Their Lost Sound

IV. Stranger

The clouds above us twisted and turned, like secrets writhing against the blue sky, and, as Kat spoke to me, I imagined her words floating up to join them.

"Do you dream Tom?" She asked.

"What?"

"I mean, when you sleep, do you dream then?"

"Yeah, I guess," I answered as I watched the clouds shift.

"And, have you ever had a dream that felt real?"

"I don't know, probably. I suppose when I'm dreaming it feels real."

"But," she said, "I'm talking about after. When you wake up, does it feel real then? Like it actually happened?"

My forehead creased as I tried to recall if I had ever felt that way. "No? I don't think I've ever had that."

Kat sighed. "It's sad."

"What, that I've never had that?"

"No," Kat said, "the feeling is sad. Remembering something that never happened."

"Ah," I said, trying to find the right words before awkwardly saying, "I'm sure there's a word for that."

"Of course," Kat went on, "it's sad you've never experienced that sadness either. In a strange way it's actually quite a nice feeling."

"I wouldn't know," I said.

"Memory distortion," she said softly.

"What?"

"Memory distortion, or false memories. The phrase you're looking for, it's memory distortion."

"Right," I said. "I didn't know that. Sorry, Kat, why are we talking about this?"

"Because last night I had one of those dreams. One of those real dreams which, when I woke up I didn't realise I had been asleep. It was like I'd daydreamed something that happened yesterday but at the same time years ago. Like it was in another life."

I sat up and looked at Kat, who remained lying on her back, her hair spread out around her head on the grass like a flower in bloom. "What was it about?" I asked.

Her eyes flicked to me. "What was what about?"

"Your dream," I said.

Her eyes rolled back to the clouds overhead. "Oh, I don't really want to say. Not just yet at least."

I paused and fiddled with the empty glass cola bottle that lay next to me. "Ok," I said and looked once more at the clouds above, and imagined the secrets they held.

The clouds began to grow and spread across the sky, turning the blue dome to a white canvas which slowly faded and yellowed like aging paper. My eyes flickered open and I was staring at the ceiling of my motel room. I rolled over to the bedside table and checked my watch, it was six-thirty. The showerhead shuddered a little before the hiss of water rushed from it. I washed and changed, then packed my things and left the room, locking it behind me. The motel looked strange in the morning light and it felt like a different place as I walked across the dusty lot to the front office.

The door squeaked open and I moved to the desk as I had done the night before. There were voices speaking softly in the office beyond, though I could not make out what they were saying. I rang the bell and turned again to the noticeboard next to the desk. The poster that had been pinned its middle was gone.