Authors: Jean Bedford
© Jean Bedford 1997
Jean Bedford has asserted her rights under the Copyright, Design and Patents Act, 1988, to be identified as the author of this work.
First published in 1997 by Random House Australia.
This edition published in 2016 by Endeavour Press Ltd.
Fo
r
Pete
r
onc
e
more
Ther
e
wer
e
demon
s
i
n
m
y
dream
s
agai
n
las
t
nigh
t.
The
y
mad
e
m
e
thin
k
o
f
yo
u.
Thi
s
recor
d
i
s
fo
r
yo
u—
wa
s
fo
r
yo
u,
onc
e.
Yo
u
wer
e
th
e
on
e
wh
o
insiste
d
tha
t
writin
g
i
t
al
l
dow
n
woul
d
hel
p
. ‘Get things out in the open,
’
yo
u
sai
d
. ‘Get them out of your head and into some form that you can physically look at, an artefact. And it will help you to remember.
’
Wel
l,
i
t
certainl
y
ha
s
don
e
tha
t.
Wa
s
i
t
Osca
r
Wild
e
wh
o
sai
d
tha
t
h
e
alway
s
too
k
hi
s
diar
y
o
n
lon
g
journey
s,
s
o
he’
d
b
e
sur
e
o
f
somethin
g
interestin
g
t
o
rea
d?I
thin
k
hi
s
actua
l
wor
d
wa
s
sensationa
l,
bu
t
I’
m
no
t
makin
g
tha
t
clai
m
.
Thoug
h
I
d
o
rea
d,
an
d
r
e-
rea
d,
thi
s
journa
l,
righ
t
bac
k
t
o
thos
e
earlies
t
fumblin
g
entrie
s,
whe
n
I
wa
s
littl
e
mor
e
tha
n
a
chil
d.
Th
e
ton
e
ha
s
change
d
ove
r
th
e
year
s—
especiall
y
sinc
e
I
n
o
longe
r
ha
d
t
o
sho
w
yo
u
wha
t
I
ha
d
writte
n.
Bu
t
thos
e
crypti
c
firs
t
utterance
s
stil
l
resonat
e
fo
r
m
e—
the
y
stil
l
cal
l
u
p
th
e
secre
t
diar
y
I
kep
t
i
n
m
y
brai
n,
tha
t
yo
u
woul
d
neve
r
rea
d.
Wha
t
yo
u
rea
d
wa
s
a
cod
e,
an
d
yo
u
were neve
r
give
n
th
e
ke
y.
N
o
wonde
r
yo
u
wer
e
s
o
frustrate
d
a
t
th
e
las
t,
s
o
anxiousl
y
tryin
g
t
o
analys
e
wher
e
you’
d
gon
e
wron
g,
wha
t
you’
d
misse
d.
Alway
s
analysin
g,
whe
n
i
t
wa
s
s
o
simpl
e—I
lie
d
t
o
yo
u
.
Stil
l,I
tal
k
t
o
yo
u
a
lo
t
i
n
thi
s
journa
l,
thi
s
lo
g
o
f
m
y
lif
e.
Yo
u
wer
e
alway
s
eas
y
t
o
tal
k
t
o.
Yo
u
neve
r
minde
d
i
f
I
repeate
d
mysel
f,
i
f
I
wen
t
ove
r
ol
d
groun
d
agai
n
an
d
agai
n.
Yo
u
sai
d
i
t
helpe
d,
tha
t
eac
h
tim
e
somethin
g
ne
w
migh
t
emerg
e,
som
e
fres
h
wa
y
o
f
lookin
g.
O
f
seein
g.I
repea
t
mysel
f
her
e,
to
o.
No
t
s
o
muc
h
i
n
th
e
hop
e
o
f
a
ne
w
perspectiv
e,
bu
t
becaus
e
i
t
comfort
s
m
e.I
repea
t
mysel
f
an
d
I
gloa
t
ove
r
wha
t
l
hav
e
don
e,
wha
t
I
hav
e
go
t
awa
y
wit
h.
An
d
sometime
s
I’
m
surprise
d
b
y
a
ne
w
detai
l,
somethin
g
I
remembe
r
tha
t
ba
d
bee
n
burie
d,
s
o
perhap
s
yo
u
wer
e
righ
t.
Yo
u
mus
t
hav
e
bee
n
righ
t
occasionall
y
.
Bu
t
you’l
l
wan
t
t
o
hea
r
abou
t
th
e
demon
s.
Las
t
nigh
t.I
coul
d
neve
r
satisfactoril
y
explai
n
the
m
t
o
yo
u,
eve
n
unde
r
hypnosi
s,
an
d
I
stil
l
can’
t.
Unnameabl
e,
indescribabl
e,
the
y
loo
m
i
n
th
e
corner
s
o
f
m
y
min
d,
bulk
y
masse
s
o
f
darknes
s.
The
y
wai
t
an
d
watc
h
an
d
the
y
terrif
y
m
e.
I
n
th
e
dream
s
I’
m
paralyse
d,
whic
h
i
s
jus
t
a
s
wel
l,
becaus
e
the
y
woul
d
lea
p
i
f
I
mad
e
a
fals
e
mov
e.
That’
s
wha
t
the
y
wai
t
fo
r
. ‘But what would they do to you?
’
Sometime
s
I
hea
r
you
r
voic
e
quit
e
clearl
y,
a
s
i
f
yo
u
wer
e
i
n
thi
s
roo
m
wit
h
m
e.
The
y
woul
d
tak
e
m
e.
The
y
woul
d
rende
r
m
e
voi
d
lik
e
the
m
an
d
the
n
the
y
woul
d
pla
y
wit
h
m
e;
foreve
r,
fo
r
eternit
y.
Thes
e
ar
e
th
e
onl
y
word
s
l
ca
n
fin
d
fo
r
thi
s
feelin
g,
whic
h
i
s
s
o
muc
h
mor
e
tha
n
fea
r.I
onc
e
ha
d
a
spina
l
ta
p
fo
r
a
n
unstoppabl
e
noseblee
d
an
d
th
e
terro
r
i
s
somethin
g
lik
e
tha
t
feelin
g—
the marro
w
i
s
threatene
d,
th
e
marro
w
insid
e
th
e
bone
s
o
f
m
y
existenc
e,
an
d
tha
t
i
s
wher
e
I
fee
l
th
e
pani
c
an
d
th
e
sensatio
n
tha
t
woul
d
h
e
pai
n
i
f
i
t
wer
e
no
t
s
o
ic
y
col
d
an
d
numbe
d.
The
y
threate
n
t
o
withdra
w
m
y
essenc
e
whil
e
I
watc
h,
t
o
drai
n
m
e
o
f
mysel
f
.