Crooked Vows by John Watt Page A

I’m floating in is not like the river. Not at all. It’s a long channel, fairly straight, as far as I can see. And narrow, I suppose only about … maybe twenty or twenty-five yards across. And the sides are nothing like the banks of the river: they’re high and steep. Quite smooth too. As if they’ve been built. They’re not natural.’
    â€˜I think I have a reasonably clear picture. That is the place. Now what is happening? Is anybody else there?’
    â€˜No, there’s just me, the channel, and the water. I have no feeling of moving through the water. And there’s no feeling that the water is flowing past me either. But then I notice something peculiar. I look at the high sides and I realise that I’m moving along the channel with the water—floating along without any sense of movement. It’s completely silent too. But I’ve got a feeling that it’s unstoppable.’
    â€˜Is there more? Do you have any sense of where the water is drifting you to?’
    â€˜I don’t think there’s anything ahead that’s different from where I am now. There’s just this slow flow. I’m just drifting along, wondering how I can get out, but the sides are high and steep, and I can’t see a hand-hold or foothold anywhere.’
    â€˜And how do you feel about being in this situation? Are you afraid? Do you feel relaxed about it? What is your main sensation?’
    Thomas considers the questions as he looks down at his hands, noticing faint scars, a reminder of his recent ordeal.
    â€˜I don’t think I feel afraid. But I’m not really comfortable about it either. It’s hard to explain—there’s just this feeling that the water is in control, not me.’ He looks up at Macpherson, sees that his eyes are closed, his head thrown back. And wonders what the doctor is making of this: what he can be thinking.
    â€˜Is it possible—are you able to explain what this dream means? Do you think that it might have some connection with the gap in my memories?’
    The doctor’s eyes open and he lowers his gaze to focus on Thomas. He pauses for a moment before answering.
    â€˜A connection with the gap in your memories—it is possible, not unlikely, I suppose. But I must spend a moment explaining something to you. I can’t simply tell you what a dream means. Neither can anyone else. The meaning of a dream is the meaning it has for the dreamer—for you personally. I might be able to suggest ideas, but you must see the meaning yourself, perhaps with a few minor prompts from me. And it is likely to take a little time. I strongly suspect that this dream will turn out to have a meaning for you that’s broader—more far-reaching than this problem of the missing memories.’
    He looks at his watch. ‘Ah, well. We will get back to the task next week. Another day, another saint, possibly another dream. In the meantime I would like you to spend a little time thinking about this dream. Ask yourself whether this image of yourself drifting along a channel with an imperceptible current is telling you something. You are being carried in a direction that you have no control over. Does this picture say something to you about your real life? Something important? Dreams are not usually about trivial things.’
    Thomas, moving through the unkempt garden and out onto the street, turns Macpherson’s last few words over in his mind. Drifting along with a current—how can this make sense in his waking life? The consultation has left him with a tight sensation in his belly, a feeling of uncertainty, insecurity, as if he has embarked on a long journey to an uncertain destination. The old proverb comes to his mind. A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step. He has a sense that he has taken that single step. But where is the step taking him?
    The question is abruptly swept aside. The images from the