Free The Other Side by Alfred Kubin Page B

drink couldn’t be all there was to this religion. Not long after, I discovered that hair, horn, pine-cones, fungi and hay were also sacred. Even cow- and horse-dung had some special significance. Among the internal organs the liver and the heart were considered particularly important, among animals the fishes. Tanned pelts also had some mysterious quality. Iron, steel and various metal alloys were the antithesis of these values. They seemed to symbolise dangers. I learnt these details from peasants and huntsmen; long walks out in the country were necessary to obtain them. I noted down everything I managed to squeeze out of these taciturn individuals over the months and years, but for the sake of brevity I will not give a complete list here. One further fact is of interest, perhaps. There were lonely places in forests and beside marshes where no traveller would dare to go at twilight. They had the reputation of being eerie and Dreamers were glad when they had no business there.



Perhaps I would be clearer about all this, instead of groping around in the dark, if I had been able to see the temple by the lake with my own eyes. By all accounts this shrine must have been a magical, miraculous place. A good day’s journey from Pearl, it stood beside Dream Lake, surrounded by man-made cascades and a quiet park. The greatest treasures of the Dream Realm were said to be kept in the temple. It was made of the finest materials and so perfectly constructed visitors had the impression the whole edifice was hovering above the ground. The largest of the halls was done in Patera’s colours, brown, grey and green. Symbolic statues had been set up in the mysterious, underground vaults. Unfortunately it was only open to visitors once a year and good contacts were essential to receive an invitation. Initially I hoped my personal connection with Patera would secure entry for me, but my audience with him kept being put off, and then came the Events .
    My tirelessness in my research into the true Dream religion was only matched by my lack of success in discovering anything. I seemed to be fated to cause offence.
    Once I had been invited to Blumenstich’s, the banker’s. It was crowded and the atmosphere was very merry. Our host had just been awarded a decoration for the swimming pool he had established and this great honour was being suitably celebrated.
    Dinner was over. Everyone was smoking and sitting round with coffee and liqueurs. ‘The finest minds in Pearl are gathered together here. If I don’t learn anything tonight, I’ll never learn anything’, I thought, screwed up my courage and launched myself into speech. I told them of my frustration at my fruitless attempts to find out about the true religion of the Dream people. I sounded very eloquent, very fluent, the words seemed to trip off my tongue as if propelled by some inner force. Eventually I thought I had said enough to convince all those present of the genuineness of my thirst for knowledge and asked them to enlighten me. I stopped. I could not have gone on, my throat had dried up. They were all speechless, confused, apprehensive. Two sagacious-looking, dignified elderly gentlemen in elegant old-fashioned dress were already slipping away into the adjoining room. I had set my main hopes on them. Finally our host spoke up, scratching his black mutton-chop whiskers as he did so.

    ‘Young man, have you been to the Outer Settlement across the river yet? I think you should have a look at the place.’ He spoke in a somewhat sharp and dismissive tone.
    It was as if the company had been released from an oppressive burden. At least someone had spoken! The conversation returned to the usual trivial topics. No one paid any attention to me any more. Only the editor of the paper, who also happened to be present, said in soothing tones, ‘Oh dear, these artists!’
    But that was no help to me either. I soon made my way home, wrapped in thought. ‘I’ll never get to the bottom of