The Mirrored Soul
SERIES 1
(Channel I- Up All Night With Classics and Underground)
Adam had always dreamt of the darkness, a darkness he never remembered when he woke up but which he knew featured screaming and pain. For a while after the accident, he’d assumed that it had been a premonition and that the dream would go away, but when the pain had faded but the dream was still there, he was lost.
His dreams had changed, though, since the accident, his mind now furiously recapping the day’s events in what he assumed to be the first hours of dreamsleep (although he’d heard that dreams were ludicrously short), which gave way to abstract visions he couldn’t fathom and never remembered upon waking. He knew that he’d seen some of them more than others, but they were always out of his reach. And then the darkness, which was even harder to grasp, little more than shadows and noise.
Not that any of this mattered in this run-down motel, struggling with insomnia on this unscheduled stop-off in the middle of Arizona. He’d come here intending to catch the train back to Los Angeles and take his flight home, but transport in this neck of the woods was rare and inconsistent, and the eight-hour delay in the train’s arrival led to the passengers being accommodated here. He’d be back at the station in four hours, he needed to sleep, but knowing he had to be up early meant he couldn’t sleep. How about that. Sure, he’d been asleep, as always, by 1am, but at 3am he was wide awake again.
So he skimmed through the television channels looking for something to hold his interest, past asinine European sports highlights and shopping channels, past kids TV and skinflicks. Christ, thought Adam, between the porno on 729 and the Barney show on 730, who do they think watches TV at this hour? Isn’t there anything to watch-
“-on this fucking television?”
He was on channel 740 now, and there were his thoughts, amplified in his voice. The screen showed exactly what he was looking at, a 12” screen glued by years of inadequate housekeeping to a chest of drawers older than he was. Cute, he thought, hotel CCTV. I wonder whether it was the woman in room 19 I saw on 729. His mind briefly switched back to that at the same time as the 4am porn appeared on the TV. He frowned. Lousy box can’t even stay on one channel.
He looked round, looking for the camera that went into his room, wondering whether the creep at the desk was watching this. “I guess it’s something for him to do”, he both thought and heard simultaneously. “Did I say that out loud?” he wondered, again amplified in his ears and this time he definitely wasn’t speaking out loud.
He turned back to the TV suddenly shattered, and ran a hand over half his face. Half the screen went dark. Like something out of the Twilight Zone, and the TV obligingly played the theme tune from the old TV series. A TV I control with my mind. Does that mean if I imagine Jessica Alba and Jessica Simpson go at it, that’s what’s gonna appear on my TV? He tried it. Sure enough, there were the two Jessicas on his TV.
Adam smiled, controlling the images with his imagination. Now this was a TV show worth watching.
(Channel I- Up All Night With Classics and Underground)
Adam had always dreamt of the darkness, a darkness he never remembered when he woke up but which he knew featured screaming and pain. For a while after the accident, he’d assumed that it had been a premonition and that the dream would go away, but when the pain had faded but the dream was still there, he was lost.
His dreams had changed, though, since the accident, his mind now furiously recapping the day’s events in what he assumed to be the first hours of dreamsleep (although he’d heard that dreams were ludicrously short), which gave way to abstract visions he couldn’t fathom and never remembered upon waking. He knew that he’d seen some of them more than others, but they were always out of his reach. And then the darkness, which was even harder to grasp, little more than shadows and noise.
Not that any of this mattered in this run-down motel, struggling with insomnia on this unscheduled stop-off in the middle of Arizona. He’d come here intending to catch the train back to Los Angeles and take his flight home, but transport in this neck of the woods was rare and inconsistent, and the eight-hour delay in the train’s arrival led to the passengers being accommodated here. He’d be back at the station in four hours, he needed to sleep, but knowing he had to be up early meant he couldn’t sleep. How about that. Sure, he’d been asleep, as always, by 1am, but at 3am he was wide awake again.
So he skimmed through the television channels looking for something to hold his interest, past asinine European sports highlights and shopping channels, past kids TV and skinflicks. Christ, thought Adam, between the porno on 729 and the Barney show on 730, who do they think watches TV at this hour? Isn’t there anything to watch-
“-on this fucking television?”
He was on channel 740 now, and there were his thoughts, amplified in his voice. The screen showed exactly what he was looking at, a 12” screen glued by years of inadequate housekeeping to a chest of drawers older than he was. Cute, he thought, hotel CCTV. I wonder whether it was the woman in room 19 I saw on 729. His mind briefly switched back to that at the same time as the 4am porn appeared on the TV. He frowned. Lousy box can’t even stay on one channel.
He looked round, looking for the camera that went into his room, wondering whether the creep at the desk was watching this. “I guess it’s something for him to do”, he both thought and heard simultaneously. “Did I say that out loud?” he wondered, again amplified in his ears and this time he definitely wasn’t speaking out loud.
He turned back to the TV suddenly shattered, and ran a hand over half his face. Half the screen went dark. Like something out of the Twilight Zone, and the TV obligingly played the theme tune from the old TV series. A TV I control with my mind. Does that mean if I imagine Jessica Alba and Jessica Simpson go at it, that’s what’s gonna appear on my TV? He tried it. Sure enough, there were the two Jessicas on his TV.
Adam smiled, controlling the images with his imagination. Now this was a TV show worth watching.