Beneath the bed was a door. Beneath the door was a stairway. At the end of the stairway was a cavern wider than the world. In the cavern was a silver pool as deep and as old as time. And in the silver pool there was nothing but despair.
Beneath the bed was a door, and we did not dare to open it at all.
__________
Notes:
1. Written on the 28th August, 2022
__________There’s an empty bottle of whisky on my desk. It’s been there 10 years now, maybe a little bit more. Longer than the desk, in any case. Longer than any of the furniture in the room.
Johnnie Walker. Red label. Old enough to be measured in fluid ozs and percentage proofs.
I don’t drink whisky and never really have. I don’t drink at all these days. I assume my dad drank all this one and then I kept the bottle for some reason, because it’s nice and old, because it was there, because it gives me something to look at more interesting than the wall.
We got it fifteen, twenty years ago from the cupboards of a neighbour’s house after she’d died and we were helping clean up, this and various other archaic bottles of unopened spirits. I have no idea where they went, or what they were.
Shamefully, I don’t even remember her name. Maybe I never knew it. I used to talk to her in the mornings while waiting for the bus. She was kind of funny. I think she thought I was odd, weird.
I was odd, weird. I still am. It’s too late to change. Some lack I’ll always have.
I don’t know why I keep it, the bottle. But I couldn’t imagine throwing it away. If I’d left the top off it’d be full of dust by now.
Next to it there’s a milk bottle with a feather in it. No memories attach themselves to those.
__________
Notes:
1. Written on the 17th July, 2022
__________I still remember sometimes my friends smoking menthol cigarettes when we were 14 or 15 or so. I don’t know exactly, but round about then. Walking through fields in the dark, sitting on the sea wall, or the swings in the park, the only light the fading glow of the town behind us and the flicker of cigarettes in their mouths, occasional match bursts of flame between cupped palms. Practised movements copied from older brothers, older sisters, older kids, parents, films.
“They make your lungs bleed, you know?”
That’s what I remember. Not who said it, not any discussion of the point, no disputes to its veracity. Just the claim that menthol cigarettes make your lungs bleed.
Not even the smell of the cigarettes remains now, the taste of the menthol, how it affected the smoke. My memories are visual, verbal. Non linear. Patchwork. Collage. Who knows how much of this is true, how many memories its stitched together from, how many lies I’ve told here that I no longer remember are lies.
“They make your lungs bleed, you know?”
Across the river, the nuclear power plant hums in the dark. Sound of boats in the distance, ropes slapping against metal masts in the winds and on the tides.
Sometimes I wonder if they still make menthol cigarettes. Think about buying some in the newsagents to see what the medical warnings might say.
__________
Notes:
1. Written on the 15th July, 2022
__________
Now this morning I woke to find the doors to the Palace had been opened, for the period of solitude was to begin, the date having been set for my Lord’s ascension to the throne. Here in his solitude, only upon his rising in the morning shall he speak, so as to recount to me his dreams of the night before.
Now to me did my Lord hand this pen, and the scrolls upon which I am to write, and though he was not yet permitted to speak, he said to me, “My dear Scribe, last night as I slept, I dreamt. And as I dreamt, I slept.” And then he took to the chambers of his solitude for a moment of rest, and lay down there to sleep…
The Dreams Of The Waiting Prince, Before The Occasion Of His Ascension, During The Period Of His Seclusion, In The High Palace Of Eternal Solitude, Above The Clouds Of The Empire’s Reality, Beneath The Many Moons Of The Empire’s Imagination is the story of a lifetime and the history of an empire told entirely in dreams.
Written by David Guy, and with illustrations and artwork by Virginia Frances Sterrett (1900-1930) and Frances MacDonald (1873-1921), it is available to buy in a beautiful, fully illustrated, pocket book edition.
Product Details:
Title: The Dreams Of The Waiting Prince
Price: £6.99/$12.99 (plus postage)
Pages: 112
Binding: Paperback
Illustrations: 12 (b&w)
Dimensions: Pocket Book (4.25×6.875in / 108x175mm)
Paper Quality: 80gsm
A PDF/ebook version is also available (with full colour illustrations) for free/pay what you want.
The One Hundred And Fifty Dreams Of The Waiting Prince
The First Dream – The Second Dream – The Third Dream – The Fourth Dream – The Fifth Dream – The Sixth Dream – The Seventh Dream – The Eighth Dream – The Ninth Dream – The Tenth Dream – The Eleventh Dream – The Twelfth Dream – The Thirteenth Dream – The Fourteenth Dream – The Fifteenth Dream – The Sixteenth Dream – The Seventeenth Dream – The Eighteenth Dream – The Nineteenth Dream – The Twentieth Dream – The Twenty First Dream – The Twenty Second Dream – The Twenty Third Dream – The Twenty Fourth Dream – The Twenty Fifth Dream – The Twenty Sixth Dream – The Twenty Seventh Dream – The Twenty Eighth Dream – The Twenty Ninth Dream – The Thirtieth Dream – The Thirty First Dream – The Thirty Second Dream – The Thirty Third Dream – The Thirty Fourth Dream – The Thirty Fifth Dream – The Thirty Sixth Dream – The Thirty Seventh Dream – The Thirty Eighth Dream – The Thirty Ninth Dream – The Fortieth Dream – The Forty First Dream – The Forty Second Dream – The Forty Third Dream – The Forty Fourth Dream – The Forty Fifth Dream – The Forty Sixth Dream – The Forty Seventh Dream – The Forty Eighth Dream – The Forty Ninth Dream – The Fiftieth Dream – The Fifty First Dream – The Fifty Second Dream – The Fifty Third Dream – The Fifty Fourth Dream – The Fifty Fifth Dream – The Fifty Sixth Dream – The Fifty Seventh Dream – The Fifty Eighth Dream – The Fifty Ninth Dream – The Sixtieth Dream – The Sixty First Dream – The Sixty Second Dream – The Sixty Third Dream – The Sixty Fourth Dream – The Sixty Fifth Dream – The Sixty Sixth Dream – The Sixty Seventh Dream – The Sixty Eighth Dream – The Sixty Ninth Dream – The Seventieth Dream – The Seventy First Dream – The Seventy Second Dream – The Seventy Third Dream – The Seventy Fourth Dream – The Seventy Fifth Dream – The Seventy Sixth Dream – The Seventy Seventh Dream – The Seventy Eighth Dream – The Seventy Ninth Dream – The Eightieth Dream – The Eighty First Dream – The Eighty Second Dream – The Eighty Third Dream – The Eighty Fourth Dream – The Eighty Fifth Dream – The Eighty Sixth Dream – The Eighty Seventh Dream – The Eighty Eighth Dream – The Eighty Ninth Dream – The Ninetieth Dream – The Ninety First Dream – The Ninety Second Dream – The Ninety Third Dream – The Ninety Fourth Dream – The Ninety Fifth Dream – The Ninety Sixth Dream – The Ninety Seventh Dream – The Ninety Eighth Dream – The Ninety Ninth Dream – The Hundredth Dream – The Hundred And First Dream – The Hundred And Second Dream – The Hundred And Third Dream – The Hundred And Fourth Dream – The Hundred And Fifth Dream – The Hundred And Sixth Dream – The Hundred And Seventh Dream – The Hundred And Eighth Dream – The Hundred And Ninth Dream – The Hundred And Tenth Dream – The Hundred And Eleventh Dream – The Hundred And Twelfth Dream – The Hundred And Thirteenth Dream – The Hundred And Fourteenth Dream – The Hundred And Fifteenth Dream – The Hundred And Sixteenth Dream – The Hundred And Seventeenth Dream – The Hundred And Eighteenth Dream – The Hundred And Nineteenth Dream – The Hundred And Twentieth Dream – The Hundred And Twenty First Dream – The Hundred And Twenty Second Dream – The Hundred And Twenty Third Dream – The Hundred And Twenty Fourth Dream – The Hundred And Twenty Fifth Dream – The Hundred And Twenty Sixth Dream – The Hundred And Twenty Seventh Dream – The Hundred And Twenty Eighth Dream – The Hundred And Twenty Ninth Dream – The Hundred And Thirtieth Dream – The Hundred And Thirty First Dream – The Hundred And Thirty Second Dream – The Hundred And Thirty Third Dream – The Hundred And Thirty Fourth Dream – The Hundred And Thirty Fifth Dream – The Hundred And Thirty Sixth Dream – The Hundred And Thirty Seventh Dream – The Hundred And Thirty Eighth Dream – The Hundred And Thirty Ninth Dream – The Hundred And Fortieth Dream – The Hundred And Forty First Dream – The Hundred And Forty Second Dream – The Hundred And Forty Third Dream – The Hundred And Forty Fourth Dream – The Hundred And Forty Fifth Dream – The Hundred And Forty Sixth Dream – The Hundred And Forty Seventh Dream – The Hundred And Forty Eighth Dream – The Hundred And Forty Ninth Dream – The Hundred And Fiftieth Dream
Illustrations – Notes, References and Acknowledgements
The boy, Robert, my nephew, had been missing two hours now when I saw him in the harbour, his head bobbing up and down in the water between two fishing boats, as if caught in the ropes that tethered them in place and now calling for help in between the slow swell of the incoming waves.
The breathe caught in my throat, tears welled in my eyes, the shock of it, the surprise, the suddenness of the sight. I didn’t even think, no worries for my own wellbeing, no attempts to call for help. I didn’t even kick off my shoes, simply ran into the water, wading through the waves, clambering across the pontoons floating in the shallows, climbing into and out of boats before diving from a small wooden raft down into the depths of the sea.
A single vision then, clear as a painting, as staged as some devastating tableau. Robert floating in glass, the scene bisected by ropes fringed with weeds, his billowing hair lit by a single shaft of light from above, a bubble of air almost lazily forming between his lips, his eyes a piercing blue sharp enough to cut apart my soul.
I surfaced, coughing, choking, panic and horror and shame, of failure, loss. Clinging to the side of the boat I called his name, “Robert! Robert!”, then dived back down. Dived back under to try again, again, again.
There was nothing there, of course. Oh the water was in turmoil, sand swirling in the maelstrom, shapes redolent of ghosts in the tumult. But in those lifeless waters of the harbour there was nothing more.
__________
Notes:
1. Written on the 8th July, 2022
2. An attempt at a ghost story
3. And based upon a dream