Daniel's Dream (25 page)

‘What are you telling me?’ asked Daniel, shocked. ‘That this is to be just a one-night stand?’ He laughed unconvincingly.

‘No, not necessarily. Unless that’s all you want, of course.’

‘I don’t know how you can even think that.’

This time it was Véronique who was shocked. ‘Well, for one thing, I know nothing about you. For all I know you may be a very passionate and attractive man who is incapable of holding down a relationship.’

‘Wait a minute-’

‘No, listen. I’m not saying that’s what I believe. All I’m saying is that I don’t know you, or anything about you. And more to the point, you don’t know me.’

‘Well isn’t that what relationships are all about, finding out about each other?’

‘Yes, of course. But if there are impediments to that relationship - obstacles that limit its progress - then I think it’s only fair that they should be declared before anyone gets too involved. All I’m saying is that, regardless of what happens, there can be no future.’

‘I don’t understand. What sort of impediments?’

Véronique shook her head. ‘That’s not important. What’s important is that it’s clear to you that you can make no assumptions.’

‘Of course it’s important. Why do we have to set limits before anything’s even happened?’

‘Because we do. You just have to trust me on this one, Daniel.’

‘Not unless you tell me what the problem is.’

‘I can’t.’

‘What?’ Daniel sat up and pulled away. ‘What is this? You lay down these extraordinary ground rules for a relationship that hasn’t even started yet, and you can’t tell me why?’ Daniel’s anxiety started to get the better of him. What was she saying? This wasn’t part of the plan; this wasn’t the way he wanted things to go at all.

Veronique sighed. ‘Don’t get upset...’

Daniel stood up and backed away. Suddenly he felt very uneasy, as if he was being threatened in some way, although Véronique had made no threat, either implicit or explicit.

‘How can I not get upset?’ he said, realising that the ground beneath his feet was becoming progressively less stable. ‘What are you keeping from me? What possible impediments could there be? Are you married, is that it? Well so am I. There, does that make it easier? We can be adulterers together.’

Daniel almost chocked on the word. Adulterer: it sounded so old-fashioned, so Biblical. Is that what he was? Rather than a normal bloke with an over-active sex-drive who for reasons too complex to fathom didn’t fancy his wife any more?

‘You’re married?’ Daniel felt faint. He leant back against the wall. ‘Daniel? Are you okay?’

Daniel nodded. ‘I thought you knew.’ 

Veronique shrugged. ‘No, you didn’t say.’

‘But I thought Kate... I mean, Kate knows.’

‘Kate is very discreet. She probably knows everything about everybody, but she never breathes a word. There’s no way she would betray a confidence.’

Daniel tried to steady himself against the wall, but he still felt very uneasy. ‘I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking.’

She shrugged again. ‘It’s no big deal. I mean, it doesn’t worry me that you’re married. It may even make things easier.’

‘Easier?’

‘Like I said, there can be no permanence for us, Daniel. Please don’t ask me why, because I can’t tell you. All I can say is, that is the situation. With that knowledge, you can make up your mind whether or not you want to... get involved. Now, why don’t you come back here and lie down and then you can think about it. I promise I won’t interfere.’ She gave a small, saucy giggle, then bit down on her lower lip. ’Sorry.’ 

Daniel wandered uneasily to the bed and sat down, keeping his back to her. He leant forward and put his head in his hands. He was still feeling light-headed, and didn’t want to look at her. 

‘This is all very confusing,’he murmured.

‘It doesn’t have to be. Nothing’s changed, not for now, not for tonight.’

‘But...’

‘I know what you’re going to say, Daniel. And all I can tell you in reply is that, as I’m sure you know all too well, there are no guarantees of anything in life. I know that probably sounds terribly trite. But it also happens to be true. Nothing lasts for ever. Not even dreams.’

Daniel looked round. ‘Then this is a dream for you too?’ She did not reply. ‘Véronique?’

‘Come to bed, Daniel.’

‘But...’

She raised a finger to his lips to silence him, then leant forwards and pulled him down on top of her.

‘We have all night to ourselves. Let’s not worry about what’s in store. You can’t live your whole life worrying about the future when the present is so precious, It’s all we have, Daniel. It’s all any of us has. Let’s make the most of it.’

And rather than face further argument or upset, and mindful that he might, at any moment, be thrown back to his other world, Daniel seized the moment and did not stop to think about the consequences.

Daniel did not sleep that night; he did not dare. Making love with Véronique was more than just pleasure; it was the consummation of everything that had happened to him in Atheenaton thus far. In this mystical, paradisaical world, where every moment was filled with a tremulous wonderment, every scent invigorated the senses, every scene delighted the mind’s eye... in this extraordinary environment, where he felt safe and warm and wanted, he had found peace and fulfilment of a kind he had thought lost.

Even the knowledge that Atheenaton was not real - at least, not by the definitions he would usually have accepted - did not seem to matter. Like a child in a fairy-tale, he had discovered an enchanted kingdom. He had stepped through the mirror, fallen down the rabbit hole, walked through the back of the wardrobe: he had found his wonderland. Only it was not a child’s playground but an adult’s, filled with potential for growm-up pleasure.

There seemed nothing sordid or reprehensible about sleeping with Veronique; there was no guilt, no sin. It was, after all, just a dream, and as far as Daniel was concerned what went on in dreams was not bound by the usual rules, ethics and moralities of everyday life. How could it be? That the experience had been every bit as sensual, as dynamic, as delicious as making love in real life was no surprise. Hadn’t he had erotic dreams that were every bit as torrid as his sexual experiences in reality?

Even so, this was different. Everything about Atheenaton encouraged good feelings. It was like a holiday; not the crass Club 18-30 comparison that Vince had suggested, but something altogether more serene and comforting. There was something... Daniel searched for a word that could encompass exactly how he felt, how Atheenaton affected him, but it was so unlike anything he had ever known that either his imagination or his vocabulary failed him. If pushed, he would have to say that Atheenaton had a healing effect. It made him feel whole, feel right; it took away his pain.

Which was why he was determined to stay. Not just for tonight, not just for a few days, but for ever.   

‘Lisanne?’ 

Lisanne looked up from her manuscript. Across the room, Daniel was sitting on the sofa with a book open on his lap. Daniel usually slouched when he sat on the sofa, and she could tell immediately that something was wrong. His body was tense, angular, and he hunched over the book like a large bird of prey about to devour a dead beast. ’What were you doing with this book?’

‘What book?’

‘This book, this one on China.’ He lifted the book and flashed the cover at her. 

Lisanne stared back blankly. ‘I wasn’t doing anything with it,’ she said, trying to camouflage the note of defensiveness that, as a matter of course these days, managed to turn her every response into an incitement to interrogation.

‘But it’s open at this story about the butterfly.’ said Daniel. He too was clearly trying to control the anxiety in his voice, which threatened to spill over into anger. 

Lisanne shook her head. ‘I’ve no idea what you’re talking about. You took that book off the shelves yesterday evening.’

‘Oh come off it, Lisanne. Did Janice put you up to this?’ 

Lisanne was baffled. ‘Did Janice put me up to what? What on earth are you talking about?’

‘Searching this out and sticking it under my nose!’

She gazed at him, nonplussed. Not only did she not know what he was talking about, but the clearly discernible agitation in his tone worried her.

‘I have absolutely no idea what that is.’

‘This! This story about Zhuang-zi and the butterfly!’

‘Daniel, calm down.’

‘Only if you stop playing games. Tell me why you’re doing this.’

‘Who’s playing games?’

Lisanne was nervous now. She had seen him leafing through the book the previous evening, had thought nothing of it and so, of course, had made no mention of it. She rather wished now that she had. What was he getting at? 

‘Oh, I suppose it’s just a coincidence then.’

Lisanne took a deep breath, put down the manuscript, rose slowly and walked across to the sofa. She sat down next to Daniel, and was distressed to see that his hands, clutching the open book ferociously, were shaking.

‘Let me see,’ she said softly, taking hold of the book. Daniel released it reluctantly, and she read the passage on the open page. 

Last night Zhuang-Zhou dreamed he was a butterfly. Fluttering and soaring, he was a butterfly. Likening himself in this way, is it not that he is going along with his own devices? He knew nothing of Zhou. Suddenly awakening in surprise, he is Zhou again. He does not know: is it Zhou dreaming he is a butterfly, or a butterfly dreaming it is Zhou? 

Lisanne nodded slowly. ‘You’ve told me this story before, I’m sure. About an emperor who dreamt he was a butterfly.’

‘Not an emperor. A fourth-century BC Chinese poet,’ said Daniel, warily. ‘You didn’t leave this open for me to find?’

‘Of course not. Why should I?’ 

He peered at the text again. He could not recall taking the book from the shelves, had no memory of opening it at this page. And if he hadn’t done it, then it had to be Lisanne. But why should she lie? It didn’t make sense. 

‘Do you want to tell me why it’s so important?’ 

Daniel shrugged. ‘It’s just... I don’t remember looking at this before. I don’t remember.’ He looked up at Lisanne and for the first time she realised that it was neither anger nor frustration in his eyes. It was fear.

Seeing him in such distress, Lisanne thought it best to employ, once more, her skills in damage limitation. She would rather lie to him than have him so upset. ‘Oh, hang on a minute. Maybe I did take it out. I was looking for a quote for one of my authors. I must have borrowed it and forgotten to put it back.’

‘But why should it be open at this of all things?’

‘Why is that relevant? I mean, it’s an interesting story but it’s hardly...’ Lisanne paused a moment, allowing her jumble of thoughts to settle down. ‘Wait a minute, is this all to do with this lucid dreaming thing?’ Daniel said nothing but read on down the page. ‘Daniel?’

‘Huh?’

‘Is this to do with the nightmares? Is that it?’

‘Not exactly. Look, I’d rather not talk about it.’

‘But it’s obviously upsetting you. Perhaps if you talked about it...’

Daniel sighed. ‘It’s not that simple.’ 

Lisanne could see he was getting irritated, but she felt she had some sort of right to know what was going on. Why, for instance, had he mentioned Janice? And why was he being so secretive? Each day, it seemed, on top of all his filthy moods, his behaviour was becoming more and more incomprehensible. Soon she wouldn’t understand anything about him.

‘Oh Daniel, why won’t you let me help you?’

‘I don’t need help. There’s nothing wrong with me.’

‘Then what’s all the fuss about this story? Why this sudden interest in dreams? If it isn’t the nightmare, what is it?’