[Montreal]. 5:42am. That dream jolted me awake again. It's been getting more intense since beginning a few nights ago. Voices. Louder and louder. They keep calling me.
The view from my window this morning. It snowed overnight. Staring at the white blanket brings a calming peace after a restless night. The top, smooth layer of snow and muted city is almost hypnotic to experience, like staring at the flames in a bonfire.
As I gaze at the fresh layer of snow, I keep wondering why I'm having these dreams. They keep calling me. It's creepy. Like a long whine. Why is it the same dream night after night? Who is calling me?
I hear Tom laughing as I walk into the office. He’s suppose to be helping a client, but can’t help working on material for his stand-up comedy routine.
"Hey, man. I hear ya! And I wish I could give you a better deal. I really do. I also wish I could make you understand what a huge mistake it would be to turn down this website update proposal. But I don’t have that power.”
He’s not funniest, but what he lacks in quality he makes up for in persistence.
"At the end of the day, you have to decide whether you want to look back on this conversation from your million dollar home in the suburbs, or if you’d rather be eating some fast food branded sushi on your graveyard shift.”
Like I said, not the funniest.
"Hello…?”
Good thing that client loves us.
"You look exhausted, man. Same dream?”
“
“In ten years, I’ve never heard you say anything about having nightmares.”
“Because this is the first time! It doesn’t even feel like a nightmare, though. It’s hard to describe. It’s like they keep -”
“They’re calling you. Yeah, I’ve heard.”
“No, they keep calling me.”
“That’s what I said.”
“You’re not getting it.”
“Apparently not. How about we get outta Montreal, just go to Toronto for a few days. It’ll clear your head.”
“I don’t think it’s a location-based thing. It’s not like I’m sleeping over an ancient burial ground or anything.”
“You don’t know that.”
"Well...”
“So… Toronto? Weekend? Drinks?”
“And watch you bomb on nine different stages? Sounds fantastic. Can’t wait.”
“I can work with a sarcastic yes.”
“I guess I could go see Bae while we’re there. Maybe she can help me.”
“Ever the strategic thinker, Captain.”
“I’m not going to go to your comedy shows though. It’ll be a waste of time. I’ll wait until you’re funnier.”
“Jesus! Harsh much?”
“Can’t fault me for being honest.”
"I think I can.”
“So… Toronto?”
"Yes, Toronto."
[Dorval Train Station] 9:20am. I watch the train ease its way into the station. Tom stands ready, eager for our next adventure.
Toronto, we are in you! Let's see if I can clear my head while trying to get some answers.
Ah, Jen. I’ve known her since high school. Calling her “bae” is a running joke between us because we’ll never have anything other than a platonic relationship. We’re too good as friends. That's half the reason I’ve come to see her. We also went through the same psychologist training, but she actually finished the program while I moved into web entrepreneurship. I’ve come to tell her about my dreams, hoping for some direction. That’s the other half. “So, what do you think, bae?”
“I’ve never heard of anyone having dreams like this. You’re actually hearing voices, louder and louder, night after night?”
“Yeah. They keep calling me. Sort of like having a migraine but with voices.”
“Do you get migraines often?”
“I mean… every couple of years, I guess.”
“They don’t come with voices, I imagine?”
“Barely.”
“Then you must be insane.”
“Ha ha! That must be it! But really, if this doesn’t stop… I don’t know. I think I could actually go crazy! Going to sleep is becoming a terrifying endeavour. I can see it getting to the point where I'd do anything to make it stop.”
“People have nightmares for all kinds of reasons. Could be anxiety. Could be depression, or PTSD-“
“I don’t have any history of any of that. You know that’s not me.”
“I know, I know. Look, maybe we need an outsider’s opinion. I can speak to a colleague about this and see what she says."
"Ok."
"Also, I know some psychiatrists-“
“No! No drugs! Aside from these dreams, I’m perfectly stable. I’m not getting on some prescription that’ll end up messing up my brain.”
“It was just a suggestion. It sounds like there might be more to this and meds might help. I just want you to get better.”
“I know you’re trying to help. I’m just in a tough spot with this dream thing. It’s hard to wrap my head around what’s going on.”
“I wish I could have been more help.”
“It’s ok. Sometimes even Counsellor Troi doesn’t have the solution.”
“You're so -“
“Awesome?”
“I was going to say into your cosplay geek stuff.”
“Awesome sounds good, too.”
"You're that too."
"Thanks, bae."
My visit is bittersweet. I see that look. Those eyes. She knows something is wrong and it's beyond her capability to help me. She's concerned, as any sincere friend would be. I just have to keep searching.
[Montreal]. 7:43am. Toronto, Montreal, it doesn't matter where I go. The dreams continue. They keep calling me.
I may be an OG search engine optimization expert, but finding info about being called in dreams has been, well, a nightmare. Jen's insight didn't get me far so I decided to try the Google machine for the nth time. This time I notice what may be a solution to my problem: A book!
There's always something fresh to discuss when I walk into the office. Thierry is like our resident news junky. He filters through stories and brings the most interesting ones to our attention. Today's headline news actually sounded like a hoax. People around the world were fainting for no apparent reason.
At first, my bs-detector went off but as stories came in, it turned out to be true. People all over the world were fainting. They'd wake up about an hour later with a headache, as one would expect from any fainting spell.
It happened to individuals across the planet and at the same time, no less. No one has been able to identify a consistent pattern among those who fainted.
After all the hoopla died down, I just let the day's events pass. I tend to avoid watching the news since it destroys your ability to think independently.
Tomorrow is another day. Time to move on.
I always look forward to having dinner with Dan. I first met him when he was my friend Dave's partner on a tech startup. He went on to be the CTO of another startup.
Tonight's menu includes a smoked meat sandwich at one of the most famous restaurants in the world. It was an ideal distraction. Or so I thought.
As I enter Schwartz's deli, there's a low murmur of conversation about fainting, even more so than the usual ramblings of last night's Habs game.
I know a few Facebook friends who had fainted but there was nothing I could do. To be honest, not only was it over for now, it didn't have much of a direct impact on my life. I'm really just concerned about the voices that keep calling me.
"All anyone's talking about is this whole fainting thing."
"What have you heard?"
"Mostly conspiracy theories. Like how it was a government experiment. Possibly a mind control weapon."
"Pffff. Some random guy I follow on Instagram made a video ranting about aliens unleashing a plague. Welcome to the first wave ha ha!"
"Ha ha! Good one."
"I'm over it. I have more important things to worry about."
"So do I."
I look up and our waiter is bringing our food.
"What's new in the world of startups, Mr. Champion?"
"You're not the first to call me 'Champion' by the way."
"I know. It suits you and your defend-and-support-my-friends ways."
"Is that so?"
"Ok, so what's up in Startupland? Did someone come up with a way to actually monetize Twitter?"
"Funny. There's a lot going on. Some good. Some not so much."
"What's the deal?"
"I'm not in the best situation right now."
"Okayyy."
"Ever watch Babylon 5?"
"Oh, you mean one of the best sci-fi shows ever? No, never even heard of it."
"Just hear me out on this. You know how at first you aren't so sure what to think of Ambassador Londo but then the insane Emperor Cartagia takes over and you're like wtf?!"
"Spoilers!"
"That's kind of like my situation. Things were good but now I'm trying to defend my team while fighting madness."
"That sounds draining. Too much negative energy for my taste. Maybe it's time to move on."
"I've been fighting for the team, yes yes, campaigning on their behalf, and trying to do what's best for everyone but-"
"But now it's time to do what's best for you."
"That's where I'm at, ya."
"Life as a bigshot tech guy at a startup, even a successful one, isn't all glamour and being a somebody at Startupfest. You have to go through the crap to come out ahead. Haven't you seen Shawshank Redemption?!"
"Ya, well, I didn't expect it to go down this way. Money gets in the way."
"It always does."
"So, what's happening on your end?"
"I haven't really said much but for some time now, I've been waking up at night from loud voices in my head."
"Voices? What kind of voices?"
"I don't know. It's hard to describe. I'm kinda tired of thinking about it. Not to mention tired from lack of sleep."
"If they keep calling you, maybe you should see a shrink."
A kid sitting behind Dan knocks the waiter by mistake. The crashing plates can be heard at Ripples Ice Cream Parlour across the street.
"C'mon, don't be an idiot. You're usually more sympathetic. I did speak to Bae about it."
"And?"
"Got great moral support but I think my problem is outside of her area of expertise."
"What's your next step?"
"I'm not sure."
"I'd forget about it. It's probably just a little too much stress."
"So dismissive today! Forget I mentioned it."
"Don't be like that."
"Whatevss."
The waiter brings us more napkins.
"You seem pretty calm about this."
"I'm taking a systematic approach to it."
"Of course you are, Captain. Just stop obsessing over the voices. You'll be fine."
"Ugh. Platitudes get you nowhere with me. Next time, we'll get Dave to join us. I'd like to know what he thinks."
While heading back to my car I re-ran our conversation in my head. I'm analytical and tend to do that quite a bit.
I don't think I mentioned anyone actually calling me. For once, I just discussed the voices in general. Yet, Dan said something about voices calling me. Or did he? Maybe I'm so used to thinking about it that now I'm imagining things. I don't know.
What I do know is that I need to figure out how to make this stop. It's getting to be too much.
The stores were still open after dinner so I hit up a bookstore. It was the first chance I had to search for a book in days.
The bookstores that survived society's digital migration tend to be huge, mostly just stocking the bestsellers. It would only take the knowledge in one such book to help me. I mentally crossed my fingers and entered the store.
Psychology. Self-help. New Age. It didn't matter. The dream interpretation books that I did find failed to address what I wanted to know. Apparently, having dreams of getting called, starting from a single faint voice to many loud voices, hasn't happened to anyone but me. Arg.
I went home and searched Amazon. Obviously, their selection was more elaborate.
I may work in the digital marketing world but I still love getting a physical newspaper every morning. It's the same for books.
After perusing the site, I discovered that the few books I thought might help me were not available in ebook format so I had to order them. FML!
The following day at the office, I tell Tom about my book plight.
"This is so frustrating."
"Dude, go to a library!"
"What's a library?"
"Seriously, try it. You have nothing to lose."
"Hmmmm. I hadn't thought of that."
The phone rings. Tom reaches for it.
"Just go! I won't tell the boss."
"I'm the boss."
"Exactly. Go now."
"Ok."
My suburb has two libraries. I decide to visit the one where I used to study back in high school and college. I'm already feeling nostalgic.
It's been said that Montreal has only two seasons: Summer and construction. It doesn't take long for me to come across yet another construction site which has sprouted along my route to the library.
It's no wonder road rage is so common in this city. There are detours everywhere! Arg!
Despite the city's lack of forethought in planning this labyrinth of agony, I do a decent job of remaining calm for the most part.
Still, the traffic and re-direction are too much for my taste and I head toward the other library. Opened in 2013, it's even bigger than the old one so it should have a decent selection as well.
I finally arrive. My phone's GPS said it should have taken me six minutes to get here. The drive felt more like an hour. At least I'm here.
I approach a disheveled librarian.
"Hi. Can you tell me where I can find books about dreams?”
He looks up at me and stares. Then let’s out a long, deep breath sigh. Feeling a little awkward, I begin to clarify my request.
“I thought maybe they would be in the-“
“Was there a full moon last night?”
His tone could not be more condescending as he cuts me off mid-sentence.
“I don’t know.”
“You’re the second person to disturb me in the last two minutes asking about stupid books on dreams.”
“Really? That’s interesting.”
“Perhaps. For the small minded. It’s just a lame coincidence. Next, I’ll have a couple of people ask me where to find books on the mating rituals of cockroaches.”
“Are you always a condescending a-hole or do you just play one at the library?”
“I’m going to look in the direction of the books you are searching for. Then you can go find them.”
“What?!”
“You heard me.”
“Um…”
“Look, you aren’t making my day any better. In fact, it’s been going downhill since you first started talking to me. Now run along.”
Douchebag.
I head in the direction he’s staring in. As I walk away, I hear him mumble to himself.
"One of these days, I'll show them!”
Let's hope not.
“Captain?”
“Alice?!”
”What are you doing here?”
“When the librarian-“
“The bad-hair-day, needs-a-shower, one-armed-jerk librarian?”
“You’ve met him. When he said someone else had just asked about books about dreams, I never would’ve guessed that person would be you!”
“Well, here I am! It’s great to see you!”
Alice and I spend a few minutes catching up. We share a laugh about the first time we met, at Montreal Comiccon. I was covering the event for Citynet Magazine while she was raising funds for charity as part of the Montreal X-men cosplayer group. Her Mystique cosplay blew everyone away.
Her talent as a makeup artist is remarkable but it only comes second to her outgoing, free spirited personality. We clicked right away and have been friends ever since.
The conversation turns to the matter at hand. "Why are you looking for books about dreams?"
"It's a little weird to say but, well, they keep calling me. I know it sounds crazy.
I'm equally excited and concerned that she might be going through the same thing as me. I want to be sure so despite her being mentally exhausted, I ask for more details.
“For some time now, I’ve been hearing voices while sleeping. At first, it wasn’t much and when I’d wake up, I could barely remember anything. But the voices became more prominent. There were more of them and they got louder. They keep calling me. I'm starting to get overwhelmed and losing sleep from it. I searched the Internet, asked people for help and no one had an explanation or useful advice for how to make it stop. One thing lead to another and here I am."
“What?” I say not believing my ears. “I’m going through the exact. Same. Thing.”
We both pause, silently wondering about the odds of such a thing happening.
“This is crazy.” She mutters.
“It’s more than crazy!” I exclaim. “Both of us are having the same kind of weird dream? Bumping into each other at a library? A library!” I gesture to the shelves around us. “We’re looking for answers in a book! Like, what the hell is going on?!”
“It has been quite the struggle. For the two of us, it seems.”
“No kidding.”
“Have you ever heard about people who have some mysterious illness that medical specialists can’t figure out? We know so much yet so little.”
“Yeah. What are you getting at?”
“You hear these stories where some guy will travel the world, trying every remedy he can find, no matter how esoteric, but nothing works. Then one day, he serendipitously meets someone unexpectedly who looks at the problem completely differently, then points out a misdiagnosis and suggests a cure. And it works.”
“Yeah. And?”
“I feel like this is that same kind of thing. We’ve been looking for answers in all the usual places and now we’re in a library. Together. At the same time. By sheer coincidence. This can’t be an accident. There has to be an answer. We just have to find it. Maybe in these books.”
As if on cue, Alice and I turn to the bookshelves and start looking for books on dreams. We’re both anxious about what we’ll find but diligently search through the stacks. We pull different ones out but they’re all more or less the same, none being particularly useful, each providing variations of the same information.
“Well, if you need a book about dream symbol interpretations or explanations of recurring themes, we’ve found them all! I could have just used Google to find this stuff,” I say with a hint of frustration. “We’ve gone through book after book for what, like two hours, and nothing. This is getting tiring,” she adds, echoing my sentiment. “But let’s keep going, Captain, something will turn up.”
We search a little longer and just as we’re about to give up, my hand lands on a book that’s not like the others. A book that doesn’t look like it belongs in this library at all.
“This is a strange-looking one. Check it out. ”
“A leather wrap-around cover. That’s different. With that pattern, it reminds me of leather I’ve used in my cosplaying.”
I examine it a little more closely.
“It’s also the only book with a strap and clasp.”
“Let’s see the inside!” Alice exclaims with renewed hope.
I remove the strap and open it.
"The Book of Neytsa, eh?"
“Look at these drawings!” Alice exclaims.
“This is one hell of an ancient notebook. It reminds me of the Narn book from Babylon 5. Nevermind.”
“The art is inconsistent. There are distinct styles from page to page.”
“It looks like different people contributed to this journal or whatever it is.”
“Look at this one… a, a penguin?!”
That’s when we came across a drawing that would set us on a new path. Everything Alice and I had experienced and were going through started to become clear. The headaches, recurring dreams,… this one image resonated with us.
I flip through the pages until Alice points out one in particular.
“Look at this one. It kind of feels familiar.”
“Animabus mortuorum. What the hell is that?”
“Hold on, I’ll look it up.” Alice uses her cell to translate it.
“It’s Latin for ‘dead souls.’ I guess hell is part of it!”
“Hmmmm. Dead souls.”
“Well, they do look like ghosts.”
“This drawing does seem familiar. Like I’ve seen it before.”
“It’s like some vague memory,” Alice reiterates.
“Yeah, but I dunno.”
We both pause to stare at it for a moment before I come to a realization.
“Wait a second. Noooo, this can’t be.”
“What?”
“The voices from my dreams? Whaaaat?” I exclaim in disbelief, then continue, “It’s the voices from my dreams. That’s it! This drawing doesn’t just seem familiar. It IS familiar because it’s what I’ve been seeing in my dreams.” I was so shocked by this revelation that I continue to babble. “I’ve been dreaming about dead souls and they keep calling me. Why are dead souls calling me? Ok, I must be going crazy. This is nuts.”
At that point, Alice also begins to recognize the scene.
“Oh. Em. Gee. Yessss! I KNEW I’ve seen this before. You’re right. These ARE ghosts. Ghosts. Dead souls. Same difference. Either way, they’re calling me, too! So we’re both crazy?”
“We have to get this book outta here.”
"Hi, I'd like to take this book out but I don’t see a bar code or library checkout card or whatever.”
"Did I say I was ready to help you?”
"No, but-"
“Do you not see that I'm busy with this other book right here? The one that is in my hand. It is obviously there.”
He rolls his eyes.
“Let me see,” he says with a sigh.
"Thank you."
After the condescending banter, he looks through the book but can’t find the library info.
”Are you messing with me?” he says, getting flustered.
“What? No! I just need this book.”
“Ya, ya. I’m so tired of people like you and your pranks. Where’s the camera this time?”
“What are you talking about?!”
“This doesn’t even look like a normal book. Just take it and go."
"But-“
"Go. Now."
"Ok."
“Stupid pranksters. Like those kids that keep…,” he mumbled under his breath as we walked away.