THE CASE OF BENNETT CAULDRIVER

by Eleanor Lockhart














CHAPTER ONE
Forward

This book is unfortunately not what I hoped it could be. Not long ago, I had a dream of writing a psycho-history of walking between worlds, a memorial to the experiences of my patients who were afflicted with this strange malady, their dreams of Cruxelath, the darkened realm of dreams that overlays our world. Once such an investigation would have justly invited the scorn of the entire scientific community, but the summer of the dream-sickness changed everything. But the revelations contained within these pages... to publish them scientifically, in details that I have learned from the man I refer to pseudonymously within these pages as Bennett Cauldriver, the architect of the dream-sickness as well as its destroyer... would risk another dreamwalker choosing to exploit this knowledge, and there is no guarantee that they would be as fortuitously conscience-stricken as Mr. Cauldriver.
With this grave responsibility in mind, I have published this electronically, and in a few print volumes distributed to those who prefer their occultic secrets on withering pages rather than the pale glow of an e-reader. What Bennett perpetuated must be known, but how he perpetuated it must remain a secret to all but a few. As you read these pages, I implore you to keep in mind the dangers of what I discovered during the summer when our nightmares became real - and if you ever find your way to Cruxelath, to appreciate its wonders, drink in its beauty, and leave when it is your time to go.
Judith Hitherberry,  PhD
City Hospital,  Director of Psychiatry
#
A Note to My Readers
This text is a highly unusual case of a psychiatric patient who consented to have his stories written in therapy shared publicly. His true name has been effaced, of course - and as you will see, it perhaps never really mattered. The descriptions of events from his point of view are his real words; originally, he typed these words in emails to me, or in a few cases even wrote them. I have changed them only where his occasional lack of sobriety has made them completely unreadable, as well as to conceal the identities of others who have not consented to participate in this account.
The other narrative contained here is the narrative I have reconstructed of Bennett's childhood. It is not a "factual" account, if such a thing is even possible; whether Bennett even originates from our world, or from cursed  Cruxelath, is a question I suspect we will never know the answer for. It is, however, based on information that I verified as I investigated the events that made me realize the importance of Bennett's case.
What I have not done is shared my own narrative. The methods through which I investigated Bennett's past involved linking his nightmarish fantasies with the experiences of the children who began to suffer the dream sickness - who were my original clients. These children, unlike Bennett, have done nothing to invite the public scrutiny that describing them would inevitably create, and for this reason, I simply ask the reader to trust me. This is one of many reasons why this text can never be formally published.
I certainly accept that publishing this text at all, even with Bennett's ostensible consent, is a violation of accepted therapeutic standards. I have already begun withdrawing from active participation in therapy, but I will defend the necessity of this action before medical licensing boards if I must. I hope that you all understand the importance that this story become known.














CHAPTER TWO
Prologue

If there's one thing that sets me apart from others whom I have encountered in my life, it is that I, in the words of Socrates, "know myself." Self-examination and self-critique have always been a way of life for me - more like a moral obligation, even. It's why I do the work that I do - very important, secret work, that I can't share much about even with a therapist. Work for my employer, whose name I'm sure you know [Dr. Hitherberry's annotation: it shouldn't really need to be stated that this is Erzvater Corporation, and I knew this from context even at this point in my correspondence with Bennett.], on addressing the energy crisis. I have sculpted and molded my life to serve humanity.
That's not to say that I don't have my flaws. I've often been cruel, even selfish. I just think it's important for you to know that I know enough about myself to know that serving others is my passion. The truth is that I'm not a very interesting person, whereas other people are... fascinating. Beautiful. I want to get lost in other people, sometimes. I guess ultimately, that's what this work is about.
#
So when did I first start having the dream sickness? I had heard about it, of course, about the children whose eyes were becoming dead as night, who screamed that there was something inside of them stealing their very souls. I was horrified, of course, but I didn't even think about the possibility that I could experience it. No adult ever does, after all, and I know it must seem insane that I would have it. You probably think that I'm just trying to get attention, trying to become a test case. I really need you to believe that that's not true. Like I said, I'm not very interesting, or important. I know I'm not interesting or important. Really, this whole situation has to be a result of whatever force is behind this sickness mistaking me for someone else. Someone like my friend Leah. Leah is perhaps the most beautiful person I've ever met, and I mean that in the sense of her soul, not her body - although she is gorgeous in every possible way.
Honestly, this is another part where you're probably not going to believe that I actually know this person. Leah - Leah A. Stewart - I say that name and you probably know who it is instantly. Neverwind. The name of her band makes me feel a chill, and I'm amazingly privileged to know her. It's so strange. I don't think I listened to music at all before I met Leah. I certainly had never listened to Neverwind, but I was in a coffee shop in the city on a break from work, back when I first started with... my employer.
#
She wasn't there to perform, or anything romantic and cliche like that. She was just there getting coffee like I was. But I could see this sensuality in how she moved, in how she picked up her cup. She didn't smile at me or anything dorky like that... the idea of her smiling at me would have frightened me, if it had even crossed my mind. It still kind of horrifies me that I know her - that she goes to get coffee with me every week now. Like, what about me is interesting enough to occupy her attention?
Anyway, I was drinking coffee and drawing some diagrams for the factories in my notebook, and there weren't many spots so she sat down next to me. I would never have started the conversation, or said the first word. But she did.
"Leah," she said.
"Bennett,"  I said, and I awkwardly reached out to shake her hand, then pulled it back because I couldn't bear to touch someone so beautiful. I'd defile her.
"Nice to meet you," she said. She didn't smile, again - I'm not sure Leah can smile. Certainly not at me. I don't want you to get the wrong idea about what kind of woman Leah is. She's not wonderful because she's sweet. Sometimes she's cold like ice. Other times, she's vulnerable, like a single, perfect leaf, in the wind, somehow resisting the autumn cold. And that's the kind of day it was - the beginning of autumn, with clouds above, the air cold for the first time in the year. She reached out her hand to shake, though... offering it to me, almost like a sacrifice. I didn't want to take it, but at the same time I did. I feel like I waited forever, but I think it was just a few seconds. At least I hope it was. I can't imagine what I'm like in her mind, but I don't want to seem that pathetic.
We shook. She looked down at my notebook, and she asked what I was working on. I told her a little bit, and mentioned my employers. [Bennett details things here, casually, which I dare not repeat; the details he mentioned about his work were what led me to take his account seriously, more than anything else.] I went on at length, a bore, like I always am; after a few moments, I realized this, and asked her what she did.
"I'm in the performing arts, I suppose," she said. Her voice, even just in every day speech, was amazingly crisp and yet pure. You really have to listen to a few Neverwind tracks to really get it - the heavy guitar ones but the slow ballads too. I've always hated the sound of my own voice; I would give almost anything to have been born with even the tiniest fraction of Leah's grace and elegance. I hadn't heard anything but her speaking to me softly, there in the darkened coffee shop, but already I was entranced.
"I've  always wanted to perform," I told her. "Never found anything I was really good at, though."
"It looks as if you do something really important," she said. She looked at my journal with what almost looked like admiration - but it couldn't possibly be. All I could think then was there you go, Bennett, you idiot - making it all about you again. After an awkward pause, I followed up -
"So... what kind of performing arts?" I already knew she was a singer. Her voice had told me that.
"I perform with a band called Neverwind," she said. The name didn't ring a bell - I don't know how. I mean, they're all over the charts, but in those days I just didn't pay any attention to music. "Anyway, it's been great meeting you! I actually have to go meet one of my bandmates." She looked up at a man entering the coffee shop. "Oh, he's here all ready! Seth! Seth, over here!" she beckoned to him.
Seth... I shouldn't hate Seth. The moment he entered that coffee shop I could see that he knew Leah in a way I never possibly could. Two ways, really - to perform with her had to be a kind of heaven on its own. But there was a warmth in his touch, and yet a cruelty to it, and I could see all of that from how he lightly touched her shoulder. But hate is all I can feel for him. This sounds terrible, too - I don't judge when people sleep with their coworkers, and I'm sure it happens all the time in the arts. What bothers me is that when I see them together, it's like he owns her. I... it's none of my business, but it's almost like he's taken an angel and chained her to the Earth.
If I were in his place, I would be no better.
"Seth, this is Bennett," Leah said to him. He extended his hand to shake, and I gladly took it. I grasped it with the enthusiasm and strength that I hoped signalled my hate. But we made eye contact, and that moment has lingered for me - because I could see in his eyes that he doesn't hate me. "Bennett is working on parallel worlds research!" Leah said. "I've really been hoping to learn more about it."
"It's fascinating stuff," Seth said. His voice was warm, and his response to my aggressive grip was a masculine, but secure, sort of reply. "If you can get that going, it'll really help solve the oil crisis for good."
"What do you say we meet with Bennett and he can tell us about it, sometime next week? Bennett, Seth and I have been talking about a parallel-worlds song for our new album. We don't normally get political, but it's a really important issue." Seth nodded, and I knew I should have said no - I'm under so many god damn NDAs, I could be fired for even what I'd already told her - but anything that meant I could see her again, even with him there...
"Of course!" I said. "Let me check my calendar -"
"I'll tell you what," Leah said. "I'll give you a call, ok?" She took out her phone, and asked for my number. I gave it to her.
"You a fan of ours?" Seth asked?
"You're... Neverwind?" I said. "It doesn't ring a bell. I have to be honest, I usually don't listen to music."
He nodded. "Should  check us out. I think we're decent." He grinned. I felt a hate for him, and it reminds me of something but I can't quite put my finger on what. Just like Leah does, but I have a better idea for her. She reminds me of what it was like when I was a kid.
Anyway, I'm getting off topic. Check out Neverwind, they're amazing. I went home, listened to their first album, The Boarded Up Window, which was the only one they had out there... I can't explain how deeply it touched me. It was like things that had been dead inside for years came alive, all of them deep in Seth's droning guitar and Leah's soaring voice...
Ah shit, I still haven't told you about the nightmares. Look, I'm really exhausted and I'm meeting some friends at the bar. I'll send you another email later. Thanks for your inquiry!

<<<<>>>>