returns to the table.

“Who was that?”

“Chris Hammon!”

“As in likes salmon?” Angelique asks. “I thought you said he was dead?”

Alec stares down at his salmon entrée.

“…He is… He and his girlfriend, Cathy, died in a car wreck when we were in high school. It was especially heartbreaking because they’d just found out she was pregnant.”

Angelique watches Alec clench his fists as he struggles to maintain his fitful sleep.

“…If only we hadn’t rented that boat…,” she laments.

Alec listens to the roar of the boat’s engine as it skims across Lake Champlain.

Sitting on the bow, dodging spray, Angelique teases Alec.

“Are you stuck in second gear? Floor it!”

Alec remembers that’s what Angelique said before they crashed into the submerged log that ripped out the bottom of the boat, capsizing it.

Alec looks at Angelique, who blows him a kiss.

Alec peers through the darkness, dropping the boat’s speed to a crawl.

“What’s up Captain Crunch?” Angelique asks. “Why are we slowing down?”

“I don’t see it.”

“See what?”

“The log. We’re destined to hit it.”

“Is that a fact?” Angelique asks skeptically.

“It is. I’ve lived the moment we hit it a hundred times over in my dreams. You drowned. But there has to be a way we can change destiny.”

Angelique stands up in the boat. “Maybe there is. I’m an expert swimmer. No matter what you think you see, stay in the boat.”

“What are you doing?”

“Challenging my fate.”

“Wait, Angel…Don’t!”

Angelique jumps in the water, her lithe form quickly disappearing.

Despite Angelique’s warning, Alec leaps into the lake’s murky depths.

Sitting up in bed, Angelique holds back a scream. She looks at a photo of her late husband next to the bed. It’s been a year since Alec died while saving her from drowning. She’s been dreaming about him a lot lately.