Chapter 2 The First Dream The chamber- Copyright 2013

Chapter 2                                        The First Dream   The chamber

-Copyright Robert Fullarton 2013

A small portion of mackerel had been left on a plate for lunch, it looked a bit sloppy and he thought to himself how the fish smelt like human bodily odour and seemed absolutely inedible. He devoured the several bags of meal voraciously in an extreme if not expedient hunger that had gripped him. It was not only a hunger to feed, but also a hunger to know. When he inspected his bed on close examination he noticed that the matters itself was riddled with holes, as if someone with a machine gun had fired bullets that had ricocheted through the mattress of the bed. The dirty bed sheets hung down on either side and while he stared at his unmade bed, his train of thought was suddenly interrupted by the sound of someone or something scratching against the wall. Jasper sat on his bed and listened attentively to the continuous sound of scratching that could be heard over by the right hand side of the wall. It seemed to obvious to Jasper that this act was deliberately perpetrated by a certain subject intent on getting his attention for some particular reason. Jasper rose slowly, bent his knees and pressed himself against the right side of the wall, and pressed his ear against the wall and began to speak.

“Why are you scratching the wall?” Uttered Jasper demanding to know the reason for all the commotion occurring by the wall.

“I have rubbed my metal bowl against the wall in a bid to get your attention. You see I knew that you were there, I could here you muttering with Ruben, your neighbouring subject to your right. I once knew a man named Hans, the very man who was incarcerated in your own cell. Hans had stopped communicating with me, around seven days ago to be precise. I assume that he has either died, been taken off to the boiler room or passed through the door, but whatever it was the secret will remain with the authorities and not with mere idol speculation from thinkers like myself”, said the deep and penetrating voice of a middle-aged man.

“I have only awoken this very day and found myself trapped here. At first I felt like screaming for an answer from my captors, to demand my release, but then I found myself talking with Ruben about the whole issue and he had taught me a few home truths about this place.”

“Well the irony of the matter is that you call this place your home in sarcastic jest and yet you will eventually- after you have finished antagonising over it- call this place your home, for you may never know another one for the rest of your days.”

“Well, I am trying to figure what I should exactly do, to get to talk with the authorities. Yet I know that no man has an exclusive right to either meet with or talk with the authorities.”

“By the way, my name is Parsons and I have been here in my cell for seven years so far and I have to say that I was once in your position. It felt like a never-ending fear of this imprisonment and this remerging tribulation. But still, I have to say, that I found certain mechanisms and skills, which I had to cultivate and teach myself to endure and survive through this place. The first step for you is to know that you are a subject and you must fulfil your role given by the authorities, whether for good or bad, but you must never lose your purpose, otherwise you will be disposed of, as all evil subjects are eventually.”

“Oh sorry, by the way my name is Jasper.”

“Nice to hear another voice and remember that’s nearly the furthest one can go when it comes to human contact, none can see, nor smell, nor touch another living subject, but some subjects can achieve what many cannot even carry out in a thousand lifetimes.”

“It seems ludicrous to me, just to think that the authorities can never open the door in front of me, and yet they still manage to smuggle the food in through some hatch below my bed or wherever they are. I would say that many a subject goes mad for the want of good company and entertainment or for the proper exercise demanded for the maintenance of the human physique.”

“ Hans told me all about certain subjects being permitted to go through the door into the next chamber itself and even some were incorporated into the very establishment itself, to become part of the authorities.”

“Yes, Ruben mentioned a certain subject called Manfred.”

“Oh, I have heard of him, but he was only mentioned to me not in depth but rather vaguely by Hans himself.”

“What Elijah, this subject that was aptly titled the Prophet”, Jasper grew excited even when mentioning the mere name.

“Oh! Yes, the prophet, I have heard stories about this great figure, whose stories seem to stream forward to other subjects and whom other subjects mutter to, so that the message is muttered forward unto many different cells, far, far away. Rumour has it that he was even accompanied through his cell door by two men wearing hospital uniforms and shown the tunnel unto many chambers. But as I have already stated that by the time any gossip reaches me, it may only bare speculation, watered down by many interpretations and perspectives. Apparently there lies another cell somewhere, which is identical to our own and it represents the very key to understanding the meaning of our life, here in the cell. But such a discovery would be far more enigmatic, a mind-boggling discovery that would alter our perspective with regards to everything. What I mean to state is that the unveiling of the wider world of phenomena, is like a man measuring the stars by each cubic metre, until he realises that he hasn’t got the instruments, the devices and the technology to measure the infinite and the mystery of the unknown but instead he can only imagine what will become one day known to him through knowledge and its apex of discovery, he will one day expand to experience the immeasurable infinite and be united with a wholeness he cannot even comprehend. I state that the chamber apparently has expanded over its course of time, through the dynamics of mind, for that is what the chamber is it is nothing but conscious conception, invention and reinvention. There is no lazy mind at work here, daydreaming, in idle boredom, but the dynamics of a mind that is making everything real and unreal, surreal and super intelligent. At the beginning of a journey each subject, is like a vessel or comet travelling on a destined orbit or path through many unchartered areas, stages and fields of reality and this is like the chamber, where every man is reborn as naked as a baby, born unto troubles, crises that rise and fall like the very fabrics of reality, matter and mind. All experiences exist so that they shall be superseded by a greater experience which is much more lush in its vital education that teaches the finite child, a greater knowledge of an ultimate truth that touches and reaches everything and yet such a truth is growing, while the subject grows too, through pain and pleasure which both offer positive and negative spheres to focus on. You will know one law of the chamber, and that is the eternal alteration of the subject to suit the changing infinity that grows unto a greater truth and reality than it already is. But since you speak about the prophet, I can state that Ruben and myself are just a few of those subjects, like my old friend Hans, who have acquired the wisdom of a practical life through containment, and this includes containment of desires, lusts, hatred, envy and violence, such things often remain in our dreams, even though they have been carried through as some sort of subconscious reminder of what we once were as aliens to the human race, troubled men, at odds with the manipulators that have conquered the world were we once existed.”

“How do you know all this, you seem to know something I don’t? What are you speaking of? I have so many questions to ask you, so many thoughts are racing through my mind all at once and yet I cannot even summon enough courage to ask you another question, because you sound a little psychotic to me. I mean you sound like some professor of philosopher or some sort of guru. But in honesty you seem to far more intelligent than I can even acknowledge.”

“That’s because those who do not understand a notion, dismiss the idea as sheer stupidity, or they claim the truth holder to be psychotic. Thankfully enough I am neither stupid or psychotic but only a man or a vessel that passes from one day unto another and one that has accumulated enough knowledge and factual information to quite prophetically state what is so and what isn’t so”, said Parsons with an increase in his sheer level of volume.

“Well, I guess that there is a certain truth to what you are stating.”

“When you wake up from a bad dream, you will always wonder what the dream meant to you, what did the dream reveal in respect to our true nature, our hidden depths and our unknown reality, this is what will happen of the course of your time here. You will live with the peculiarities of the chamber and yet you will grow and it will transpire that the past life will be forgotten in time and the pungent nature of dreams abandoned for a more profoundly enriched reality.”

“I still do not understand what you state”, said Jasper lost in his own confusion.

“Let time pass, never let negativity eat within you. You still haven’t been here for a very long time and yet you make assumptions about my sanity and my statements. After awhile you will question your own sanity, when the incredulous events unfold before your very eyes and then you will be in agreement with me. We will not be two lunatics in a rotten cell, we will be two enlightened subjects in just one of the many cells or interpretations that are of minute value and importance with regard to the chamber itself, but we will expand and separate on our different paths to truth.”

“Hey Parsons! How come you seem to know a lot more about the nature of the chamber than Ruben?”

“That is because Ruben is on a different path to knowledge than I am. I don’t always disclose my experiences to the other subjects, because I believe that I must be discreet with regard to my personal encounter, which has enriched my existence as a subject that is learning and evolving more rapidly than perhaps Ruben is. I believe the confidentiality of certain experiences, which cannot be divulged to everyone. But still Ruben believes in the Prophet who has just vanished and been replaced by another subject. This Prophet has left his devotees disappointed because he offered us freedom from the cells and also his wisdom was passed on to both myself and several others and when we needed him most he disappeared. But then again how can I be angry with him, perhaps he was summoned for something greater or perhaps he has died. I do not know, but I was I disappointed and I simply do not think of him much these days, the absence of his message is greatly felt. Hans himself was an ardent follower of such theories devised by the Prophet, he was so keen to talk with me about the Prophet’s new insight or idea into the nature of our subjection that he would often bicker on for hours at end at the wall directly beside me, and he I refused to talk with him any longer about his growing obsession with the prophet, he would shout on the top of his lungs, in a bid to catch my attention. Hans himself would refuse to indulge in his food rations and to take his showers, just so he could talk to me by the wall all about the Prophet.”

Hey what did you say about showers? When are we allowed to take our showers”, said Jasper hastily interrupting Parsons little speech about his old cellmate, at the mere mention of some sanitation for each subject within the cells.

“Oh twice a week and on rare occasion we are left a bar of soap by the authorities.”

“I have examined my cell and I must conclude that I have found no shower cubicle or even a hose within the confines of the cell.”

“Oh there is a hose exactly to the right of the door just facing you. If you look carefully you will find the nuzzle of the hose just there, just peeping out of a little hole.”

Jasper took a brief glance at the mysterious black door and spotted a little hole with the sight of a small metallic handle on the nuzzle of the hose that slightly jutted out.

“Oh yes, now I see it,” said Jasper proclaiming loudly to himself, while confirming to Parsons.

“There is a drain beneath it, slightly camouflaged in the ground, so don’t worry you wont be flooded in. The authorities move quickly with utmost discretion, secrecy and tact and they do so without us even seeing as much as a shadow. We are not meant to know a thing about these illusive creatures but to know that when the water comes, it is time for some very brief refreshment. This is the law of secrecy, which is governed by the authorities, subjects are not permitted to know the authorities or see the authorities because we are beneath them and are unworthy of such a privilege as to catch a glimpse of a more perfected, more highly evolved conscious intelligence.

Oh by the way if you are worried about any toilet issues, don’t be I have to tell you that there is a special basin and steel container beneath your bed, that serves such purposes and it must be emptied down the drain. There are even special bags that are used for emergencies that can be left beside the food hatch for the authorities to dispose of.”

He spoke and laughed rather wryly to himself, while trying to emphasise the almost animalistic manner with which each subject had to conduct himself within the narrow cell for survival and sanitation.

“That’s disgusting Parsons, no wonder subjects disappear, perhaps they cannot tolerate their own cramped living conditions or maybe they die of certain diseases from this unhygienic setting, never mind the notion that such subjects find fulfilment and pass through the cell door.”

“Well that certainly is true, but you must nevertheless adapt or perish. You must live under the certain circumstances as best you can. But all I can say is, confide in your cell mates and we shall confide in you.”

“That seems to be absolutely true, since it is the only think that stops us from going mad.”

“Exactly. I myself was once a great psychologist, who entertained great ambitions in several universities in my old existence. But I cannot remember anything beyond a few dozen memories, I have simply forgotten who I was and now I don’t even know what I am now! I was something once, a long time ago, that is the greatest confirmations of our dreams, they tell confirm our past existence, our capabilities and yet maybe too they can even reveal our hidden motives that shape and craft our destiny to come.”

“Do you call this amnesia?”

“Yes of course, that is what it is, in clinical terms. We have lost our identity like fallen men, with no title, no recollection and of course we are searching for a meaning to all of this. No one wants to be just a subject but something more, a legislator of universal law and truth. We all want to find the loopholes in the system here and unite with the authorities and the greatest of powers so that we can be moved from our confinement up unto a ladder of progress. The past seems gets more remote with every day confined here.”

“Can I call you doctor?”

“What for, why would you prescribe a title on me, when you know nothing about me.”

“It was a joke!”

“Well it wasn’t funny, you’re getting too personal. I am not a doctor I am a subject, a rather well behaved subject that rarely ever complains or questions the routine here. I have given up on the ghost of the past, because it weighed me down with stupid notions which have long since died.”

“Well I am sorry if I offended you, but I have retained some of my old humour from my past life and I was merely making a joke. I will leave you be, so that I wont offend you again”, said Jasper rather angrily.

Jasper relinquished his efforts to converse with Parsons and decided once again to observe and examine the length and width of the cell and its physical parameters.

He sighed heavily while he sat on his big wide double bed, resting both feet forward to leave his body in a foetal position.

A sudden transformation was immanent and manifest as he found his body completely transparent, like a faint sheet of cloud that murmured and ran through the air over many thoroughfares that lead out unto a sea of meadows that ran unto a boundary of sky that touched the ground and led upwards unto another sky above. He was no longer in the enigmatic chamber itself but within in himself or within his own very dream. His body was particularly unusual for it glowed as it flew up into a million beacons of light that pierced the tides of cloud that flowed like a constant current, a torrent of movements and gestations that moved quicker than the fleeting power of the light itself that was passing through him. What was this passage of being and what was the meaning of this strange and beautiful transformation that had seemed to occur in his very bed itself?

As he floated down he landed rather clumsily on a busy street and watched the movements of men and women come and go. He walked on by some quaint and yet disturbing seaside resort that was host to some sort of spectacle, filled with holiday goers, strange drunken men, mad louts that screamed some indecipherable rant as he floated on by the moving tide of people.

“Hey you! What are you doing here?” Shouted one old cretan as he passed by a scene of drunken old tramps that were literally lifting up another tramp and throwing him into a dustbin. “Hey you don’t belong here, you don’t have any right to just pass by here!”

The faces assembled by the main road, the traffic literally stopped and each driver left his car in haste to catch a glimpse of him as he tried to ram himself through the crowds which formed a sort of human force field. The faces grew meaner, more gruesome as they grinded their teeth, laughed and bared their wrinkly faces at him.

“Pope Benedict himself”, uttered one of the old men while he laughed to his encircling comrades.

“No sir, certainly not, I am just passing through, wont you let me through!”

Shouted Jasper in desperation as he moved with a possessing force over the clamouring crowds that gathered.

A group of beautiful women wearing corsets danced the tango and the waltz in several bandstands that lay out beside the sea, whirling and whirling around, dressed in scarlet red dresses, they all hisses and booed him while he passed them by.”

“Oh the unclean one!” They shouted.

“Do not let him pass.”

While they shouted many continued to dance as the tempo rose in pitch and passion, while their feet move majestically to the beat and they swayed, bowed, turned and span around and around with their dance partners that looked like suitors dressed in fancy suits and jackets, but yet they were all wearing silver masks, from which only their piercing gaze came out through the tiny slits within their masks.

“Don’t not let the unclean one pass, stop him!” Shouted one beauty to the crowd that followed him.

Men wearing little blue waistcoats, slippers and pyjamas came forward, swooped and dived to knock him to the ground, but they all failed miserably as he rose with a single command of his body. Then more men emptied out of the shops that were facing the end of the strand and Jasper simply climbed up on the backs of his swooping attackers, he tried with every ounce of his self exerted will to reach a doorway that stood ominously and mysteriously above the top of the large green hill that hung above the coastline. This was his intended destination, which drew him closer and closer unto a pitch-dark room. As he glanced bank he could see that he was now soaring higher and higher above ground level and noticed that his pursuers were now forming human pyramids, made of grannies, drunken old men, the beautiful dancers that called him unclean and of course the masked, silken pyjama wearing suitors that all climbed upon each other and reached out their arms in desperation to try and catch Jasper who had suddenly turned into a pink butterfly and flew up above his attackers who finally heaved and finally fell over downwards unto the moving earth of mobs and drunks. Every time they tried to form another pyramid of men, each effort failed miserably and the attackers landed on their backsides, falling down, and yet they crawled forward to assemble and attack again and again. The tide came in and the door was ever present and as he flew and waved his wings in freedom, before he passed from the light into the darkened room. He went through a tunnel and then he awoke.

“What the hell is going on?” Jasper screamed, as he sprang up suddenly to find himself caught beneath two layers of dirty linen and back within the confines of the mysterious cell. The cell was filled with a shroud of darkness and as he rubbed his back ever so gently he could feel that his clothes were drenched in sweat, from the sheer adrenaline rush of the bizarre dream or passing that had taken place.

His only clothes were quite literally his blue and white striped shirt, his blue denim jeans and a pair of smelly socks and now he was finally aware that he had ripped his shirt and trousers in several places. Such bedtime occurrences had left him completely disturbed, for he his body had convulsed while excretion took effect and left him matted from the traumatic experience he had encountered.

“What is going on?”

Before he fell back into a deep sleep, he posited the thought that he would have to find out the exact and precise meaning of his dream, the absurdity of it all and the logic perhaps behind such a transformation. He would have to seek a greater rapport with his fellow subjects so to understand the meaning of the dream. For the dream itself was drawn from his own understanding of his self and his full-bodied conscious search for meaning, from the symbolic nature of his dreams to the daunting reality of the chamber itself.