Morpheus hauls steel on the A14. (standard:other, 4681 words)
Author: red1hols	Added: May 03 2002	Views/Reads: 3434/2337	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
Isn't it just a pain when dreams run together so that you lose touch with reality?

Click here to read the first 75 lines of the story


Steve looked at the man and turned the words around in his head. 

"You're telling me that I'm dead?" 

"No, not dead, you are having a life transition." 

Steve thought some more. He tried to remember something about the
previous evening, any small item of domestic routine that he could use 
prove to himself that he had got home and that the man was just part of 
a complicated nightmare. The man watched him for a few seconds before 
continuing. 

"Sudden transitions are difficult for everyone. No one has time to
prepare. I have to ask you a few questions. Do you feel up to that 
yet?" 

Steve looked at the man again, he was looking at him just like his
grandfather used to when he had skinned a knee or taken a tumble. It 
was look of genuine concern, love and affection. Steve gave an 
exaggerated nod like a child. 

"Good, Good. What's your full name?" 

"Stephen Joseph Alexander Barnes" Steve replied, craning his head to try
to catch sight of what was on the clipboard. 

"Your date of birth?" 

"13th May 1952" 

"Place of birth?" 

"Lewes General Hospital, Sussex" 

"Your parents names?" 

"Joyce Elizabeth and Dennis Joseph Barnes." 

The questions continued. It seemed to Steve that it was like applying
for a very complicated visa. Steve answered mechanically, all the time 
pinching himself harder and harder in attempt to wake properly. He was 
also trying to force his eyes wide open, but only succeeded in getting 
double vision. He was suddenly aware that the man had gone quiet and 
was looking at him. 

"Everything looks fine Steve. I have one last question. What was your
belief system?" 

"Belief System?" A puzzled Steve looked back at the man with watery
eyes. 

"Religion if you will, what faith did you have in life?" 

Steve thought about the question. He rubbed his hand over the top of his
head, and then pulled it away as if he had touched a stove rather than 
hair. 

"I've got hair! What's going on?" 

"Don't worry about that, we have given you the form that you occupied at
your physical peak, it helps with the more..." the man paused and 
tapped the pen on his teeth a couple of times. "The more sudden 
transitions. Sorry to push you, but I really need to know your belief 
system, it's important." 

Steve thought some more. As he did so he tried to find his appendix
scar, but couldn't. He tried to find the scar on his left arm left when 
it was ripped open when he fell from a tree as a child. His fingers 
just found smooth skin. He struggled with the question some more. 

"I was baptised and confirmed in the Church of England, so I guess I am
a Christian." He answered at last. 

The man smiled and nodded. 

"And did you believe?" 

"Believe. That's tough to answer. I went to church regularly as a child.
I sang in the choir. My parents insisted I go through the confirmation 
stuff. I don't think I ever truly believed. The Christian teachings 
offer a kind of life code to follow, illustrated by fables and 
reinforced by the promise of heaven and the threat of hell." 

The man kept eye contact with Steve and remained silent. Steve broke
first and continued. 

"As I got older, I stopped going to church and in the end never gave any
religion any thought. Does that make me an agnostic?" 

The man thought about it for a minute. "Did you ever search for proof of
a God or what constituted celestial truth?" 

Steve shook his head. "No, not really. I probably didn't. That's
probably because I didn't think I would ever die." 

The old man smiled. "I'll put 'none' then, but you are not dead, just in
transition." 

Tucking his clipboard under his arm, the man rose and went toward the
door. 

"I'll wait outside while you get dressed. Join me when you are ready."
He gently shut the door after he left Steve alone. 

Steve pulled back the duvet and swung his feet onto the warm carpet. He
looked at the dark hair on his legs and the skin, clear of the blue 
veins. As he stood, the lack of aches and pains and the extra pounds 
felt good. He celebrated by trying a few press- ups and then touching 
his toes, before suddenly standing upright when he remembered his 
nakedness. 

All of his clothes were where he would expect to find them. His shirt
and trousers over the back of the chair, his vest, pants and socks 
neatly ironed and folded on top of the TV. He thought of Marion, his 
wife. Every night for 28 years, she had ironed his pants and vest, then 
neatly folded his socks before gently carrying them, like delicate 
parchment to the bedroom and placing them precisely on the TV. Steve 
sniffed the vest. It even smelt right. Closing his eyes for a second, 
Steve tried to remember if you could have smells in dreams before 
slowly pulling on his clothes. 

Steve moved to the door, as he took hold of the handle he stopped and
looked back at the bedroom. His eyes drank in the familiar scene. On a 
whim, he flicked at the light switch, but the light didn't come on. 
Steve shrugged, God! How he wished that he could wake up. A thought 
struck Steve, if he couldn't wake up, perhaps he could change the 
direction of the dream. He screwed his eyes shut in concentration, 
turned the handle and stepped out into the hall. 

"Ah, good. You are ready. We have a bit of a walk." It was the man's
voice again. 

Steve opened his eyes. At once, he felt dizzy. His knees felt weak and
he struggled as to stay upright. He was not in his hall. He was stood 
suspended in space; stars glinted in the blackness. Galaxies swirled 
around him. The man caught his arm and steadied him. 

"It's OK, you'll be fine. Just try walking." 

Steve tried and found that he could. Although there was nothing under
his feet, he found that he was supported. It felt a little like walking 
on thick lush. After a few steps the man let go of his arm and pointed 
in the general direction of an orange star. As they walked the 
sensation of standing on grass slowly subsided until it gave the effect 
of flying. 

The idea of flight and lightness felt good. Steve wanted to start
flapping is arms like a bird, but the presence of the man checked him. 
To help maintain a dignified demeanour, he examined his youthful hands. 
Despite being suspended in the night sky, he could see them as if he 
was in daylight. 

"It's time for the assessment. Just walk and relax. Enjoy the view, it's
a once in a lifetime experience!" His chuckle trailed off to an 
embarrassed cough when he didn't get a reaction from Steve. 

Steve looked around. As he did so, he became aware of other couples,
walking in the same direction. Above him, below him and to each side, 
they were all moving toward the orange star. Some were talking 
animatedly, others quiet, a few were being led, but they all walked 
towards the orange star. The man noticed that Steve was staring upward 
at a couple who seemed only a few yards away, a young woman and middle 
aged escort. 

"I'm afraid that she was in the car behind you. Couldn't avoid the lorry
either. Her transition took a little longer though. Those people above 
you transitioned after you, those below before. The further away they 
are now in distance, the further away in time and space. Those to the 
sides of you transitioned at the same time, just in different places." 

Steve looked across at a couple about 25 yards away on his left. A young
man was sobbing into his hands as a young woman led him. He looked back 
at the man beside him. He was smiling and observing the visitor. Steve 
couldn't hold the gaze; he turned to look toward the growing orange 
glow. They walked together this way for some distance. The man watching 
his charge and the charge watching the orange glow growing. 

"Do you have a name?" Steve stopped suddenly and addressed the man, the
merest hint of anger in his voice. 

The man shook his head. "Not unless you give me one." 

"This is ridiculous. This is the most absurd nightmare I have ever had!"


The man kept walking. Although Steve had stopped, he kept pace with his
companion. The effect of moving while standing still started to make 
him feel a little dizzy, so he started his legs moving again. 

A phrase that the man had mentioned earlier worked into Steve's brain.
The guy had mentioned an assessment. He looked towards the Orange Glow, 
to see if he could make out an old man with a huge book standing by 
some gates. He strained his eyes until they began to itch trying to 
make out any detail in the swirling cloud of glowing gas, but could 
not. At last, unable to stare any longer, he looked away and as he did, 
so he realised that the man had stopped and he was walking without 
moving. A brief feeling of embarrassment meant he stopped moving his 
legs. 

The man opened a door that wasn't there. Blinding white light flooded
over them as the man gestured for Steve to enter. He did so. 

"It's been great to meet you Steve." 

The man held out a hand, Steve automatically shook it." Make yourself as
comfortable as you can. You will be called through in a minute." 

Steve stepped through the door into the powerful light. Realising the
man wasn't following he turned, both the man and the door had gone. All 
around him was just light. It had the feeling of being inside an 
infinite fluorescent tube. Harsh white light swirled around him. The 
light slowly started to take on form; first, a floor materialised under 
his feet and then a ceiling about a yard above his head. The light took 
on a slight greenish tinge and walls began to evolve. The walls were 
ethereal and some distance off at first, but they slowly began to 
become more solid. As they did so, they closed in around Steve. There 
were a few moments of rising fear and dread, before the walls fully 
formed a yard or two away. 

The tortured soul stood in the centre of the cube. His breath rasping.
Slowly, his arms slowly lifted outward from his sides, fingernails 
biting into the flesh of his palms. As his arms came into line with his 
shoulders, he threw back his head and shouted out his frustration. 

"I WANT TO WAKE UP!" 

As if in response, a dark portal opened in the left-hand wall. 

"Come through now please" the voice of young women coldly requested. 

Walking across to the opening, it was inspected. Light from the glowing
waiting room struggled to penetrate more than a few yards. The floor 
was dark wood, more through age than treatment. Steve stepped gingerly 
inside. 

"Please stand on the white cross" the unseen voice heralded a spotlight
from a hidden source to light up a cross that was painted on the floor 
about 15 yards further forward. As the prisoner of consciousness walked 
towards the mark, his footsteps echoed around the chamber. To each side 
there were dimly lit signs proclaiming exit. It crossed Steve's mind to 
make a dash in the hope that he could choose one that could provide him 
with wakefulness. He reached the cross and stopped. Three more 
spotlights plunged into the darkness and highlighted three people sat 
at a desk on a raised stage in front of him. The figures were instantly 
recognised. 

Miss Tremlett, his tormenting teacher looked over her half rimmed
glasses at the approaching figure. In Infants school she would rap him 
across the back of his hand if she caught him writing with the hand of 
the devil and force him to stand on his chair if he stumbled over his 
tables. Failure to conform to Miss Tremlett's classroom regime would 
result in humiliation and sore hands. 

To her left sat Leonard McKay, the head of department in his first job.
Steve felt his palms sweat as her remembered how, on the first Monday 
of the month he had to stand in front of his desk as he inspected the 
ledgers. If they were passed, they were handed back with a curt 
"Scruffy work Barnes, improve it next month." If they failed 
inspection, then they were hurled back at the clerk with the force and 
accuracy of a deep point fielder. No visit to Mr McKay's office went 
without some fault being highlighted. Be it a missing button, dirty 
shoes, excessive noise in the clerk's room or a lapse in timekeeping, 
Leonard McKay would notice and lash you with few words. 

The last of the three was Edie Clark. Although small, she was in
possession of a sharp tongue and withering glare. They had been 
neighbours for about 10 years during which time every domestic 
misdemeanour or over looking of maintenance etiquette had been seized 
upon and forceful condemnation dispensed. Long bony fingers reinforced 
her condemnations. These punctuated the one-sided conversations by 
jabbing at your chest. A sense of unease crept over Steve as he 
wondered if her foul tempered dog was lurking in the shadows, waiting 
to nip at his calf. 

The three were shuffling papers, seemingly oblivious to anyone else
being present. Miss Tremlett and Edie were pointing with gold pens at 
the unseen texts and Mr McKay was solemnly adding scalding annotations. 


"Right! Let's get started." McKay placed the papers in front of him and
fixed his eyes on the figure on the cross. 

"Stephen Joseph Alexander Barnes?" Steve nodded. 

"Speak up man!" Edie barked. 

"Yes. Yes I am Stephen Joseph Alexander Barnes." Steve responded to the
rebuke, trying to muster as much pride in his voice as he could, 
although doubt was beginning to gnaw away at his confidence. 

"Good. We can start." Said Leonard as he used his whole arm to make an
expressive mark on the papers, the gold pen glinting as the follow 
through took it level with Miss Tremlett's nose. At first, nothing 
happened, then there was a slight fizz and a bubble of grey light 
formed between Steve and his interviewers. The fizz rose to a gentle 
crackle before slowly dying away. Rainbow colours played at the edge of 
the bubble until diving into the heart of the grey mist to form 
pictures, moving pictures. 

Memories of Steve's childhood started to play before him. The time he
"helped" his mother by cleaning his baby brothers teeth. Playing on the 
lawn playing with one of his Grampy's many rabbits. Sitting on Grandpas 
knee and laughing like a drain as he snorted and catapulted his false 
teeth forward. Digging in the sand on a sunny beach while his mother & 
father sat and watched fully clothed except for naked feet. 

A warm feeling came over Steve and he smiled as pictures of his fourth
birthday party played in front of him. The movie of his life continued. 
As it did so, it showed fleeting images from his very early life in 
Sussex. He felt for the little boy in the bubble as he meandered 
uncertainly towards his first day of school and the images of Mrs 
Tremlett's classroom made him shiver. On the periphery of his vision, 
he saw his former teacher give her head a disapproving shake and make 
notes. 

The story moved on, a few unpleasant glimpses of his short, tortuous
stay in Norwich and the grim Victorian inner city school were 
thankfully replaced by the idyll of his time in a Norfolk village. 

The bubble was impartial, it showed good times and bad. Moments of pride
such as winning the Heathcoate Mathematics award and the moment of 
shame when at the urging of older boys he had turned on one of his best 
friends and fought him in the street. The triumph he felt at scoring 
his first goal for the school football team and the disaster of his 
first attempt at woodwork. The pain of falling from a tree and the 
pleasure of the ice cream sundae awarded to him by Gran for pulling his 
spluttering brother out of a lake on a fishing trip. The terror of a 
tractor approaching to lift their straw bale den, with them in it, onto 
a trailer and the security of sleeping between his mother and father on 
a particularly stormy night. 

The young boy in the images grew older, the locations moved from Norfolk
to Leicester to Wiltshire; the scenes seemed to concentrate on items 
that provoked emotion. 

As the boy moved through the hormone fuelled teenage years towards
manhood, strange scenes began to appear. One showed him standing 
outside the cinema, checking his watch and then walking off. Another 
was of him sat at a school desk reading a book. Steve struggled to even 
recall these events. 

His life moved on, school was left behind and University life flashed
before him. The strange scenes in which there was no action thinned 
out. By the time they reached the point where Marion and he shared a 
caravan holiday in Felixstowe, a tear was trickling down his left 
cheek. How could he have forgotten how beautiful his wife is? 

The blurry images of feared exams and elated graduation followed. It was
only when things moved towards his entry into the world of work and 
McKay, did Steve regain some composure. The scenes that made no sense 
had increased. Pictures of him not going into a pub, missing a train, 
sleeping in the back of his first car and talking to former colleagues 
failed to spark any reaction inside. 

It was only when images of Marion returned that did he instinctively
sniff and start to well up. The scenes were fast moving and rapidly 
followed their courtship at parties, concerts and cinema. By the time 
their wedding was replayed, both cheeks were damp. By the time of their 
wedding, Steve was clenching back sobs. When the images of the birth of 
Sara and Alex came, he started to sob openly. McKay made notes. Steve 
ceased to care about his observers. He began to resent all of the 
images that were not of Marion, Sara and Alex. Anything that was shown 
that didn't relate to his family was shut out and he relished watching 
his children grow to adulthood, cursing himself for not spending more 
time with them. 

All at once, he and Marion were home alone again. An image of last
months romantic break in Rome heralded that the show was drawing to a 
close and shortly after the bubble faded into nothingness. Steve wiped 
his face with the sleeves of his shirt, coughed and swallowed. Drawing 
in a series of deep breaths, he looked up to face his observers. 

"You know you could have done that a lot better Barnes." Miss Tremlett
spoke in her classroom tone. 

McKay was inspecting the papers; his top lip was curled. Steve wondered
if it was malevolent or just an unfortunate quirk. 

"Says here you have no belief Barnes." McKay shook a leaf of paper at
arms length. 

"No belief at all?" Edie's voice rose an octave in the length of the
short question. 

Steve waited for Miss Tremlett to condemn his lack of faith. Her
response surprised him. 

"Come on, think about it. Wasn't there some belief system in which you
felt faith? It doesn't have to be a recognised system, a book, film or 
even a short story could suffice." 

Brow furrowed and eyes closed, Steve thought. Nothing that he had every
read, watched or heard didn't fit the bill. Some he would like to 
believe in, but none in which he had conviction. Lying did cross his 
mind, but in the end, the truth seemed more appropriate. Steve chose 
his words carefully. 

"I'm sorry, but I have never given these things as much thought as
perhaps I should. If you need an answer now, then, I'm afraid it will 
have to be none. If I had a little more time, then perhaps I could give 
a better answer." 

The three on the stage consulted. An exit door opened and Steve could
see the swirling galaxies beyond. 

"No excuses or extensions, Barnes." McKay didn't look up as he neatly
placed the papers in a buff file. 

"Please leave by the open door and move towards the orange glow" the
disembodied voice took control. 

Steve walked to the door and out into the brightly lit night. He walked
towards the glow as commanded, desperately clinging to the bubble's 
images and replaying the memories of Marion, Sara and Alex. Passing 
through the door, the feel of lush grass was again beneath his feet. 

His memories preoccupied him for a while, and he had gone some distance
before he had a sudden feeling of loneliness. There was not the number 
of people around him as before. Those that were on his path were some 
distance from him, but the fact that they were there reassured him. 
Looking up and to his left, he noticed someone soaring and swooping 
like a huge gull. A few others joined in. Steve gave his arms a 
tentative flap and felt his body lift. A few more decisive flaps, he 
too was soaring. With outstretched arms and with delicate shifts of his 
centre of gravity, he was a human condor, progressing through the 
swirling night towards the dominating orange glow. Soon, the flying 
became natural and required little concentration. 

Steve closed his eyes and returned to the memories. His mother and
father joined Marion and children in his thoughts. A broad contented 
smile came across his face. 

An uninvited memory marched into his brain, one of the scenes of
inaction which seemed to have no emotional barb. Shaking his head 
dislodged it, but another took its place. A more violent shake and he 
was falling. 

Desperately, Steve flapped his arms in order to regain flight. The fall
continued. He was now naked, arms flaying as he tried to regain flight. 
His limbs became heavier more difficult to move. The fall was not fast, 
it felt like everything was moving in slow motion. As he fell, he 
tumbled. In panic, he tried to wake before he hit an unseen floor. 

One by one, the stars went out, the swirling galaxies slowly turning
dark. 

The fall continued. A pulsing pressure encased his body rendering him
immobile. Every breath was a struggle. His heart beat thundered in his 
ears. The fall was getting slower. 

Steve struggled to breathe. The pressure was crushing his head. The
heart beat thudded in his ears. One beat or was it two? 

Suddenly there was light, the pressure lifted and was replaced by a
feeling of wetness and warm towels encasing his body. Something gently 
supported him and warm terry fabric massaged his body. There were 
shapes moving above him and weariness swept his body. The heartbeat had 
subsided to replaced by a baby crying. There were voices. 

"Well Done Mrs. Barnes!" The loud voice of a woman filled his ears above
the crying. 

"It's a baby boy!" 

Steve was floating and then lowered onto what felt like a bouncy
mattress. His eyes would not focus; his strength had deserted him. The 
towelling was taken away and replaced by an itchy blanket. He was 
moving again. 

"He's a beautiful baby. I'll go and get Mr. Barnes." 

Steve was lowered again, his head and body gently supported, waves of
exhaustion swept over him, his mind seemed to be shutting down, thought 
and reason ebbed away. 

"Dennis, come and look at our son." Joyce's voice was full of emotion. 

"Have you thought of any names?" the nurse addressed the couple at the
bed. 

"We had thought about Stephen. Stephen Joseph Alexander Barnes after our
fathers." Dennis replied, his chest swelling with pride. 


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