CAPSULE
By ronnie_isaacs
- 432 reads
THE CAPSULE
Ron Isaacs
"Vous salauds," screamed Jim, wildly jerking his limbs, "Vous pouvez
tuer le roi, la reine et tous les aristos, mais bient?t il y aura un
emp?reur!"
Annabel shook his shoulder. "Wake up Jim!" she called. Jim awoke with a
start. "You've been having another of those nightmares." She whispered
softly. What was it this time?"
Jim stopped his fitful movements and blearily open his eyes. "I was
involved in the Reign of Terror in he French Revolution." he said, "I
was an aristocrat about to be beheaded on the guillotine. I remember
shouting something to the crowd as I was being held down. Then I felt
the blade on my neck and woke up."
"You were shouting something in French," replied Annabel, which sounded
like you were cursing those around you and saying there would soon be
an emperor instead of a king."
"I don't know any French," said Jim, in a shaky voice, "but whoever I
was turned out to be right. There were, after all, three emperors
called Napoleon."
Annabel told him in a determined voice "These bad dreams are getting us
both down. We should get the doctor to refer you for professional
help."
"Next patient please!" called the nurse. Jim, nudged by Annabel, awoke
from a fitful doze. "Your turn dear!" she urged. They rose and walked
into the psychiatrist's consulting room. Dr. Pardoe motioned from his
desk. "Sit down, you two." They sat on the two chairs opposite the
doctor.
"What's the problem?" Asked Dr. Pardoe.
Jim sat staring blankly, trying with difficulty to collect his wits.
Annabel answered for him. "He's been having such dreadful nightmares,
screaming and struggling. It's as much my problem as his, for I get
hardly a wink of sleep."
Jim took up the account. "I'm always involved in something which
happened in the past, which resulted in the death of the person I
played in the dream. A month ago I was the murderer Charles Peace being
hanged. I remember saying his last words as the noose was placed around
his neck, `Not too tightly, for I have but little wind.' My wife
insisted I sought help as the result of the last dream I had." He
recounted the event in the dream.
"Out of curiosity," said Annabel, "I went to he local public library
and looked up the events Jim described. They all happened just as in
the dream. The last one involved an aristocrat, Duc Antoine d'Avignon,
who really did curse the crowd and forecast the coming of the
Napoleans."
"So how does all this make you feel, Jim? Asked the psychiatrist.
"Dreadful, I just feel so hopelessly lost. I can't concentrate on
anything because...because I feel as though I am not here at all. I get
the feeling that I am not myself at all, but forever another person,
and that nothing happening around me is real."
Annabel tearfully joined the discussion. "He used to be so busy. He
worked so hard, and even when he arrived home from work dead tired,
anything that had to be done he did. Now he just seems to sit and
dream, as though I am not here. Please help!"
Dr. Pardoe thought for a moment. "Looks like you've been overdoing it a
bit and got yourself into a psychotic episode. The kind of experience
you are having is quite common in circumstances like yours. I'll
prescribe some pills." He wrote out a prescription and placed it in
Annabel's outstretched hand. "That should help." he added,
reassuringly.
On the way home the two discussed Pardoe's conclusion that it was a
common problem which could be "cured" by pills. How could disturbing
dreams which sometimes "played back" actual historical events, be
treated as an illness?
Jim sat watching a TV documentary. As he did so he dozed off. He awoke
with a start. The room...in semi-darkness...not a room at all...in a
half-supine position...before and around him an array of
instruments...directly in front of him a small TV screen. Gradually he
realised that it was all familiar to him. The face of the operations
controller appeared on the screen. "You should be going round the other
side of the moon, Jim." he reported. Jim looked through the observation
port to his left and saw the Earth. "Roger control, here I go!" he
replied, as he watched the outline of the moon start to obscure the
blue disc of his home planet.
Suddenly a brilliant orange light appeared, engulfing the space-craft.
He became very confused, but realised he was being carried somewhere,
by something, he knew not what or where. Then there was a sharp pain in
his abdomen, as if an instrument were being pushed into it. He
screamed. "Annabel! Annabel! Where the hell are you Annabel?"
"I'm here, darling, I'm here!" Jim hazily felt soft fingers stroking
his brow. As he collected himself he found himself back in his
armchair, in front of the TV. Shaking and sweating, he wept, while his
wife held him, stroking his forehead. "Hush, hush, dear. You must have
had a dreadful nightmare."
They watched the television news together. "The Morpheus space capsule
was put into a wide orbit, to pass behind the moon." Read the
newscaster. "It should have splashed down on Earth three hours ago, but
after passing behind the moon did not reappear. NASA has announced with
regret the loss of Morpheus, with its pilot, captain Jim Vickers. They
say that just before disappearing behind the moon, he screamed
`Annabel! Annabel! Where the hell are you Annabel?'"
? R. J. Isaacs, 2001
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