I was never good at waking up. Some people leap merrily out of the sack as soon as their eyes flick open and they hit the ground running. I don't. My consciousness pours into the day like syrup (with the sweetness taken out). I dawdle forever on the edge of the abyss. I do it because I like it there.
As a teenager I was even more susceptible to the pull of the dawn limbo than I am now. I used to linger in the strange psychopompic state that lies between wakefulness and dreaming for hours, barely able to distinguish one from the other. This was particularly true of school days.
One particular occasion stands out. I was late getting up for school (nothing new there) and my mother was standing at the bottom of the stairs shouting for me to get my bony adolescent ass out of bed. I slid out from under the duvet, made a toilet trip, went back to my room, dressed, and then descended the stairs yawning. I walked into the living room and my mother was standing there with my bowl of cereals. As I took the bowl from her she opened her mouth and screamed: 'Will you get out of that bloody bed!' and I woke up.
I had actually dreamt the entire previous ten or so minutes in microscopic detail. So real was it that I was utterly convinced that I had already gotten up, washed, dressed, everything. I remember feeling quite shocked at the realisation but as I rolled out of my bed for the second time I also began to ask the question; how do I know that it's not happening again?
How do you tell? The stream of consciousness is continuous. Even a lapse of consciousness results in little more than the moments before and after the lapse being stitched seamlessly together so that we have no memory of the darkness in between. The primary difference between the sleeping and waking states is that when we sleep the faculty of judgement is temporarily dormant so we don't question what we 'see' when we dream. This is a potentially dangerous situation because everything is automatically true, which is why the body has to switch off so that we don't strangle our sleeping partners while under the impression that we are fighting for our lives against invading hoards of Samurai warriors (in the UK a man was once put on trial for killing his wife while she slept and this was actually his excuse, although I don't remember if he pulled it off). It's not until we awaken that we can appreciate the absurdity of being chased around the house by giant snakes, (it's happened to me) and may dismiss the event with a trembling sigh of relief.
A Brief Moment of Lucidity takes this theme and, as usual, extrapolates it to a monumental extent before presenting it for your viewing pleasure.
A Brief Moment of Lucidity - outline.
This is a third person narrative following the bizarre adventures of a fifteen year old boy who, having woken up three times on the same morning while firmly believing that he's already lived it, finds himself unable to tell whether or not he's still dreaming. Confusing as this all is for him, the shit really hits the fan when his whole life then becomes one long nightmare.
Characters.
Daniel Norris - a fairly standard fifteen year old who is grumpy, spotty, sleepy and a general pain to all but his peers with whom he regularly meets to drink cider around the back of the corner shop. His rapidly developing adolescent brain takes him on a nightmare voyage through dreamland with somewhat twisted results.
Trina Norris - Daniel's younger sister and a key player in most of Daniel's dream episodes, unless of course he's making her up.
Daniel's parents - as unwitting pawns.
Gay Dave the drama teacher - He means well but doesn't manage to help much.
Here's a link to the smashwords version.
A Brief Moment of Lucidity is one of Uncle John's Bedtime Tales. The full collection of ten stories is available in ebook format on smashwords.
For those who really do prefer a print version Uncle John's Bedtime Tales is available from:
Amazon.com: Click here
Amazon.co.uk: Click here
Direct from Spinetinglers publishing: Click here
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