City of Dreams

I’ve been having strange dreams lately, but perhaps strangest of all was the one where I was in a Las Vegas casino.

I had never been to Vegas, yet in this dream, I knew precisely where I was. I was at the Bellagio and from where I was seated, I could see the fountains outside. I was drinking a beer, smoking a cigarette. In life, I do not smoke.

There was a man with me, but to describe anything about him would be impossible. He had no face. He sat silently across from me with a lit cigarette in his own hand.

“It is a beautiful night,” he said. I agreed.

From his pocket, he pulled out a little black book, an innocuous thing that he made no big deal out of flipping through. He seemed to be reading over each of the pages carefully, and while he did so I finished my drink.

“I’m going to grab another beer,” I told him. He did not look up, but asked that I grab him a martini with two olives while I was at the bar.

When I returned with our drinks, the little black book was lying on the table and the man’s head was turned towards the window, chin resting in his hand. I never saw him take a sip from his drink, but the glass was emptier than it had been a moment ago.

The room filled suddenly with smoke. It hung in the air and wistfully danced across the floor, making it difficult to see anything.

A woman emerged from it as if she were made of smoke herself and approached our table. Her scarlet dress hugged her body tightly, short bob hair framed her face like a piece of fine art. I wanted desperately to know her name.

“You’re late,” the faceless man said.

She smiled coyly. “What were you reading, I wonder?” Her hand touched the cover of the little black book, and the man quickly slid it away from her. “Now, now, what’s the fun of a secret if you’re not going to share?”

There was the faint, distant sound of a chirpy tune that contrasted significantly from the slow, jazzy songs the band had been playing. I recognized it instantly — it was my alarm.

“Ah,” the faceless man said. “It’s almost time for you to go.” He slid his little black book across the table. “Hold onto this for me, will you?”

“Boo,” the woman pouted. “You two are always scheming without me. It’s no fun!”

“We all have our parts to play.” He patted her leg and together they stood. Just as they were about to leave, he turned once more to me. “Do take care not to read anything in the book until we meet again, yes? I expect you won’t have to wait long.”

I awoke to sunlight shining in my eyes through gaps in the blinds, the alarm on my nightstand still blaring its grating tune. I slammed my hand down on the off button. I was fighting a fierce hangover, though I don’t remember drinking the night before. Was I getting that bad? Maybe my sister was right, I thought. I should see a doctor. I swung my feet over the edge of the bed and, every muscle in my body aching, brought myself up.

The apartment was in need of a desperate deep-clean: dishes were stacked up in the sink, dirty laundry was all over the floor, and the table was coated in a layer of crumbs and dried sauces.

I cleaned the apartment until it was spotless and made a promise to myself to take better care of the place. I was living rent-free, the least I could do was keep it tidy.

I spent the rest of the day watching television, and slowly the memories of the Bellagio and the faceless man and the beautiful woman in the scarlet dress faded from my mind.

When I found myself in the Bellagio a week later for my brother’s bachelor party, I was surprised to find that it was exactly as it had looked in my dream. An eerie sense of déjà vu washed over me accompanied by another thought: a memory of the woman in the scarlet dress.

“You all right?” my brother asked, placing a hand on my shoulder.

“Yeah,” I said. “It’s just a bit… overwhelming.”

“Well, just take it easy, okay? There’s no pressure or anything. If you feel like you’re going to have another attack, just head up to the room and take a breather. Nobody will be offended if you dip out.”

I thanked him, and we joined the others at the bar for a round of shots to get the night started. I ordered myself a beer, and as my buzz started to come on, I loosened up a bit. I was having fun, despite not knowing many of my brother’s friends well.

We sat at a blackjack table, and my brother spotted me a hundred to play. “I’m sorry,” I said. “You shouldn’t have to pay for me. It’s your party.”

“Shut up, I want to. I’m glad you’re here.”

I was sitting at 15 and took a risk hitting, but the dealer drew a 7. I’ve never been lucky.

A short while later, we were walking around as some of the guys started hopping on the slots. I was definitely drunk by now and slowly becoming aware of it. I tried interjecting a few jokes into a conversation, but I stumbled over so many of my words that the punchline got lost along the way. At one point, I nearly fell into an old woman waiting in line for the bathroom.

I was apologizing profusely when I heard a familiar voice behind me.

“Well, well, took you long enough.” I turned around and though it took my eyes a second to focus, there was no mistaking the face in front of me. It was the woman from my dream. I went to speak, but she pressed a finger to my lips. “Not here. Meet me in your room.” And she walked away.

I found my brother in the crowd and told him I was going to head out. He said he understood. I thanked him and ran off.

When I got to the room, the woman was sitting on my bed with her shoes off, her legs crossed in front of her, smoking a cigarette.

“How’s it going, tiger?”

I suddenly felt self-conscious about how I looked. I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. I clearly looked like I’d been drinking, but overall, I thought, not horrible. The suit helped. I found myself standing very stiff and tried to relax, but I didn’t know what to do with my hands. I stuffed them in my pockets.

And that’s when I felt it. How I hadn’t noticed it before, I don’t know, but now I was very aware of the presence of a small notebook in the left pocket of my pants.

“You haven’t read it, have you?”

“No.”

She stood and made her way over to me, draped an arm over my shoulders, took a puff of her cigarette. Her hand slowly worked its way towards my pocket.

“He isn’t here, you know,” she said softly into my ear. Her perfume blended with the scent of tobacco, and it was intoxicating. “He’s only around when you sleep. But he’s not in your head or anything. He won’t know if we take a peek.”

I don’t know what compelled me, lust or curiosity, but I pulled the little black book from my pocket and opened it, aware of her chest pressed against my arm.

It was a list, of every slot in the building and of when they would hit the jackpot. Anyone with this book could make a lot of money.

She turned me to face her. Our lips touched, and she was a sweet poison. We fell into bed together. My mind went blank.

I found myself sitting in front of a slot machine with the woman’s hand on my shoulder, people around us cheering, lights flashing above me.

I was escorted back through the casino and asked to fill out a W-9 tax form. When it was done, they handed me a stack of cash — $40,000. I was in such a daze that I barely even noticed that the woman was still with me.

The casino staff escorted us back to my hotel room.

“I think it’s only fair,” she said, removing her dress. “That we split the money. After all, you wouldn’t have won without me, right?” She pressed her lips to mine before I could let out an answer. I was weak to her. All I could do was nod yes.

We split the money and made love throughout the night. I never did learn her name.

I was disappointed to find her gone in the morning but relieved that the money was still there.

At lunch, I paid for the meal and gave my brother $5,000.

“I know it doesn’t make up for everything you’ve done,” I said. “But at least it should help pay for the honeymoon.” He hugged me and thanked me over and over again.

When I got home, I called my sister. We talked through the night, and she helped me make a plan. The first step was to get a new apartment, a place closer to home. She asked if I would be okay covering the costs from now on. I assured her I would.

Life was good. Starting to be, at least. I met with a doctor, and she gave me pills that she said would help. I paid off my credit cards and the final payments on my car. I was free of debt. When the pills started to take effect, I started going outside. I forgot how much I missed the world — little things like cafés, bookstores, live music, and people.

I loved sitting in the park with a coffee, just people-watching.

One hot summer night, I had trouble falling asleep. A strange anxiety overcame me as I put my head down on the pillow, and I laid there for two hours unable to sleep.

When it did come, I wished it hadn’t.

In my dream, I was in my bedroom wide awake. At my feet, a weight on the bed. I sat up to see the faceless man, his cigarette filling the room with smoke.

“Where is my book?”

I reached over to my nightstand, pulled his book from the top drawer, and handed it to him. He stuffed it back into his pocket, tossed his cigarette onto the carpet, stamped it out as he rose to his feet.

“You owe me.”

“I don’t have the money. I… spent it all.”

“I don’t care about that. I asked you not to read the book.

“Relationships are built on trust. We had a good relationship, you and I, but I can’t trust you anymore. There is one final thing I need from you, and then I’m afraid we must part ways for good.”

“What is it?”

“This,” he said, grabbing my face in his hand. The pressure sent waves of pain through my skull and down my spine, but I couldn’t fight him off. Slowly, my vision started to fade, and I fell unconscious.

I awoke with a throbbing migraine in a pitch-black room. I fumbled around and found the lamp switch, but even as I turned it on it offered no light. I opened my eyes — no, tried to open my eyes but couldn’t. I lifted my hands to my face, and terror overtook me as I felt the featureless patch where it used to be.

“Perhaps,” a voice like mine said. “One day, you will find someone whom you trust as much as I trusted you. I hope they treat you far better.”

A door shut. I was utterly alone.