Dreamside - By Graham Joyce Page 0,14

handled and this will involve keeping diaries of your dream experiences, the introduction of certain exercises into your dreaming and the faithful participation in a weekly evening seminar, hopefully in more convivial surroundings than this, for the further discussion and exploration of your respective dream studies and experiences. Of course this will require a certain discipline, something which I find to be rather a dirty word amongst today's students."

Another snigger went around the room, but it was arrested at the boy sitting on Lee's immediate left, a dark-haired youth with deep-set eyes and a chinful of stubble. "How much will we be getting paid?" he demanded.

"A good question. Let's clear that up without further delay. And you are . . . ?"

"Brad," said the boy, rather taken aback at the professor's smiling response, "or rather Brad Cousins."

"Well now Brad, or rather Brad Cousins, we must get that matter straightened out before there is any confusion. I hope not to disillusion you by saying that there is no payment. No, on the contrary, the principle involved is similar to that of the donor system at the medical centre; only it's not your blood or your semen we are after, it's your dreams."

This time a laugh did a couple of circuits. Brad shrugged.

"For incentive," the old academic continued, "the departmental budget might be seen to extend to the provision of a glass of wine and a dice-shaped piece of cheese or two at our weekly gathering, and possibly even to an end of term dinner party; beyond that we offer but the thrill of the intellectual hunt, in the hopefully not vain speculation that Mr. Cousins and the rest of you will be stimulated and satisfied by this more metaphysical payoff."

"Glad I don't have to go to his fucking lectures," Cousins whispered at Lee.

Lee broke his gaze, which had hitherto been fixed on the tiny Himalaya of Ella Innes's kneecap. Ella's own attention was concentrated upon the professor, and her face had already assumed the irritating expression of the disciple at the feet of the avatar.

"Let's see what we've got," said the professor clasping his hands together and indicating the person on his right. "Let's go wither-shins—why do you think you are a lucid dreamer?"

Each person was invited to summarize their experiences. Lee was relieved that he was not obliged to go first. Most simply declared that they were often vaguely or partially aware while dreaming that they were in a dream state. One or two sometimes felt able to influence the direction their dreams were taking. Ella spectacularly declared that she had, on occasion, been clearly able to control the course of her dreams, but she was outdone by Brad's contribution, for it was Brad who asserted, almost with disdain, that he was sometimes able to reactivate a dream from a previous night.

"Like putting a tape into a cassette," said Burns.

"Almost," said Cousins.

"I think I'm probably a possible lucid dreamer, or perhaps a half-lucid dreamer," said the Irish girl.

"I think it probable that that's possibly enough for you to be of great interest to this company," Burns replied, with exaggerated gallantry.

When it was Lee's turn to speak, with all eyes sharply focused on him, he became acutely self-conscious. Ella leaned forward, her lips parted and her eyes expectant—a solicitous fascination she had offered to all contributions short and long but which touched him like acid on litmus. He parroted a few words stolen from one of the earlier speakers, unexciting remarks about occasional awareness. Ella fell back in her seat. Lee felt as though he'd had his testicles calibrated and was found lacking.

"But I do sometimes have premonitions," he almost shouted as an afterthought, hoping the lie would rekindle some interest. Lee glanced over at Ella. It had done the trick. She smiled at him briefly.

"A different matter," said the professor, "but one which I predict will be interesting to test."

"Would you mind if I talked to the chaplain before agreeing to go ahead with these experiments?" asked one girl. "Only I would like his reassurance that I'm not, you know, dabbling."

"Dabbling? Hmmm. Talk to the chaplain by all means; I'm sure he will let you dream with his blessing." The professor suppressed a smile. "Any further questions? None? Good. Start keeping a diary of your dreaming. I don't want you to do anything unusual, just make a daily record of the scenario and figures of your dreams. Concentrate on detail. I want no interpretation, thank you very much: Messrs Freud,