A Dream Diary #9 - October 2022
It really is an outrage. Not only the pitiful number of dreams I’m able to remember now, but the quality of them too. So boring. So unadventurous. No escape at all. You can see what I mean from the scant entries below.
But this is the perfect month for a ritual. The veil between this world and the next becomes, I’m told, thinner and thinner until, on the final day of October, it all but disappears. If I am to gain compensation from the magpies, these devilish spirits of the wood, I know my best chance will come then.
I continue my research; gather the necessary materials; prepare my defense. Then, on the evening of the 31st, I shove everything I need into my rucksack and head back to the park.
There are a lot of people on the streets tonight, mostly kids wearing costumes and running about, screaming in the darkness. I steer clear of them. Wipe their noise from my mind. Concentrate on the actions I must perform. I have to get this right.
I reach the copse just before 11.00pm, with plenty of time to prepare. Pulling up the instructions on my phone, I hold it out in front of me as I perform the ritual single-handed. First, with a stick that has fallen from the giant oak, I draw a large circle through the soil and grass and leaves. Then, with the help of a compass app, I place a candle at each of the main points. West, then north, then east, then south. Lighting them in turn, I whisper the words of my rite as each flame flickers to life. At the centre of the circle, I place and light one final candle. Then I kneel before it, repeating my rite over and over, and waiting for something to happen.
Midnight arrives and passes. October has gone. Have I missed my chance? I wait a little longer, then check my phone again to see what I’ve done wrong. The clock still reads 00:00. The breeze in the branches has stopped. There is no rush of traffic on the nearby roads; no laughter or screams from the distant houses.
‘Blow out those candles. Wood and naked flames are not the best combination.’
I turn around quickly, but catch no glimpse of anyone amongst the trees. Then I recognise the voice.
‘You’re here.’
‘Yes,’ says the oak. ‘I’m not sure why. That was one of the worst attempts at a ritual I’ve ever witnessed. You didn’t even dance.’
‘I don’t dance.’
‘Useless. Just blow out the candles then, and we can this out of the way.’
I do as it asks, not really caring for its opinion on my performance; just relieved it worked at all.
‘Right,’ it says. ‘What do you want this time?’
‘I seek compensation from the magpies.’
‘The magpies? At this time of night? They’re all asleep.’
‘As I should be, and dreaming too. But thanks to them I can’t. Now go and wake them up, or else.’
Brandishing the lighter beneath the oak’s lower branches, I roll my thumb over the sparkwheel.
‘I will,’ it says, ‘…but only because I wish to be done with you. Not because of your idle threats.’
Before long, seven magpies have gathered along the lowest branch, six of them yawning and brushing their faces with their wings as if to wake themselves up. But the one closest to the trunk just perches there, motionless, its little beady eyes fixed on me.
‘We’re here,’ it says. ‘What now?’
‘I seek compensation. Give me back my dreams.’
‘Again? Haven’t you anything better to worry about?’
‘Societies are falling,’ says the second.
‘Economies crashing,’ adds the third.
‘Wars breaking out,’ laughs the fourth.
‘People going homeless…,’ smirks the fifth.
‘…and starving,’ grins the sixth.
‘Exactly! I’m desperate. I can’t function like this. I need some escape.’ With all seven of them cawing at me, I’m starting to feel unfairly outnumbered. ‘Who are these friends of yours, anyway?’ I ask the first.
‘Let’s call them my legal team.’
‘Huh. And don’t I get one?’
‘He has a point,’ says the oak. ‘It’s only fair. Perhaps I could suggest a delegate for the prosecution? Someone who might better understand the needs of humans.’
The magpies consult each other behind raised wings, before the leader turns back to the oak.
‘Fine by us,’ he says. ‘Who’ve you got in mind?’
Something waddles round from behind the trunk of the oak. At first, I can’t quite make it out, but as it comes closer, I realise it is a very fat and dishevelled looking rat. The magpies laugh raucously.
‘Perfect,’ says their leader. ‘Let’s get started.’
The hearing seems to last nearly an hour, though every time I check my phone its clock remains stuck on 00:00. I put forward my case – how I wished for the magpies to grant full memory of all my dreams, and how, ever since, they had grown more and more mundane, and when I asked for my wish to be corrected, any memories of my dreams had only grown dimmer.
‘Three,’ I tell them. ‘Just three dreams the whole of this month, and the last month too. And all so dull. I need to free myself of the monotony of life. Dreams are the one thing I’ve found that can do this.’
The magpies retaliate, explaining how they cannot be held responsible for the behaviour of my brain.
The oak agrees. It points out that it has stood in the same position in the same park of rover 200 years. It cannot understand, and has no sympathy for, the concept of monotony.
‘Perhaps the problem is inside you?,’ it says. ‘Some kind of parasite? I’ve had many over the years. The answer is to outlast them. Things always change, eventually.’
It suggests I consult some kind of psychologist, or maybe get out more, try to live a little – find adventures that my dreams would then be more likely to reflect.
‘I’d say we did him a favour ridding him of them,’ says magpie number three. ‘This way, he’ll have to make his real life more interesting.’
I’m about to point out that this will be a lot harder because of the very economic reasons the magpies have already stated, but before I can speak, my team-mate waves me back and, rearing up on its straggly hind legs, launches its defense.
‘Dreams are important,’ it says. ‘Not just for humans, but all creatures. I often dream of finding food, and re-running the routes where I’ve found it before.’
‘Doesn’t sound very adventurous,’ says the lead magpie.
‘I’m a rat. How adventurous do you want me to be? I eat, sleep and fuck. That’s what matters.’
‘So - you don’t agree the human should be allowed to indulge in these ‘adventures’?’ says the oak.
‘I don’t really care.’ The rat, who has been sidling ever closer to my rucksack since it appeared, starts snuffling at the open zipper. ‘I just came in the hope it had some food.’
I brush it away and pull the rucksack onto my shoulder.
‘Thanks a bunch.’
‘But,’ it says, still eyeing my bag. ‘Each to their own. If it wants adventures, let it have them. What harm can it do?’
‘Finally. Look, I just want to sleep, and enjoy doing things that are impossible in this world. I need some absurdity. Unpredictability. Something more fantastical.’
‘Hmmm.’ The oak considers this. ‘Absurdity and unpredictability. Unusual preoccupations.’
‘Not for humans,’ says the rat. ‘I’ve never met a more absurd and unpredictable bunch.’
‘So…’ says the oak, ‘…you believe these things essential then? To live a fulfilling life?’
‘Yes. I know it’s weird, even for a human, but yes. More than anything.’
‘And you, magpies? What would it cost you, to grant such a wish?’
‘Besides our reputation?’ growls their leader.
I’m greatly surprised by this. I’d never realised magpies were capable of growling.
‘Your standing is secure,’ the oak assures it. ‘None will ever know about this, save us.’
I decide not to tell them about my blog.
‘Our time?’ says the second magpie.
‘Oh, I can waste a lot more of that if I have to.’
I’m growing tired now, and running out of patience. Time might not be moving, but my metabolism is clearly functioning at its usual rate.
The rat jumps up at my face and plants a claw over my mouth.
‘Don’t threaten them,’ it hisses. ‘You don’t know what they are.’
I grab it by the tail and fling it at the base of the oak.
‘Anyway…’ I say, ignoring its warning, ‘…you seem to have all the time you need.’
‘Another fair point,’ says the oak. ‘Any more arguments from you magpies?’
‘We don’t like granting wishes for no good reason,’ the leader speaks up again. ‘They’re not toys. We have to collect a lot of silver to cast them.’
‘If it’s silver you want, I can give you more of that.’ I pull a silver hoop from my ear, offering it out on the palm of my hand. The lead magpie hops down from the branch to inpect it.
‘You have more?’ it says, head cocked to one side.
‘I can get more, if you give my dreams back.’
It nods at me thoughtfully, then flies back to the branch.
‘Bring us more. We’ll give you dreams,’ it says. ‘More than you can imagine.’
‘Dreams first, then silver. Unless, of course, you’re not actually capable of it?’
The rat, who has now flipped itself back onto its feet, slaps a paw over one side of its face.
‘You’re challenging them! Are you crazy?’
‘I just want my dreams back, ok?’ I’m almost shouting now, but it’s ok. Nobody can hear me. We don’t exist in time. ‘If I could, I would live in them forever.’
The lead magpie glances at its friends. Again, the raised wings and private chatter. All seven of them give a raucous cry in unison, and an eighth magpie flutters down to join them.
It gives me the beakiest grin I’ve ever seen.
‘Deal,’ it says.
5.10.22
I’m studying pages of text, trying to spot keywords for SEO purposes. As I scan the lines, they turn into patterns and arrange themselves onto a line of teacups on my desk.
8.10.22
A woman who seems to be my girlfriend has parked her car on the pavement of a steep high street in an overseas town. I have the keys, so let myself in to retrieve a few belongings from it. I think about moving it to a better parking space, but before I can it rolls a backwards down the hill. I pull up hard on the parking brake. The car stops rolling, then starts again. I get out, in case my weight is causing it to roll. It seems stable now, so I decide to risk leaving it. When I return it has disappeared. Someone nearby tells me it is being removed, and points to a large vehicle carrier on the other side of the road. I approach the driver and explain she just left the car there while attending a job interview, but he doesn’t speak English.
20.10.22
I am living in my childhood home. Various relatives and friends are visiting. One, an old school friend, decides to go to a gaming café. I feel like I am supposed to be doing work on a dissertation, but agree to go with him instead. The café is quite dark and, while my friend unpacks his games and turns on a computer, the owner comes over and reaches beneath the desk to switch the light on. When he leaves, I sit on the desk and accidentally turn it off again. Back home, I am worrying about my dissertation. I can’t remember when the deadline is. Am I supposed to be doing it now? Another friend, who is leaving for work, tells me to calm down and have a good think about it. I do, and realise that I’m not supposed to be doing anything until next Semester.