Much time has passed since last I wrote within this, the chronicle of my life; much water has flowed beneath the bridge, but we wont go into that on this occasion as it really wasnt my fault.....read on, those who wish to discover how the fates have treated me these many months since last we met....D. A.M.(Daniel Augustus Macintyre)
The Fellowship Of The Bike by FELINE.
Book 1: Many Partings?
"Can I come out now Jack?" I looked over my shoulder giving him what I hoped were sad puppy dog eyes. I neednt have bothered, he was a true died in the wool feline fan, immune to all things canine, even eyes.
"May," he said grammatically, "may I come out, not can, because undoubtedly you can, if I let you, however," he turned the page of his book, "the answer is no. Put your nose back in that corner young man."
I quelled a philatelist attack, and went for being smart mouthed instead. "Just my nose Jack, what about the rest of me, it is attached you know?"
"My hand will be attached to a certain implement, which in turn will repeatedly attach itself to your bottom if youre not careful."
"Im tired, I want to sit down, Ive been stood here for hours and its cruel as well as not being fair."
"Youve been standing there for ten minutes, and youre staying there until you give me an explanation for your behaviour."
I dredged up a, why are you being so mean to me sigh, while simultaneously drooping my shoulders in a, dont want to explain anything so there, gesture.
"I mean it Daniel," there was an ominous tone in his voice, "youll give me an explanation, and I mean a truthful explanation, not excuses, not self-justification, but an honest explanation for your behaviour today, or youll stand there until bedtime."
"Lucky for me that my bedtime is eight o clock then, isnt it?" I snapped peevishly.
"Dont push me Daniel, Im not in the mood. Im absolutely fed up of your antics."
I turned my head to glare at him, "and Im fed up with you being such a domineering, old stick in the mud."
"Fine," closing his book, he laid it aside, rising to his feet. "I think the time has come for the parting of the ways Daniel. Youre obviously too young for a committed relationship."
I stared at him, my heart leaping frantically around my chest, nausea gripping my guts, "are you dumping me?"
"Dumping isnt a word Id choose, I prefer to say that Im terminating a relationship, that isnt going the way I want it to. I want someone more mature and capable, more sophisticated, more my own class. Im sorry Danny, but were just not compatible. Id like you to pack your things immediately. Ill drop you off at Denniss house, Im sure hell put up with you for a little while."
I felt as if someone had reached right inside me and taken out my soul. Walking unsteadily I left the room, barely able to breathe for the crushing feeling in my chest. I packed in a daze, pushing clothes into a holdall with little regard for how theyd look when I unpacked them. The nausea grew heavier and I quickly made my way to the bathroom, kneeling on the floor and heaving the contents of my stomach into the toilet. I splashed my hot face with cold water and reached for the hand towel. As I dried my face I caught a hint of Jacks aftershave on it, pressing it to my face I closed my eyes, my body shaking with silent sobs. Id blown it, Danny the loser had _f_u_c_k_ed up again. My life was such a mess. I wanted Ally, but she had departed this life forever, dead from cancer, Id never see her again, and now Jack had rejected me.
When I put down the towel and opened my eyes it was pitch dark and I felt a surge of panic, had I gone blind, it would be just my luck to go spontaneously blind with the shock of being dumped? Then my befuddled senses realised Id woken up from the bad dream Id been having and I was at home in bed, "Jack," I reached out to touch him, he felt reassuringly solid, "are you there?"
His voice came back even more reassuringly, "Daniel, its two thirty in the morning where else am I likely to be?" He rolled over, pulling me into his arms and cuddling me, "whats the matter sweetheart, is it that wretched dream again?"
I closed my eyes and began to cry, great noisy sobs that shook my body.
Jack set two mugs of honey sweetened hot milk on the coffee table, after dimming the sitting room lights, he sat down, taking me on his lap, pulling a blanket about me. Picking up one of the mugs he handed to me. I cupped my hands around it, "can I have some Cadburys in it?"
"No," he combed his fingers through my hair, "chocolates a stimulant, I dont want you bouncing off the walls for the rest of the night. Hot chocolate is actually a breakfast drink, not a night time drink."
"Well, its not actually that far off breakfast time Jack, not when you think about it."
"Abandon any thought of conducting a pro-chocolate argument Danny, just drink the milk."
Misty, thrilled to have company at this unusual hour of the morning, and even more thrilled at the prospect of sinking his greedy chops into a nice mug of warm milk, jumped up on my lap and settled down, kneading me with razor sharp claws while eyeing my mug like a buzzard eyeing a recent kill. I leaned my head against Jacks shoulder, still shaken by the dream that seemed to be haunting me lately.
Jack dropped a warm kiss on my head, either that or hed slavered his milk into my hair, I didnt like to think about it too closely, then he said words I would have preferred not to hear, "the therapist that Dennis recommended will help you get to the root of this problem, thank heavens youre seeing her tomorrow."
"Aw, Jack," I tilted my head back to gaze at him, "are you still on about that, I dont need to see anyone, its probably just the stress of starting Uni again and then accidentally setting fire to the refectory."
Glacial patterns formed over Jacks brown eyes, his voice frosty, "I still dont understand how you came to be wandering around the place with a lighted Bunsen burner in your hand, its not as if you even take any science subjects."
I sighed into my mug of chocolate free milk, regretting mentioning the incident. I kept telling him it wasnt my fault, that Id accidentally got caught up in some daft rag week stunt involving some students from the veterinary college, a cow with wind and the aforementioned Bunsen burner. The resulting sheet of flame had engulfed the refectory in seconds. I had been exonerated of any real blame, but Jack had still been less than impressed with my part in the affair, and my bum wasnt too chuffed either, not after Jack had finished impressing his lack of being impressed upon it. "Anyway," I spoke firmly, it was best to be firm with Jack, otherwise he got carried away with inflated notions of his own power, "I keep telling you, Im not seeing a therapist, theres nothing wrong with me, Im as sane as the next man."
"Danny," Jack smiled at me with menacing mildness, "youve hardly had a decent nights sleep for the past month, youre fidgety enough when youve had your full quota, when you havent, youre a danger to man, beast and refectory. The therapist will be able to help you pinpoint the underlying trigger to this dream. Shell be able to reassure you where Ive failed. It seems odd that you keep dreaming about Alison being dead, and me rejecting you, when shes hale and hearty and I keep telling you how much I love you. I really want you to see this woman, Dennis rates her highly."
I scowled, no way was I giving some psycho pal of Dens access to my dreams, with my luck shed turn out to be Freddy Krueger in drag and Id never dare sleep again. I spoke even more firmly, "Im sorry Jack, while I appreciate your concern, I dont need to see any therapist, so lets just leave it there."
It was no good, Jack had that Maggie Thatcher in her heyday gleam in his eye, this laddy just wasnt for turning. He kissed the top of my nose, "your appointment is at two tomorrow afternoon, you WILL attend and thats final." He paused, adding casually, "we can spend the morning visiting Sebastian at the hospital."
"Oh God Jack," I glared at him, "do we have to? Cant we just pop into the morgue and have a browse around, I mean there are corpses in there that are more attractive to visit."
Jacks eyes narrowed, "were visiting him, and youre going to be pleasant and polite, its the least we can do, seeing as ultimately its your fault he needed to have the op hes had today. If you hadnt tampered with the garden gate it wouldnt have dropped off when he came to visit and crushed both his big toenails, thus necessitating their removal. Poor Sebastian."
"I was not tampering, I was trying to make it close more efficiently and stop it creaking," I said with as much dignity as I could muster, "I was being helpful, it wasnt my fault that Skelators Sasquatch feet got in its way when it fell of its hinges."
"Hmm," Jack eyed me speculatively, "if I thought for a moment that youd purposely rigged that gate, you wouldnt be able to sit this side of Christmas."
"I would never do a thing like that Jack," I gave him a look of beatific innocence....and dont think I dont know what you lot are thinking, well, as it happens youre wrong, my intentions had been honourable, the gate thing had been a DIY fluke.
Taking the empty mug from my hand Jack set it on the coffee table, "come on gorgeous," he stood up with me in his arms, "lets get you back to bed, see if we cant get you another few hours sleep."
I did actually manage another hour or so of dream free sleep, then it slyly crept up on me again, pushing its way into my mind from nowhere, and I awoke with what was becoming a familiar sense of sick anxiety. Once I was up and running, I felt better, thrusting the fears of the night behind me. Then, over breakfast, Jack started on about the appointment with the therapist. I told him I wasnt going and that was that, end of subject. He said I was going, that it was for my own good and emotional well being, and as such, the final decision as to whether the appointment was kept, was for him to decide, and him alone, end of subject. I said if the appointment meant that much to him, then he could go in my place as the therapist might be able to help him find a means of controlling his rampant megalomania. Jack, as usual, had the last word, a fairly short one in this instance-corner! Sensing that he was in one of his resolute moods, I did as I was told, scowling sulkily at the wallpaper. Thanks to my beloved, I was about to have the day from hell, spending the morning visiting cadaver man, and the afternoon with some funny farm attendant rummaging through the contents of my mind.
Jack, in due course, and with stentorian tones, called me forth from my confinement when it was time to get ready to visit the hospital.
Skelator, in a pair of mauve striped pyjamas was sitting up in bed looking like he was waiting for a doctor to sign his death certificate. Thankfully, the dear boy himself, Tristan, wasnt yet around. Mindful of Jacks warnings about being nice to Skel, I sat in silence, thinking that saying nothing was perhaps the safest option.
"How are you feeling today Sebastian?" Jack set a gift basket of fruit on the bedside locker.
"Im bearing up as best I can, thank you Jack," he gave me a reproachful look, his voice braying self pityingly across the ward, "even though my feet are killing me."
"Your bloody face is killing me," I mumbled the words discreetly into the palm of my hand, or thought I did, but seeing as both Jack and Sebastian gave me a furious look, I guess my idea of discretion wasnt quite theirs. Jack discreetly swatted the side of my thigh with the back of his hand and I lapsed back into sullen silence, watching the comings and goings of the ward. The man in the next bed had a look of strained misery on his face, and I couldnt blame him, Id be pretty miserable if I had to share the same space as Skelator for any length of time.
A nurse breezed in pushing a chair with a potty contraption, which she parked next to the miserable mans bed. What is it about the medical profession that makes them lose all sensitivity when it comes to their patients dignity? I felt myself turn crimson with sympathetic embarrassment as her rich Irish tones ricochet from wall to wall.
"TIME FOR YOU TO HAVE ANOTHER GO AT GETTING THOSE STUBBORN OLD BOWELS MOVING, MISTER JONES. ILL DRAW THE BED CURTAINS SO YOUVE GOT SOME PRIVACY. MAKE AN EFFORT NOW THERES A GOOD LAD, OTHERWISE IM AFRAID ITLL BE THE FULL ENEMA AND BELIEVE ME YOU WOULDNT LIKE A GALLON OF HOT SOAPY WATER BLASTING UP YOUR BACKSIDE, IVE SEEN GROWN MEN FAINT AFTER HAVING IT DONE."
"Why dont you give Sebastian the gift you brought," Jack drew my attention away from what was going on behind the curtained bed, leaning across, speaking quietly to me, giving a warm smile. All the same, the blood froze in my veins. I was having serious doubts now about the wisdom of what Id done, my moment of petulant impulse had passed and I uneasily suspected that Jack would be slightly cross if he knew what was in the gift wrapped box I had brought.
I gave him a look of puzzled innocence, "what gift would that be Jack?"
He frowned, "the box of chocolates you put under your chair when you sat down, dont be silly Danny, just hand them over, it was such a kind thought, dont spoil it now."
"I dont think hell like them Jack," I whispered, "he is a veggie, I forgot to check the ingredients to make sure they were vegan friendly." Tristan, the smarmy swine, chose that moment to arrive. He kissed the undead one on the lips, a sight that a person of my delicate sensibilities should not have been subjected to, it could very well lead to post traumatic stress disorder and a claim for compensation.
"And hows my little radish today?" he crooned.
Radish....an epic grin began to sweep across my face, he had called the bony one radish! Suddenly my aversion to the horrid, indigestion giving little objects became clear, both they and their namesake had watery white flesh and a habit of repeating on me very unpleasantly. Jack gave me a wild stare that clearly stated, dare to comment on Tristans pet name for his boyfriend, and you will not live out the day. I sighed, sometimes Jack guessed my thoughts a little too well. I grimaced, entertaining a mental image of throwing up as Skel bleated a reply.
"All the better for seeing you Trissy darling, and you know me, Im not one to complain."
Tristan, leaning with easy elegance against the locker top, fixed his grey eyes on me, drawling in that superior way of his, "you look a trifle tired dear boy, youre obviously still not sleeping too well. Lets hope this mind person youre due to see locates your trouble, though it could take time, considering the unique and multiple machinations of your mind."
"Lets just hope she actually manages to locate a mind without having to call for professional backup, someone with a brain cell detector."
Skelators braying laughter at his own joke set a tidal wave of impulse genes flooding through me, wiping out all caution. Bending down I snatched up the carrier bag Id brought with me, extracting a gift wrapped box which I thrust at him, saying sweetly, "a gift for the invalid, I do hope it cheers your day."
"Oh," he stopped sniggering like Dick Dastardlys dog, and took the box, "how unusually thoughtful, thanks." He eagerly undid the ribbon, lifted the lid from the box and removed the layer of tissue paper Id placed over the contents.
On seeing what appeared to be the very same tarantula that had once attached itself to his throat, his face, already whiter than a virgins shroud, paled down by several shades. Screaming dramatically he lobbed the box away from himself. Arthur, parting company with his cosy receptacle, went sailing through the air, and over the top of the curtain rail of the opposite bed. A shattering scream, even louder than the one Skel had given issued forth from behind the curtains, followed by what sounded like a mini gas explosion. Mister Jones, still attached to the commode, his hands apparently welded with terror to the chair arms, detonated from behind the curtain like a fire cracker, pyjama bottoms around his ankles. With Arthur squatting cheekily on his bare lap, he bunny hopped the contraption around the ward and then out into the corridor screeching hysterically for a nurse and leaving a rather pungent vapour trail in his wake. I watched in open mouthed horror as seconds later, a horde of screaming, spider phobic nurses abandoned their Hippocratic oath, as well as their stricken patient, and went pounding past the ward door on their way to the lifts. Skelator, the _f_u_c_k_ing attention seeker, provided the grand finale to this spectacle by crashing sideways from his bed in a dead faint, bringing Tristan down with him. It was like an episode of Casualty. Jacks face was a real picture, and I dont mean Renoir, my own bowels nearly mimicked poor Mr Joness at sight of it.
Honestly, some folk had no sense of humour, personally, I was of the opinion that radish had overreacted to my good natured teasing on purpose. In the doom laden atmosphere of the drive home, I had time to reflect on what was now clearly a misguided decision. Earlier, while obediently standing in a corner of the sitting room, I had spied Arthur sitting on a bookshelf just to the right of me. When I say Arthur, I dont mean the Arthur, the one who had starred at the ill-fated dinner party earlier in the year, well, it was him I suppose, just not a live version. I dont mean Arthur was dead....weep ye not arachnid lovers....oh no, hed survived the trauma of having his leg chewed off and biting Skel. In fact he was hale and hearty and had just undergone another shedding, with his leg beginning to grow back nicely. It was this shedding, or exoskeleton, that resided on the shelf. Peter had given it to me, it was a good one too, _d_a_m_n_ near perfect. Jack wasnt too keen, said it gave him the creeps because it was so life like. It gave me mixed feelings, sadness and a touch of guilt over poor mister Rochester, and delight, because Arthur had done something I would have liked to do, hed sank his fangs into the throat of Tristans loathsome boyfriend. Cross with Jack for lining up my day with assorted horrors, I acted without thinking, gift wrapping the spiders husk, telling Jack that Id packaged some chocolates to take to the hospital for Sebastian.
I sighed, hoping the journey home would give Jack time to calm down and soften his attitude.
It didnt.
Boy was he mad....absolutely STEAMING! As soon as we parked on the drive, he propelled me out of the car and into the house, slamming the door closed behind us.
"Naughty!"
Yes dear reader, he actually said it.
"Youre so naughty!"
My five foot five frame juddered as he put the full strength in his six foot one frame behind the hand that slammed hard against the seat of my jeans.
I let out a howl of protest on behalf of my bottom as his hand landed again, and then again, "JA-ACK!"
"DONT YOU DARE JACK ME."
"I wasnt offering to," my mouth launched on a solo career, separating from its partner the brain, "frankly youve ruined any _f_u_c_k_ing leanings I might have had in that direction, Im just not in the mood now-OOWW!" It was never wise to get sassy with Jack when he was in wrathful mode.
His hand landed harder still on my backside, "and Im not in the mood for your cheeky, foul mouthed vulgarity young man."
I suddenly felt like I was flying as he grabbed my hand and powered me upstairs. My bottom lapsed into a glum depression sensing that it was about to be brought down over enemy territory, not so much a story of Aces High, but Arses High, my arse, three o clock high, over Jacks lap with his hand, or something worse, at twelve o clock high and ready to zoom in with a vengeance. "It was a joke," I protested tearfully as I was ushered into the bedroom, "thats all Jack, just a harmless little joke, cant anyone take a joke anymore?"
Apparently not!
"It was not a joke Daniel," marching me across to the bed, he swiftly unfastened my jeans and pulled them down, "it was an act of malicious mischief which caused mayhem and distress, and I will not tolerate such behaviour." Inserting his fingers into the waistband of my briefs he bared my already throbbing bottom and flipped me across his knees, "you cant resist an opportunity to persecute that poor man, not even when hes just recovering from an operation."
"He persecutes me," I yelled in my own defence, I had to, seeing as there was a definite shortage of bent lawyers hanging around waiting to yell in it for me, "and anyway, I was just trying to cheer him up." Tears surfaced, as Jack, ignoring my protestations, proceeded to blanket bomb my bottom with his hand, dropping smack after smack onto the same spot in the centre of it. "Im sorry Jack," I tried in vain to wiggle off his knees as the spot became a boil(oh come on, work it out) "I thought it might amuse him, give him a little chuckle...."
"Rubbish," his hand speed increased, as did its range, taking in every centimetre of skin on my bottom, "you know how he feels about tarantulas, hes phobic for heavens sake, he cant even look at a picture. And what about that other poor devil, he almost had a heart attack, its bad enough being in hospital without someone hurling huge ugly spiders at you."
"Jack, pleeease! Look on the bright side, it cured his constipation, and anyway, that wasnt my fault, I didnt mean for that to happen."
"It might not have been directly your fault Daniel, but it was certainly a circumstance of your irresponsible behaviour," winding his arm more securely around my waist, he continued to redden my bum to an acceptable shade of crimson, "and if its the last thing I do, Im going to help you start acting more responsibly."
I began to cry with sincerity as his hand blazed a painful trail from my buttocks to my thighs. It stilled at last and I lay limply across his knees sobbing nasal and eye fluids onto the bedspread, as he gently rubbed my sore bottom and thighs with the hand that had made them that way. I comforted myself with the thought that at least he hadnt used the hairbrush this time, he must be mellowing. He stood me back on my feet. I bent to pull up my underwear, but he shook his head. My heart sank low enough to qualify as a marine wreck as I noted the look on his face, it was a much as this pains me, were not yet done and Im afraid its going to pain you even more, sort of look. Chilling words confirmed my fears.
"I consider the circumstances serious enough to warrant a caning in addition to the spanking, which youll take on the bare bottom, three strokes, one for each injured party, and think yourself lucky that its not more."
LUCKY! In comparison to what-an openly gay cleric attempting to preach Christian tolerance at a National Front Rally?
Placing a pillow at the foot of the bed, he reached under the bed, withdrawing and flexing an object that set my knees trembling. If my bum had been a Victorian maiden, it would have swooned on the spot and no amount of smelling salts would have persuaded it to come round. Ignoring my river of tears and appeals to his Christian tolerance, he told me to bend over the pillow.
Oh God, I buried my head in the bed clothes to muffle an agonised shriek as the third and final stroke of the cane expertly landed on the crease between buttocks and thighs, how could something that hurt so much be called a stroke, stroke denoted something nice, caressing, gentle, not a line of white hot pain, that in sharp colour contrast, left me with a backside red enough to challenge the Great Wall Of China as an object on earth viewable from the moon via the naked eye....(and yes, Im well aware that thats a fallacy, but as this is the life story of my long suffering backside, Ill pepper it with any fallacies I fancy, so there) Where was I? Oh yes.... When I got my tears under control and could actually speak coherently again, I twisted my head to look at Jack, who was sitting beside me on the bed. "Im really sorry," I mumbled, "it was a stupid, mean thing to do."
He slid a hand under my t-shirt, rubbing it between my shoulder blades, "then why, why did you do it Danny?"
"Because Im an idiot," I sniffed miserably. "I wrapped it up on the spur of the moment, I wasnt going to give him it, but then he made that crack about my mind, and I saw red, he just rubs me up the wrong way."
"Impulse, thats your trouble, you dont so much act, as react, without thought of danger or consequence to yourself or anyone else. Believe me young man, youre going to learn to master these negative impulses before they get out of control." He lay down on the bed, putting an arm over me, "I love you very much Danny, but theres no doubt in my mind that at times, you simply enjoy being naughty, and Im not going to let you get away with it, not now, not ever."
I snuggled up to him, forgiving him his harsh ways and ridiculous notions, me, naughty, it was absurd, things just happened to me and they were rarely my fault, I was a victim of circumstance! I turned my mind to other concerns, "must I see this therapist Jack?"
"Yes," he hugged me, "recurring dreams are often a mask for some anxiety that you might not even be aware you have at a conscious level. All things considered, this is a stable period for you, Alison was given the all clear months ago, youre back at University on a course that suits you better, Tris has moved out, you should be happy, not having distressing dreams about her being dead and you and I splitting up. It needs getting to the bottom of darling."
I sighed, comforting myself with the thought that at least the therapist wasnt likely to emulate Jacks inimitable way of getting to the bottom of things. Though with my luck, she was probably another one of the paddle fraternity who would see my innocent rump as a target to be aimed at.
The therapist, call me Wendy, my love, odd name, but there you go, if it pleased her, wasnt quite what I expected. I dont think she was quite what Jack expected either. Dressed in an odd array of multi layered clothing she looked like she had problems deciding what to wear of a morning and opted for wearing everything she possessed. Jack blinked rather rapidly as she wrung his hand in hearty greeting, my own hand, still waiting for the circulation to return to it, throbbed in sympathy. We talked for a while, she asked me questions about the dream, how often it occurred, when it had begun, was it increasing in frequency, what feelings did it leave me with, while busily jotting notes with a ballpoint pen disguised as a feather quill which didnt fool me for a minute.
Finally, parking Jack in a side room with a cup of herbal tea and what looked like three years worth of The Peoples Friend magazine, she siphoned me off into her consulting room. It was warm, and dimly lit, with some kind of incense burner wafting out a heavy perfume. Music reminiscent of pan pipes was gently playing in the background. In the centre of the room was a sort of chaise longue, with a chair next to it. Wendy my love, requested that I lounge on the chaise while she sat on the chair, as she wanted to get scent of my aura. As Id showered just before coming out I doubted shed get much of an aura from me, unless it was an aura of the ache that still loitered on my recently spanked bottom.
Placing her hands on top of my head she closed her eyes and began murmuring in a low soft voice, "life is but a season, seasons turn, winter to spring, spring to summer, summer to autumn, the circle turns. Close your eyes, think of the seasons Daniel, think of them as a wheel, turning from year end to year end. You carry within your mind a map of the wheels journey though your life."
I reluctantly closed my eyes as Wendy my love, dream therapist and bona fide nutter, began to sway slightly from side to side, using my head as a fulcrum. Oh thank you Jack, thank you so bloody much for entrusting my mental well being to a mumbling hippy fruitcake! Id be having words with Den too, if I ever got out of here alive, or at least without a Caftan and love beads. Considering he was the most solid and sensible of men, he did mix with some strange people.
She mumbled on, "its within my power to reverse the turn of the wheel, to retrace events on your mental map, to halt it for a few moments. Your only task is to relax, and to answer my questions at what I observe when the wheel ceases its reverse motion. Can you do that for me Daniel dear?"
Short of leaping out of the window, I didnt seem to have any choice but to nod and agree to let her navigate along the motorways of my mental map. Now, as you know, Im not the susceptible type, but I found my eyelids suddenly growing heavy, it must have been a combination of the incense, the music and her hypnotic muttering. Her voice, seeming to come from a distance, requested that I let my thoughts flow freely. I relaxed slightly, Id never had a problem with free flowing thoughts, it was putting the brakes on them that gave me trouble. I heard my own voice, also from a distance, outlining events that came suddenly to mind, without me seeming to have any power over what they were. My near death experience with a Malteaser seemed to cause a slight breakdown in her mental meanderings through my mind, but she recovered and drove on. Sometimes she let me speak for some minutes, listening intently, other times shed stop me abruptly with a question. Then she fell silent, her hands growing heavy on top of my head, just as I thought my neck was going to collapse into my chest cavity, she eased off the pressure and spoke.
"Ive found the core of your anxiety Daniel, the point from where it flows and colours your dreams." Removing her hands from my head she clapped them, "you may wake up now."
Cool, I didnt even realise Id been asleep. Opening my eyes I stared at Wendy my love.
"Your sister dear, thats your source."
I knew it would be Allys fault somewhere along the line, she can be a right bitch my sister. Suddenly, to my utter horror and embarrassment, I was crying uncontrollably. Wendy my love kindly went to rouse Jack from a Peoples Friend induced coma so he could comfort me as she explained what my dream signified.
"I suppose it makes sense," Jack gently wound my hair around his fingers as we cuddled up together on the sofa, watching a video of Lord Of The Rings, after getting back from seeing Wendy my love. "What do you think sweetheart?"
"Yeah, I think it does," I leaned my head against his chest, mulling over what shed said. She reckoned the dream was a re-manifestation of the fear Id experienced after finding out that not only did Alison have a cancerous breast lump, she was pregnant too, which threw into question what treatment options she had, or was willing to have. Alison had told me bluntly that she would not terminate the pregnancy, it went against her beliefs. I was convinced that she was going to die from the disease, but it seemed that for once, God smiled on the ginger people and blessed them. Alisons breast tumour turned out to be Ductal carcinoma in situ, cancer at an early, and contained stage. She was successfully treated with surgery. I could hardly believe it, having convinced myself that I would have to witness her terrible degeneration towards death, as I had with my mother.
As Allys time to give birth got closer, the event was a matter of weeks away, it seemed that all the fears Id locked down, were re-surfacing. From a fear of her dying from cancer, I was now afraid that shed die in childbirth, because subconsciously I associated the baby with thoughts of her death, and because she, like Jack, was one of the most important people in my life, the dream had expanded into a fear of losing him too. It made a mad kind of sense. Since my mothers death I did have fears about losing the people I loved and of being alone. As the cancer had eaten away her life, my mum, never the most connected of people, had withdrawn more and more into some kind of inner sanctum of her mind where she dealt with her impending death all alone, consequently leaving me to cope with it alone. Fear and loneliness are dark seeds at the best of times, but sown in childhood they sink even deeper roots than normal, so said Wendy my love, and I think in her weird way she was right.
Cuddling closer to Jack and reversing the wheels on my mental bike, I allowed my mind to cycle back to the day Alison had told me she was pregnant. It had happened in Whitby, on the day her car had driven itself over a cliff into the raging tempest of the sea, with me almost still inside it. To make matters worse, poor Lilys motorbike and sidecar had been stolen during the drama of it all. We were supposed to be waiting for Jack and Den to collect us from the pub wed taken refuge in, but as usual events had conspired against us................................
And I promise that those events will be very presently revealed in: Book 2: The Fellowship. ;-)