Past Imperfect

Eyran could only just make out the brook in the darkness of the copse at first. A faint mist lingered across its surface. He moved forward cautiously, a figure on the far side becoming gradually clearer as he got closer. It wasn't Sarah or Daniel, it was a boy of about his age that he hadn't seen before, though the trees and mist cast a shadow over part of his face, so he couldn't be sure. He knew that the boy had seen him because he waved and called out to Eyran, his voice echoing slightly across the water.

'Who are you?' Eyran asked. 'I haven't seen you here before.'

'Yes I know, I don't normally come here. But we have met before, don't you remember?'

Eyran looked hard into the face. It was still indistinct. He felt suddenly uncomfortable admitting that he couldn't remember, the boy seemed so certain they had met before. 'It's the mist… I can't see very clearly across the brook.'

'Then you should come over this side with me.'

Eyran peered through the mist, but as part of it cleared, the expanse of water between them appeared to be much wider, a dark and fathomless lake. All the familiar landmarks of the brook were now far away, out of reach across the murky depths. 'I'm looking for my parents,' Eyran said. 'My father was here earlier. Have you seen him?'

'No, I haven't. I lost my parents as well. Though it was many years ago — I can hardly remember it now.'

Eyran tried hard to make out the boy's features, tried to remember him, but the shadow across his face and the mist of the lake robbed him of any chance of recognition. 'What's your name?'

'Gigio.' Though the faint echo that came across the lake sounded more like 'Jojo' to Eyran. The boy looked straight across for a moment in silence. The air was cold, his breath misty. 'You don't remember me, do you?'

Eyran could see a tear on the boy's cheek, though Eyran couldn't believe he was that upset at not being remembered, it must have been the memory of losing his parents. Which reminded Eyran again why he'd returned to the brook. 'I must find my father. He was here only a short while ago.'

'I told you, you won't find him over that side. If you cross over, I'll help you find him.'

Eyran looked down and across the water. It was jet black, murky. He felt afraid of what might lie beneath the surface, imagining water snakes and all manner of creatures, tree roots like tentacles trapping him and dragging him down, thick mud and slime like quicksand. Cold with fear, he shook his head hastily. 'No I can't come over there. It's too dangerous.'

The boy smiled warmly, raising one arm, beckoning. 'But you must come over. Otherwise you will never find your father.'

Eyran closed his eyes, steeling himself against what he knew he had to do, feeling the cold of the water as first he put his feet in. He stopped for a second, looking imploringly across to the boy. 'Are you sure? Are you sure I have to do this?'

The boy was now openly crying. 'I can't promise you'll find your father, Eyran — I looked for my parents and never found them. But I had to be on this side of the lake, and you belong here with me. Then at least if you don't find them, you're not alone.'

'But I must find them,' Eyran pleaded.

'I know, I know. I'll help you. If they are here, we'll find them, don't worry.'

Eyran waded slowly deeper, trying to walk as far as he could before swimming. The cold of the water penetrated deep into his body as it came up above his waist. The mist was moving on the surface of the water, partly obscuring the boy on the far side, then clearing. As the water came up to his chest, Eyran started swimming. The mist became denser towards the centre of the lake and Eyran lost sight of the boy completely for a while — then suddenly he was there again. But he still appeared the same distance away. Eyran didn't feel that he was getting any closer, or perhaps he was losing direction with the mist. Fixing the boy's position when it cleared, Eyran tried to make sure that he stayed swimming in a direct line. During the blind periods he was never sure, and when it cleared again the boy still seemed to be the same distance away. He started to despair and called out, 'Jojo,' seeing clearly the boy's re-assuring smile and his beckoning wave before his figure was swallowed up once more in the mist.

At that moment he was conscious of the weight in his legs, thick clinging mud and tree roots pulling at his ankles, holding him back. Or perhaps they had been there all along, which was why he hadn't been getting any closer. He fought to break free, but the roots slowly raised like tentacles higher up his legs — pulling at him harder. In blind panic he screamed Jojo's name again, the roots dragging him inexorably downward as he struggled vainly to raise his head… the first icy water filling his mouth.

'Break away!..'

He fought hard, thrashing out with his arms, coughing and spluttering as his lungs began to fill, but the grip of the tree roots on his legs was impossible to break.

He felt tricked, cheated by the boy, led into the cold depths of the lake to die. But as he slid deeper into the watery blackness, the vision of Jojo stayed with him, still smiling re-assuringly and beckoning, reaching out a hand towards him…

'Slipping deeper… I….. I….'

'Break away…. Break away!.. '

'…I… Can't breathe… can't…'

'Eyran!.. Eyran!.. Break away…'

The rapid pulsing beneath Eyran's eyelids slowly settled. His tortured breathing eased.

Lambourne's mouth was dry, a film of sweat on his forehead. He cursed himself: he should have seen it coming! Cut everything short as soon as Eyran started wading into the pond. He could feel his nerves still racing. He waited a few seconds more, watching each beat of Eyran's slowly settling expression.

He swallowed slowly. 'So. Outside of the dreams, when you're awake — has Jojo ever spoken to you?' Switch to generalities, thought Lambourne. Avoid specifics.

Eyran's brow knitted slightly; obviously he found it an odd question. 'No.'

'And how do you feel immediately after waking from the dreams? Are you able to believe just for a moment that your parents might be alive?'

Long pause from Eyran. 'I don't know. Just confused, I suppose. And afraid.'

But Lambourne could tell that Eyran was holding back. 'Yet they're enough to convince you that the next time Jojo might succeed and catch up with your parents. You're willing to trade that for the horrors the dreams might bring.'

Eyran shook his head. 'I don't know. When they start, I don't seem to think about how they might end. I'm just happy that for a few moments I'm somewhere where I might see my parents again.'

'But do you consciously welcome them — knowing that you might see your parents?'

'I don't know. No, I don't think so.'

Lambourne eased back. It was the closest he was likely to get. 'Do most of your dreams occur by the old house in England?'

Eyran took a second to catch up with the shift in questioning. 'Yes.'

'Do you know why?'

Eyran paused; as if for a moment unsure whether the question was rhetorical and Lambourne would suddenly answer. 'I'm not sure. Perhaps in the dreams that's where I think I have most chance of finding them. Or perhaps I don't think I can do it alone, I need Jojo's help — and I know I can find him there.'

'Are your memories of that particular house stronger than your other house in San Diego? Is that where you recall your happiest times — with your parents, with your friends?'

Eyran's expression relaxed. Lambourne watched the self-realization sweep slowly across; at least one small piece of the puzzle had slotted in place. 'Yes, I suppose so. I was happier there.'

Lambourne made a final note: Main object attachments: Father, mother, house in England, old play areas, old friends (possibly now represented through Jojo), house in San Diego. Quick distillation from the sessions so far; he might change the order later and add to the list, but it was a start.

The session had taken an hour and ten minutes. When he went into the waiting area with Eyran, Stuart and