The Dreaming: Dark Star (Book 5)

2.2. Lucid (Old Shalon)

Not half an hour later, Michael and I were sitting around the fireplace at Bennie's, who'd been blinding drunk when we'd arrived, and was now in a drooling stupor, talking incoherently to himself in his dingy recliner. His sleeping corpse was covered in purring and sleepy cats, and there were many other cats hanging out around us, winding around our legs while deftly avoiding being trampled under our feet.

With Bennie out for the count, it felt like it was just Michael and me. There was an unmistakable feeling of nostalgia between us — that it really was like the good old days, when he was just a young boy and we'd go treasure hunting. We'd stayed with Bennie many a night during those times.

I frowned, thinking about the possibility that this might be our last night together. Tom was coming to pick him up any day, and there was nothing I could do about it. Without some LUCID. My only hope was to find a pill tomorrow or I would lose him for sure.

Michael pulled a big armchair up for me, and I was about to sit down when a big orange tabby jumped into the chair like we'd pulled it over for him. I tried to shoo the cat away, but he wasn't phased. I lifted my cane and still the cat didn't flinch.

"Bloody cat!" I picked him up by the mane and threw him on the floor — he hissed and ran away. "Yeah, that's right, boot scooty, kitty!"

Michael laughed, and sat on his stool.

I sat down in the armchair and immediately felt the warmth of the fireplace — it was a real treat — and I regretted not asking Michael to install a fireplace in my condo before... he leaves.

I felt a stab of guilt. If I'd truly cared about Michael, I would have moved out of my condo to live at his house out in Kerrisdale. He'd invited me there a few times over the years, saying I was getting too old to stay by myself, but I'd always shooed him away, unwilling to give up my independence.

In futility, I wondered if I should have moved in with him. Then maybe I wouldn't be losing him now? I had never truly invested in him, and so he hadn't invested me? It made sense, but it made my heart ache. It wasn't a good line of thinking, so I shut it down.

I watched Michael balancing precariously on two legs of his stool. "Is this your new performance art?" I teased.

"Nah, I'm just bored, waiting for you to tell me about why we're looking for this little blue pill?" he responded, and thumped back on all four legs, looking at me, his eyes sparkling in the fire light.

I nodded, and took up my cup of yarrow tea to sip, and told him the story of LUCID.

"LUCID was a pharmaceutical drug that was approved in 2024. In the early twenties it was just another anti-psychotic sleep aid showing promise with schizophrenia and bipolar mania, just one of hundreds of psychiatric treatment options. Over a period of twenty years, the rates of insomnia around the globe had increased to catastrophic proportions, causing a dramatic increase in mental health disorders like depression, addictions, anxiety, bipolar, and schizophrenia.

"There was a pharmaceutical race to develop a miracle pill that would either reduce your need for sleep and ensure a good night's sleep every time. It was considered the holy grail of health — the short, good night's sleep. By the late twenties, LUCID was identified as a small class of hallucenogens that induce REM."

Michael looked confused, like I was speaking Latin. "REM?" he asked?

"REM stands for Rapid-Eye-Movement; it happens when you're dreaming. Lucid makes you have more REM sleep, which is the deepest phase of sleep, and an essential part of sleep because it triggers your body to begin the healing process."