What is it I am actually dreaming about when I dream of the end of the world? Sometimes these visions in my head are so real, I think they’re actually predictions. That what I’m enduring is the way it’s going to end for everybody. But then the apocalypse in my dreams unfolds in such different ways: sometimes whatever it is comes from above and sometimes it’s from below. Sometimes I imagine there are missiles raining down on me, other times I think it’s a huge asteroid. So am I actually seeing anything? Are these dreams just random nothings that I should really try to forget?
At therapy tonight, after we had talked seemingly endlessly about Alison, Louise asked if I was still having my dreams. I was forced to concede that yes I am, and that yes they are still bothering me. She told me that to her they sound like paranoia, some innate fear that I’m suppressing. In her softest voice she asked me what I thought that might be, and I told her I have no idea. My words spewed out so fast as I tried to remind her of the things I’ve seen in my dreams that I later saw in real life, but she clearly thinks that’s just my imagination going wild. My homework, she told me, is to work out what it is really frightens me.
Homework? I’m not still at fucking school.
Monday, 30 January 2012
Sunday, 29 January 2012
Sunday, 29th of January
On Friday I emailed Julie to let her know about my strange phone conversation with Alison. Of course the email was far too blunt a tool for us to discuss it properly (particularly with me needing to catch up with work as well). I was unable to answer all the questions she asked (although, really, like I have the answers to all the questions she asked). As such we went out for a coffee yesterday afternoon to talk about it properly, but when we met we decided to make it drinks instead and managed to keep it going most of the evening.
In detail I told her what happened. She asked me all the questions which have been bubbling around my brain: What? Why? How come?
I was unable to answer any of them.
After about two drinks we started to talk about Alison herself.
“She was always someone who had secrets,” Julie told me. “Did you notice that?”
Julie is short and thin, with an angular but pretty face and librarian glasses. When she holds a problem up to the light, it’s as if she’s really examining it, giving it all her mind’s attention.
“I didn’t know her as long as you did,” I told her.
“No, you didn’t,” she stared at me thoughtfully. “And that’s an odd thing too, as the last boyfriend she introduced to me – well, they seemed almost at the point of getting engaged. She’d got that far into the relationship before she bothered to introduce him to her friends. And yet you, well, she introduced you almost at the start. I thought she must really, really like you.”
“What happened to that boyfriend?”
She shrugged. “They broke up not long after. Maybe he just wasn’t ready for an engagement.”
Another couple of drinks:
“I thought she was such a good mate,” Julie was tipsier now. “I really thought Alison was someone I could rely on, that I could really trust. And now this. I feel so cut off, so let down. I just don’t understand it.”
She stared at me and then reached across the table to clutch my hand.
“You must be gutted?” her voice was rich with emotion.
“I’ve felt better,” I told her, holding her fingers tight. “I just wish we could have talked about whatever was going on. I wished she’d confided in me, so I knew where I fucking stood.”
“Yeah you don’t want to ask that Katie bitch,” she let go of my hand to pick up her glass. “She thinks that just because she shagged that rock star that she’s all that!”
Another couple and we were both quite pissed:
“You’re a nice guy,” she said, “you seem reliable.”
“Thank you. You’re nice too.”
I’m not sure if she even heard me. “I never go out with nice guys. I never go out with reliable guys. I only go out with total dicks. It’s my friends I rely on to be reliable, and now they don’t seem reliable either.”
For a moment I thought she was going to burst into tears, but instead she just picked up her pint and knocked back half a glass and smiled at me.
We kissed at the end of the night. I waited for her outside the pub as she’d gone to the loo and when she emerged we kind of fell into each other’s arms. I don’t know if it was really a sexual thing, or we just needed to share some intimacy. But it felt good standing there on the South Bank holding her tight and feeling her lips on mine.
At the end she told me to call her.
I think I will.
In detail I told her what happened. She asked me all the questions which have been bubbling around my brain: What? Why? How come?
I was unable to answer any of them.
After about two drinks we started to talk about Alison herself.
“She was always someone who had secrets,” Julie told me. “Did you notice that?”
Julie is short and thin, with an angular but pretty face and librarian glasses. When she holds a problem up to the light, it’s as if she’s really examining it, giving it all her mind’s attention.
“I didn’t know her as long as you did,” I told her.
“No, you didn’t,” she stared at me thoughtfully. “And that’s an odd thing too, as the last boyfriend she introduced to me – well, they seemed almost at the point of getting engaged. She’d got that far into the relationship before she bothered to introduce him to her friends. And yet you, well, she introduced you almost at the start. I thought she must really, really like you.”
“What happened to that boyfriend?”
She shrugged. “They broke up not long after. Maybe he just wasn’t ready for an engagement.”
Another couple of drinks:
“I thought she was such a good mate,” Julie was tipsier now. “I really thought Alison was someone I could rely on, that I could really trust. And now this. I feel so cut off, so let down. I just don’t understand it.”
She stared at me and then reached across the table to clutch my hand.
“You must be gutted?” her voice was rich with emotion.
“I’ve felt better,” I told her, holding her fingers tight. “I just wish we could have talked about whatever was going on. I wished she’d confided in me, so I knew where I fucking stood.”
“Yeah you don’t want to ask that Katie bitch,” she let go of my hand to pick up her glass. “She thinks that just because she shagged that rock star that she’s all that!”
Another couple and we were both quite pissed:
“You’re a nice guy,” she said, “you seem reliable.”
“Thank you. You’re nice too.”
I’m not sure if she even heard me. “I never go out with nice guys. I never go out with reliable guys. I only go out with total dicks. It’s my friends I rely on to be reliable, and now they don’t seem reliable either.”
For a moment I thought she was going to burst into tears, but instead she just picked up her pint and knocked back half a glass and smiled at me.
We kissed at the end of the night. I waited for her outside the pub as she’d gone to the loo and when she emerged we kind of fell into each other’s arms. I don’t know if it was really a sexual thing, or we just needed to share some intimacy. But it felt good standing there on the South Bank holding her tight and feeling her lips on mine.
At the end she told me to call her.
I think I will.
Friday, 27th January
How could she just be there on the phone?
Where was she speaking from?
Why wouldn’t she tell me where she was?
Basically, what the fuck is going on?
All these questions are whirring through my head and I really have no idea how I’m supposed to get answers to them. Until Alison appears, who can I ask? I don’t want to go back and see Katie, as why would she tell me? She put me in touch with Alison, what more can I expect her to do?
No, all I can tell myself is to take the reassurance that she’s still okay. And from there, if I want to accept that I’m a single man again, that’s apparently fine.
I just wish I understood better what was going on.
Where was she speaking from?
Why wouldn’t she tell me where she was?
Basically, what the fuck is going on?
All these questions are whirring through my head and I really have no idea how I’m supposed to get answers to them. Until Alison appears, who can I ask? I don’t want to go back and see Katie, as why would she tell me? She put me in touch with Alison, what more can I expect her to do?
No, all I can tell myself is to take the reassurance that she’s still okay. And from there, if I want to accept that I’m a single man again, that’s apparently fine.
I just wish I understood better what was going on.
Saturday, 28 January 2012
January the 26th, 2012
Here’s a strange tale. One I’m still working through my mind. Certainly I have some resolution now, and yet in my head it doesn’t feel like anything’s resolved. It all too weird, seems too odd, it still feels too strange and uncanny to be fathomable.
I was outside the Icarus Gym at dawn today. The sun was just peeking over the rooftops as I arrived. This time I wasn’t going to fail, today I’d succeed.
Obviously I didn’t march up to the door again, instead taking my place at the corner. It occurred to me that as hard as I’d stared yesterday, I hadn’t stared hard enough. After all this is a girl I met once while quite dunk, I couldn’t just dismiss the figures coming in or out because a bulky coat made this woman seem too wide or heels made that woman seem too tall. This time I’d scrutinise them as best as I could – even leaving my corner so I could walk past them and see them up close.
(Before anyone says anything, I know this is odd. I know it’s stalker-like behaviour. I make no apology for my actions though. I needed to get answers.)
How long was I there for? I don’t know, maybe about two hours. Two hours that were crammed full of long tedious seconds, and moments of elation when I thought that must be, has to be her. I was disappointed numerous times, and then I wasn’t.
Suddenly there she was. She was walking down from the other end of the road in a long red, elegant coat. I’d seen her yesterday, I could remember her now – seeing that coat come out of the door and then turn the other direction without me getting chance to look at her face. Somehow I’d remembered her with wider hips and altogether squatter, but today she seemed tall and elegant – with a model’s gait and cheekbones most women would kill close friends for (even if her frizzy hair mitigated her glamour somewhat).
I dashed from the corner, restraining myself from actually running across the road at her. The purpose of all this was to get information, not scare the hell out of my girlfriend’s friend. She was talking on her mobile, chatting away when suddenly I appeared in a rush in front of her.
Such was the adrenalin pumping through me I couldn’t help blurting out, even though she was still on the phone: “Hey! Have you heard from Alison?”
There was a moment when she stared at me a little baffled, her wide brown eyes registering surprise but no shock (she’s far more attractive than I remember), before she gave a reply which astounded me:
“Yes, I’m speaking to her now.”
I think my mouth must have hung open for a minute or so, but it can’t have been that long as she calmly took the phone from her ear and handed it over to me.
“Would you like to speak to her?” she asked.
My fingers were shaking as I reached out for her mobile, and I was trembling all over by the time it got to my ear. She just watched me with knowing amusement, as if this was just an average day for her, like it was just a simple and harmless prank she was playing.
“Hello? Alison?”
The line was really crackly, and her voice when it came was so distant – like she was speaking ten foot from the phone – but I could tell she knew who it was. “Hey, you!”
“Hi, how are you?”
(The dialogue does get thin at this point, but I was too stunned to think of anything meaningful to say.)
“I know you’ve been worried about me,” her voice sounding so far away “but all is fine. Tell anyone who asks that all is fine. I’ll be in touch soon.”
“Where are you, Alison?”
“I’ll be in touch soon,” she said. “We can talk about everything and talk about us. I’ll understand if you want to think we’re on a break for now.”
“Where are you?” I asked again.
But she had her own sentence to repeat. “I’ll be in touch soon.” there was a crackled pause. “Can you pass me back to Katie please?”
Numbly and with my hand still shaking I passed the phone over to Alison’s friend.
Katie smiled at me – a sympathetic smile perhaps, and then resumed her conversation, skipping past me on the pavement and heading up the steps to the gym.
And I was left stood there in the road with my head zooming around the ether, having no idea what was going on or what had just happened.
I went home and lay down for the rest of the day.
I was outside the Icarus Gym at dawn today. The sun was just peeking over the rooftops as I arrived. This time I wasn’t going to fail, today I’d succeed.
Obviously I didn’t march up to the door again, instead taking my place at the corner. It occurred to me that as hard as I’d stared yesterday, I hadn’t stared hard enough. After all this is a girl I met once while quite dunk, I couldn’t just dismiss the figures coming in or out because a bulky coat made this woman seem too wide or heels made that woman seem too tall. This time I’d scrutinise them as best as I could – even leaving my corner so I could walk past them and see them up close.
(Before anyone says anything, I know this is odd. I know it’s stalker-like behaviour. I make no apology for my actions though. I needed to get answers.)
How long was I there for? I don’t know, maybe about two hours. Two hours that were crammed full of long tedious seconds, and moments of elation when I thought that must be, has to be her. I was disappointed numerous times, and then I wasn’t.
Suddenly there she was. She was walking down from the other end of the road in a long red, elegant coat. I’d seen her yesterday, I could remember her now – seeing that coat come out of the door and then turn the other direction without me getting chance to look at her face. Somehow I’d remembered her with wider hips and altogether squatter, but today she seemed tall and elegant – with a model’s gait and cheekbones most women would kill close friends for (even if her frizzy hair mitigated her glamour somewhat).
I dashed from the corner, restraining myself from actually running across the road at her. The purpose of all this was to get information, not scare the hell out of my girlfriend’s friend. She was talking on her mobile, chatting away when suddenly I appeared in a rush in front of her.
Such was the adrenalin pumping through me I couldn’t help blurting out, even though she was still on the phone: “Hey! Have you heard from Alison?”
There was a moment when she stared at me a little baffled, her wide brown eyes registering surprise but no shock (she’s far more attractive than I remember), before she gave a reply which astounded me:
“Yes, I’m speaking to her now.”
I think my mouth must have hung open for a minute or so, but it can’t have been that long as she calmly took the phone from her ear and handed it over to me.
“Would you like to speak to her?” she asked.
My fingers were shaking as I reached out for her mobile, and I was trembling all over by the time it got to my ear. She just watched me with knowing amusement, as if this was just an average day for her, like it was just a simple and harmless prank she was playing.
“Hello? Alison?”
The line was really crackly, and her voice when it came was so distant – like she was speaking ten foot from the phone – but I could tell she knew who it was. “Hey, you!”
“Hi, how are you?”
(The dialogue does get thin at this point, but I was too stunned to think of anything meaningful to say.)
“I know you’ve been worried about me,” her voice sounding so far away “but all is fine. Tell anyone who asks that all is fine. I’ll be in touch soon.”
“Where are you, Alison?”
“I’ll be in touch soon,” she said. “We can talk about everything and talk about us. I’ll understand if you want to think we’re on a break for now.”
“Where are you?” I asked again.
But she had her own sentence to repeat. “I’ll be in touch soon.” there was a crackled pause. “Can you pass me back to Katie please?”
Numbly and with my hand still shaking I passed the phone over to Alison’s friend.
Katie smiled at me – a sympathetic smile perhaps, and then resumed her conversation, skipping past me on the pavement and heading up the steps to the gym.
And I was left stood there in the road with my head zooming around the ether, having no idea what was going on or what had just happened.
I went home and lay down for the rest of the day.
Wednesday, 25 January 2012
January the 25th, 2012
Well I tried and failed today – but surprisingly I’m not down-hearted, I haven’t given up. I know where she works and I’m on the right track, I just need to be patient now. That’s been a problem for a large part of my life, I’m just too impatient. I don’t see things through properly. I’ll keep going now though.
The Icarus Gym is tucked away in a stately street, just off Piccadilly (very Bertie Wooster territory). I’d printed out the address, but even then I had to take a moment outside to convince myself I had the right place. This is such an exclusive gym that it doesn’t need to advertise itself to the world (thinking about it, I’m amazed they have any kind website). The marble facade and simple plaque on the door are discretion itself, it could be any high-scale private client law-firm, or upmarket doctor.
Nervously I climbed the steps and had my one moment of luck. The door opened and an overweight gentleman in a really good suit came out (he had a goatee and a fixed stare, so I put him down as some kind of wannnabe obligach). Rather than stand on the street, pressing the intercom, trying to explain to some disembodied voice what I wanted, I was able to just catch the door and go in.
The receptionist stared up at me a little nonplussed – people don’t just walk in there from the street – but she managed a smile.
“Can I help you?” she asked.
“Yes, I’m here to see Katie Price.”
Her eyebrow raised. “And do you have an appointment?”
“Not as such,” I started to say.
She cut me off, her tone suddenly like ice.
“Are you a member, sir?” she demanded.
“Well the thing is...”
She repeated her question, harder and colder than before.
“No, not as such.” I was forced to concede.
Her face had changed so much that it looked inconceivable she could even wear a smile.
“I’m afraid this gym is only for members, sir, so I will have to ask you to leave. I can explain the membership requirements to you if you like, but I can only do it over the phone.”
“Look I only need to see her for five minutes.”
“No, sir. This gym is only for members.”
There was no point continuing the debate. Her entire demeanour was such that to prolong it for even a matter of seconds would clearly see a man with more muscles than I could possibly imagine come out and escort me from the premises.
My tail tucked away between my legs, I went.
I must admit that there was a brief moment of depression when I re-emerged onto the street, but it passed. Before yesterday I had nothing, but now I had the full name and work address of one of Alison’s friends. What did it matter if I couldn’t see her actually within the gym? She’d have to come out some time.
Except she didn’t. I stood hidden away at a corner – stamping my feet to keep warm this cold January day – but she never appeared. Somehow I missed her, I don’t understand how that happened.
I’ll be back tomorrow though.
The Icarus Gym is tucked away in a stately street, just off Piccadilly (very Bertie Wooster territory). I’d printed out the address, but even then I had to take a moment outside to convince myself I had the right place. This is such an exclusive gym that it doesn’t need to advertise itself to the world (thinking about it, I’m amazed they have any kind website). The marble facade and simple plaque on the door are discretion itself, it could be any high-scale private client law-firm, or upmarket doctor.
Nervously I climbed the steps and had my one moment of luck. The door opened and an overweight gentleman in a really good suit came out (he had a goatee and a fixed stare, so I put him down as some kind of wannnabe obligach). Rather than stand on the street, pressing the intercom, trying to explain to some disembodied voice what I wanted, I was able to just catch the door and go in.
The receptionist stared up at me a little nonplussed – people don’t just walk in there from the street – but she managed a smile.
“Can I help you?” she asked.
“Yes, I’m here to see Katie Price.”
Her eyebrow raised. “And do you have an appointment?”
“Not as such,” I started to say.
She cut me off, her tone suddenly like ice.
“Are you a member, sir?” she demanded.
“Well the thing is...”
She repeated her question, harder and colder than before.
“No, not as such.” I was forced to concede.
Her face had changed so much that it looked inconceivable she could even wear a smile.
“I’m afraid this gym is only for members, sir, so I will have to ask you to leave. I can explain the membership requirements to you if you like, but I can only do it over the phone.”
“Look I only need to see her for five minutes.”
“No, sir. This gym is only for members.”
There was no point continuing the debate. Her entire demeanour was such that to prolong it for even a matter of seconds would clearly see a man with more muscles than I could possibly imagine come out and escort me from the premises.
My tail tucked away between my legs, I went.
I must admit that there was a brief moment of depression when I re-emerged onto the street, but it passed. Before yesterday I had nothing, but now I had the full name and work address of one of Alison’s friends. What did it matter if I couldn’t see her actually within the gym? She’d have to come out some time.
Except she didn’t. I stood hidden away at a corner – stamping my feet to keep warm this cold January day – but she never appeared. Somehow I missed her, I don’t understand how that happened.
I’ll be back tomorrow though.
Tuesday, 24 January 2012
January the 24th, 2012
Finally, something!
I received an email from Julie just before close of business today. When the message dropped into my inbox I was stood up sorting out some papers, and nearly fell over into my seat when I saw it. She’s asked around and found that the name we’re looking for is Katie Price (yes, my eyebrow raised as well) and that she works in the private Icarus Gym in the West End. Even as I replied I was googling the number and dialling it. Yes, Katie Price does work there, but she wasn’t in today. I tried to find out what hours she’d be working tomorrow, but the receptionist became suddenly coy and suspicious.
It doesn’t matter. I’ll call in sick tomorrow and I’ll go there. I haven’t heard from Alison, nobody else seems to have heard from Alison – I need to know what’s going on. Quickly I emailed Julie to tell that I’d find this Katie tomorrow.
A final email arrived just as I was shutting up the computer, wishing me the best of luck, telling me to keep her posted.
I received an email from Julie just before close of business today. When the message dropped into my inbox I was stood up sorting out some papers, and nearly fell over into my seat when I saw it. She’s asked around and found that the name we’re looking for is Katie Price (yes, my eyebrow raised as well) and that she works in the private Icarus Gym in the West End. Even as I replied I was googling the number and dialling it. Yes, Katie Price does work there, but she wasn’t in today. I tried to find out what hours she’d be working tomorrow, but the receptionist became suddenly coy and suspicious.
It doesn’t matter. I’ll call in sick tomorrow and I’ll go there. I haven’t heard from Alison, nobody else seems to have heard from Alison – I need to know what’s going on. Quickly I emailed Julie to tell that I’d find this Katie tomorrow.
A final email arrived just as I was shutting up the computer, wishing me the best of luck, telling me to keep her posted.
Monday, 23 January 2012
January the 23rd, 2012
Now here’s some news. I got to my desk this morning to find an email from Alison’s friend Julie. She wanted to know if I’d heard from Alison yet, as Julie hasn’t and neither has any of their mutual friends. Ten days ago Julie told me not to worry, that all would be fine. Now my concern is not just a sign of an all too bonkers boyfriend.
I emailed back immediately and said that I still hadn’t heard from her and have been getting more and more worried. I asked her if she knew how to get in touch with Katie, or indeed with any other Australian friend who might know where Alison is.
Julie said she knew who Katie was, but didn’t really know that much more about her than I did. However she promised to ask around and see what someone else might know. She said she’d get back to me shortly.
At the end of the day I was still waiting.
I emailed back immediately and said that I still hadn’t heard from her and have been getting more and more worried. I asked her if she knew how to get in touch with Katie, or indeed with any other Australian friend who might know where Alison is.
Julie said she knew who Katie was, but didn’t really know that much more about her than I did. However she promised to ask around and see what someone else might know. She said she’d get back to me shortly.
At the end of the day I was still waiting.
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