“Masson, I have
read through your journal. There are no dates on your entries. Do you write in
your journal every day?”
“I record my dreams
when I awaken. Sometimes there may be several entries for a single night. In my
dreams there is no timeline, so I never thought to structure my journal that
way. I sometimes think I am living, or I suppose I should say dreaming, in
several dimensions of time. That last entry you read seems to indicate at least
two layers are collapsing.”
“How do you feel
about this?”
“Concerned.
Disturbed I guess you’d say by the possible implications.”
“How so, Masson?”
“Doctor, assuming
the theorists are correct. We lead multiple lives in multiple dimensions of
time. If, as you say, at least two of mine are converging what are the
consequences to me?”
“What makes you
think anything unpleasant would result?”
“Isn’t that
evident, Doctor? In one instance I hold to two opposing views: I don’t know
what a phone number is and I recite one. A phone number, I might add, belongs
to me. I know I am not insane, but don’t you think this dichotomy implies I am
insane?”
“How do you feel?”
“I’m here for your
opinion and advice. How I feel doesn’t
matter to me nearly as much as how I seem to you and other people with whom I
come into contact.”
“You seem like a
rational man, Masson. People we deem to be insane have difficulty
distinguishing between what is real and what is fantasy. Can you?”
“Tell reality from
fantasy you mean? Of course I can.”
“How?”
“I just know.”
“But how do you
know?”
“Well, for one
thing in my dreams I have a dog named Buster who is devoted to me and always
with me.”
“I assume you don’t
have a dog?”
“No.”
“Interesting.”
“What’s interesting
about my not having a dog?”
“You say you know
you’re dreaming when you have a dog. Obviously you would like to have canine
companionship. In your journals you write about Buster as your best friend. Is
having a best friend a fantasy of yours rather than a reality, Masson?”
“When I was a kid I
had a dog named Buster. He and I went everywhere together. He died. You can’t
replace a friend. So when I dream, I have a dog named Buster.”
“What kind of a dog
was your friend Buster, Masson?”
“My dad always
called him a Heinz 57.”
“I noticed in your
journal that Buster is never the same breed. Sometimes he’s a Jack Russell. At
other times he’s a Boxer. Two very different dogs with very different temperaments.
Neither of them a Heinz 57 as you say. Why do you suppose that is?”
“I honestly don’t
know. I like them both. I like all kinds of dogs actually.”
“Yet you don’t want
to have one live with you.”
“No.”
“Our time is up for
today. Take your journal with you. Let’s see if your dreams change now that we
have discussed them. I’ll be interested to read your entries next week.”
“Thank you, Doctor.
Just one more thing; I have to ask: do you think I am losing my mind?”
“That is not for me
to say. I am simply a tour guide. Let’s meet at this same time one week from
today.”
***
As I finished
writing about my visit with the doctor, I paused and considered dating it.
Before I could even think what the date was Buster jumped up and the bed with
his lead dangling from his mouth. He thought it was time the two of us went for
a walk!
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