A Wild Ride Through The Night (6 page)

‘I’m on my way to perform a task for Death. Several tasks, in fact. It’s a complicated business. That’s why I have to cross this forest. Do you know it well?’

The old lady laughed rather too loudly—almost hysterically, it seemed to Gustave.

‘Me? This forest? Do I know it well?’ She cackled again, so violently that she choked and had a coughing fit. Then, fixing Gustave with an expression which, though grave and stern, was somewhat less unfriendly than before, she asked, ‘So you’d like to know what route to take?’

Gustave thought for a moment. ‘It might be helpful,’ he replied.

‘Aren’t you getting to be of an age when you ought to make such decisions yourself?’

Gustave was taken aback. He hadn’t been prepared for such a searching question.

‘Just keep going, boy! I don’t know you and you don’t know me. You only think you know me. Be off with you!’

Gustave was about to ride on, chastened by the black-clad figure’s brusque manner, when her last remark brought him up short. ‘How did you know you seem familiar to me?’ he asked. ‘I never said anything about it.’

The old woman avoided his eye and bit her lip. ‘Damnation!’ she muttered.

‘Who are you?’ asked Gustave. ‘What are you doing here, all alone in this deep, dark forest?’

‘I, er … I’m a forest witch. An
evil
forest witch!’ croaked the old woman, but she didn’t sound too convincing. Her eyes roamed uncertainly to and fro, and she fidgeted with her robe in
embarrassment.
In Gustave’s estimation, an evil forest witch would have been a bit more self-assured.

‘I’m an evil forest witch in a good mood!’ the old crone added quickly. ‘Better take advantage of the fact and get going before I transform you into, er, stinging nettles, or something of the kind.’ She opened her eyes wide and waggled her bony fingers in the air.

‘Come on, let’s go,’ Pancho called impatiently. ‘We’re not wanted here.’

‘How is it I don’t believe you?’ Gustave asked as politely and amiably as he could. ‘How come I get the feeling I know you, although I’ve never seen you before? Can you explain that?’

The old woman bowed her head and fidgeted with her robe some more. ‘Yes, I can,’ she said, and it seemed to Gustave that she was blushing.

‘Oh, really?’

‘Yes, I can …’ The old woman lifted her head and looked him in the eye. ‘I’ll have to go back a bit, but you’ll understand in the end.’ The note of uncertainty had left her voice, and she seemed to be getting ready to tell the truth. She raised her hands and spread her wizened fingers.

‘Very well, picture the following: a large department store—one of those modern places that exist in big cities nowadays. You’re employed at the information desk. You know, you’re one of those nice people at the counter on the ground floor who tell you where to find the menswear department.’

Gustave nodded, Pancho snorted contemptuously.

‘You’ve had the job for a long time, so you know the store like the back of your hand, but it’s recently been undergoing alterations.
Departments
keep being transferred to different floors, builders are at work everywhere, walls are being demolished and new ones erected. You don’t feel as thoroughly at home there as you used to. Are you with me so far?’

‘Yes,’ said Gustave, ‘I think so.’

‘Good,’ said the old woman. ‘Now, imagine you suddenly need to go to the
men’s room
!’

‘ To the men’s room?’ Gustave repeated uncomprehendingly.

‘Let’s get out of here,’ Pancho whispered.

‘Ssh!’ Gustave hissed.

‘So you set off,’ pursued the old woman. ‘Of course you know the way to the toilets—you’ve directed people there a thousand times—but now you find your way barred by a maze of walls that weren’t there before. Whole departments have been uprooted, and you have to change floors several times. All at once it dawns on you:
You don’t know where the toilets are
.’

Gustave tried to picture the situation. There was something amusing about it, but also something alarming.

‘Now comes the worst part: just then, the owner of the store—
your boss!
—comes up to you and asks you
the way to the toilets
.’

The old woman paused and gave Gustave a searching stare. ‘You see? We’re in just the same situation here and now.’

‘Oo-hoo!’ cried the owl.

Although Gustave held the old woman’s gaze, he couldn’t think what she was getting at. Pancho made some impatient noises.

‘Don’t you understand?’ the old woman blurted out. ‘I’m your
dream princess
!’

‘You’re a dream princess?’ said Gustave, still politely. Pancho
seemed
to be right: the poor old thing was deranged. He searched around for some suitable way of bringing the conversation to an end.

‘Not only that: I’m
your own personal dream princess
!’

Gustave had a rather different conception of his own personal dream princess. He pictured her as golden-haired and considerably younger—just like the damsel he’d ‘rescued’ from the dragon, to be precise.

He felt an icy little stab in the chest
.

The old woman sighed. ‘Listen, my boy. Everyone has someone to guide them through their dreams. Men have a dream princess, women a dream prince. That’s what we’re called—I didn’t invent the term myself. Personally, I think it’s a pompous and inappropriate job description. I’d prefer
dream consultant
.’

She cleared her throat.

‘That’s why I seem so familiar to you. You’ve often come across me, but always in a different guise. Those are the rules: a different guise for every dream. This time it’s
this
idiotic get-up.’ She gave her heavy robe a disapproving tweak and tapped her little crown.

‘Do you remember that dream where you climbed a tree made of meat with a red raven perched on top? I was the raven.’

Gustave seldom if ever remembered a dream, and he certainly had no recollection of one with a red raven in it. ‘Just a minute,’ he said. ‘Are you telling me that this is all a dream? The forest, you yourself, my horse—all just a dream?’

‘Ridiculous!’ Pancho snorted and stamped his left hoof impatiently.

The old woman groaned.

‘You asked me a question and I answered it. I advised you to ride
on,
but you stayed. I lied to you, but you wanted the truth. I even pretended to be a witch. What else do you want me to do?’

‘I can’t believe it,’ said Gustave. ‘Everything seems so … well, real.’

‘A talking horse? An enchanted forest? An old woman who tells you she’s a dream princess? You call that
real
?’ The old woman, who couldn’t help laughing, choked and had another coughing fit.

‘But if none of this is real,’ Gustave objected, ‘then
you
don’t exist either.’

The old woman’s face suddenly stiffened again.

‘Believe me, my boy,’ she said gravely, ‘that’s a problem I’ve been debating for a very long time—whenever I’ve a spare moment, in fact.’

Gustave tried to argue logically.

‘If you’re my very own dream princess—or dream consultant, whichever—what are you doing here in the middle of the forest?’

‘That’s the embarrassing part: I’ve
lost my way
. I don’t know where the toilets are!’ The old woman gave a bitter laugh. ‘I’ve no idea what’s gone wrong with your dreams of late, but they’ve definitely been getting wilder. Perhaps it’s got something to do with your age. You’ll soon be leaving childhood behind.’

‘I haven’t been a child for ages!’ Gustave protested with a scowl. ‘I’m twelve already!’

‘Yes, yes,’ the dream princess said dismissively, ‘but don’t be
too
keen to grow up.’ She eyed her wrinkled hands with distaste.

‘What has
my
age got to do with
you
losing your way?’ Gustave asked sharply.

‘How should I know? I’m merely voicing conjectures. I’m only
a
dream consultant, after all. What’s more, I’m doing the job for the first time.’ The old woman grunted. ‘Earlier on you used to dream about rabbits, about your parents, and building bricks, and the red ball you were so fond of playing with, and the ducks in the park. But lately—good heavens! Dragons! Winged monsters? Talking jellyfish! Naked girls! No wonder the likes of me can’t find my way around your dreams any more.’

Gustave blushed. How did she know about his adventures on the Island of Damsels in Distress? Their conversation was becoming more and more bewildering.

‘Pin your ears back,’ said the dream consultant, ‘and I’ll give you a rundown on the way dreams work—as far as my information goes, that is. A short course in dreamology for beginners, right?’

Gustave nodded.

‘You must simply think of the dream-world as another country, and when you dream you’re going on a journey through that country. You’re travelling, even though you’re lying in bed without budging from the spot. Dreams are the most fantastic free rides imaginable. We really ought to sell tickets for them.’

‘Could you cut the cackle a bit?’ Pancho grumbled. ‘We’ve got things to do before the day’s out.’

The old woman ignored him. ‘The dream-world is an unpredictable place,’ she went on, ‘—the most lawless place in the entire universe. A jungle composed of time, space and providence, of hindsight and foresight, of fears and desires, all jumbled up together.’ She knotted her fingers into a dense latticework.

‘A country, a jungle, a department store,’ thought Gustave. ‘Whatever next?’

‘So it’s helpful if there’s someone around to give you an occasional tip, an item of information, a covert hint. That’s what we dream princesses are there for.’

‘I see,’ said Gustave.

‘No, you don’t!’ snapped the old woman. ‘Listen carefully! I can assume the guise of an articulate apple or a chicken made of cheese. Remember the cheese chicken that advised you to cough three times?’

‘No,’ said Gustave.

‘Never mind. Anyway, it was a prime example of professional dream consultancy. The dream was a nightmare, and you were on the point of drowning in a pool of rice pudding when I turned up as the chicken made of cheese and advised you to cough three times. You coughed in your sleep, and that woke you up.’

‘I don’t remember.’

‘That’s the dark shadow that looms over our endeavours: the shadow of oblivion.’ The old woman heaved a sigh. ‘We dream consultants have learned to get by without any pats on the back.’

‘So do most people,’ Gustave retorted, rather proud of having come up with such a precocious remark.

‘Now, now, young man, you’ve no cause to make fun of our work. Dream consultancy is a hard, unrewarding job, and one that often seems pointless. Besides, nobody can be sure the same fate won’t befall them. You could become one yourself some day.’

‘Me, a dream princess?’

Pancho whinnied with laughter.

‘Not a princess, of course: a dream
prince
.’

‘How come?’

‘Basically, anyone can work in dream consultancy as long as he fulfils certain conditions. First you’ve got to
die
. That’s the most important qualification for the job.’

‘Just a minute!’ Gustave exclaimed. ‘Does that mean you’re dead?’

‘Dead as a doornail, otherwise we wouldn’t be talking together now. I died … let’s see … two hundred and seventy-three years ago. We’re related, by the way. I’m your great-great-great-grandmother— on your father’s side.’

Gustave opened his mouth to speak, but the old woman got in first.

‘I died at the age of ninety-nine, after a long and fulfilled life. That’s the second basic precondition for a career in dream consultancy: you must have a
fulfilled
life behind you. People with unsatisfying lives tend to be unstable characters, which renders them unfitted for our profession.’

Gustave nodded.

‘Enjoy a life of fulfilment and then switch to dream consultancy. That’s the only way to escape Death and his soul-coffins.’

‘You know about the soul-coffins?’

The old woman grinned.

‘
No sun, no life; no life, no souls; no souls, no sun—that’s the everlasting cycle of the univ …
’ She clapped a hand over her mouth in mock horror. ‘Whoops! I almost gave away one of the great mysteries of the universe!’ She laughed.

‘How can you tell whether someone has led a fulfilled life?’ asked Gustave. He had never taken part in such an absurd conversation, but he was beginning to enjoy it.

‘Hard to say. You can’t tell until the end. It’s got nothing to do with longevity or success or satisfaction or the like. You look back on your life and see it lying ahead of you—or behind you, as the case may be.’

She giggled.

‘I can’t tell you
what
indicates whether a life was fulfilled or not, only that it’s possible to see it. Even godforsaken Death can see it. Then he takes his soul-coffin, the stupid bag of bones, and pushes off.’

Pancho cleared his throat. ‘Are you going to be much longer, the pair of you? I mean, we’ve still got a few tasks to perform, and—’

‘True,’ said Gustave. The conversation had become more interesting than he’d originally thought, and he would have liked to question the old lady further, because he still couldn’t decide whether she was really deranged or simply teasing him in a subtle way. But Pancho was right, they had more important things to do.

‘We must ride on.’

‘I know,’ said the old woman.

‘One last question,’ Gustave called over his shoulder when they were trotting along the dried-up river bed once more. ‘If you really have lost your way in my dreams, how will you manage to get out again?’

The old lady laughed, and he saw for the first time that all her teeth were of glittering gold.

‘I’ll do like the information desk in the department store: I’ll wait until closing time.’

‘How do you mean?’

‘I’ll wait till you wake up,’ she said.

She smoothed her robe down, adjusted her crown, and re assumed her blank expression. The owl emitted a few scornful cries, but by that time Gustave and Pancho were beyond the next bend and well out of sight.

‘
IF YOU ASK
me,’ said Pancho, as they rode on along the dried-up river bed with a dense canopy of branches overhead, ‘the old dear had a screw loose. Did you understand all that stuff about the rabbit and the ducks?’