The stuff of dystopian dreams
In the past year, a disproportionate number of the novels I’ve read have been what you could consider dystopian fiction. (Another blog post, maybe the next one, is how this literary diet led me out of New York and into grad school.) As a fan of Medieval romance, not to mention Harry Potter, I have no problem at all imagining these strange, invented worlds. In fact, many of the conventions of dystopian writing have seeped into my everyday consciousness, and into my unconscious mind all well, in the form of dreams.
Not too long ago, I had a dystopian dream which was vivid enough to be a scene from a novel. It interested me enough to write down, and I’ve copied it below. By way of disclaimer, it is by no means a completed short story. It is a fragment, as near as possible to exactly the way I dreamt it.
* * *
I had never been to Annie’s apartment before. I knew her parents were radicals – had been radicals – everyone knew that. It’s funny how something can seem really out there, but then, without anyone really noticing, it becomes normal.
The door opened into the living room. There was one window on the left far wall. It didn’t have a curtain, but not much light was coming in. The place was pretty much what you would think: pine wood floors, highly polished, and white plaster walls. The violet-colored metal cap of the Portal Point was the only color. A group of eight or nine men were standing in the center of the room. They were older – Annie’s uncles, maybe one was her father – and I had the idea that I was walking in somewhere I didn’t belong.
“Yes, miss?” one of the man said. His sinewy arms were crossed over his dark blue collared shirt. Now I was sure I’d interrupted something important.
“Sorry, sir. I’m a friend, um, a classmate of Annie’s.”
My eyes darted around, always ending up at the purple metal.
“Of course,” the man said. His voice was pleasant, but of course he didn’t smile.
“Lucy! What are you doing out there?” Annie’s voice, warm, pushed out into the room. I felt my body relax and tighten up again with a jerk. I was wearing white, and I could feel an enormous pimple growing and pulsating on the side of my nose.
Annie appeared next to me and seized me by the arm. It seemed to me that her father’s eyes were focused on the place where our skin was touching. Back then, I was always thinking things like that. Annie pulled me, mercifully, down the hallway and out of sight.
“Do you need anything, Lucy? God, I mean, gosh, it must have been a long trip for you. Not like it used to be when you could just get on the train…” Her voice became small and I instinctively looked around. We were under another Portal Point.
“It was nothing,” I said with as much vigor as I could muster. “I only need to use your bathroom.”
“Right here.” She pushed open a white door behind me. I followed eagerly. My fingers ran unconsciously along my nose. Annie’s parents were important enough that they probably had a mirror. A mirror!
The bathroom was clean and everything was new. I will never forget how clean everything seemed at first. “The tap works, but it takes a moment for the water to warm up.” Annie sounded far away. Above the sink was a mirror. My stomach leapt into my throat. To be alone in front of a mirror, just for a few minutes. My pulse was so strong that I was almost afraid the Portal Point in the hall would pick it up and dial for medical assistance. A boy at school said that happened to his mother. There were a lot of stories like that around in those days.
Annie turned to go and let me pass through the door. Almost imperceptibly, she moved her eyes towards something in the room. She did it again, and I followed them. There, below the mirror, was a disk of purple metal.
“You even have a Portal Point in your bathroom!” I said, too loudly.
“Oh, of course!” she answered, keeping her volume steady with mine. “That’s one of the most important places to have one. But don’t worry—it’s not the kind that can hear you. Can you imagine?” She smiled. What kindness!
“I’m so glad you told me before I, before I, made a mistake.” I said brightly. I wasn’t sure if it was the right thing to say. Annie blinked and nodded.
In the bathroom, I went to the toilet and pretended to pee, then walked slowly to the sink. I splashed cold water on my face. It made me seem tough, which I knew was virtuous, and I hoped that the cold would take some of the redness out of my pimple. That wasn’t virtuous, but as long as I kept my eyes closed, the Portal Point couldn’t see it. When I stepped back out into the hall, Annie’s father was standing there. His arms were folded across his chest.
“I hope you found everything you needed, Miss Miller,” he said. I turned my faced up to him.“You know my family name, sir?”
“I worked with your father in the old days, when we were practically boys.” I knew what “the old days” meant. His lips smiled but his eyes didn’t. A smile is really about the eyes. Everything is about eyes.
My father. Annie’s father tilted his head and studied my face.
“You liked him, didn’t you, father?” Annie said. Her expression had changed, but to what?
“Yes, I did. Very much.” He unfolded that great arm and placed his hand on my shoulder. “You are among friends here, Lucy.”
It was the first time in my life when I was absolutely sure that I was being lied to.