This
work of
adult fiction, loosely based on
characters portrayed by Russell Crowe, includes adult language and
experiences;
you have been warned. No
copyright
infringement on the original work is intended. Copyright
Diana Walker 2008.
DIANA
Terry’s dreaming.
It’s
a gentle dream. I can feel his small
jerks and twitches, the way his breath catches, how his hand tenses and
releases over my belly.
TERRY
Bloody hell! This
fog
is thicker than the pea soup that has disrupted travel plans more times
than I
would wish. I could walk right into a
person or tree before I even knew it. It
even feels like walking through
Diana’s thick pea soup; my legs strain to make headway
through, but it swirls
about me with each step with interesting patterns. I stop
mid-stride and shake my leg to see the
different eddies I can make. After
several attempts, I know one thing for sure – fog is a
circular material. It cannot make an angular turn.
The ground rises with each
step I take. I’ll walk up this grade to get my
bearings. I haven’t a clue which country.
The temperature is comfortable for this late
night stroll. Fuck, I have no idea what
the temperature is. I might be in Hyde
Park in London, in a high mountain meadow in Peru, or walking in our
own back
paddock at home. Nothing gives me any
hints.
I have a sense of well being,
peacefulness as I slog up the
hill. When I arrive at the summit, I may
have an unusual sight – to see the tops of clouds and not be
in a bloody
airplane – but I have no such luck. I
raise my arm overhead; even as the tips of my fingers disappear from
sight,
they still feel the moisture of the thick fog on them.
That hurt. I barked
my shin on the edge of what I discover, after a bit of exploration, is
a comfortable
bench. The wooden back is curved for
lumbar support, almost as if it were built for me alone. The
wrought iron arms enclose the sides as if
to hold the wayward trekker from falling from it; the scrolls I feel
remind me
of the serpentines I’d made in the fog moments before.
I might as well relax a bit
and wait until the fog lifts. It will save me from any more
bodily damage
wandering around without sight and the coping skills that come with
that
disability. I doubt I’ll have any
company on my late night …what? Am I
wandering? Meandering?
Stumbling round – quite literally – in a bloody fog?
I settle onto my own private lawn sofa with
my arms draped over the back and legs stretched out before me as an
early
warning system in case some other demented wanderer comes round.
I do wonder where I am as I
pat my pockets for fags. I light one and inhale as I explore
my
options. I can rule out our home. We
don’t have a bench such as this anywhere
on the property. The garden furniture
close to the house all has thick pads for our comfort; the benches near
the
barn are plastic and disassemble easily in case one of the horses
manages to
catch a leg. If I were in the paddock,
either Buck or Rabbit would have been over to investigate who was
disrupting
their horsey slumber. Why would I be out
wandering without Diana? I wouldn’t. I
can safely rule out 500 acres near Dallas
as being the one
place in the world I am not.
Has the unthinkable occurred
and I’ve been thrust away from
the life I know? I can’t imagine having
this contentment anywhere but with Diana.
If I’m now on another life path, why would I still remember
her, or
Holly for that matter? Shouldn’t I have
a sense of loss? At least for them if
not for the lightness and playfulness Diana has brought to me.
I’ve laughed more with Diana than I have
since I was a tyke tussling with my brothers.
I don’t have any of
the confusion I had when Dino and I
ended up in this reality, but then I haven’t encountered
anyone else and had to
explain myself.
Maybe I’m dead.
A
heart attack in bed would not be unheard of in my family; my dad died
of one
long after I’d left home, and both his brothers had died of
heart
problems. I’m in a waiting room
somewhere to discover my fate. Funny, I
didn’t expect it to be like this. I’d
expected excruciating pain from a bullet ripping through me, a highly
likely
outcome given my chosen professions, and then what? I
haven’t stopped to consider what would come
after.
The fog thins, and a tall,
thin, well dressed, older
gentleman appears. His approach creates
the same swirls of cloud I’d made. I
slide down the well worn bench to make room for him should he wish to
join me.
“G’day,
Mate.”
He doesn’t seem a
bit surprised to find me here. “Hello to you.
Fine night, isn’t it?” His accent gives
me some insight. His is the flat mid-Western voice found
outside Chicago.
I feel compelled to rise, much
as when a senior officer
entered a room. If I am dead, it wouldn’t
be amiss to show
deference to my escort.
“Would you care to
sit down, Sir? It looks like we may be here a while unless
you are quite familiar with our surroundings.”
“Thank you, Son.
Don’t mind if I do.” Now he’s
beginning to sound like our neighbor, Bill Woodson, with a hint of a
southern
twang.
“Did I say something
that amused you, young man?” How could he have seen
my smile as I retook
my seat beside him in this gloom?
“No, Sir.
Well,
slightly, Sir. A great deal of my job is
listening, and I was trying to place where you learnt to speak.
So far I have the mid-west and south. No offense
was intended, Sir.”
“None taken.
And you
can drop the Sir. You’re no longer in
the military, and I’m not General Dudley.
You can call me George.”
I try to drop my masque into
place. He’s close enough to surmise my military
background from the haircut, but he’s used my former
ex-father in law’s name
instead of a more famous general’s.
“I’m
Terry.”
We sit companionably, watching
the ebb and flow of the
clouds round us. George has a friendly
air about him, encouraging my calm, reflective mood even in unknown
circumstances. George begins creating
his own ‘fog art’ and chuckles at his efforts.
He seems more adept at it than my rudimentary attempts. He
seems waiting for me to speak.
“You’re
good at that.”
I disturb the heavy mist with my pointing to where his feet have
created
what looks like a dog before it is swallowed back into the surroundings.
“Lots of
practice,” he chuckles.
“You make it a habit
to walk in the fog?”
“Not really.
I only
come when someone needs me.”
I certainly do need someone
and don’t feel a requirement to
hide any weakness from George. “I’ve
come out without a map. Might you tell
me where I am?”
“You’re in
Dreamworld, Terry.” His tone is kindly and
protective. “You are allowed to come here after
momentous
events in your life – sometimes to heal, to make decisions,
sometimes just to
reflect. You dream every night to figure
out the little things in your life; you only get the guided tour during
the
significant times when you might need someone to keep you
focused.”
I sit in stunned silence.
“Take all the time
you need to figure it out. You factual types always take a
little longer
to get comfortable with the concept.”
“Too right there,
George.”
I rarely remember my dreams, even the bad ones. With those,
Diana’s there to soothe them away
with her gentleness. They are a wisp
that leave quickly with her there.
“How’s
married life with Diana, by the way?”
“Better than I could
have imagined. I feel …more settled,
safer.” I giggle.
“Diana wouldn’t like those terms.”
“No, she
wouldn’t.
Particularly since she specifically told you that was what she
didn’t
want to have happen.”
“Do you know
everything about me – past, present,
…future? Are you here to give me advice?”
“Think back.
What did
your last guide do?”
“I’ve done
this before?
I don’t remember. I gather from
your question you weren’t my guide before.”
“Nope, I
haven’t been with you before. I didn’t
come on the job until ’97. Close your eyes, and it
will come to
you.” When I don’t immediately follow
his instruction, he continues with a shooing motion.
“Go on now.
I’m here. No one will get you.”
I drag my eyes from his
comforting but perturbed gaze and
settle deeper on the bench, sigh, and do as he says. I sure
as fuck don’t remember anything like
this before.
Wait, after my Gran died, I
dreamt I went walkabout, and a
budgie landed on my shoulder. Bright
little chap she was. We trekked all over
Oz that night. She flew sometimes
pointing the next way, and once she got me sorted, she’d come
back and sit on
my shoulder for the next leg. She did
finally leave me to join a flock of her friends. It was sunny
and easy; the next day I was
accepted at uni, and I felt like my life began.
“The weather was
different; I knew I was in Australia. I had a budgie, a
parakeet, with me.”
“That could be
it.”
“You don’t
know?”
He chuckles again.
“Nope. We don’t know everything;
you do. We just let you look at your
actions and come to accept them. I never
know where we’re headed; that’s up to
you.”
*
I see the small house where I
grew up in Marrickville before
it became gentrified. Dorrie, as the
only daughter, had her own room up the hall across from Mum and
Dad’s. ‘The Boys’
Room’ was the only name our room
ever had, even when I was at uni and was the only one still using it on
occasion. Dad had added it with his own
bare hands when it became apparent that two bedrooms would not suffice
for
their growing brood.
The first thing I see is
Garreth and Allan stretched out on
their beds in the room we shared. We had
bunk beds and a twin stuffed into one corner; Dad hadn’t
counted on Allan
coming along so he built up instead of taking down the tree Mum
demanded he
keep for us. We shared a three-drawer chest
and a closet.
“Where’s
Terry?”
Allan was always wanting to tag along with me as Garreth
didn’t have
much time for him.
“Probably down at
Gran’s.
He knows he’s supposed to be home by now, but Mum lets him
get away with
going walkabout as long as Gran backs up his story.”
I noted the resentment in Garreth’s voice;
I’d never heard it before.
George appeared beside me.
“Does he still resent me?”
“Don’t
know. This is
your dream, not his.”
I could see out the window to
what we called the tree house. In actuality it was a rickety
platform jammed
in a substantial tree fork; if any of the boards broke when we were
larking
about there, we’d fall onto the big branch and hang on until
one of the other
brothers pulled us up or we dropped to the ground. Garreth,
Allan, and I were so proud we’d
built it together. Dad had been our
first visitor.
On this day, Trish and I sat
on what was little more than
scaffolding in a tree, reading. We were
twelve.
*
I see Dad, still in his work
clothes, behind Mum at the
stove, nuzzling her neck with his arms wrapped round her waist.
He’d taken off his boots inside the back
door, washed his hands at the kitchen sink whilst talking to Mum about
her day,
and had finally come to his favorite place in the world. The
house was quiet for a change.
“Garreth took some
extra hours on the docks today. He won’t be home
till late. Where’s the rest of the crew?”
“Dorrie’s
young man is picking her up from work; she won’t
be home until late. Allan’s at footy
practice, and Terry’s helping your mum with her shopping, I
think.” I was just inside the living room.
“We’ve the
house to ourselves at the moment? Turn off the stove, Girl,
and come sit with
me.”
“Steven, dinner will
be burnt again.” I heard her sigh.
“With all of them off on their own, what will
we do with ourselves?” I hear Dad’s deep
chuckle; I hadn’t understood it fully then, but not only had
I inherited Dad’s
build, I also developed his chuckle when trying to seduce a woman as
had
Garreth. I’d come home early one evening
and caught Garreth and his shiela; I’d heard his chuckle.
As his annoying younger brother, I’d felt it
my responsibility to barge directly into the house.
The tableau began to fade with
the heavy scraping of our
wooden kitchen chair cross the floor.
The chair creaked, and I almost heard Mum’s girlish giggle as
it
faded.
“George?”
He
materialized. “How do you do that? I
thought you’d stay with me.”
“Tricks of the
trade, Terry.
Can’t tell you; we just know when you need us in your dream.
As to staying with you, each guide has their
own style. You, Dino, and Max couldn’t
be more different, but you are each effective.
“What did you
need?”
“You don’t
know that either?
What kind of guide are you?”
“There are so many
different questions or thoughts you might
need to have clarified, I’m not prescient, you
know.”
“Were you watching
Mum and Dad?”
“Yes.”
“So you know I snuck
out the front?”
“Yes. You
were a very
perceptive young man considering your stock and trade these days has an
element
of snooping in it.”
I chose to ignore his less
than optimum way of referring to
intelligence. “Did Mum and Dad chat more
after that? Did I escape in the nick of
time to keep my teen-aged psyche from being irreparably
harmed?”
“They had a nice,
loving talk before you needed to
escape.” That gave my adult psyche a
boost. Diana and I have hope even after
our newlywed phase is over.
“Can I hear what
they talked about when we kids weren’t
about? I’m not sure that’s a question I
can ask Mum. I might have asked Dad
after a pint or two, but with him gone …”
“Technically, since
you weren’t there, you’re not
allowed. I am supposed to allow you to
understand your life better so I’ll bend the rules for you
this time.”
“Thanks,
Mate.”
The fog cleared, and I could
see the kitchen again. Mum was on Dad’s lap, the
beer they shared
passing from his hand to hers. His eyes
scanned her face as she made the chair creak with the way she settled
more
comfortably.
“You’re as
pretty as the day we met. Now, you’re more
beautiful.”
“I love you more
today than the day we wed. Then you were a young chap with
loads of
cheek and promise. Today, you’ve become
a good man and still make me laugh.
We’ve raised a good family.”
“Once
they’re all out of the house, what will you want to
do? The time isn’t too far off. Garreth
almost has enough for Kate’s ring,
and Dorrie wants to move out with her gentleman.” I never
knew Dad was not keen on Tom, the solicitor.
“Oh, hush.
Dorrie
doesn’t want to move in with Tom. You’re
jealous that your second best girl has fallen in love.”
He grinned shyly when Mum kissed his
cheek. “You’ve shown her what a good man
does. Tom has a different sense of
humour than the Thorne clan, but he treats her well.
He’s a hard worker and a solid future.”
“Terry’s
hell-bent on joining the Army. I can only hope he finishes
uni before he
does. An officer’s life is much better
than a digger’s, particularly in peacetime.
Maybe he’ll teach his old man how to play golf. Get
us into one of those fancy clubs. Allan won’t make
uni, but he’ll be out of the
house soon after Terry. ”
Mum laughed.
“We’ve
always had children underfoot. We won’t
know how to act.”
“We’ll
finally have the bath to ourselves. You may have forgotten
how to act, but I
haven’t.”
George interrupts, and the
vision goes abruptly black with
the damned fog. “Time to move along, Terry.
There are some things even a grown son
shouldn’t see.”
*
My next scene is Trish and I
larking about the Gardens right
before I left for the service. We walked
hand in hand, stopping to splash or dip our hands in one of the
fountains
before moving along. My eyes flashed
with excitement, telling her of all the adventures I’d have,
my hopes, my
ambitions. Her quietness should have told
me of her uncertainty of what her role in my life would be. I
was wrapped in my own world, expecting her
to still be my Trish when my wanderlust had been sated.
George startled me.
“Lovely
girl. You were quite taken with her.”
“Had we married
she’d likely would still be my wife. I was such a
git in those days. We certainly would have been more suited
than
Marjorie and I.”
“Choices, Terry,
choices.”
“Bloody stupid,
unthinking, unconsidered choices. That’s why I plan
so much these days.
“The hardest letter
I’ve ever written was to Trish when Marjorie
and I married. It was easier writing Mum
about why I married. I knew she’d be
over the moon about another grandchild, and after Dad got over being
worried
angry about the future consequences of my actions, I knew
he’d be proud of me
for accepting my responsibility.
“I never heard back
from Trish, you know. My family stopped mentioning her.
I never tried to look her up when I went
home.
“Did I hurt her
badly?
May I see her life now?”
“She’d
been expecting to lose you. After all you were the local boy
who made
good, but so far away from her. She
hoped you would come back to her, but her hopes only carried her for a
while
once you went to England.
“I can’t
show you Trish’s life now. You aren’t
part of it. I do have my limitations. Besides the
night’s almost over. You need to wake up
soon.”
DIANA
This is the second night in a
row Terry’s had such vivid
dreams. At least tonight, I’m pretty
sure I’m in them. He sighs like he does
on warm summer evenings when he lets go of his worries and strokes my
hand when
all is right with his world. I wonder if
he remembers his dreams? I certainly
don’t.
TERRY
Tonight I don’t have
to worry about where I am. I know I’m dreaming.
The fog has the same comforting feel, and the
hill to George and my meeting bench is more familiar. I play
in the fog for a bit; I’m in no
rush. I feel free.
George waits for me tonight.
“Hello, Terry. I’m surprised to
see you again so quickly. I normally
don’t see people two nights in a row.
This marriage has you thinking. A
momentous event for you?”
“Diana would be
disappointed if I didn’t say an
extraordinary moment, but it’s so much more complicated than
that. Marrying Diana is where my whole life has led
me. The quiet lad who clothed himself in
his blokiness, the young army officer who had to be better than the
best, the
tired K&R man who finally saw how much he had missed, the man
who was ready
to find someone who could accept and love all the
contradictions.”
George smiled benevolently.
“Where to tonight?”
“I thought you were
leading me.”
“I see you
haven’t integrated everything you dreamed last
night. Try to make sense of it all. Look for the
themes. Remember, it’s your dream.”
*
I know precisely where we
arrive. Home.
I’d know that pink and lavender sunset anywhere.
I was laughing at something
Diana’d said. Holly eagerly watched the bunny hop
across
the pasture, fairly quivering in delight.
Diana held her large tumbler of gin and tonic to her cleavage, letting
it cool her. She had no idea how the
thought of licking the cold water from her chest got to me.
However, with Okie ensconced between us, I
feared a bite to my nads if I leant over.
“Seriously, Boomer.
Are you listening to me? I drink
gin and tonics strictly for the lime.
I’ve never had scurvy, and I don’t intend to start
now. That’s my story, and I’m sticking to
it.”
“Not a good enough
reason for me to drink that Pommy concotion.”
“Okie, hit the deck.
The man needs his lime, and it seems the only way he’ll get
it today is second
hand.” Diana crawled over me and gave me
a lime-infused kiss.
*
“Do you need
more?” George asks.
“Of us on the porch?
No,
thanks very much. I wouldn’t want for
you to become a voyeur, and I was there.”
We’re back in the
fog, George and I sitting sociably on our
bench. I’ve enjoyed my time with him,
but it really feels like our time was short.
“I enjoyed having a
peek at your life. Most times I see the messes people had
made
of their lives. Yours was a picnic.”
“Can I see what the
future holds before you go?”
“No. You
have many
choices to make yet. Diana said it
best. Life is a series of choices. One you make now
will make another
possibility in the future closed to you.
I don’t know what your future looks like. Tough
luck, Kid.”
“It was worth a try.
When
will I see you again?”
“You never can tell.
The next time you need a guided tour I’ll be
around.”
DIANA
“Wake up,
Lady.”
Terry whispering and nuzzling behind my ear sends a warmth all through
me.
“Ngh ngh.
I can make
love to you in my sleep.” I turn in his
arms and snuggle in closer.
“I need to tell you
about this dream before I forget
it. Since you’ve already told me about
your first love, I need to tell you about Trish.”
“At 2:47 in the
morning?”
