Free The Other Side by Alfred Kubin Page A

friend, artist and now Dreamlander,

P.S. Here you can live in a romantic house on the edge of the city, quite undisturbed, just like in the country.

    As you can tell from the letter, I was still in a cheerful mood at that point. I will deal with the drawbacks, which were even then making themselves felt, at the end of this chapter, at least to the extent to which I was aware of them at that time. First, though, I would like to say a little about the religion, or what I thought of as a religion.

    VII
    This was an interesting and complex area. I never really got to the bottom of it, though I did feel I was close to solving many of its mysteries. If my investigation did not produce results, the fault is not mine. There was some hostile force frustrating my efforts here and the information I gleaned was minimal.
    All the great religions of the old world had a number of representatives in the Dream Realm, some more, some fewer. But that was merely a facade, glossy window-dressing. The educated part of the population would readily admit this. They were shrewd freethinkers and not the kind of people who would readily submit to a rigid hierarchical system. Moreover there were some highly intelligent people among them. Nevertheless, there was something: a fatalistic belief in a providence which dispensed justice with an even, if legalistic hand. And beyond that there were all kinds of dark and unfathomable notions. It was definitely not the done thing to deride them, as I was to find out to my cost.
    In the first months of our stay I got to know a pleasant young man in the coffee house, a Baron Hector von Brendel. He was a decent fellow, well-bred, man of the world, slightly neurasthenic and weary, but not in the least bit stupid. He had a touch of melancholy, always kept in check, which was what initially attracted me to him. Later on we saw each other daily.
    ‘You’ve been here three years now, Brendel’, I said to him one day when we happened to be the only two at the table where we regulars used to gather. ‘Look, I’m convinced there’s some kind of secret religious sect here in the Dream Realm, like a Freemason’s lodge. D’you know any details? Could you perhaps tell me all about it? The rites? Customs?’
    He gave me a sideways look, cleared his throat and asked in a matter-of-fact tone, ‘What have you noticed?’
    ‘Oh, nothing specific, the concept of fate is pretty old. It’s just the general outlook, the dogged holding on to the same old-fashioned way of life, the lack of progressive ideas and one or two other things as well.’ I told him about the barber and his copper basin.

    He listened to me with a serious expression, slowly rolled himself a cigarette and said with a sad smile, ‘To be quite honest with you, my friend, yes, there is something. But with the best will in the world I can’t tell you any more than you already know yourself.’
    ‘So I was right!’ I was disappointed. ‘But don’t you know anything at all about it? You can rely on me to keep a secret, if that’s the problem.’
    Brendel thought for a few moments, then spoke in a low voice. ‘Certain things are venerated here. I don’t know if it will help if I tell you some of the sacred objects?’
    ‘Oh please do’, I begged, burning with curiosity.
    ‘Well, eggs, nuts, bread, cheese, honey, milk, wine and vinegar are especially hallowed.’
    ‘Aha!’ I exclaimed, delighted. ‘A hygienic cult based on the stomach.’ I could not resist some gentle mockery. ‘Why not tea, coffee and sugar as well?’
    At that Brendel turned his back on me and paid. A gust of wind blew the door open, letting in the warm, damp, earthy air with its strong admixture of the disturbing Dream smell. Bidding me a curt farewell, Brendel left. Through the high, steamed-up windows I watched him walk away. Outside it was dark.
    That was definitely not the way to go about it. I had wasted an opportunity. Another time I would be more careful.

    Food and