“Possibly, or it may simply be a type of protective mechanism. For an individual to learn to understand the subconscious would be to further our understanding.”
“You mean to learn to control it?” I enquired.
“Not control, just be more in tune with your inner thoughts. This is practised in some religions such as Buddhism, where adepts attempt to harmonise with their inner self. Control as such may be dangerous.”
“Some people purport to control their autonomic brain activity. You know, slow their heartbeat, breathing etc.” interjected Julian. “That’s control isn’t it?”
“Yes, in a fashion, but controlling your body with your brain, although remarkable, has little to do with subconscious thoughts. These emanate from the brain rather than conscious control asserted by the brain on behalf of the individual.”
“Maybe it was not intended by nature that we have access to it” I suggested.
“Maybe not”, agreed Nicola, “but nature is not perfect, and when we do see a recurring dream that is apparently revolving around an individual’s subconscious, an opportunity exists to ‘crack the code’ so to speak. Thus, my interest in Julian”
I listened to Nicola’s theories of the possible source of Julian’s dreams, and although it was interesting, it all sounded rather Freudian. I was thoroughly taken aback by the fact that Julian was getting so intense about his dreams. I felt myself become more distant the more I heard. It all seemed too ‘over the top’. I had never taken anything Julian had said about the content of his dreams seriously. Yes, I had believed they had affected him, that was obvious, but I believed there to be as much correlation between Julian’s visions and some DNA ‘message’, as there was of Nicola really being an alien!
I now understood Nicola’s first question, but I still did not know how to answer it. I did realise, however, that despite my personal thoughts on the matter, this was important to Julian. I felt obliged to listen to what he and Nicola were saying so I could begin to try and understand his problem. I was told many an interesting theory that afternoon, and it was precisely because Julian had not found any support from me when he initially told me about his dreams that he had excluded me and his mother from all his mysterious investigations.
Julian had therefore decided to go and visit Roberta and talk to her. He had left for Manchester on the same evening that he had telephoned me. He had been absolutely sure that he would come back in a couple of days, however, when Julian had explained to Roberta what had happened to him, she excitedly suggested they investigate further and had booked tickets to Spain the next day! The plan was to find the place in Julian’s dream. They both understood that this plan was rather bold considering the lack of research and factual evidence, but Roberta was caught up in the excitement, so they decided to go.
The next five days were spent touring museums and libraries in southern Spain. Remarkably, they managed to find quite a few historical references to places where the brutal inquisition had tormented the unfortunate. Burning by fire was a popular means of punishing the unbeliever in the fourteenth, and all the way through to the sixteenth century. At one of the numerous libraries and museums they visited, they discovered something which had shocked Julian. A particular engraving, which depicted one of these burnings, which had taken place at the time of the inquisition, was so similar to the scene in his dream that it seemed to him like a photograph.
“The square, the church with a domed roof to the right of the fire. Everything was as I saw it!” he said. “But what struck me most of all was the figure in the long dark soutane. This man had an angry face, and had his hands held up, holding a large Christian crucifix in his left hand.” Julian broke off and had stared straight at me; his eyes had taken on a distant look as he continued;
“It was him, it was definitely him. That was the barbarian that struck me with the burning log in my dream” At first, despite her initial enthusiasm, Roberta was sceptical and asked him how he could have been so sure. Julian assured her that it was a combination of things, the man’s ugly facial features (not one he could forget that easily), his clothes, and hairstyle.
“It was him!” Julian murmured again to no one in particular.
I felt that Julian’s problem was now beginning to verge on the serious. The man appeared obsessed by his dreams. To actually run off to Spain at the drop of a hat was not the type of thing I would have expected of Julian in the past.
Julian continued to tell us how Roberta suggested he may be the victim of an overactive imagination. She asked him where this scene in his dream could have come from and suggested he had possibly read a book with this engraving in it as an impressionable child. The picture and story could have remained in his subconscious, only to surface later. This concurred exactly with my opinion, but Julian continued:
“I told Roberta that I have never read anything about the Spanish inquisition in my life, and although it was possible I had been very young and forgotten about it until it surfaced now, it was the discovery of my birthmark which told me that this was different.”
I strongly contested that and suggested that it may be a mistake to make parallels between what are probably two very different things. I was convinced that Julian discovering his birthmark was a coincidence and nothing more.
“Michael. I cannot explain, but when I dream, I know it is a dream. This however, does not feel like a dream. That is why Roberta suggested I see Nicola.”
His fingers gripped his coffee cup tightly. “To me, it was a memory!”
We spent the rest of the evening with several very good bottles of Australian wine that had accompanied an equally excellent dinner. When we finally parted company, I reflected on our conversations. Tonight, I had heard some facts and much fantasy in my view. Just because Julian’s theories had tried to weave them together, I was far from convinced that he had suffered anything more than a flashback to some childhood memory. It would be interesting I thought to see how Nicola progressed with her analysis from a scientific angle.
CHAPTER FOUR
Julian: Sussex, England
25th September 2003
It was not until Julian and I decided to go to a Classic Car motor show that a rather inexplicable event occurred. Julian by this time had never felt better. He never mentioned his dreams and I felt him to have returned to his normal self.
We travelled down to the village of Beaulieu, which is situated in the South of England in an area known as the New Forest. Such is the anomaly of English place names; the forest itself is hardly ‘new’ as it was named thus some thousand years ago and been known ever since by that name. Beaulieu itself is a beautiful small village on the outskirts of the Forest and the home of the Beaulieu National Motor museum, well known to classic car collectors and motoring enthusiasts. Tourists love Beaulieu too for its traditional English look. The town has its share of New Forest ponies and donkeys that wander freely in the streets and have done so since ancient times. The swans too, waddle onto the village green when the lake is high. The ruins of the old Abbey loom as a dramatic backdrop to the tourist cars, which crawl through the narrow streets dodging the tourists and ponies alike as both wander aimlessly in the street. We come here at least once a year and stay at the Montague Arms Hotel in the village centre. It is always a pleasure to walk around Beaulieu, especially before the tourists start clogging the streets.
Having started the day with an excellent traditional English breakfast, with mushrooms picked that morning from the forest, we planned to arrive fifteen minutes earlier than the 11 am start of the show. Already the crowds were forming, and families poured from the vehicles into the wonderfully warm and sunny day of mid-autumn.
The National Motor museum holds many international events,