Chapter Text
[CLICK]
[SOUND OF ARCHIVIST SHUFFLING THINGS BEFORE SITTING DOWN.]
ARCHIVIST
Why did I bring these here? I mean, yeah, it does make sense to try to share some with the others, at least just to get it out of the house. But I’ve brought enough sweets to start a cafe within the Institute.
[sigh] Serves me right, I suppose, for trying to drown my stress in baking, hiding my worries behind a tray of biscuits. I wonder if…
[SOUND OF A CHAIR SCOOTING.]
[BRIEF FOOTSTEPS WALKING AWAY.]
[DOOR CREAKS OPEN.]
ARCHIVIST
Martin! Have you eaten today?
MARTIN
[further away] What? Oh, um, no; not yet. Why?
ARCHIVIST
Are you busy? Can you come here a second?
MARTIN
[closer] Did you need something, Jon?
[PAUSE.]
MARTIN
What’s with all the pastries?
ARCHIVIST
Right, yes. I’ve been under some stress lately, we all have, and I read in a statement about someone finding baking to be stress-relieving. I had the right ingredients around already, so I just...baked.
MARTIN
You baked a lot .
ARCHIVIST
Yeah…Do you see anything you like?
MARTIN
What, right now?
…
Are those cherry tarts? Or are they strawberry?
ARCHIVIST
Cherry. I find they taste better for tarts.
MARTIN
Mm. May I have one of those?
[SOUND OF PLASTIC WRAPPING BEING PEELED BACK.]
ARCHIVIST
Take your pick. Do you want some tea with it?
MARTIN
Are you feeling alright, Jon?
ARCHIVIST
Yes? Was that a weird question?
MARTIN
[quickly] No! It’s just that, well, I’m usually the one making tea and sharing with you and the others. [awkwardly laughs] I guess I found it a bit weird to have the roles reversed.
ARCHIVIST
Is that a “no” to the tea?”
MARTIN
Um, whatever kind you want is fine, if you don’t mind.
ARCHIVIST
I’ll be right back.
[FOOTSTEPS FADE AWAY.]
MARTIN
[muffled] These taste really good.
MELANIE
Hey, Jon. I was able to secure a follow-up with-
[PAUSE.]
Martin? What’re you doing alone in Jon’s office? And what’s with all the desserts covering his desk?
MARTIN
Believe it or not, Jon’s taken up stress-baking.
MELANIE
Really? Hm. And he just...brought it all here?
MARTIN
I guess so. [muffled] It’s really sweet.
MELANIE
Oh? And are we talking about the biscuits or the boss?
MARTIN
[chokes] W-what? The, the tart. [Melanie hums unconvincingly.] Try one and see for yourself!
MELANIE
I’ll just take your word for it. I don’t have much of a sweet tooth, and, if your blushing is any indicator, then it must be really sweet.
MARTIN
[stammering] I’m not blushing! I’m very much not blushing.
MELANIE
Okay, okay. I’m assuming Jon’ll be back in a moment?
MARTIN
Yeah. He’s, uh, making us some tea.
MELANIE
I see. I’ll leave you to this little brunch, then.
[FOOTSTEPS FADE AWAY.]
MARTIN
[sigh] It’s the desserts that are sweet.
[FOOTSTEPS APPROACH.]
ARCHIVIST
Here’s your tea. Did you like the cherry tart?
MARTIN
Oh, yes, and thank you. Is it alright if I drink this at my desk, though? I, um, have some work to do.
ARCHIVIST
Of course. Mind closing the door on your way out?
MARTIN
Yeah...see ya.
[BRIEF FOOTSTEPS WALKING AWAY.]
[DOOR CREAKS CLOSED.]
[SOUND OF A CHAIR SCOOTING.]
ARCHIVIST
Alright, then. I thought he’d want to stay and chat for awhile, but I guess not. Oh well.
[PAPERS BEING SHUFFLED.]
Might as well go ahead and get started for the day. Where’s the-
[PAUSE.]
How long has that been running? Huh. Okay, then.
[RUSTLING.]
[clears throat] Statement of someone who chose to remain anonymous, regarding dreams that they have been having. Original statement given March 23rd, 2012. Audio recording by Jonathan Sims, Head Archivist of the Magnus Institute, London.
Statement begins.
ARCHIVIST (STATEMENT)
I’m never sure when it starts, when I cross between simple unconsciousness and into this dream that I’ve been having every time I sleep for the past three months. Maybe there is no beginning, really. Maybe it’s only a matter of when I become aware of my existence.
No, existence probably isn’t the right word. You see, in these dreams, I’m not really there, I don’t think. It’s bizarre to describe, but the best way that I can put it is that I’m only awareness during these dreams. Does that make sense? No, I suppose it doesn’t. I’m sorry; I’m very tired.
In these dreams, I have no body that is physically falling through the endless void, nor do I have hands or feet to try and reach out to stop my plummet. And yet I know I’m curled in on myself. I have no eyes or ears. And yet I know that I’m able to see the darkness and sporadic flashes of light around me, and I am able to hear the random crashing sounds that are not unlike what you would hear if a metallic cage was being thrown against cold concrete with enough intensity to shatter both. I have no mouth or voice. And yet I am able to scream.
I hate it there. I hate how it feels to be falling with no beginning and no end. I hate the startling flashes of lights and clanging of crashing sounds that are just random enough for me to not be able to grow accustomed to them and be desensitized by their presence. I hate how it could go on for hours, days, or even weeks within the span of one night’s dream. I hate that I am completely, utterly, and terrifyingly alone for however long it lasts. I hate it all.
I’ve tried seeing a therapist. I’ve tried always keeping the lights on. I’ve tried sleeping in small-enough increments that I shouldn’t be able to dream. Nothing works, and I am so tired . The dream always comes, I always fall through an endless void in an endless space of time, and I always wake up with my sheets soaked in sweat and my muscles sore from being tensed.
I don’t really know why I’m telling you all this. It’s not like you can do your little research things after I give my statement and then get back to me with a solution. I know there is no solution, no way for me to avoid being sent to this hellscape every time I close my eyes other than to blink.
I just...sorry, I know this will sound weird and random, but I also wish that the same book would stop falling off of its shelf every time I have one of these dreams. I hate having to look at it every time I pick it up because the pattern of the cover makes me feel like I’m falling again. I would tell you what the book was called, but it has no title, nor does it have an author listed. Hell, I don’t even remember where I got the book. Why am I telling you about this? I thought I came in here to tell you about my dreams...I’m very tired.
ARCHIVIST
Statement ends.
[sigh] It appears another Jurgen Leitner book has found itself a victim to plague. The Vast, as well, if my assumption about the cause to these dreams is correct. There’s not really much follow-up I can do on this. You can’t do much research on dreams, a book with no title or author, or even reach back out to someone who remained anonymous when giving their statement.
I do wonder, though, if the cover looked anything like the table described in the statement given by Amy Patel.
Hmm.
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