“You must be insane.” Dudley Gardner wasn’t buying it.
Why would he? An atheist since teenagerhood, he had been an easy sell for the idea that his religious peers were beneath him. It wasn’t quite his social status in school that did it, not quite. The popular kids didn’t show much sign of religious feeling, certainly not in the sexual department. The religious kids tended to be treated with disdain, although not contempt. A few of them had dropped out to homeschool.
So it wasn’t Dudley’s own relative lack of popularity, directly. He got a similar treatment from the popular, though he was categorized as something different. Highly intelligent, he blanched when “spaz” was used. So he got excited. Didn’t everyone?
All of his subsequent learnings cemented in this initial awakening. By his lights, this figure in front of him must be part of a gag.
“Then you reject the bargain.” The voice was cold, but the rhythm of it seemed familiar to Dudley. He had transitioned easily from learning to teaching. The growth of the homeschooling movement had lessened his reticence about displaying his own beliefs. After all, the public school was secular, and it was easy to homeschool nowadays. If religious nuts didn’t like it, then they could drop out. Their squawking was just the usual complaints about people who were made to pay their fair share, as specified by law. They were just in it for themselves. Why should the classroom suffer on account of them? They could have put up with secularism; why didn’t they? If they don’t, it was their choice.
The words, sunk in, made him hesitate in his bed. He knew of no-one who fit the physical description of this Death-caricature. He wasn’t threatened. Since he was lying in his bed, a single, he was probably asleep. Hence, he was dreaming. It might be good for his psychological health to let the dream proceed.
“No, I accept your bargain. I’ll see him through”
“It is a ‘she’,” the figure corrected. “Once you get up, we will go to her death place. Your task will be to prepare her for her death, to prepare her for me. I can be summoned by an act of your mind, which you will do when she is prepared. If she goes, promptly, you will then learn the year of your death.”
It was straightforward, for a dream. Dudley would go through the charade of ushering someone in to the mythical afterlife, after which his unconscious would tell him what it thought was the year of his death. It might even be a self-fulfilling prophesy. Then, he’d wake up and it’ll be over.
He “got up,” not even bothering to check behind him.
Dudley was expecting his unconscious to show him someone else. A religious nutcase? Why would he be charged with ushering in that kind of person?
That’s what she obviously was. Trinkets and paraphernalia, all Christian-themed, decorated her bedroom. The woman herself was middle-aged and obese. It wasn’t hard to guess that she had suffered a heart attack. Another one that thought her faith could protect her from the consequences of her behavior; that, Dudley was sure of. She was probably the kind that displaced her own irresponsibility onto recipients of government assistance.
Well, they were one up on her. At least they knew how to seek help and get it.
The voice of his dream-totem spoke. Dudley had been a little uncomfortable when they were both standing, as this thing had about nine inches on him. However, this being a dream, it didn’t matter. Although it was odd that his unconscious had put a bulbous nose on the figure’s otherwise-unseen face.
“This woman is a psychological dependent. Clutching to what she is convinced is the truth, she had consumed much time and effort – and money – on pursuing what she is convinced is a state where she is both Godly and good. As you have surmised, her death has come earlier than might be expected for someone in her actuarial category. She needs her God.”
Yep, that sealed it. That ‘Death’ figure was his unconscious speaking. Dudley could have said those same words himself.
“Call her; she will awake.” With that, the figure was gone.
In his teacher’s voice, one used for an unpromising student, he called to her. “Miss. It’s time for you to get up. You’re dead.”
She did wake up. Surprisingly, she smiled when he heard the news. “So my Maker has called. When do I see Him?” She followed with some quote from her favorite book.
Dudley decided to get the crap over with. “You won’t. I said you were dead.”
And on, and on, and on. She hadn’t listened to a thing he said. In their interminable ‘discussions’, she had revealed that she had had an abortion when a youth. Her regrets, mixed with fantasizing about what the fetus would have been like had it lived, had caused her to enter her delusion-world. All of the arguments proving that there was no God, no rational faith, nothing except a psychological crutch, went in her ears and seemingly in a black hole. Every time, he ran into the same obstinacy. She was dead, he was a spirit, hence God exists! Some of her ripostes were clever, he had to admit, especially the point about the length of time she had been dead. Had it just been an illusion on her part, she wouldn’t still be talking. She had laughed when he explained that she was only a figment in his dream. She had laughed at him!
So, he continued. Why shouldn’t he? These Christians were all pushovers, that was for sure. The ones that weren’t, were easily batted away with a well-chosen word. He had the advantage, from the get-go. Why shouldn’t he use it?
But she was obstinate. In addition, after rejecting his own reasoning, she had the temerity to proselytize to him! Dudley wasn’t going to give up; that was for sure.
So on, and on, and on, it went. It seemed like days before he finally tired out. Seemed like them; neither had gotten hungry. Not even her with her padding.
Reduced to what he was sure were weasel words, he said that she would meet what she considered to be her Maker after her trial. Self-satisfied, she stood and waited. Now taken out of argument mode, he paused for a little reflection. This dream had been realistic, unusually so. While he and she were arguing, her corpse had been discovered and even mourned over. He had attached no significance to people missing her. They were like her; that was all he knew.
When she saw the Death figure, her mouth opened and a short prayer escaped from it. She said something about the angel Gabriel. Not that it mattered.
The next place he saw was a hospital. Wondering why he was there, he looked around and saw a figure that seemed dead. A nurse was checking the instrumentation beside the bed. Strong jaw, somewhat triangular face, medium height, his hair color, his haircut –
Oh, dear G- It finally occurred to Dudley that he was looking at himself.
The Death figure was now beside him. “This place is where your body has been moved to while your spirit has been occupied by your own choice and actions. When I have revealed to you the year of your death, as you have fulfilled your bargain, you will descend into your body and resume life.”
Dudley remained silent. Normally agile in the verbal department, he was lost for words.
“Your death will take place in the Christian year 2061.” Which would make him about eighty.
Glad it was over, Dudley confronted the figure of his imagination. “Well, I certainly earned it.” For some reason, he could now feel the eyes of this thing. “How’s about getting me awake?”
It was too fast to see the thing’s hands. Whatever it was, it had grabbed Dudley bodily and was conveying him to the hospital bed. The last thing he remembered, before waking up there, was a falling feeling when the creature let go. The first thing he said, when awakened, was: “What is this? I’ve got rights.”
And the first thing he heard was from the nurse. “Oh, you can be assured that they’ve been all respected. You’ve been in a coma for the past three days.”
Dudley was in no mood, particularly about her tone. It was the same one her colleagues used on the unruly. Seeing a little gold crucifix hanging from her neck helped set him off.
“Another believer, is it? You people have a vested interest in suffering! I want out of here.”
His words left her unaffected. “Well, I’ll just go mosey over to the doctor and he and you can have a little chat about it.”
“I happen to be a teacher of science, “ he belted back. “You have no right to patronize me! Get the doctor in here – now!”
“O-kay,” she replied with her smile unbroken, “he’ll be along in a jiff!” With that, she exited, her head tilted up slightly.
And was soon replaced by a group of three, all with goopy smiles. “Glad to see you’re okay!” one of them said. “We’ve been visiting you here, all volunteers and glad to be so, and we’ve been praying for you every step of the way!...”
