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Ever since Jerry’s accident Conrad’s nightmares came more frequently. While he did not think that Jerry wanted to see him especially in the hospital Conrad wanted to reach out to him at the very least—even if they were rivals.
Jerry would sometimes appear to him in his dreams in the guise of King Herod and talk of Biblical nonsense but other times he would appear as himself. Conrad always woke up in a cold sweat after these dreams and wished that Jerry—who he knew was not dead—would just leave him alone.
After the collapse of the film and stock market crash Conrad started taking pills that he got from Mario. He felt like everything he had worked for was lost and meaningless. The gossip never stopped. It followed him everywhere he went, even in his dreams.
It was the third night in a row that Jerry appeared to Conrad in his dreams.
Conrad was among a crowd of news reporters who were interviewing him at the diner he often frequented. After painlessly answering question after question he spotted the familiar rustic blond hair and cream suit jacket of his rival beyond his gaze. He asked the reporters if they could excuse them as they had some business to discuss in private. The reporters eyed the two men closely, whispering, but obliged and went their separate ways.
“It had to be you again,” Conrad sighed as Jerry took a seat next to him.
“Conrad, you need to stop taking the pills.” Jerry said in a low voice.
“I’ll do as I please.” Conrad said defensively.
“I’m serious, Conrad. Don’t jeopardize your career like this.”
“What are you, my conscience? You’re not even dead so I don’t know why you keep showing up.” Conrad said, his voice growing louder.
“Your life is in danger if you don’t watch where you’re going.” Jerry told him enigmatically as he stood up.
Conrad watched as the familiar back of Jerry Crawford left the diner and felt the air around him grow thick; voices surrounded him on all sides starting out soft and growing like a crescendo until it reached a cacophony of noise that no longer felt human. Conrad slammed his hands against his ears, wishing the noise would cease. He felt dizzy and nauseous, his vision blurred ever so slightly. Was this the effect that the drugs had on him? He groped for the door desperate to get out of there and to get some fresh air.
The moment he opened the door the loud screeching of tires and a blaring car horn filled his ears and he saw with horror a man in a cream suit jacket lying in front of a car. Conrad paled and he felt like he would get sick. “Jerry.”
Conrad’s eyes snapped open and the noises in his head stopped. He was in his bed but his heart was still racing. He knew what he had to do. He had to see Jerry.