I'll See You In Your Dreams (3 page)

He reached into his jacket pocket, pulled out his cell phone, hit the address book and punched Stanley’s number. After six rings Stanley answered, and there was a long sigh, followed by Stanley’s sarcastic voice.

“Uh, this is either a nightmare, of which I’ll awake shortly screaming, or my senses are indeed awake, and it’s Charlie calling at four-thirty in the morning and the end result will be similar … me screaming! So I ask you, Charlie, why in hell are you calling me at four-thirty in the morning?”

“I didn’t think you could sleep under the weight of what you know. The sheer brilliance of your enlightened mind must surely make it impossible to sleep. Why, it would be like sleeping on an airport runway with jets of wisdom whooshing in.”

“Charlie, I’m going to stab you in the eye with a pencil when I next see you!”

“You didn’t like my Ernest P. Worrell imitation?”

“Actually, it was pretty good. But I wish to remind you, Charlie, that Jim Varney is dead! So, you may soon have more in common with Jim than the ability to affect the Ernest voice unless you have a good reason for calling at four-thirty.”

“No, just missing you.”

“Charlie!”

“Okay, I have to tell you something now. Meet me at the Denny’s on Herndon,” then he abruptly hung up.

CHAPTER FIVE

Judge Hawthorne immediately turned around at Paul’s sudden entry into the room. “Paul, this is Anne Meux,” he said as he nodded toward her. Paul reached out his hand, which caused Anne to extend hers. He took her fingers between his fingers and thumb and bowed slowly until his lips gently brushed her fingers in a soft kiss. He rose up slowly until he was gazing steadily into Anne’s eyes. She suddenly became uncomfortable and, as if sensing this fact, he smiled broadly.

“It is my utmost pleasure to have a potentially dull morning suddenly irradiated by such beauty.”

Anne blushed.

“Paul, this is Dr. Thomas Meux, Anne’s Father,” the judge continued.

Paul extended his hand and gripped the doctor’s hand firmly.

“Dr. Meux, please forgive me for being so bold toward your daughter. The villain in this scene is the unparalleled beauty of your daughter, and I believe you had a part in that so perhaps it is you who owes
me
an apology.” The men all laughed, and Anne blushed once again. Although quite uncomfortable, Anne remained poised until such banter died a natural death.

“Well, Anne, perhaps we should be on our way.” Dr. Meux turned to Judge Hawthorne.

“Thank you Judge, for the book loan. It was enlightening!” Then to Paul, he said, “pleasure meeting you Paul.”

As Anne and her father turned to leave, Paul lightly touched Anne’s wrist. She turned to him. “Anne, would you do me the honor of being my guest at an impromptu meeting of ‘The Thought Foundation,’ tonight at seven o’clock at the Hughes Hotel?”

“What exactly is this foundation?” she inquired with a touch of boredom.

“Why, ‘The Thought Foundation’ is an exclusive club of intellectuals and persons of means who have the wherewithal, both mentally and financially, to steer this country and others to the safe harbor of responsible control.”

“Sounds boring.”

“Oh, no, Anne, it won’t be. We have a guest tonight who has just arrived from New York. His name is Ludwig Stephan Diefendorf.”

“Well, that’s certainly a mouthful.”

“He’s from Vienna, originally. His family is descended from a prominent family in Germany, of course. He has just returned from study abroad and more specifically with Dr. Sigmund Freud and Dr. Joseph Breuer.”

Anne’s father raised his eyebrows, looked at Anne, and with a half-smile said, “Anne, how could you possibly refuse an offer to gain such important information that could aid you and once and for all proving you know more than your father?” He chuckled.

Anne knew the social protocol. If she refused, it would be an embarrassment to her father and, in a small town like Fresno, the wagging tongues could be relentless. She loved her father and would never want to hurt him.

“I would be delighted, with father’s permission, of course.”

“Of course, Anne, I look forward to the coming lectures on your newly found enlightenment.” Her father winked at Paul and continued. “We must go then and we will see you this evening, Paul.”

After Anne left, Paul went back to his room. There he saw Ludwig busily writing at his old desk. “Ludwig, hurry to the window, and I’ll show you what opportunity would look like if it wore a dress.” They both approached the window and looked out as Paul nodded toward Anne and her father climbing into their carriage.

“Ludwig, I’m going to marry her. She lives in the most expensive home in Fresno and cares for her dying parents.”

“What are they dying of, Paul?”

“I haven’t decided yet.”  He turned slowly to Ludwig, and Ludwig turned slowly to Paul. They chuckled evilly.

“One of her parents is a doctor who has done quite well, investing wisely and amassing a tidy fortune. My lovely wife and I will assuredly inherit that fortune. My poor wife will be so upset at the untimely deaths of her parents, that melancholia and eventually acute hysteria, with its attendant paranoid delusions, will understandably cause her to be committed to an asylum of loving care. I will, of course, become the executor of the estate and carry out my duties faithfully.” 

“I believe we can make that happen, Paul.”

They both looked back out the window.

“Yes, we can, Ludwig. The foundation of our success in this endeavor will however require some thought.”  Paul  faced Ludwig.

“Is that not the purpose of ‘The Thought Foundation?’” They both burst into laughter.

CHAPTER SIX

Stanley entered Denny’s and quickly scanned the entire restaurant, spotted Charlie in a booth, sauntered over, and dropped down into the booth. Stanley was six foot two inches and slim, with a half curly, tousled, mop of brown hair. He had dark brown eyes and wore glasses. Stanley was a handsome guy, and was often hit on by the ladies. He dated occasionally, but just didn’t have time for trivial pursuits. Science was the mistress, and he was in love.

Stanley’s personality was fairly intense, and he possessed a laser ability to concentrate. He had an acerbic humor and his caustic remarks often cost him anyone who might have become a friend. Charlie was like a plastic container. The caustic acid of Stanley’s personality had no effect on him. The more acidic the remarks Stanley hurled at Charlie, the funnier Charlie thought them to be.

Stanley loved that about Charlie. He needed to curse, spit, and bite at the attempts of humans and the physical universe to hide their secrets from him. He needed to verbalize it as he did it. He truly didn’t intend to hurt and felt bad when he did. Charlie’s immunity to Stanley’s acid was a godsend to Stanley’s efficiency.

“Good morning sunshine!” Charlie chirped in his cheeriest voice.

“You know, Charlie, just because a few other misfits like yourself are scattered around this tabernacle of the tasteless, don’t think I couldn’t grab that butter knife from your greasy and soiled hand and slowly cut your throat!”

“Stanley, is it just me or has anyone ever told you you’re not a morning person?”

Stanley looked around Denny’s, then back at Charlie. “Why do we always meet here at Denny’s? Are you attempting to attach cheap to your growing list of low life attributes?”

“Well, number one, we’re less likely to run into anyone we know who would only interrupt us. Number two, Denny’s will let us sit here for hours and keep refilling our coffees.”

“Okay Charlie, so let’s discuss why we’re here.”

“Well, let’s see now, hmmm, okay, how about this: for the last seven or eight hours I’ve been in an in-depth conversation with the ghost of Anne Meux!”

“Oh, really!” he replied with his best boredom.

“I knew you would be riveted.”

“Okay Charlie, I actually believe you would have neither the creativity nor the attention span to lie. So go to the beginning of this story and, detail by minute detail, tell me everything.” Charlie did.

“And then you walked in and sat down across from me and said: You know, Charlie, just because a few other misfits like yourself are scattered around this tabernacle of the tasteless, don’t think I couldn’t grab that butter knife from your greasy and soiled hand and slowly cut your throat!” Charlie affected a nasal whine for this last dramatization.

“Okay, Charlie, please shut up for now.” Stanley closed his eyes and began to think.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Anne heard Paul’s carriage as she stood at her mirror putting the last pins in her hair to secure the curls at the top of her head. She stepped over to the window and peeked out. He stepped out of a Phaeton, a fancy carriage with a top to give shade and repel rain. He was quite the striking figure as he dismounted the brightly painted blue carriage. Anne knew she should be enthralled by the interest of such an eligible bachelor, but somehow she wasn’t.

Well, it’s time to get it over with, Anne thought. Perhaps plugging her ears with cotton and simply watching his lips, pretending to listen would get her through the evening.

She slowly touched up her makeup, checked her dress and stalled until finally a fashionable amount of lateness had elapsed. “Wouldn’t want him to think me eager,” she said and laughed out loud.

Paul and Anne arrived at the Hughes Hotel, and hotel porters stepped out to steady the horses as they dismounted. They walked into the lobby and it was very evident that this was the largest hotel between San Francisco and Los Angeles. It was an impressive hotel, the first in Fresno to have an elevator.

Anne held Paul’s elbow as he led her to the reading room, which had been reserved for tonight’s meeting of ‘The Thought Foundation.’ As they entered the reading room, Anne noticed about twenty gentlemen gathered for the meeting. There were local bankers, prominent merchants, farmers, the sheriff, and the owner of the local newspaper, who was a family friend of Judge Hawthorne’s and Paul’s.

Paul commanded the attention of the entire power base of Fresno, and Anne was impressed.

Anne and Paul mingled, making small talk until precisely 7:00 P.M.

Then Paul walked to a podium set up at one end of the room. “All here know me. So I’ll dispense with my personal introduction and instead introduce you to Ludwig Stephan Diefendorf,” he said with a flourish.

He quickly added, “and as my beautiful guest Anne Meux commented on hearing his name: ‘well, that is certainly a mouthful.’” All eyes turned with an approving chuckle to Anne. She smiled back. “So, his middle name is Stephan. In our country that translates to Steven. So you can call him Steve.” There was laughter, and the room was at ease.

“Our guest tonight has just arrived from New York. He is from Vienna, originally. His family is descended from a prominent family in Germany, of course. He’s just returned from study abroad and, more specifically, with Dr. Sigmund Freud and Dr. Joseph Breuer. May I introduce Ludwig Stephan Diefendorf or Steve, to us.” Paul smiled as he gestured to the door.

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There was more laughter, which quickly died down as Ludwig entered the room and strode confidently to the podium. All eyes had followed him, and now the crowd became silent as Ludwig began his speech.

“Gentlemen,” he began, slightly raising his voice. “Tonight’s first meeting of ‘The Thought Foundation’ may well mark the historical moment in time when Fresno’s future will be set to lead it to a glorious future of wealth, prestige and, most important, control.

“Control, you may ask? Yes, control. Control is the steering wheel of all endeavors. No matter how powerful a machine is, it is worthless if it can’t be controlled. If every gear could decide when and where it would turn, it would certainly be a weak machine, and more likely not run at all. That’s the problem with this country and this city as well. That is the problem with democracy, too many gears trying to run the machine. It is dictatorships and totalitarian regimes that will create the future.

“Tonight we are here to create a steering wheel for Fresno’s future. Now, before you think these ideas a pipe dream, I’m here to bring you the exciting breakthroughs of psychiatry. You have probably heard of the success after success of psychoanalysis. Mental illnesses healed in case after case. All of this is interesting, but pales in comparison to the potential of psychiatry to control the public mind.”

He paused for effect and looked from face to face.

“Gentlemen, think of it, breakthroughs in the understanding of the human mind, can be applied to the public mind, and then control of the public mind is possible. Let me repeat that, control of the public mind is possible. Did you get that, gentlemen? Now think about it. Through human history, this control of the masses was accomplished, by threats of bodily harm. There have been crucifixions, hangings, wars and all manner of threats to put populations in
fear
. There, gentlemen, is the steering wheel. Fear!