The stranger (story) - Part 2

You really must start by reading the first part.

‘How… how did you know?’
The man ignored her question, looked her in the eye and asked in a low conspiratorial voice:
‘How long has it been?’
Since she was looking for Burt? Since she’d started hallucinating, as the unexpected turn of events seemed highly unlikely ? She decided for the only certainty she had at the moment.
‘I dreamed about him last Wednesday.’
The white-haired gentleman guffawed, almost chocking on his coffee.
‘That’s it? You only dreamed about Burt once?’
He looked outraged, but he made an effort not to raise his voice. He raised a hand instead and motioned to the waitress to get him another espresso.
‘I’ve made up my mind. I won’t be sleeping anymore’, he volunteered by way of explanation.
Since a bond of secrecy had been established between them, Maggie took the liberty of examining him closely.
There were dark circles under his sunken eyes and he seemed to have missed a button while putting on his shirt.
‘You also dreamed about Burt, I take it’, she ventured.
‘Every single night, for more than a month now’, the old man nodded dejectedly. ‘Every night I have to listen to him playing that damn saxophone. And he’s terrible, let me tell you’.
Since he’d found someone willing to hear him out, the gentlemen, who introduced himself as Gordon Baker, retired pharmacist and recent widower, began to pour his heart out. How he didn’t pay any attention the first time he met Burt,’just a weird dream, right’? Apparently, this upset Burt no end, so the next night and all those that followed he used every opportunity to admonish Mr. Gordon Baker.

‘It’s like I’m in this small place, a bar or a restaurant of sorts, and I’m alone at my table and Burt is playing right in front of me, which is horrible. Have you ever listened to a saxophone blasting in your ear? Anyway, he’s wearing this scarlet suit, all shiny, like it’s the 1930s and he’s struggling with this song I don’t know. I mean I didn’t know before, now it’s stuck in my brain no matter what I do. The point is he’s awful. I’m no music expert myself, but it’s downright ridiculous. You should see his fingers fumbling with the keys and sometimes the mouthpiece slips from his lips and he stops to wipe his mouth with a yellow handkerchief he then stuffs in his breast pocket. And when he’s done, he stares at me waiting for me to clap my hands. Some nights I do, some nights I don’t. I have no control over what I do in the dreams, but I can tell you its’ terrible when I don’t clap, because he then sits down next to me and he’s all sweaty, you know like someone who’s been running for ten miles, and he starts complaining I don’t understand him. You just don’t get it, he says and makes me feel bad. In the dream, I mean. If he were to come in right now, I’d break his neck and stuff that saxophone down his throat’.
This violent outburst left Maggie Calhoun speechless and wondering if they were talking about the same Burt. The stranger in her dream seemed such a gentle and lonesome man in need of a hug. Her Burt was a decent man, maybe he was right and this old man really didn’t get it. OK, this is ridiculous. Here I am arguing with a perfect stranger about a guy in a dream.
The pharmacist seemed to have calmed down and was now gulping down his scone, looking nervously around.
‘So what made you look for him here? They don’t do live music here’.
‘It’s the merengue. Last night, he was saying something about how much he loved that and this is the only place in town they serve them’, he replied quite pleased with his Sherlock Holmes abilities.
‘They stopped serving merengue three months ago’.
Mr. Baker shook his head incredulously, his trembling hand still stirring in the empty cup.
Maggie was beginning to think looking for this Burt might not be such a bright idea, but she felt sorry for the very disturbed gentleman.
‘You do realize this not sleeping anymore plan is unrealistic. Maybe we should join forces, fall asleep at the same time so he won’t know whose dream to haunt. If he gets confused he might stop altogether.’

(to be continued)

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