The Man Who Dreamt He Was Dreaming was dreaming he was dreaming. He remained asleep week after week, and although the time he reclined rose and fell on the Interfold tide, the sum of the stream in which he dreamed was a considerable measure in anybody’s scheme.
Through dream layer upon dream layer he dreamt he was dreaming. He was searching for the girl in the wet pink panties but she was rarely where he wanted her to be and never alone. There was always another man at her side, always some chancer, some hoper, some lower being blocking his path.
In an attempt to elude the fools The Man Who Dreamt He Was Dreaming dreamt himself high on a Welsh mountainside. In a hamlet comprised of a pub, a post office and a converted barn, owned by the landlord of the pub, which served as a dormitory for hikers.
He dreamt the scene vivid and real. The girl in the wet pink panties was changing after a hike. Removing clothes wet from crossing a stream with her back to The Man Who Dreamt He Was Dreaming she sat wearing only pink panties, which he was reassured to see were quite damp. He could see the swell of her considerable breasts only metres away, but beyond her was the usual other rolling his ridiculous eyes taunting him that he, though a fool, had a full view of that which The Man Who Dreamt He Was Dreaming was denied.
The Man Who Dreamt He Was Dreaming considered a mad rush to take in the full view of her majesty, but instead turned away disconsolate and descended the stairs to the lower room which contained little apart from a large table cluttered with empty bottles and a wood burner unnecessary in the temperature climate of his dreams.
A thin red haired girl wearing a white T shirt and a blue mini skirt sat at the table.
“Hi.” She said crossing her legs and smoking a cigarette.
“Hi.” The Man Who Dreamt He Was Dreaming said in reply looking at her face. Her eyes were made up with heavily defined eyeliner marks, which he found familiar. She smiled in response to his studying her eyes. Deciding that he needed a drink even if this was a dream he began checking the bottles that crowded the table.
“They’re all empty.” The Thin Red Girl said, “I’ve already checked.”
“That’s a pity.” The Man Who Dreamt He Was Dreaming said. “Is the pub still open?”
“No. Not today. Have they got anything to drink up there?” She signalled upwards with the cigarette.
“Not that I know of.”
“Shall I ask them?”
“It can’t do any harm.”
“You don’t sound too sure?” The Thin Red Girl said.
“Maybe I’m not.”
“Maybe you’re not?”
“Maybe I’m not.”
“What is there to be unsure about? We are down here without a drink and they are up either with or without a drink. Something I can clarify by asking.”
“Ignore me.” He said. “Go and ask them.”
“I will.” The Thin Red Girl said. She uncrossed her legs and stood up. “Here hold this.” She handed him the cigarette and ascended the stairs halfway so that only the very short skirt and her long thin pale legs were visible. He traced their lines with his eyes from her ankles to the point where her elegant thighs disappeared underneath the blue skirt.
The Thin Red Girl turned round and crouched down enough to lower her head below ceiling level.
“I don’t think now would be a good time.” She said. A moan that might have been a whimper drifted to his ears.
“It seems not.” He said.
“Are you looking up my skirt?” The Thin Red Girl said.
The Man Who Dreamt he Was Dreaming considered the question. It was his dream after all and so he answered: “Yes. Yes I am.” He glanced up her skirt again just to emphasise the point.
“Oh.” She said. “I thought you were. So what colour are they?”
“What colour?”
“Yes. What colour are my knickers?”
“I couldn’t see.” He admitted. She descended a few steps but remained positioned above him.
“Would you like to?”
He considered his response. “Yes.” He said.
“Guess first.” The Thin Red Girl said.
“Guess?” He said
“Yes. Guess what colour my knickers are. I bet you can’t”
“Black?” He said.
“No.”
“White?”
“Uh Uh.”
“Red?” She shook her head.
“Blue?”
“No.”
“Yellow?”
“No.”
“Pink?”
“Not even close.”
He thought for a minute. “Polka dots?” He said.
“No.”
“Stripes.”
“No.”
“Green?”
“With this hair colour? Please!”
“Well I really don’t know.” He said with a shrug of defeat.
“I suppose you want me to show you?” She said smiling.
“Yes. I would.” He said reasoning that since this was his dream there was no point hanging around.
“Well I can’t.” She said.
“You can’t?” He said disappointed and suspecting an all too familiar course of events was about to unfold.
“No.” She said. “I can’t.”
“Why not?” He asked.
“Think about it.” She said holding eye contact to emphasise her point.
“Think about it?”
“Yes. Think about it.” She said again.
“I am.” He said.
“Its really very obvious.” She said placing a hand on each thigh.
“Is it?” He said thinking it over.
“Oh yes.”
He thought it over. “Obvious?” He said unable to think any further.
“Yes.” She said softly. “Really. Very. Obvious.”
“Show me.” He said almost a whisper.
“I suppose I could…” She agreed, “…just show you…” She began to lift her skirt slowly, “…a little.” She pushed the fabric of the skirt a little higher and eased her legs a little apart to give him a tantalising view.
He took a step towards her and holding eye contact placed a hand on her slender thigh and moved it slowly up until his fingers made contact. She closed her eyes as he stroked and probed. Slumped against his shoulder. Wrapped her arms around him and kissed his neck.
“Oh my god.” He said silently in his head. “Its an absolute thicket!” He probed and stroked. Stroked and probed but could not penetrate her thick curls. Soft though they were they appeared to form an impenetrable fortress around her sleeping prize and no matter how hard he pressed and tried he simply could not get inside.
This appeared to have no dampening effect on the Thin Red Girl who kissed him ever more frantically and tightening her grip threw her legs around his waist sending him off balance. He fell back against the table sending bottles crashing. He manoeuvred them both on the bench beside the table still pushing and probing still deeper with his hand. He leant against the back of the bench but it gave way with a crack throwing him backwards. He threw both arms out to steady himself as the Thin Red Girl flailed back herself and fell off him as he tumbled over through the broken back of the bench, and straight through the solid stone wall behind.
He found himself suddenly on the floor of a dark room positioned between a flickering TV and a slumbering man of huge proportions wearing thick black-rimmed glasses, which reflected the fizzing transmission of the TV back on itself. The Thin Red Girl had disappeared.
“Bollocks.” He said. “Bollocks. Bollocks. Bollocks.” He kicked the fat sleeper who grunted but stirred no further.
The Man Who Dreamt He Was Dreaming looked at the wall through which he had entered the room. Solid. Unbreachable. He ran a hand over the perfect plaster. “Sod it.” He said aloud and walked out of the room and out of the house.
He closed the door behind him and found himself outside an average terrace house on an average income housing estate in Basildon in 1986. A young man with a familiar face was urinating in the front garden of the house next door where a party was in progress. Otherwise all was quiet under the amber light of street lamps.
The Man Who Dreamt He Was Dreaming realised that he was still holding the cigarette the Thin Red Girl had handed him. He looked at the red ring of lipstick around the tip and threw it away. Put his hands into pockets and walked slowly away.
“At least I didn’t get stabbed this time.” He said to himself.
“Don’t be so sure.” A voice said behind him. He turned a sharp about face and received a punch that slapped him back onto the ground. A girl with long dark hair and black underwear jumped down upon him and began stabbing him manically again and again and again.
The Man Who Dreamt He Was Dreaming recalled that the girl’s hair was quite wet as he sat up with a shudder. The room about him sat languid in the dull familiar light of his in-between dream.
“The plain mundane.” He said aloud. The sound was muted and weighed down. He slumped back on to the bed. Threw himself onto his side. Pulled the covers over his head and familiar by now with the procedure, succumbed once more to a dream of a dream.
8.0 The Man Who Dreamt He Was Dreaming iii
7.11 O Joylin!
Joylin turned a corner and stopped. Ran a hand through her hair and exhaled heavily.
“How did it go?” The Wolf asked as he materialised out of the wall at her side.
“He took the gun.”
“Good work Joylin. Good work. And he is to see the Council?”
“This morning.”
“Well…” The Wolf mused, “There is nothing we can do about that. Just keep close to him and make sure that we know whatever he knows before he knows he knows it.”
“That…” Joylin said with a smile, “Won’t be difficult.”
7.10 A Little Too far
Black McCarthy and Joylin were in the corridor outside the closed door to Suite 6792. Joylin was dressing in a hurry whilst Black expressed remorse.
“I really am sorry Joylin.” He said. “I let things go a little too far.”
“I’d say so McCarthy.”
“I only meant to have a little fun with you.”
“At my expense you mean.” Joylin said.
“Ok. I accept that is probably fair.”
“Probably! McCarthy? Probably!”
“Ok. Yes you are right.”
Joylin shook her head and buttoned her blouse. “And to think I only came up here to help you out.”
“Help me out?” Black said curious as to how.
“Yes to help you out…” She paused, “and to use your shower.”
“How were you going to help me out?” Black asked hoping all was not lost.
“Its all right for you. Everything works up here. The plumbing on my level is abysmal. It’s not all luxury in the Interfold Hotel Republic when no one else is picking up the tab for you McCarthy. Some of us have to work for a living.”
“In my defence Joylin, I am here in the course of my work.” Black said.
“Ha. Work.” Joylin sneered. “And to think I only came up here to help you out.”
“You said that.” Black said hoping she would elaborate. “But how exactly were you going to help me out?”
“What?” Joylin said as if taken aback.
“You said you only came up here to help me out…” Black began.
“And to use your shower.” Joylin said.
“Yes, and to use my shower. But I wondered how exactly?”
“How exactly?
“Yes.” Black said. “How exactly?”
“I planned to use your shower in the normal way. To shower.” Joylin said.
“No. You misunderstand.” Black said. “I meant how exactly were you going to help me out?” He risked a smile in the hope that this would help. It didn’t.
“You really are unbelievable. Do you know that McCarthy?”
“Yes Joylin.” Black conceded.
“Do you really think that after humiliating me as thoroughly as you have that I am still going to tell you exactly why I came up here this morning…”
“So you weren’t here last night!” Black said with relief. “I knew it!”
“WHAT!” Joylin said clearly appalled anew.
“Its just good…” Black said slowly realising he had erred again. “To get confirmation.”
“Confirmation!” Joylin shook her head. “You really are the extreme McCarthy do you know that?”
“Yes Joylin.” Black said.
“And to think that I was starting to wonder whether I might be starting to find you almost tolerable. Unbelievable. Its bad enough that you assume that I would spend the night with you at all never mind when you were clearly so drunk that you would have no hope of any recollection of its magnificent happening. Why I even considered helping you out I do not know.” Joylin pulled on her skirt. “McCarthy, where are my shoes?”
“Don’t worry, I’ll find them.” He said and quickly slipped back into suite 6792. To his relief both The Wolf and The Man Who Fell Through Floors were nowhere to be seen. He retrieved Joylin’s shoes and returned to the corridor.
“You realise you will have to kill them don’t you McCarthy?” Joylin said as he handed her the shoes.
“What?” Black said alarmed. “Kill? Who?”
“Your two buddies. How else do you propose to restore my honour?”
“Your honour?” Black said.
“Yes my honour.”
“Your honour.” Black said again. “Listen Joylin. I am really sorry that I embarrassed you in there but come on, no one really saw all that much…”
“With towels as small as that!” Joylin said.
“Even with towels as small as that. Come on girl be reasonable. You can’t seriously expect me to restore your honour by killing two innocent bystanders to a harmless prank?”
“I can and I do.” Joylin said. “I demand justice and the restoration of my honour.” She slipped into her shoes and pulled a very small pistol from the pocket of her jacket. “And this is the gun you are going to use to do the job.”
Stung by the realisation that she was serious Black stared at the gun.
“You cannot be serious Joylin.” He said as she placed the gun in his hand taking no momentary joy from the brief touch of her skin on his own.
“I can and I am.” She said looking at her watch. “Now thanks to you I am late for work and you are late for your appointment with the Interfold Council.”
“My what?” Black said thrown again.
“Oh did I forget to mention it?” Joylin said. “It must have been all the excitement of being humiliated. I completely forgot to tell you that you are summoned to present yourself to the Interfold Council this morning…” She glanced at her watch again, “Ten minutes ago.”
“But what for?” Black asked.
“To paraphrase you Mister McCarthy: You will have to put out to find out.” She turned and started to walk away. Turned back to Black and added: “take the red elevator from reception. Oh and Black?”
“Yes Joylin?” She had never called him Black before.
“Don’t forget to kill your friends for me.” Black stared at her back as she walked away completely lost for words.
7.9 The Girl With The Broken Neck
The Girl With The Broken Neck returned from the dead to find herself destined to regard life from a curious angle. The first curious thing she saw was a foraging stranger illuminated by the open door of her own Interfold refrigerator, a cumbersome thing which although of high quality was only available in pink. Crouching as she drank from a carton of juice the stranger presented The Girl With The Broken Neck with a view of such gynaecological detail that she immediately considered the stranger an intimate and greeted her accordingly.
“How are you getting on in there?” She asked The Bag Lady Assassin.
The Bag Lady Assassin turned around with ferocious velocity and hauled The Girl With The Broken Neck to her feet. Staring hard into the girls eyes, which wasn’t easy given the jaunty angle at which The Girl With The Broken Neck was now wearing her head, she said: “You are alive.”
The Girl With The Borken Neck considered this statement and replied: “It certainly seems that way.” She smiled what she considered a welcoming smile.
“But how can that be when your neck is quite clearly broken?”
“Oh its genetic.” The Girl With The Broken Neck dismissing the subject with a wave of a hand. “Are you hungry?”
“Genetic?” The Bag Lady Assassin said preferring to persist.
“It’s a hereditary sort of thing,” The Girl With The Broken Neck said, “We’re all like it.”
“All?”
“Yes all of us.” The Girl With The Broken Neck said not wanting to elaborate. “How about I make us some breakfast and you can tell me what this is all about?”
“Who are: ‘all of us’?” The Bag Lady Assassin said unwilling to be distracted.
“Oh that’s not important.” The Girl With The Broken Neck said. “I’ll find you some clothes in a moment as well. Now what can I get you? You look weak with hunger.” She looked The Bag Lady Assassin up and down. “Despite clear evidence to the contrary.” She rubbed her broken neck and frowned.
The Bag Lady Assassin stood silenced by the open familiarity of the girl whose neck she had broken. Her training told her to despatch The Girl With The Broken Neck with all possible rapidity, but this clearly would not be as simple as she had assumed. A large kitchen knife was at hand on a counter top, but this would be extremely messy and the promised breakfast quite appealed. Spilling blood on an empty stomach was never a joy.
“I’ll kill her again after breakfast.” She said to herself as The Girl With The Broken Neck cracked an egg into a sizzling pan and asked:
“How do you like your eggs?”
7.8 Then To Work
The Man Who Lived in a Vacuum Cleaner felt his way back to consciousness for the second time that morning. He felt a little nauseous but otherwise opened his eyes without too much trouble and fought to focus on the concerned face of Alex From Mars.
“Are you ok?” She asked.
“I think so.” He said trying to sit up.
“Hey – not so fast.” Alex said “ That’s twice today you’ve been out. Take it slowly.”
“Ok, did it work?” He said with a note of hope in his voice.
“To the naked eye – I’d say yes.”
“Are you sure?”
“You look a little bigger to me but we said we would be scientific about this so let me measure you to be precise.” She took up her tape and measured The Man Who Lived in a Vacuum Cleaner. Frowned as she studied the result.
“So?” The Man Who Lived in a Vacuum Cleaner asked. “How did we do?”
“Not as well as I had hoped.” Alex From Mars admitted. “But definite progress. You have grown almost two centimetres.”
“Only two centimetres!” he said with clear disappointment.
“I am afraid so.”
“So how tall am I now?”
“A little over 22 centimetres.”
“Oh.”
“But don’t be too disheartened.”
“Its hard not to be.” He said.
“I know.” She said trying to sound reassuring. “But think it through. If you started out at say twenty centimetres.”
“Yes.”
“And we added another two then...”
“Yes.”
“Well, that’s growth of ten per cent.”
“Ten per cent.” He echoed seeing her point.
“So…”
“Yes?”
“If the effect each time is ten per cent then the cumulative effect will be greater each time. At
least in theory.”
“I see what you mean.” He said as his optimism returned.
“At least I hope so. How tall were you before you started shrinking?” Alex frowned as she considered the task.
“Six feet and six inches.”
“Oh.” She said thinking the implications through. “That’s what? 78 inches which is…” She thought about it. ”One metre ninety five or so.”
“I suppose so.”
“Which means only another twenty five or so times to go before we have you back to full height.”
“Golly.” The Man Who Lived in a Vacuum Cleaner thinking that that wouldn’t necessarily be all that bad, although he hoped that he wouldn’t pass out every time.
“So…” Alex From Mars said. ”If you are sufficiently recovered?”
“I think I am.” The Man Who Lived in a Vacuum Cleaner replied laying back with his arms behind his head.
“Then to work.” Alex said and down she went once more.
7.7 The Feet Of Dawn
The Bag Lady Assassin stayed with the Feet of Dawn as they completed their circuit and one by one began to peel off and head for home. Watching for her opening The Bag Lady Assassin picked a likely candidate whose stature was similar to her own and followed her from a good distance.
The girl, unaware that she was being followed, stopped outside her Interfold apartment and pulling her pass card, which was on a chain around her neck, over her head she swiped it to open the door.
The kick that killed her was delivered with such speed and force that the girl would have had no idea that she was in danger before she was dispatched. The Bag Lady Assassin calmly dragged The Girl With The Broken Neck through the open door by her hair dumped the body on the floor in the hallway. She kicked the door closed behind her with the same lethal heel, switched on the lights and walked into the kitchen. She hoped The Girl With The Broken Neck kept a well-stocked refrigerator. All that running had made her hungry.
7.6 Science
The Man Who Lived in a Vacuum Cleaner regained consciousness to find Alex From Mars leaning over him with a measuring tape.
“What are you doing.” He asked in a whisper.
“I think it might pay to be scientific about this.” Alex From Mars replied.
“What do you mean?” A confused Man Who Lived in a Vacuum Cleaner asked. “And what happened?”
“Oh. I am sorry.” Alex From Mars said and sat down beside him on the bed. “You passed out as you came. I suspect the blood supply to your head was a little restricted at that particular moment.”
“I see.” Said The Man Who Lived in a Vacuum Cleaner not seeing at all. “So why the tape measure?”
“Well.” Alex began frowning. “You have been out for about an hour…”
“Yes?”
“And in that time, I can’t say for sure, but…”
“Yes?”
“I am sure you are bigger now than you were before.” She shrugged.
“You don’t mean…” The Man Who Lived in a Vacuum Cleaner said looking down at the surprisingly large penis.
“Oh no no no.” Alex From Mars assured him. “I mean all of you. You look taller than before. I am sure you have grown”
“Grown!” The Man Who Lived in a Vacuum Cleaner said jumping up with his mind once more fully onboard. “Are you sure?”
“Yes.” Alex From Mars said. “I am almost totally sure.”
“Almost?” He said, “Totally?” His shoulders dropped. ”Are you sure?”
“Well.” Alex Frowned. “I think so.”
“How much?” He said looking himself over.
“I don’t know exactly.” Alex said. “Which is why I was measuring you.”
“Measuring me?”
“So that we can be sure.”
“Sure?”
“Exactly. So that next time we can be sure.”
“Next time?”
“Yes. Next time. It pays to be scientific about these things.”
“Scientific?” He said still not understanding.
“Yes scientific.” Alex explained. “So that next time we know exactly how much you have grown.”
“Next time.” He said. “Scientific.”
“That’s it exactly.” Alex From Mars said in encouragement. Now are you recovered enough?”
“Enough for what?” The Man Who Lived in a Vacuum Cleaner asked wondering what she was on about.
“For this.” Alex From Mars said. She pushed him gently back into a pillow, took the surprisingly large penis between her lips and dedicated her formidable tongue to science.
