Open Mind
short story
Stephen Collicoat
Last night, I stood at the back door of your mind.
I found that I had split in two. My body still slept beside you: a
breathing, giant shell from which my soul had fled. And then there was me.
My essence. A tiny entity, standing on the snowy uplands of my pillow.
Oddly, I felt no terror, just acceptance and curiosity.
I turned to read the digital clock by my bedside. The display, like a
towering neon sign, showed that it was 3 a.m. Four hours had passed
since we had gone to bed. Since I kissed you and we turned on our sides
before sliding over the edge into sleep - that small, very private
rehearsal for death.
I turned from the clock and looked at you. Your sleeping head was as
large as a barn. To my surprise, I saw a door set into your head, framed
by your hair that twisted in thick vines around the entrance.
You've always kept tight security through your face. Twin cameras
recording. Microphones detecting and amplifying. Brain decoding and
evaluating. Watchful and contained. Ever vigilant. I've often sensed that even
when you smiled, something was withheld. You have always been the last
unknowable. The long years we have spent together has only deepened
your mystery.
Which is why when I saw that door and knew that it would lie unlocked,
I knew that, for the first time, I could explore what you felt and
thought.
Something warned me, as I started forward, not to trespass. I ignored
the warning and seizing the handle, opened the door and stepped inside
your mind.
I found myself in a corridor that stretched far into the dimly lit
distance. On either side were doors, scores of doors, all of which were
shut. At first, I tried to open each door, but soon began trying handles
at random. All were locked. I sensed that sheltering behind these doors
were presences willing me to keep moving. This is wrong, I told myself,
even as I advanced. I thought then that the doors were locked to keep
me out. Later, I learnt that the hidden ones always lock themselves away
at night, because it is then that unleashed demons roam the corridors
of sleep.
I gradually became aware of voices. Many voices, both male and female.
The corridor ended at a heavy door, behind which I heard voices. I
knocked and the door was opened, the voices sweeping over me like a wave.
I found myself in a vast room with lofty ceilings. The room,
brilliantly lit by chandeliers, was black. Black curtains and carpet, black flock
wallpaper and ebony furniture. Crowded into the room were men and women
in evening clothes. Around the walls were large, vividly coloured
paintings of terrifying ferocity. Animals were torn apart, soldiers were
disemboweled. I shuddered to see that many of the soldiers writhing in
helpless agony wore my face.
At first, the crowd seemed normal but I quickly noticed horrible
details. A waiter serving drinks turned and I saw the back of his head was
missing, torn away by a shotgun blast. A woman removed her glasses to
reveal empty sockets. A man with a scarlet cummerbund held his oozing
stomach together.
Filled with horror, I turned toward the door and sensing this, the
group broke off their conversations, and began turning toward me with
anticipatory smiles. Then, suddenly you were beside me, in a shimmering
dress. Your skin was flawless but as white as the marble of a tomb. You
murmured in quiet triumph, 'I knew that you'd come. That finally, we'd
share this together.'
My terror overcame me and I fled. Ran wildly down the corridor, the
people from the room close behind. So close that some touched me as I ran.
Each touch stung like needles.
Finally, reaching the door to your mind, I wrenched it open and flung
myself out. I tumbled into darkness.
When I awoke, I was again in my body and you were sleeping beside me.
For a moment, I felt relief. Then I heard screams inside my head and
knew that whatever had pursued me down the corridor had followed me back
into my mind. That the door into your mind had been a trap. I knew then
that the screams were my instincts and memories savaged by your demons.
I lay trembling beside you, fearing the moment when you awoke for I
knew that then I would see no further secrets in your eyes.
Open Mind COPYRIGHT 2005 Stephen Collicoat.
Reproduction prohibited without permission from the author.
07/26/05
