The Strange Burdon of Alder Strauss

Nothing can be said to explain the strange events that befell Alder’s dreams on the night of March 15th, 1930, nor can one logically explain the strange set of circumstances that led to that grim discovery not thirty days after. But the duration of time in which these disturbances manifested and their symbolic significance therein could only lead Alder to believe that they were meant for him and him alone.

To the extent of their occurrences had Alder, for the sake of his sanity, sought refuge in the confidence of his dear friend and colleague, Ulrich Genney.

They had met abroad while in pursuit of a doctorate in physiology at Manchester, an institute of esteemed academia whose renowned infamy stretched throughout the land.

Such was also the case of its students. Of those in the student body, the most peculiar and flamboyant ones made their names known by their legions of study and repertoire. Seeking only their name as repute, be it stenciled in the stone of old dusty halls or on the tongues of professors and colleagues alike, they would no doubt twist the dirk in another’s side after having planted it there for such an advantage, save for Ulrich.

Having taken steps to actively seek his council in acquaintanceship at Manchester as a fellow aspiring physiologist, Alder recognized the benefit of his professional contributions, and his personal ones as well. And it was there that a friendship formed. Eventually, perhaps inevitably, Ulrich departed from the timeless tomes and reverberating hallways of academic sanctuary two years before Alder were to, but left with the promise of correspondence in the states once he was established there.

Alder was to stay in the vicinity of his studies and seek opportunity locally.

However, it was without the reaping of success that he concluded to seek in the states that which was lacking about his resident land. He had heard of the rare success and the steady need of a man of his degree in the region of his colleague despite the wounds inflicted on the nation by the depression. Therefore, he once again sought refuge with his esteemed colleague, this time in terms of room and board.

It was Alder’s hectic and unkempt state upon his doorstep one day, however, that alarmed Ulrich so much so that he inquired with great concern the reason for his condition. Upon receiving him he immediately led Alder to his study where he fetched a chair from aside his desk and momentarily left him alone amongst his volumes of books and anatomical molds to retrieve a glass of water and a bottle of brandy.

“My God man, what have you been going about that has caused you to come here in such a disheveled state?” Ulrich’s concern beamed in Ulrich’s eyes.

Alder stared downward and feebly clasped the water between his trembling fingers.

“I-I-I don’t even know where to start, my dear friend,” Alder replied and drank his glass of water in heavy gulps.

“Well, how long have you been going around like this?”

“A-About two weeks now. You see, I’ve been having these strange dreams. So strange in fact that my telling you of them caused me great fear that you would henceforth regard me as a stranger after having told you.”

“Nonsense,” Ulrich chortled. “We’ve been friends and colleagues for how long now? Long enough to know when you’re trying to pull something on me. And I can tell that this is not one of those times. So please Alder, let me know what has brought you to come before me in such a terrible state?”

Alder just sat there for a moment in silence. Then he spoke.

“It’s-It’s Caroline,” he replied and took the brandy from atop the desk.

Ulrich looked upon him with pity and motioned for the glass. Alder handed it to him and he poured another shot.

__________

That night carried with it a slight breeze boasting the fragrant smells of budding trees and an unusual heat that permitted a restless sleep. Having shed covers of needless discomfort I slowly succumbed to my body’s fatigue. Not long after having nodded off was I awakened by a peculiar noise carried upon the breeze. My ears pricked up as I arose from the comfort of my sheets. It sounded like a voice carried by the wind. I looked expectantly out the window from within my quarters, but saw not a thing. There was only the dark of night.

Was I hearing things? Was it the lingering of a dream I had stirred from?

Skepticism dominated and rationalized my superstitions just then and, with these conclusions drawn, I again retired to my bed, eyes heavy and mind perplexed. Not twenty minutes later and not sooner than having lulled myself into a desired visage for sleep did I hear it again.

This time I shot up and quickly lit the lamp at my bedside.

It was singing. A young woman singing!

The sound was so faint I could not make out the tune, some kind of operatic aria of archaic origin perhaps? Surely it was something not of this world but out of some celestial or forbidden realm. Was it of an angel, succubi, siren, or something as of yet to be named? I knew not for sure what could harbor such a timbre that both chilled my blood and lifted my spirit. Yet, I seemed bound to find out as my curiosity peaked, though my mind and body did not realize just where I stood; at the edge of the door with arms open and lantern out as if to guide the way for this song to reach my ears. However, it did not. For as sudden as this sound had come it had departed, leaving me with but an echo of a memory in which to savor and the remainder of that night’s sleep, however, was all but restless.

The next morning brought with it the fleeting fragments of the brief memories of the prior night’s occurrence. Had it been brought on by the accompaniment of heat and a restless night? This I could not conclude. Still, this memory posed only as a glimpse of what was to be. For, many things are easily discounted as coincidence in the mind of a skeptic and I certainly didn’t feel the need to pass it off as anything more. It was, however, a few nights later that my skepticism would breach the wall of mere coincidence and penetrate something much more than my mind, in all its intellectual capacity, could comprehend.

The setting was much like that of several nights before. A restless sleep kept my body in constant shifting. Unlike a couple of nights before, I was fully asleep and uninterrupted by any external forces serving to summon me. I did not account, however, for that which lay dormant within me to awaken my emotions I had so desperately sought to vault within the chambers of my soul. For, that which came to intrude upon my placid dreamscape of peaceful solace would serve to torment me lest I sought resolve for its plight. Unknown at the time, I was to be tied to this splinter of illusion which would grow and grow to dominate my thoughts, even when I were awake.

My planes in sleep consisted of fields of wheat bowing before the presence of the wind as it approached the kingdom of the sea. I followed and soon found myself immersed in a shimmering paradise surrounded by the very creatures of the sea that fascinated me the most. Whales, dolphins, urchins, coral, and yes, even sharks brought me comfort and tranquility in their presence. But tonight was different. The landscape was of a forest instead. Not just any forest, though. It was of a forest uncannily similar to that just outside my window.

In the moment that I was there, it attracted me in a way I’d only been attracted once. Yet, as I initially foresaw, there was no connection between the two pulls. The forest lit up like freshly stoked embers and seemed set ablaze by the sun that pierced through its canopies and spotted its floor. There, however, was a spot where the sunlight could not illuminate. This space, I felt, was to be illuminated by something else and through all the beauty and serenity of this setting I could not help but be drawn to this one spot. Like with the song that came with the wind, I was hypnotized within my slumber by what magnificent or foreboding essence was imprisoned within that hollow mouth where light dare not shine. It was in that moment of suspense that my curiosity was satisfied.

A light manifested from the darkness and sleeked ever slowly in a zigzagging motion, grace-fully gliding along a path of unknown end. It was in that dream did I consciously seem to squint to make out this light of unknown origin until its approach brought it closer and ever more clear.

And it was at this moment that I woke up and uttered one word from trembling lips;

“Woman.”

Was it by fear, excitement or some odd pairing of emotions that caused my heart to race, my body to sweat and my lips to tremble? For I had never had such a dream that had impacted me so much as to merit my waking as a means to escape a possible imprisonment in some temporal hell. Nor had I awakened feeling so capable of reaching a world beyond the borders of my own imagination. Skeptically speaking, a dream is a dream, and the ability to differentiate reality from the creations and projections of one’s dreams and visions inside their mind is what dictates one’s ability to interact with others.

If I were to keep my wits about me, I couldn’t help but pass this off as such. However, the mystery of that figure in my dream was not of recognizable quality nor had it ever appeared in any dreams prior. My fascination with this vision could be tied to the mysterious sense of familiarity it conjured within me. It seems contradictory, I know, to state so at this time after denouncing my dreams to little more than one’s imagination, but some things that arouse such feelings after experiencing them are harder to push aside.