The Unpretenders - Chapter 22

I looked forward to sleeping. I had started to use it as a kind of gauge, to determine my level of consciousness. For if my understanding was correct, then greater awareness in life led to greater awareness in dreams. And greater awareness in dreams led to greater awareness in life. It was an ascending spiral, in other words, whereas as a lessening of one's consciousness in life could all too easily become a descending spiral, or vortex, from which there was little hope of escape.  

In Melody's parlance, all of this meant that my life would become increasingly more fluid and dreamlike, while my dreams would become increasingly more stable and realistic, until, eventually, there would be no discernible difference between the two realities. Indeed, any perceived difference was only ever in my mind to begin with. Which also explained why the omnipotence that I experienced in lucid dreams would begin to leak through into the so-called physical dimension; where, I had been warned, such abilities tended to be viewed by others as something paranormal. Burn the witch!

However fantastic the Intronium was, therefore, I knew it couldn't compete with what every human being had access to in their sleep every night. Providing, of course, they had the wherewithal to realise when they were dreaming, and to know the power of their own words, which were essentially divine commands. The Intronium was, at best, a tool. But I knew that no technology could ever supplant our natural omnipotence.  

In my own dream, that night, Julian had asked me if I wanted to see myself through his eyes. I wasn't entirely sure what he meant, at first, but nevertheless answered his question affirmatively. He then beckoned me forward and drew me into a loving embrace. Only, something felt very different from previous occasions. I sensed that our naked bodies were actually beginning to merge!

Not long afterwards I began to become aware of Julian's mind, particularly his thoughts concerning me. It started with his perception of me as his pupil, at school, and then progressed to more recent memories of our burgeoning friendship. I wasn't merely perceiving scenes and images, however. I could also feel the full spectrum of his associated emotions. Which was why I wept; such as it was possible to weep in a dream. For I suddenly realised how much he loved me; how much he had always loved me.

It wasn't the kind of love that most people would recognise as such, however. It wasn't a dualistic love. For Julian saw straight through the fiction of himself just as he saw straight through the fiction of me. So it wasn't love as some sort of commodity, as it had come to be used by society, with all manner of conditions attached. No. The love with which Julian loved himself was no different from the love with which he loved me. And that love was also our joint identity, for there was ultimately only one of us present, beyond the illusion. A reality that even our dream bodies now reflected, having fully combined into a single, androgynous being. We were One. And the One who loved was also, simultaneously, the Beloved. This, I suddenly realised, was the divine marriage. And I didn't want it to end.

Isobel sought to comfort me, when I finally awoke, for I was still quite emotional. "Bad dream?" she enquired.

"No, a good one," I sobbed, hugging her. But had I actually seen myself through Julian's eyes, I wondered, or had the whole experience been nothing more than the product of my own imagination?

I asked Isobel whether she had seen him yet, but she shook her head. "He's probably still asleep."

"Yes, probably," I agreed, kicking off the duvet. I then threw on an oversized T-shirt and made my way to the door.

"Where are you going?" she asked.

"I shan't be long," I told her, dodging the question.

Julian's bedroom was at the far end of the landing, and his door was unsurprisingly shut. Despite the possibility of disturbing him, however, I felt compelled to knock on it. I then waited with bated breath for a response. None came. So I knocked again. But still there was no response. Finally, therefore, I opened the door and peered inside.

Julian didn't appear to be there. And, having seen that he wasn't there, I should have left. But I didn't. In fact, I walked straight over to his unmade bed and instinctively straightened the sheets. Whether it was because we had just potentially shared our minds or not, I couldn't say, but the normally rigid borders between where I, Sophie, ended, and he, Julian, began, had quite significantly softened.

Dreamily I raised his pillow to my face. The familiar smell of his cologne was comforting. It made me feel safe. I had no memory of laying down, as such, but I suppose that I must have done, because the next thing I knew, I was waking up again, for the second time that morning.

"Is your own bed not comfortable enough?" said Julian, cheerfully.

I struggled to remember what had happened. "I've drooled on your pillow," I told him, noticing the wet patch that I'd left behind. I then sat up and apologised for entering his room.

Julian looked surprised. "What is a room compared to a mind?"

"What? You mean..."

"Yes, Sophie, that's what I mean. It's simply another function of the Intronium. That's where I was."

"Wow! I don't know what to say. Oneness is all well and good, in theory, but the experience of it is something else altogether. If only everyone knew the truth, huh? This world would be transformed overnight."

"Indeed. People would literally be falling over themselves to please each other. But that would also mean the end of everything that they originally came here for; everything that they've since become dependent upon - addicted to. That's why they daren't allow themselves to remember."

"I think more people would be willing to fight their addiction if they could actually see how wonderful the alternative was."

"How do you mean?"

"I don't know, like a community or something; not only living in harmony with nature, but with each other, as One. Leading by example. A new Eden, kind of thing."

"Sounds ambitious. Who would manage such a project?"

"I would, of course."

"And who would fund it?"

"Erm, that would have to be you, I guess."

"Interesting. You know, Sophie, I've actually been thinking along those lines myself lately."

"Yeah, well, great minds think alike."