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Dream Sequence

I don't really know how to begin this story. I suppose it would be best to begin at the beginning, but so much has happened since then that I do not believe that I will do it justice.

I started out stuck. I was stuck in a dreamworld that had no windows or doors. There was no sound here, and no touch either. There was nothing here. No smell, no tastes, not even sights. All there was was one solitary stool. And in front of this stool was a slot machine. I do not know why, but I plowed quarter after quarter into this machine. All I did was lose. I didn’t know how to win, and I didn’t even know what the prize was, but I knew that it was vital to my being.

Finally, in a burst full of sound and fury, I hit three music notes. That was when I got my sound back. It turns out that old Beatles tunes were continuously playing from invisible speakers in the walls.

"In Penny Lane there is a barber showing photographs
Of every head he's had the pleasure to know.
And all the people that come and go
Stop and say hello."

Forever did I play that damn slot machine! I didn’t even know where the quarters were coming from, but I continued that hellish game of cat and mouse. Eventually, I won three fingerprints – that of my mother, father, and guardian angel – and I could touch again. I could feel the sweat rub against the quarter. I could feel the cold metal of the slot machine. I could feel the aches in my back from sitting on the stool for so long. And I could feel the air pressure in the room as it watched me play.

I could also hear the tiny bells and whistles of the slot machine. Hear the small tink of the sack of quarters by my feet. And still, forevermore, the music floated around me.

"On the corner is a banker with a motorcar,
The little children laugh at him behind his back.
And the banker never wears a mack
In the pouring rain, very strange."

And for a while, that is how I stayed. I could hear and I could feel. There was nothing else. Just an endless medley of songs, and the touch of metal. I couldn't know anything else. It was unfathomable to even wonder what else there could be! That was until the three flowers. I could smell again.

"In penny Lane there is a fireman with an hourglass
And in his pocket is a portrait of the Queen.
He likes to keep his fire engine clean,
It's a clean machine."

I could smell the quarters at my feet. I could smell the heat given off by the slot machine. But I could also smell something else. Something new. It was the smell of a roasted turkey, with all the trimmings. It was the smell of freshly baked bread, just out of the oven. It was the smell of chocolate chip cookies, being made only for you. I knew that these smells were good, but I had no use for them. All I knew was this slot machine.

I kept placing, pulling, cranking. That was my existence. I had no reason to be bothered with idle things like sounds and smells. I did not appreciate the gifts given to me. Pick up a quarter. Place it in the machine. Pull the lever. Listen to the sounds it makes. Repeat.

Then I got the best surprise of all. Three forks and I got taste back. The sudden rush of both smell and taste sent me into a tailspin. Remembering all of the food I smelled, I realized that I was ravenous. I had yet, in all of my existence, to eat a meal. So I did something unpredictable. I got up from my stool and walked away from the slot machine.

"Behind the shelter in the middle of a roundabout
The pretty nurse is selling poppies from a tray
And tho' she feels as if she's in a play
She is anyway."

I wandered for years, months, weeks, days, hours, minutes, seconds. There is no time in this place, so it does not matter how long I wandered. All I have is what I experienced.

I heard the cry of thousands of animals, most of which never existed, some of which were long past extinct, and a few of which were yet to be discovered by man. I felt the brush of people walking by me, but as soon as they passed, they vanished into the undetectable. I smelled the fresh rain on the beaten path, I knew that I needed to take the road more traveled. And oh! The taste! I tasted everything. The ice cream from an abandoned parlor. The pizza from a shutdown restaurant. The crisp water from the undiscovered stream. Even the mud beneath my feet. And it was all wonderful.

The freedom from the slot machine, however, was very overwhelming, and I fell into a fit of exhaustion. Laying down, I went into a deep sleep.

"Penny Lane is in my ears and in my eyes.
A four of fish and finger pies
In summer, meanwhile back..."

I dreamt. I dreamt about life and death. I noticed a woman in red, riding a bicycle. I noticed an old man teaching his grandson how to play chess. I noticed the vast expanses of the Great Plains. I noticed the impoverished children of Africa. I noticed the jagged cliffs off of Maine's coastline, and I noticed the wonder that is the Niagara Falls. I noticed that exact moment where my "old" self committed suicide, and my "new" self was reborn.

But the most important thing, the item that was above everything else, was when I noticed a large mountain towering over the world. It was many, many feet high, taller than anything surrounding it. There was an amazing amount of history, legend, and myth in that mountain. Tears flew down it in the forms of rivers. What did it cry for? Well, it cried for me. And if cried for you. But mostly, it cried for them.

I noticed beauty above all else that night. Nothing in this realm, or the next, could describe the emotions I felt. It was wonderful. It was horrible. It was humbling. It made me feel superior. It was everything I wanted and more. It was what I least expected. It was what I most expected.

"Penny Lane is in my ears and in my eyes.
There beneath the blue suburban skies
I sit, and meanwhile back..."

When I awoke, I was back in the room. Sitting on the stool, placing quarter after quarter into the slot machine.

Horrified, I stood up again.

"Don’t do that," a Voice called out from the invisible speakers.

I picked up the bag of quarters and hurled them at the Voice. I heard them clatter against the wall, and rebound across the room. I felt as each one bounced back and hit me. I smelled the electricity in the room, and I tasted the blood in my mouth as they broke me down.

And then there was perfect silence.

Not knowing how, or why, I spoke my first words: "Why! Why are you doing this to me? Nothing, nothing in my world or yours can be better or more beautiful that what I felt last night!"

The Voice responded calmly, "One more. All you need to do is pull that lever one more time, and you will understand."

Tentatively, I sat back down. The bag of quarters that I so violently threw was back, as neat and pristine as ever, by my feet. I grabbed a last quarter. Placing it into the slot machine, I realized that I was terrified of the outcome. What if this understanding was misplaced? Taking a deep breath, I counted to three.

One.

I noticed the pygmy village of a long forgotten Pacific Island.

Two.

I noticed the Statue of Liberty in all her glory.

Three.

"Good," the Voice echoed. Then it ceased to exist.

I pulled.

"In Penny Lane the barber shaves another customer,
We see the banker sitting waiting for a trim.
And then the fireman rushes in
From the pouring rain, very strange."

Three eyes. The last thing that room gave me was sight. It was an amazing feeling to see the objects that the other senses were screaming to me. I looked around at the tiny white room with no windows or doors and was blinded. Blinking a few times, I focused my attention on the slot machine. As I looked at it, it transformed into a time machine of sorts.

Picking it up, it transferred me to life. I saw my birth. I saw my death. I saw when I lost my innocence, and I saw when I first learned of innocence. I saw myself walking towards my diploma, towards my future. I saw myself looking backwards towards my family, towards my past.

I was placed, regardless of what I saw, right here. Right now. There is a reason they made me write it down. Maybe you can decipher it for me. It will be your dream world with no windows or doors. I don't exactly know what that room signified, but I am sure that life will teach me.

I don't really know how to end this story. I suppose it would be best to end at the ending, but so much has happened since then that I do not believe that I will do it justice. And it always will happen. domokun

I liked this , but Im not much of a critic, Id read more tho...

i liked it, it was well written, yet dark. but in this story that doesn't bother me as much as with other dark stories. this one seems to need the darkness for you to understand the underlying meaning. i'm not really sure if i do, but i have an idea.

Yes!! It has! Dreams are very inspirational.. Lovely piece..the animal part got to me sad Got any more??

i really enjoyed this story - glad i had a chance to read it. the general setting was really bare, just a windowless room with a slot machine, but it still felt really atmospheric. and i loved the three fingerprints [did that come to you i the dream, too?]

i have actually never been inspired to write by a dream. i have dreams in which i think, this might be worth writing down as a story, but when i wake up i feel otherwise. sad