Protect Mankind

    ‘…As a short introduction I felt this poem would befit the dream theme. I am glad you all liked it. Now perhaps it is wise to explain a bit more about dreaming before I diverge further into the strange lands that lie behind the veil of sleep. And the current stir I have found there… Before…’

    ‘…. Before our joys and bliss will be turned to grieve and sorrows, let us understand why we must undergo and suffer.’

    ‘…I beg your pardon for my haste, there is much I would like to tell you about. Much… Some of you are known with my ramblings but some are not. Before I take you along my dreams and visions, let me introduce myself, next to my subject of speech.’

    ‘Some of you may question who I am. You might even do that in a sincere streetwise kind of way more akin to these times. It does not truly matter, but for the sake of introduction, I will disperse in a small way, my origin. My name is Randolph Carter.’ The seconds of the world ticked away slowly.

    ‘I am old. I’ve seen things.’ Again only silence waited. ‘... And I am a writer. I write about dreams which are true. And I warn people. I am a lecturer… A discoverer… Old dreamer… But I am no action hero. I don’t guard the rainbow bridge like Heimdall with his great sword, I merely wonder at its beauty… Curiosity is bliss! I’ve lost friends who were heroes and…’ Randolph stopped in midsentence and looked around. The long room had sparse light, yet he could see it was mostly empty. This room… A temple where he preached. Dust specks drifted in the beamer light. His few usual followers were seated in front of him, ever ready to dolt down whatever feeble words he uttered. Gullible fools. In the far back he now noticed a dark boy, from India or Pakistan, whose dark skin was glistening in the soft light. And either he had very dark eyes or… He was sleeping. Yes, this odd fellow had come half way through his terrible long poem, Randolph remembered the intrusion and…

    ‘Ah yes, sorry, I drifted away there. I suggest a small break before I continue on other realities and beings from higher and lower planes, the greater archetypes…’ Randolph sketched and raised his arms in the air, as if calling the greater powers down from heaven to this ill lighted room. His mouth fell open and he shook his head shortly, his face showing unusual emotion which his eager followers quickly grasped for a joke and small laughter filled the dank air.

    ‘Yes… Yes… Let us keep a light heart in a dark world.’ Randolph gave a faint smile and then shuffled along to the other end of the long room. The rustling of clothing and the scrapping of wooden chairs on a wooden floor sounded the pause. For some reason Randolph felt his eyes pulling towards the dark boy… Not the Black Man, Randolph confided happily to himself. India, Randolph guessed as he came closer. Sleeping indeed, he noticed, and decided to take timely action. He could live with a world falling apart and the carefree people living in it, but not with sleepers in his class. From a metre away Randolph noticed a certain herbal scent, too soft to be from smoke, yet strong enough for… It played in his nose until he had placed it. Marijuana. He stopped in front of him and sniffed the air. Stoned, Randolph concluded and thought about the proper way of conduct.

Lands and seas flew under his body of a shapeless cloud and the skies broke apart for wider skies and John drifted away in the immense sea of non angular space. He was more consciousness then he ever remembered dreaming. Underneath him colourful images shone a magnificent brilliance of a marvellous sunset city. He wanted to be there so gladly, it reminded him of Eden. The soft sounds of butterflies flapping their wings carried the air around him, made place for a stronger and demanding voice. He felt a touch on his shoulder and looked around slowly to see a skinless hand, flayed to the flesh. Unspeakable horror whispered around him. He shot awake with a booming cry.

‘Greetings…’ Randolph started friendly but felt strangely alarmed by the look in the youngster’s eyes. ‘…Welcome to my class.’ He said with an unclear voice.

    John took a deep breath to himself before looking up at the elder well-dressed man with round glasses. Noticing the wetness on his chin John wiped away some drool with his hand and cracked a smile with his white teeth. ‘Hey man…’ John moaned dreamily and gave the same hand to shake. As Randolph politely met his hand John said: ‘That was a very cool poem, I dreamed about …’

    ‘Yes… Yes… Thank you.’ Randolph said unsure.

    ‘This is an open lecture, right? Didn’t mean to fall asleep, sorry you know.’

    ‘Yes… Okay… Well, we have a small break now. And…’

    ‘Did I miss much? It’s about the dream world, right?’

    ‘Yes.’ Randolph said solemnly. And wondered about himself, why he always said things in a way, instead of just saying them. He sighed and overlooked the boy, who could have been in his early twenties.

    ‘Please don’t sleep in my class.’ Randolph said controlled. ‘Although the class is about dreaming…’

    ‘Yeah I had a weird dream…’

    Something changed in Randolph. His eyes sharpened as they focused more intensely on the dark shape of John. ‘What was it about?’ Randolph asked abruptly and seated himself down. Jealous looks were cast on to them as his regulars passed by and greeted him shortly. He looked away and into the brown eyes of this young dreamer. ‘Well?’ Randolph said. ‘What did you dream?’ he whispered sharper.

    John felt an unknown feeling dwell up inside him. His eyes widened, showing dilated pupils that shone with fear. His lips went stretched flat, until his upper lip started to rise to the unknown feeling that he could not place. He gave Randolph a look that was answered by being grabbed.

    ‘Tell me!’ Randolph lost more control over himself as he started to shake John.

John looked around, dazed and shocked at the same time, and a certain voice in his dazed head demanded to know what kind of weed he had put into his space cake today and where he was right now. He made a start to get up but was pushed down by Randolph. ‘The city! You saw it, didn’t you? Sunset!’ Randolph raved.

    ‘I saw it.’ John said with a voice that wasn’t his. Hurriedly he looked around for help but it was an empty dark room full of painful chairs, standing like rows of square teeth. He felt a malicious threat stronger then anything before, something holding him at gunpoint. Unbridled he stood up still restrained by Randolph who was holding him by the reeves of his jacket.

    ‘Got to get away…’ John pushed Randolph wildly and thrust at him with force, sending him flying and crashing loudly on a chair that buckled over onto the wooden floor.

    ‘You saw the sunset city!’ Randolph’s rasping voice filled the space. He was unaware of his bruises and scurried to get up in a hurry.

John fell over a chair as he tried to clear his way through the door. Panic was overtaking him. With a flash he noticed his vision narrowing.

    ‘Don’t go there! You don’t know who dwells there!’ Randolph screamed after him. ‘Stay low! Keep in the grass!’

It was all lost to John who slammed the door open, just as two onlookers wanted to come in and investigate the turbulent shouting. He pushed them apart easily; their eyes stood wide with confusion. Outside he took deep breaths of air, as if something had been slowly strangling him. He spat loudly and strayed elsewhere into the big city where he could roam free. Nobody came running after him and nobody could have stopped him. Wild thoughts found direction as John figured out where he was. Fenian Street. He walked away taking slower breaths.

Zigzagging through shopping streets John tried to find some piece of mind and slowly munched things over. He could pass away what had happened for the cannabis effects but something felt not right. That golden city… How had this lector knew what he was dreaming? Was it in the poem? It should have been; he fell asleep listening to it. But still… Something was not right. That city he saw… It was so alive! Was it Dublin? And then as a feather asway on a warm wind, soft and gently as it touched, oblivion came, easy at it is within reach of the human mind, and John decided to forget about it immediately and went over tumbling within memories to check some lost records instead. Already his head was figuring out which record shop was closest by. John changed his direction and altogether, his mind. He chuckled as he remembered: Led Zeppelin demanded further attention.

As the winds whipped up higher over the Dublin Docks, a change for worse arose in the air. Old mothers would tell anyone who would listen that the night was filled with bad omen. And would it have been a mere ten years ago, a time when those new and coloured faces weren’t around yet, all the youth would have been locked up inside, safe and sound at mothers breast. Yet nowadays ‘Having a craic’ still meant streets filled with young brass men and fit women showing their good breed.

    Coming to his senses on the toilet, Randolph Carter thought about the changes that come with time. And how he had reacted to this strange young… Dreamer, like himself. Perhaps this was what he had been waiting for? As he carefully tore off a piece of toilet paper and folded it neatly, he contemplated his next action. It was cheap paper: soft but thin. He would have to be careful.