When Dreams End
By Miles Harman
Copyright © 2010 Miles Harman
Hardcover ISBN: 978-1-60910-405-4
Paperback ISBN: 978-1-60910-406-1
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the author.
The characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
For my wife,
When Dreams End,
There our love meets in boundless form.
And,
To those who help others awaken.
“It’s not the mountain we conquer, but ourselves.”
-Edmund Hillary
“A book, like a landscape, is a state of consciousness
varying with readers.”
-Ernest Dimnet
Chapter 1
Scorched Dreams
“A man’s dreams are indexes to his greatness.”
-Zadok Rabinowitz
Beads of sweat roll down my brow. The same dream again. Choking on thick smoke and fumes, immersed in searing heat, I’m trapped, losing consciousness, succumbing to a slow death. I calm myself, knowing that this is not reality, however real it seems.
Still tired from several late night fire alarms, I lay in my dark bunk in the old fire station. Power had gone out in parts of the city, making for a busy night. Lying on my back in the quiet room, unable to sleep, I ponder my dreams.
A dream is a miraculous thing. How is it able to make a happy man enter a terrifying world, or a miserable man escape his pain if just for a few hours? Dreams don’t differentiate between young or old, rich or poor, good or bad people. Anyone can have any dream any time, and dreams often seem like waking life.
Was this dream trying to bring my subconscious fears to light? Was it the sum of all of the infernos I had faced on my job, or a realization of my own frailty? Several times in my five years as a firefighter, I felt protected and guided by an invisible force, but was there a purpose to it all?
Lying in darkness and contemplating the dream, my racing heartbeat finally slows to normal speed. A deep breath fills my lungs, relaxing mind and body. I surrender to sleep. Out of darkness, the piercing fire alarm echoes throughout the halls. Within seconds, lights brightly illuminate the room. Firefighters suddenly hustle about, as though someone had thrown a brick into a nest of bees.
I jump in the truck. All my firefighting gear on the floor next to me, the siren blares as we leave the garage. Squinting at the morning sun, we speed from behind the shadow of the large brick fire station. The all too familiar siren loudly wails as we race past onlookers and cars quickly move out of the way.
The time between leaving the station and arriving at the scene of the fire is always alive. What waits? Most fires turn out to be small and easily extinguished, but every now and then a blaze causes each of us to look within ourselves and to live on pure courage. Danger forces us to exist right on the thin membrane separating life and death. Only here one experiences true self, stripped of all disguises.
Rapidly, we turn onto a wider road and I immediately realize the grave danger we are speeding towards. Several blocks ahead, smoke billows out of several upper floors of a large office building. The truck stops just before a stream of smoldering debris raining down on the street.
Quickly we pour out of the truck. Adrenaline races through my body as it performs automatically. My job on this scene is to enter the building and search for trapped survivors on the upper floors with two other men while the others fight the fire. I trust these men with my life, and I know they trust me.
Entering the empty lobby, we find the stairwell and run, attempting to climb above the floors being gutted by flames. Finally, after reaching the twenty-fifth floor, the stairwell is filled with choking smoke. Turning on our oxygen masks, we push through the thick and hazy air to the twenty-seventh floor. Amidst sweltering heat, I feel the large steel door and know that just feet away in the next room all hell has broken loose. We press on, ascending to the top of the building.
Heat emanates from the doors on the twenty-eighth and twenty-ninth floors, while we press through to the top. We reach the top floor and the door is still cool to the touch. It opens to a long hallway lined with a thin layer of smoke. Power is out and there are no sprinklers on, which means that the pipes in the floors engulfed by the inferno below have ruptured.
All three sections of the floor need searching for survivors. The other firefighters begin with the closest offices. Running down the smoky hallway, I open the door and enter a reception area. More smoke fills the air while I methodically search each room. Entering the back room, I find a woman lying motionlessly on the floor.
Running over to the body, I find a weak pulse in her neck. Throwing her over my shoulder, I push through the thickening smoke back to the front of the office. In the hallway the flashlights of my fellow firemen glow near the stairwell. They see me.
Halfway to the stairwell, something feels wrong. Stopping, I feel the floor below my feet, soft and spongy. Looking down, a large section buckles, opening a huge rift between us. A fierce inferno engulfs the entire end of the hallway all the way up to the ceiling. The exit is blocked! Spinning around, I run to the far end of the floor and see my fellow firefighters disappear into the safety of the stairwell.
Once inside the office, I shut the door behind us. The smoke thickens while I search for another way out. In the back there is a closet marked with the words “roof access”. After breaking through the locked door with my hand axe, I pull the woman up the ladder and close the hatch as intense flames engulf the office below.
Billowing smoke blocks the light of day on the black tarred roof. After pulling the woman to the safest corner of the roof, I reach into my coat and take out my hand radio. I yell, “Fireman Gabriel Martin and one survivor trapped on the roof. We need help now!” I hear a faint reply acknowledging our danger. My focus turns to the motionless woman.
Her face is covered with brown smoke residue. While checking for her vital signs, I see a nametag on her blouse. This is Allison. She still has a pulse but isn’t breathing. I quickly administer CPR. After several resuscitation breaths, she responds with a faint cough and soon gains consciousness.
Her eyes open. She looks into mine, mumbling, “Where am I?”
“You are on the roof of the office building that is still on fire. You were lying unconscious in a back office when I found you. Help is on the way. Just sit tight.”
Allison replies, “I was in the elevator when the alarm went off. It became stuck and I had to open the door manually and climb out. I ended up on the top floor. I went down the stairwell, but the smoke was too thick, so I went back up and into the far office where I must have finally passed out. What is your name?”
“Gabriel.”
“Just like the angel,” she smiles. “Thank you for getting me out of there, Gabriel. I’m Allison.”
I smile back. Below the layer of smoky residue on her face, this woman is very attractive. Smoke billows up on three sides of the roof. Unsuccessfully searching for a way down, I know that our situation is becoming more and more impossible. Lights shine from the fire trucks, and small streams of water flow from the hoses into the building. I know that the effort will not be enough before the top of the building is consumed. On the far side of the roof, a large flame breaks through. We don’t have much time now. Wrapping my coat around Allison, I hold her close, sheltering her between myself and the corner wall. The smoky air makes us both realize that we have nothing left except each other. Allison murmurs, “Gabriel,
I’m scared!”
Smoke billows while I calmly state, “We are in this together until the end.”
Holding each other tight, crouching under my coat, she looks deeply into my eyes. I look back into hers, knowing she’s the last human I’ll ever see. Our lips move close and meet in a long embrace. While we kiss, time stops. The ferocity of the heat and flames momentarily leaves our consciousness. We exist together where the membrane between life and death narrows, exposing the naked soul of two beings. This state of ecstasy lasts for several moments until we pull away and look into each other’s eyes. The moment of passion soon gives way to fear when the floor below becomes warm and soft. Though I had only known this woman a few minutes, we experienced something that most lovers don’t know in a lifetime.
As I look into her eyes, the edges of my vision outline in a soothing colored energy pattern. The pattern slowly expands to the center of my focus until Allison’s entire face is coated in a calming light. Unlike my dreams of death, there is no suffocating or searing heat. Instead, I detach my body and go beyond. I watch from above while the roof collapses and our bodies disappear into an inferno of intense heat and light below. I feel no pain while my awareness merges with the calming light overlaying the world. I’m ready to pass through the divide that separates life and death and see what’s on the other side.
Chapter 2
Waking From A Dream
“It’s all we ever see or seem but it is just a dream within a dream.”
-Edgar Allan Poe
Bright light fills my eyes through a small pane of glass in front of my face. Lying on my back in a small chamber, I try to make sense of my surroundings. My body fell into the inferno… I must be in a hospital… My hands don’t appear to be my own.
The top cover of the chamber suddenly opens. I climb into a bright room and a monitor on the wall comes to life. A man and a woman appear who seem somehow familiar. The man speaks:
“Welcome back. You’re Gabriel Martin and we’re your parents, Tyler and Claire. This recording has played many times, but you don’t remember. Every time you leave the chamber, you have to be reminded of who you are due to the amnesia it causes. In one night’s sleep, you lived an entire lifetime. That existence was just a temporary escape, and now you have awakened into your real life. You’re alone in an inhospitable world, so dreams in the chamber are for your comfort while you wait for the planet to heal.
“When your memory and the subsequent loneliness return you can choose to retreat to the chamber and live another life. This monitor is linked to an interactive program which can help you remember everything about where you are. It’s also programmed with volumes of information about what was and now is the world outside. All you need to do is ask it a question. We love you son, and want you to be happy.”
I ask, “What is this place, and how did I get here?”
Claire, the woman claiming to be my mother answers, “Besides ourselves, you are the last human known to exist on the planet Earth. You were born in 2022 and were our only child. We lived on the tropical Big Island of Hawaii in the Pacific Ocean. Your father was a scientist developing advanced geothermal technology to harness the power of the Earth’s molten core. I was a scientist in the field of sleep and dream technology. We lived here when the world’s atmospheric pollution increased to extremely dangerous and destructive levels.
“Your father tried to develop an alternative geothermal energy, usable on a global scale. He was trying to stop the harmful effects that burning fossil fuels were having on the environment. Scientific efforts were miniscule compared to the damage humans had done. The atmosphere heated and melted the polar ice caps, submerging every unprotected coastal city. Humans migrated to higher land and struggled for resources and survival. Widespread conflict caused financial turmoil, chaos, mass starvation, disease, and total warfare over the dwindling resources.
“When World War broke out in 2037, we were forced to move into your father’s fully automated geothermal laboratory which was powered from a hot spot of magma in the crust here. After adding a greenhouse to the laboratory, we moved the contents of our house and my sleep laboratory inside. We then referred to the combined facility as the compound.
“On April 23, 2037, worldwide aggression peaked, and several countries exchanged long-range nuclear ballistic missiles. These missiles released deadly radiation and injected particles into the atmosphere reflecting solar heat back into space. Thousands of warheads detonated, resulting in a scorched sky, permanent twilight, and drastic global climate change. Global warming was immediately reversed, and within days, temperatures were well below freezing worldwide. The sudden freeze caused ice to spread towards the equator from both poles, and the flooded oceans drastically dropped. Temperatures in Hawaii finally stabilized at twenty degrees Fahrenheit, with the surrounding ocean two hundred feet shallower than before the freeze.
“Mankind’s actions quickly and radically transformed our island paradise into several snow-covered mountain peaks in the midst of a vast frozen ocean. Communications ceased. Earth became a dead and frozen wasteland and may remain so for the rest of your life. This compound is the only habitable place that we know of left on the planet, thanks only to the geothermal energy feeding it.”
“What happened to you?” I question.
Claire again answers, “We had a six-month supply of non-perishable food stored inside the compound. The greenhouse took time to produce new food. We were able to last nearly eight months as a family by intensive rationing. We were in our forties and had to consider our options. Food was running out, and the greenhouse couldn’t support all three of us. When you were sixteen, we made a sacrifice. After recording these messages, we trekked outside in an attempt to find another place to grow crops. If we didn’t make it back, know that we love you and want you to live a long and happy life.”
A wave of intense sadness rolls over me, so I shut off the monitor. Rushing out of the room, I enter the adjoining hallway. Looking down the cold and empty corridor emotions overwhelm me. After running to a small glass window at one end, I peer at the world outside. Snow and wind pelt the small window that separates the blistering cold. A snowy wasteland stretches as far as I can see. Overwhelmed, I collapse to my knees on the floor. The life I’ve known in the chamber was all in my mind, and my reality is a frozen hell.
Chapter 3
Understanding A Dream
“The best thing in every noble dream is the dreamer.”
-Moncure Connway
What do I do? My entire life was a dream and now I’m alone. Restless, I explore my surroundings. A map of the compound hangs on the wall:
The greenhouse catches my attention, so I enter. The lifeless hallway gives way to a warm, moist, and bright room. Refreshing scents fill the air. Delicious tasting fruits and vegetables momentarily distract me.
After navigating aisles of plants, I enter a smaller room within the greenhouse. Bags of dried crops and large food dehydration machines are inside. The method for storing the food is simple and ingenious. I pass back into hallway.
Another small window is on this end. Outside the glass pane, a large snow covered mountain extends through the cloud base. How high does mountain continue past the clouds?
A shower and bathroom are next to an exercise room. Next is a library with a comfortable sofa. Passing the library, I come to a large bedroom. This is where I sleep. Several pictures are placed around the room of me as a child with my family surrounded by lush tropical backgrounds. Thinking of my parents trekking into the frozen wasteland so I could live saddens me.
Leaving the bedroom, I pass the sleep chamber and enter a small storage room. Several cold weather suits, outdoor equipment, tools, building materials, and spare parts line the walls. I’ll look through these items later. Leaving the storage room, I cross the hallway into a room full of computers and gauges which appear to monitor and control the geothermal power supply. Intrigued, but not wanting to disrupt something important, I leave th
is room alone. After returning to the library, I pause. My mind still racing, I sit on the couch and try to contemplate everything I learned.
In need of further answers, I peruse the shelves. The top shelf contains classic works of literature. Below are books about geothermal engineering and power generation. The next shelf contains books about sleeping, dreaming, and sleep psychology. The final shelf on the bottom has many hand-written journals.
Interested, I take a journal and read a random page:
“There was one defining moment in all of the experiences I had in my last lifetime. It happened when I was a Roman soldier fighting in the Northern Territories. My only true friend in the legion was Marcus. When I watched him die in battle next to me, part of me died with him.”
Another journal reads:
“When I became a successful rock musician and had my first performance before thousands of fans, I knew I had hit it big and become a success. From that day forward, I had more possessions, money, and attention than I knew what to do with. Addicted to the rush of success, I couldn’t go up any higher. I needed something to continually make myself feel better than the day before. I soon became a drug addict in an attempt to perpetuate my artificial happiness. This was the beginning of the end of the false self I created.”
Though interested in reading about more of my lifetimes, I decide first to better understand this reality. After replacing the journals on the shelf, I go to the couch. Another solitary journal lies on the coffee table. A hand-written note temporarily fastened to the front cover reads:
“Gabriel, this is a journal of your most recent dreams. You can’t piece together the whole picture of what’s going on from memory, because it’s blocked out every time you enter the chamber. While the effects wear off, memories will slowly return over the following days and weeks as long as you stay out of the chamber. The problem is the longer you stay out, the more you will suffer an intense onslaught of loneliness and depression. This will cause you to deeply desire to reenter a dream life to forget your problems, perpetuating the cycle. You will never be able to remember the sum total of your life because you are addicted to hiding from the truth of who you really are.