I'll See You In Your Dreams Read online

  Anne held Paul’s elbow as he led her to the reading room, which had been reserved for tonight’s meeting of ‘The Thought Foundation.’ As they entered the reading room, Anne noticed about twenty gentlemen gathered for the meeting. There were local bankers, prominent merchants, farmers, the sheriff, and the owner of the local newspaper, who was a family friend of Judge Hawthorne’s and Paul’s.

  Paul commanded the attention of the entire power base of Fresno, and Anne was impressed.

  Anne and Paul mingled, making small talk until precisely 7:00 P.M.

  Then Paul walked to a podium set up at one end of the room. “All here know me. So I’ll dispense with my personal introduction and instead introduce you to Ludwig Stephan Diefendorf,” he said with a flourish.

  He quickly added, “and as my beautiful guest Anne Meux commented on hearing his name: ‘well, that is certainly a mouthful.’” All eyes turned with an approving chuckle to Anne. She smiled back. “So, his middle name is Stephan. In our country that translates to Steven. So you can call him Steve.” There was laughter, and the room was at ease.

  “Our guest tonight has just arrived from New York. He is from Vienna, originally. His family is descended from a prominent family in Germany, of course. He’s just returned from study abroad and, more specifically, with Dr. Sigmund Freud and Dr. Joseph Breuer. May I introduce Ludwig Stephan Diefendorf or Steve, to us.” Paul smiled as he gestured to the door.

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  There was more laughter, which quickly died down as Ludwig entered the room and strode confidently to the podium. All eyes had followed him, and now the crowd became silent as Ludwig began his speech.

  “Gentlemen,” he began, slightly raising his voice. “Tonight’s first meeting of ‘The Thought Foundation’ may well mark the historical moment in time when Fresno’s future will be set to lead it to a glorious future of wealth, prestige and, most important, control.

  “Control, you may ask? Yes, control. Control is the steering wheel of all endeavors. No matter how powerful a machine is, it is worthless if it can’t be controlled. If every gear could decide when and where it would turn, it would certainly be a weak machine, and more likely not run at all. That’s the problem with this country and this city as well. That is the problem with democracy, too many gears trying to run the machine. It is dictatorships and totalitarian regimes that will create the future.

  “Tonight we are here to create a steering wheel for Fresno’s future. Now, before you think these ideas a pipe dream, I’m here to bring you the exciting breakthroughs of psychiatry. You have probably heard of the success after success of psychoanalysis. Mental illnesses healed in case after case. All of this is interesting, but pales in comparison to the potential of psychiatry to control the public mind.”

  He paused for effect and looked from face to face.

  “Gentlemen, think of it, breakthroughs in the understanding of the human mind, can be applied to the public mind, and then control of the public mind is possible. Let me repeat that, control of the public mind is possible. Did you get that, gentlemen? Now think about it. Through human history, this control of the masses was accomplished, by threats of bodily harm. There have been crucifixions, hangings, wars and all manner of threats to put populations in fear. There, gentlemen, is the steering wheel. Fear!

  “It is fear and fear alone that controls us. You’re here tonight for fear of something. Fear of losing your holdings, fear of loss of power to another. Fear of an unknown force threatening your personal survival. Gentlemen, a specific fear steered you here tonight.” He paused for effect and looked to each face. “That fear is fear of the unknown. My mentor, Sigmund Freud, has uncovered the many fears and aspirations of people. These are being categorized for use by ‘The Thought Foundation’ to build a better steering wheel to control the ignorant masses and steer them to a safe harbor, for their own good, of course.” A few knowing chuckles rumbled around the room.

  “I hear there are some farmers here.” A few hands half raised. “Those of you who care for animals take good care of them, do you not? Is it not more humane for those animals to be steered by you in their day to day activities than to be cruelly left to the uncertainty that some call freedom?”

  A farmer joked, “Until they get to the slaughter house,” and laughed. Others started to laugh and went silent as Ludwig held a stoic face and stared at the farmer. All humor ceased.

  Ludwig paused and slowly scanned the room. When he had their uncomfortable attention, he continued. “Gentlemen, I travel this country giving this speech to offer a chance to those enlightened enough to take advantage of an opportunity to become the steering wheel. Those who refuse become the steered. Those who fight this effort will become ostracized. It is only psychiatry that knows the fears, aspirations and weaknesses of an ignorant population.

  “I usually only make this offer to large cities, so Fresno is lucky to have my former housemate Paul amongst its citizens. His relatives are part of the German Syndicate. Their representative, who wishes to remain nameless, also beseeched me to establish ‘The Thought Foundation’ here in Fresno. He may be nameless, but he is a prince indeed, and thank you, Paul, for inviting me and letting me experience this charming city.

  “On a lighter note, I would like to share a little known breakthrough that my friend Sigmund is currently excited about. It’s a drug that he is using himself, which promises to eliminate mental illness and create happiness at will. Sound interesting?” There was an eager murmur of assent around the room.

  He paused for effect, and with a steady gaze he announced, “it is called cocaine!”

  An excited murmur ran through the crowd.

  “I’ll ship some to Paul. Perhaps if you are nice, he will share.

  “Also, tremendous breakthroughs from Bayer Pharmaceuticals are being made, which will even eclipse the miracle drug aspirin, trumpeted so much in the press. Gentlemen, Bayer has done it again. They have released a new wonder drug that promises to make the common cold almost enjoyable. I’m sure you’ll agree that the horrible coughs associated with various diseases including a cold are the most annoying of the symptoms. Not only does this new wonder drug alleviate coughs in adults, it is especially effective in children.” Ludwig paused and scanned the faces. They were riveted.

  “This drug is currently being tested with spectacular results on women during childbirth. It promises to virtually eliminate the horrible pain and stress of childbirth. Now, gentlemen, think about that. What do the womenfolk hold over your head the most? Is it not the terrible pain they endured giving birth to your children?” There were chuckles around the room.

  “Want to know the name of this drug?” asked Ludwig.

  “Yes!” came the simultaneous reply.

  “Remember this moment, gentlemen, for you’ll make history as being at a meeting of the launch of a drug that will spread through our society, relieving society’s ills more than any other. It is called, heroin!

  “I will see that Paul receives samples for each of you.” A thunderous applause followed. After Paul retook the podium, he laid out various protocols and scheduled the next meeting of ‘The Thought Foundation.’ It was over.

  The new members of ‘The Thought Foundation’ filed out of the meeting with a newly acquired sense of importance. Anne thought it all seemed somehow unnatural, if not deceitful, but after all, it was a man’s world.

  Following the proper protocol, Anne took Paul’s arm as they walked outside. They strolled across the large central court to the confectioner’s booth.

  “Oh, look, they have ice cream,” Anne said with a touch of excitement.

  “Well, ice cream it is!” Paul responded.

  With their two dishes of vanilla ice cream in hand, they walked over to a bench and sat down. The sun had gone down, and there was a cool breeze. Anne looked up at one of the electric lights that lit the walkway. The Hughes Hotel was the first hotel in town to have electric lights, and she still marveled at them.

  She
turned her attention to Paul. “You and Steve were impressive,” Anne commented between spoonfuls of ice cream.

  “Thank you, Anne,” Paul replied and added as a seeming afterthought, “I just want to do all I can to help those less fortunate than I, and it will take an organized group to do it.”

  “That’s highly commendable, Paul.”

  “It is tiring, and sometimes I think my time would be better spent in pursuit of my personal fortune.” Paul had a forlorn look as he gazed off into the distance. “But when I think of those in pain and those angels who, like you, unselfishly care for them, well, I just will not stop until I know I have helped them.”

  <><><>

  Paul choked up and looked away.

  “Paul, I had no idea you had such tender desires,” Anne said softly.

  They both set their ice cream dishes down on the bench beside them. Paul turned to Anne.

  “I’m sorry, Anne, that you have witnessed such a departure from sophisticated decorum on my part. I hope you’ll forgive my momentary lapse that allowed you to see into my bared heart.” He lowered his head as if ashamed.

  “Don’t apologize, Paul. I hold you in even higher regard because you shared such inner desires with me.” Paul reached gently to Anne’s hand and looked into her eyes.

  “You are so kind, Anne. You strengthen me.” He squeezed her hand slightly and looked off into the distance once again.

  “No.” he said. “I’ve bared enough,” and he stood abruptly.

  Anne stood. “No, please, Paul, tell me, you seem so haunted by what you withhold.”

  “No, Anne, please, I cannot burden you with these absurd feelings and ideas.”

  “Paul, please, I want to help you, too!”

  Paul broke away and walked to the lamp post. He put his right hand on the post and his head on his wrist. Oh, she will come alright, he thought to himself.

  “Paul, I insist you tell me, whatever it is, I will understand.” She walked over and lightly touched his arm. Paul turned slowly and looked steadily into her eyes.

  “Anne, all my life it seems I have been in hard study. It seems the more I know, the more responsibility I realize I must take. I must work hard and selfishly to bring relief and help to those who suffer. It is a daunting task, Anne. So when I saw you at fathers, I foolishly and stupidly envisioned you and me as husband and wife, courageously fighting side by side in the battle to bring relief to those who suffer.”

  “Pa …” Anne began. Paul put two fingers to her lips to silence her.

  “Anne, please, I am truly sorry, I don’t know what’s come over me. I’m truly awful. My god what a cad you must think me. Please, Anne, forget anything I just said. I’m reduced to a sentimental idiot in your presence.”

  Anne puckered her lips and softly kissed the two fingers that silenced her. She slowly raised her hand, enveloped his, and brought it down to her waist. She looked deeply into his eyes. “Paul, never, ever apologize for such beautiful sentiments. It was a noble vision, and I’m flattered I was part of it. Perhaps your dreams will affect mine.”

  “Thank you, Anne, for attending this meeting with me. It truly gave me strength.” He then looked at her quizzically and asked, “by the way Anne, what is the affliction that your mother suffers from?”

  Anne now looked away, then back at Paul.

  “Some call it consumption and various other common names, but all I know is that her coughs worsen almost daily. I worry about her constantly. Her coughs are horrible.”

  “Anne, listen to me. I will make an all-out effort to acquire some heroin for your mother’s cough. It’s a miracle as far as coughs are concerned. I will also attain the cocaine for you and your father.” Paul faced Anne and took both her hands in his. He looked into her eyes with sympathy and hope. “I am here to help.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  “Refill?” the waitress asked.

  “Sure, hit me, uh, Patti,” Charlie replied, reading her name tag. The waitress refilled Charlie’s coffee and looked at Stanley, who sat perfectly still with his eyes closed.

  “Is your friend asleep?” she asked tentatively.

  “Nope, he’s dead,” Charlie said quietly and slowly looked around the restaurant.

  “Don’t say anything. I’m just doing a little Irish wake before I call the proper authorities, and I promise I’ll have him removed before the stink sets in.”

  She looked at Stanley with a concerned expression while saying, “I don’t believe you.” She bent a bit closer to examine Stanley’s face when he suddenly opened his eyes, causing her to jerk backwards. That jerk caused two small drops of coffee to escape the neck of the pot in her right hand.

  They landed on Charlie’s wrist, and he quickly brushed them off. “Ouch!” he said.

  “I’m so sorry.” The waitress blushed.

  Charlie stifled a laugh and nodded toward Stanley as he replied, “my fault. I sometimes mistake reality for wishful thinking.”

  “Refill?” she asked Stanley.

  “Yes, blow in my friend’s ear there and refill his head!” Stanley replied.

  She laughed and gestured with the pot. “Coffee?”

  “No, thanks.” And she was gone.

  Stanley scratched his head and looked at Charlie. “Go back to that moment when you were attaching the camera to the tripod.”

  Charlie let out a big sigh and did as he was told.

  “Okay, I’m screwing on the tripod and aiming it to the middle of the room. I’m looking through the viewfinder. Looks good. I set the auto shutter to take pictures every twenty seconds, and then I step into the room and …”

  “Charlie, stop right there.”

  Charlie came out of his reverie and opened his eyes. “What?”

  “Think, Charlie, about what you just said.” Charlie started thinking about what he just said.

  “Holy smokes!”

  “That’s right, Charlie,” Stanley said.

  Charlie started rummaging in his pocket for the camera.

  “It was taking pictures every twenty seconds, my god; I must have pictures of Anne.” As Charlie brought out the camera Stanley came across to Charlie’s side and sat beside him. Charlie looked at Stanley seductively and whispered. “Don’t you think we make a wonderful couple?”

  “Charlie, if you don’t turn on the camera instantly, I’m going to stick my tongue so far into your ear that I will be able to scrape ear wax onto the tip of it. Then I’ll use that wax to plug both your nostrils, while I clamp my hands over your mouth and silence you forever.”

  “Stanley, I think you may have homosexual tendencies.”

  “I don’t think so, Charlie, in as much as homo means alike, and alike we are not.”

  “Stanley!”

  “What?”

  “I turned the camera on before we started insulting each other, and it didn’t come on.” They both were looking at the camera. The screen was black.

  “Of course, the batteries are dead being on nonstop for that many hours.”

  “I’ll meet you at my house,” said Charlie.

  “Yup,” Stanley mumbled, and they left hurriedly.

  <><><>

  They arrived at Charlie’s house. Charlie grabbed the charger and plugged it in. They both sat on the couch. Charlie placed the camera on the coffee table. He plugged the line from the charger into the camera and looked at Stanley.

  “You ready?”

  “No, ass-wipe, I want to sit here and stare at a boring camera on an extremely cheap coffee table as though admiring a still life painting at the MET. Turn on the camera!” Stanley snapped.

  Charlie turned it on. He tapped a button and the first picture came to view. It was Charlie’s face six inches away from the lens, obviously checking the camera.

  “I expected ghosts, not goblins,” Stanley snapped. Charlie tapped the button again. A picture of Charlie looking in a closet with the ion detector in his hand and the theatrical expression of interest on his face brought a comment from Char
lie.

  “Now that’s a great picture!”

  “Next, Charlie, before I vomit.”

  The next six pictures were of Charlie in various poses as a ghost sleuth. Charlie was riveted; Stanley was bored, until the seventh picture. The seventh picture caught Charlie with his hands at his ankles and a surprised look on his face. The board his foot stood on was perfectly intact.

  The eighth picture had Charlie lying on his back with one leg straightened out and the other bent at the knee, the foot flat on a perfectly good board. His head lay back and his hands were on his forehead in seeming exasperation. “Man that’s unbelievable. I swear to God my foot was through that board.”

  The ninth picture showed Charlie sitting rigidly upright, his head turned sharply toward the corner. “There!” Charlie moved his head closer to the camera.

  “That’s where I first saw her.”

  “Damn, she’s not there, nothing!” Charlie’s disappointment was palpable.

  “Wait!” said Stanley as he picked up the camera. He cupped his hand around the screen to shut out ambient light.

  “Hmmm, look at this, Charlie. Do you see a little point of light, like a small firefly?” Charlie cupped his hand around the screen and looked.

  “Yeah, so what? So your theory is, she turned into Tinker Bell?” Charlie intoned.

  Stanley gave a sharp laugh, but cut it off.

  “Good one, Charlie, but no, not Tinker Bell. She didn’t turn at all. Actually, it is all perception. You saw her clearly; there is a term for this in the nomenclature of ghost hunting, where ghosts are recorded by small points of light.”

  “What’s nomenclature?” Charlie asks.

  Stanley looked surprised.

  “Charlie! I’m proud of you. You actually want something clarified, and I thought you were permanently lost in that mental fog you’ve seemingly crafted to impress the ladies.”

  “Do you speak Italian, Stanley?”

  “Some. Why?”

  Charlie held up four fingers of his right hand, placed them under his chin, and flicked forward in the Italian gesture of ‘up yours.’ Stanley smiled.