Free Hey Mortality by Luke Kinsella Page A

its appearance. Faded white stone, once decorated, but any trace now faded away over years of bad weather.
    “I say goodbye to the ducks as I walk away. Then the dream ends.”
    “Interesting,” Jun said. “That’s quite a weird dream. With each dream more information becomes clear?”
    “That’s right,” I told him. “The first time I had the dream, I didn’t even enter the town, just stared in awe at the fog. After about a week I explored a little and became upset by the absent of scent from the flowers. Then a week later I was being shouted at by the man at the Bank Building.”
    “Bank Building,” Jun interjected, “why not just call it the bank?”
    “In my dream,” I thought for a moment. “In my dream, I just know that this building is the Bank Building, the same way that I know it is always Tuesday.”
    “Hmm,” Jun pondered, as he finished his tea. “Look, I have to go now, but I do have some books at home about this kind of thing, interpreting dreams, things like that. I will look into it. Call me up straight away if anything else happens. I want to know how this dream story ends.” Jun seemed genuinely interested, just as I thought he would. “Oh, and I don’t have any money, do you mind taking care of the bill?” he asked. “Bill, like a duck,” he added, deadpan.
    “Thanks, Jun,” I said, as he stood up to leave.
    “Call me if anything else happens,” he said. And with that he was gone.
    The next day, something did happen. A man appeared.
     
    ***
     
    I woke up in a cold sweat. Sunlight was drifting in, and it looked as though Lucy had left already. My dream that night was more vivid than ever, as though it was real; but I knew that it couldn’t have been.
    The usual events occurred as before, except that this time when I approached the bridge, I saw a man sitting, his legs dangling over the side. He carried a loaf of fresh bread in his left hand, tearing off little pieces with his right. He didn’t throw the pieces of bread, he just dropped them. They drifted down toward the river below, to where the three little ducks were quacking excitedly.
    “Hello,” I said to the man feeding the ducks.
    He turned to me. As I stared at him I realised that he didn’t have a face, just a hollow gap in its place.
    “Welcome to the Bridge at the Centre of the Universe,” he said, calmly, all the while continuing to feed the ducks.
    “What are you talking about?” I asked.
    “It’s quite simple really. You are here. I am here. This is the Bridge at the Centre of the Universe, the exact point that time flows from.”
    I didn’t really know what to say, but at that point I was completely aware that I was dreaming. Previously, I had felt that during those dreams, I had no control over my actions. Guided along by some false memory, as if tracing what had always become. That time, I knew I was dreaming, and felt as if the shackles of my subconscious had been severed.
    “You understand why you are here, right?” the man asked.
    “I have no idea.”
    “I have no idea,” the man said, echoing my words.
    Then everything faded to black, and dream became reality once again.
     
    ***
     
    I put on some clothes and phoned up Jun, to provide him with a promised update. He picked up after just one ring, as if he was waiting by the phone.
    “Hey, I was just about to call you,” he told me. “I did some research into your dream, and what it could mean.” I decided to let him finish before providing him with an update. Partly due to my own curiosity, and partly due to the effort that he had most likely put into gathering the facts.
    “Great, what have you discovered?” I asked.
    “Well, it’s simple really. Fresh bread symbolises your fulfilment of physical desires. Yellow flowers indicate pure joy, and a clear conscience. Bridges represent a new opportunity. Ducks, well they don’t really fit into my theory, but ducks symbolise a connection between the physical world, and the spiritual