The Dream Bandit

by Jeevanjyoti Chakraborty

[box]A bandit who steals the dreams of people who lucid dream – a kind of dreaming where one retains significant control over the flow of the dream. Read on as Jeevanjyoti Chakraborty reveals who steals these dreams and why the bandit is up to it. Meet some interesting characters including Mr. Mann, a teacher of lucid dreaming, and his students Natasha, Robin and Bincuus along the way![/box]

“Mr. Mann, this is a really serious matter. The number of complaints about this

desperado is increasing every day…”

“But, I don’t get it, Ma’am. Why is it such a

serious issue that the Department of Cultural Affairs has to send agents to each and

every school and college? And why only these institutions… I mean, that guy could be

from any place…”

“We have evidence pointing to the fact that this person is a young

male. Collating reports of all recounted encounters, our analysts have estimated that

he is, in all probability, between fifteen and twenty-five…Moreover, we have

substantial…”

“Alright. I know the governmental analysts are never wrong but how do we

teachers come into the picture? What can we do to help?”

“Please do not interrupt

again when I am speaking! It is clear from your nonchalance that you are unaware of

the consequences of his actions. This desperado, or the Dream Bandit – as the media

has dubbed him – systematically robs people of their dreams. You know that much, I am

sure. However, that’s not the end of it. Once robbed, the continuity of lucid

dreaming gets broken. The victim cannot just continue from the last threads. He has

to start all over again from the very beginning. I believe that being a teacher of

lucid dreaming yourself you can very well appreciate the gravity of the situation.”

“What are you talking about?! Do you mean to say that after the bandit has robbed

just one dream, the victim has to relearn how to lucid dream again?”

“Yes.”

“But, if

the victim is beyond his/her teenage years that is extremely difficult to learn.”

“Exactly.”

“Wait a minute. This would imply that the control over the sub-conscious is

lost probably for ever. That is a direct blow to our basic life art system.

Our values of mental discipline and rigor… oh …”

“Hmm. You seem to have fathomed the

seriousness now. To stop this potential catastrophe, we need the help of all

personnel associated with dream training, including you. It is particularly relevant

to you because the highest number of complaints from any one city has come from this

one.”

“What should I do?”

“Scrutiny-level monitoring. Our analysts have already come

up with a profile. According to it, the ‘Dream Bandit’ must be an individual with an

off-the-charts ability for lucid dreaming. As such, the dream centers of his brain

would show an unusual level of activity during sleep. As part of the curriculum you

are already equipped with brain-activity probes. We need you to start the search

process with immediate effect to bring the culprit to light.”

“That should not be too

difficult.”

“One more thing. From the reported encounters we have learnt that the

bandit talks with a slight lisp. I hope to see results soon.”

“I will not disappoint

you, Ma’am. Thanks.”

“He just keeps staring like an idiot. Why doesn’t he just come up and ask me out.”

“Natasha, if you are so interested in Bincuus why don’t you ask him out? Anyway, I

don’t think he is ever going to muster the courage to speak to you. You know, you

being our super-star lucid dreamer and he… ”

“Tanya, he what?”

“Well, you know, he is

one of those people who cannot dream.”

“What? How can somebody not dream?!”

“Of course,

there are thousands of them out there. It may be difficult for you to understand but

it is true.”

“That is so sad – poor guy.”

“Well, you girls keep up with the silly talk.

That guy you think is so poor might not have to face the wrath of the ‘Dream Bandit’

after all.”

“Robin, you jerk. Just go away.”

“Natasha, don’t be so harsh on Robin. If I

hadn’t known you two, I would’ve never believed twin siblings could bicker like

this…”

“No, Tanya, he is just jealous that I am better than him at lucid dreaming. He

is never going to catch up with me.”

“Oh, come on. I wonder what is taking Mr. Mann so

long today. He is never late for class.”

never going to catch up with me.”

“Oh, come on. I wonder what is taking Mr. Mann so

long today. He is never late for class.”

“Sorry, students! I was just setting up the

probes for a quantitative estimation of your dream center activities. Let’s get done

with the attendance quickly.”

T

he attendance was taken, and then..

….………………………………………………………………………………………

“Well, class!

That was your first session with the probes. There will be a few more in the coming

days. Now, for the results! Here, Natasha, tops the list. Followed closely by Robin.

Then, we have…”

Later, while returning home. Mr. Mann thought to himself: “It can’t be Natasha. The

analysts are never wrong. Has to be a boy. Could be her brother, Robin… hmm. But that

is just a hunch. I need solid evidentiary proof. These are my students after all…”

Sitting on the trans-commute, his reverie was disturbed by the sudden movements of a

toddler struggling in the lap of his mother seated opposite him. He had seen her

often on the trans-commute with her baby. The child was frantically trying to grab

something in the air. He would soon start going to school.

He went back to his

thoughts. He couldn’t really say whether Natasha and Robin’s records were off the

charts. But they were exceptionally high. Years of mental discipline had made him a

master at channeling his abstractions and half-baked ideas into concrete shapes. Yet,

beyond the flood of ambivalence and doubts, there was another thought – not even a

full-fledged thought, but a cold, sinking feeling, nagging at some recess of his

brain like a lodged splinter that he just couldn’t lay a finger on.

“I need to sleep

over this.”

He met her in a room flooded with white light. Two files on the table.

“Ma’am. I am

not too sure about this.”

“Just tell me what you have.”

“Yes. I have scrutinized the

brain activity probes…”

“And?”

“Well… it’s hard to say…”

He could hear the sad echoes of his students’ laments: “You wouldn’t do that to us,

Sir! You wouldn’t… you wouldn’t…” He needed to get away from her. Out of the room.

The white light was blinding him.

“Excuse me, Ma’am.”

Without waiting for her reply,

he grabbed the door handle and pulled himself out. The echoes died away. The blinding

white light disappeared. It was a jungle under the full moon. It was the bandit’s

backyard. Was he trapped? No, he could still turn the door handle. The reins of his

sense. And his control. Where was he?

“Looking for me?!”

“Yes. Y-Y-You look like

Robin…”

“Yesh. Yesh. Yesh. Jusht like Robin Hood! I am here. Preshent, Shir!”

The

nagging splinter came off. The knot had slipped open. He found the attendance

register in his hand. A smile of relief spread across the sleeping face of Mr. Mann.

He turned the door handle, went back into the white light. Soft and milky. Echoes of

“You found him, Sir! You found him!”

“I will have the file prepared for you day-after

-tomorrow. You won’t need these two.” He threw the two files into the dustbin.

“I don’t understand why Sir suddenly stopped the probe sessions. I could have beaten

you next time.”

“Don’t get so jealous, Robin.”

“Oh, hey you two! Did you hear that

Bincuus has been detained.”

“Yeah, probably Sir wants to give him some special tips to

help him start dreaming.”

“So, Bincuus, how do you do it?”

“Ish that what you really want to ashk me, Shir?”

“No,

son. Not really. Why? Why do you do it?”

“You know the anshwer, Shir. You taught ush

that.”

“Don’t play with me, boy.”

“Lushid dreaming is fundamentally an art for mental peashe. For happinessh and

pleashure. To overcome our fearshs…”

“I know all that…”

“And yet, it has been

dishtorted. Dishtorted away from itsh prime goal. Exploited beyond measure in the

sho-called name of unleashing the shub-conshious. You shleep and shtill you work! You

work the entire day. And then, you work away at your doubtsh and dilemmash in your

shleep. You don’t jusht shink in and let them wash over you. You are too afraid to

relinquish control. You have to have the reinsh alwaysh. Even in your shleep.”

“So

what’s wrong with having control?”

“Not much actually. Ash long ash it wash just that.

But, the Cultural Minishtry hash taken thish farche a shtep further. According to

their regulationsh, people musht dream and not jusht dream but lushid dream. And

then, follow thoshe dreams in real life. Thish ish not only a shkewed existenshe but

outright unnatural. It sheems to me that people jusht plan during shleep and

exshecute them while awake. The innoshenshe of dreamsh hash been losht. The prishtine

beauty of the unknown shub-conshious reduced to an ugly trampled-upon muddy alley.”

“You can speak quite a mouthful for a youngster. But, what’s wrong with all this? We

seem to be doing fine – you have to admit that. Look at what our society has achieved

through mental discipline. By channeling our subconscious. We are precise, accurate

and efficient. We expect what we can achieve. We do what we are optimally capable of

doing.”

“Yes. Exactly. Jusht like a wound up toy.”

“Be careful with what you say next.

In any case, I am reporting you to the Cultural Ministry.”

“Tell me when did you lasht

dream?”

“Last night.”

“No you weren’t dreaming lasht night. I wash there.”

“Whoa…

what?!! You were not part of my dream? You came there?”

“Yesh.”

“But, then, I was

dreaming.”

“No you weren’t actually ‘dreaming’ in the real sense! You were jusht

trying to sholve the myshtery of the bandit.”

“So, why did you help me?! You could’ve

also stolen my dream. W-W-What are you trying to do? ”

“Jusht trying to make you realishe that what you are teaching ish wrong and

unnatural…”

“Now, don’t expect me to join your bandwagon against lucid dreaming. It’s

my livelihood, you know.”

“Oh no! I don’t want you to shtop. That’sh why I didn’t

shteal your dream. But I want you to help everyone learn how to really dream again.

To really shleep as nature intendsh ush to. To dream unbridled. On wingsh of Hope.

Floating on clouds. Shwimming among the shtars. Reach out and grab the imposshible.

Dream what the conshcious mind would never imagine. Illogical and beautiful.”

“Illogical and beautiful, huh?”

“There ish a pretty shtraightforward logic behind

thish actually, Shir.”

“Kindly enlighten me.”

“You may be efficient. But, you could be

better. However, without really dreaming you have shtagnated. It’sh only a matter of

time before the downhill acceleration to a rotten shociety shtarts.”

“One last thing.

Your dream center activity was virtually nil during the probe session. I mean yours

should have been off the charts… I don’t understand”

“I don’t shleep when I do what I

do.”

On the trans-commute, the baby was again struggling in his mother’s lap.

Frantically, trying to grab something, yet again. The conversation with Bincuus had

left Mr. Mann shorn of the invisible crust he had baked himself into after a life

time of cold, deliberate, conscious thinking. He felt the thrilling jab of a virgin

irrational curiosity, and following the baby’s gleeful gaze he looked out of the

window. The full moon had just started waning.

Pic : creative sam – http://www.flickr.com/photos/asam/

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