12 07 The Sleeping by L. Sydney Abel

Author:L. Sydney Abel [Abel, L. Sydney]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Speaking Volumes
Published: 2015-07-06T22:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWENTY

Lance hadn’t the slightest experience of evaluating dreams about death. But he figured that Mr. Green had, and that he would be delighted to explain this one. If he had to be truly honest, he would have to be on the side of Mr. Green. Seeing the man’s soul imprisoned in a glass box, and imprisoned in a world of just black, gave him sympathy for the old man.

He gave extensive thought towards his sudden kindness. But when the sympathetic is in danger of one’s soul being in the same environment as the soul he’d just seen, then just how sympathetic should one be? It was all becoming too difficult to translate, and yet here he was trying to do just that. The more he troubled himself with this quantum problem, the more he lost elucidation of all events. He couldn’t kill Mr. Green because Mr. Green was already dead, and if he killed this incarnation, then The Sleeping would just simply materialise Mr. Green again. There really was no answer other than to stop being sympathetic at the cost of one’s own life. Sister Miriam would help, he was sure of it.

After getting showered, Lance climbed under the duvet in the spare bedroom. His mind—as it often did—floated towards Imogen.

It had been the first time he’d seen her out of work hours, and to be honest, he wished he’d been alone with her. He couldn’t help feel that her friend Stephanie was cold towards him. There was only one reason for her unfriendliness towards him, and that was she knew about the filing routine and didn’t approve. And that meant she had feelings for Imogen and wanted her to herself. He’d been blind. When he’d seen them holding hands, it had never occurred to him that Imogen might be bisexual. Stephanie—he guessed—was at the end of her sexual line and furthest away from the island, and possibly always had been.

Lance had full understanding of the sexual line. At one end you had the homosexual and at the other the heterosexual—the heterosexuals were on an island, only joined to the line by a bridge. To travel was to cross the bridge by accepting your homosexual feelings—no matter how small. Leaving the island was termed ‘to travel’, in his university understanding. That’s accurate in its accepting. But the difficulty is in the understanding of every other point on the line. And the line was a long one with many, many variations of sexuality, all leading to the individual you. He always tried to pin-point where on the line he would be, if he had to evaluate his own sexuality. He was biased; of course he was, given the fact that he had always portrayed himself as straight. He preferred to stay on the island where all hot-blooded men are. Basically because his love—foremost—was for women. He’d heard professors at university say that to see the world you had to travel—those professors were obviously travellers.

Stephanie’s looks for example, could be tricky. She was very pretty and was as feminine as you would expect any good-looking woman to be.

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