Dream with Me

“Can you turn it down, please? Gab?” – Mara was trying to keep calm, but her recent lack of sleep was getting the best of her. – “I am trying to focus on the road!”

“The roads are empty. You can chill out. And besides, this music is meant to be listened to as loud as you can. This is the one and only Kurt Cobain screaming his heart out, you have to respect that, you know?” – Gab was teasing his colleague. She gave him that “don’t mess with me now” look, and he turned the audio system off. “The album was almost finished anyway…”

The van was making a strange squeaking noise when turning left. Mara was hearing it more clearly now. Every time they’ve approached a turn, she was focusing on that sound, trying to analyse it and figure out what is causing it. “It sounds like the goddamn steering rack… Not again!”

Gab was blissfully ignorant about cars and was enjoying the smells and the sounds of the sleeping city. His window was down and he was trying to catch the oncoming air with his left hand, feeling the resistance on every acceleration.

“I love this weather! It is so warm – and it is only just the middle of April!” – said he, trying to pick up a conversation.

“Oh, please, Gab, cut the small talk! Why do you always have to be so chatty? You should have your own radio show!” – Mara was sounding even more annoyed now.

“Okay, okay…. No need to be aggressive! I get it, you don’t like speaking to me. Fair enough”

“I like talking about things that matter, not the darn weather!”

“Then you’ve migrated to the wrong country, milady!” – Gab was still trying to lighten up the mood.

Instead of a reply, Mara made a sudden right turn and pulled over at a BP petrol station. “Gonna get some coffee, do you want anything?”

“Erm…. Well… let me think….” – said Gab, but Mara was already out of the van and near the cashier window. Her black jeans, black hoodie and black baseball cap made her look like a hacker. Or an undercover agent on a night shift.

“She is as feisty as ever. I like that” – thought Gab. He made up his mind not to annoy Mara tonight with any more stupid jokes. “Only things that matter!”

The cashier, who was just woken up from his paid slumber by an unapologetic knock on the window, was looking rather clueless. Mara was pointing her finger at something in the shop, but the communication was clearly obstructed by the thick window glass and a faulty microphone.

The coffee was finally served through a steel drawer in exchange for a four-digit PIN. The night was still young, the sky was clear and the moonlight made everything look softer.

Mara wasn’t happy with the amount of water in her coffee. Gab thought that it wasn’t the actual coffee, that Mara so desperately needed, but rather the ritual of buying coffee at night at a petrol station. “You should always ask for a double shot, otherwise it will never be strong enough” – suggested Gab.

“Yeah, I know. I always fail to remember though” – said Mara and turned the key in the ignition. The engine turned over with an unhealthy cough.

“The van is making more noises each day, I think we need to get it serviced asap” – concluded Mara and looked at her wristwatch. - “But with this amount of shifts and almost no days off it will be very hard to find the time for that”.

“Sounds fine to me, but you obviously know much more about cars. I prefer bicycles anyway” – said Gab. “The thing I noticed lately is that all the equipment in the back is rattling a lot. Maybe the roads are getting worse?”

“All that shit just needs proper installation, you cannot just throw it in a van and expect it to work without any problems. The company really skimmed on this. But I don’t care if anything breaks, that is not my responsibility anyway. I am just the driver” – said Mara.

Mara was around cars since she can remember, always hanging out with her grandpa in his car repair shop down Harrow road right after school. He showed her operating principles of a combustion engine, independent suspension, turbochargers, limited slip differential, cooling and brake systems. He also introduced her to the some of the most admirable classic cars of the XX century. Mara always knew that one day she will be driving around in a convertible Jaguar E-type. She just didn’t know when that day was due.

“I don’t have a driver’s license. Can you imagine that?” – said Gab. Mara was still thinking about her grandpa’s shop. “Yeah, I know. I’ve read your profile”.

“My profile? I thought that was confidential” – Gab was surprised.

“It is, but as a long-time employee of the company I was allowed to choose whom to spend my nights with” – said Mara and looked at Gab. It was their first night working together. She actually chose him based on his photograph. He looked pretty funny on his profile picture and had that special kind of grin on his face, that can either indicate a comedian or a psychopath.

She also didn’t need anyone with any driving ambitions. Sitting in a car for hours without a steering wheel in her hands was Mara’s worst nightmare. She grew up constantly hearing about “girl-appropriate” professions and “cars are for men” principles, so almost as her own way of revenge on the unfairness of these, she became a car mechanic and then a cab driver. No student loan burden and no prospects of being one miserable unemployed human being.

Gab was almost the polar opposite of Mara. With his degree in marketing, strong interest in psychology and “thoughtful dreamer” attitude to life, he was naturally gravitating towards writing novels, seeing theatrical plays, travelling the world on a bicycle and helping others the best he could. His acute empathy made him both the best and the worst marketing specialist that ever lived. He was coming up with the catchiest punch lines, most beautiful imagery for the short YouTube spots and quickly became the talk of the office. He was only doing these night shifts because of the new policy of the company, that wanted everyone to be a part of the “street teams” from time to time. Gab was feeling tired of staring at a glaring screen all day, so he was quite happy to spend a couple of weeks living a totally different lifestyle.

“So let me get this straight: I was your choice, not a random appointed partner? I feel very special and privileged now!” – smiled Gab.

“Oh give me a break! I chose you ‘cause you cannot drive. Okay?” – Mara was smiling as well.

“I see. Well, well, Miss Steering Wheel, you can drive all night, I don’t mind being the passenger”.

Just one more corner and the van was at location number 1. Gab climbed to the back and emerged with a log book.

“Okay, this looks like a quick one. Just the numbers 16 to 22, just one side. Let’s see” – Gab was rustling the pages while turning on the laptop.

Everything was done in about 10 minutes. Mara was dozing off. Someone was watching TV at number 9, all other windows of a typical Victorian terrace were dark.

“I am done; we can go now” – said Gabe from the back.

“Wonderful, just one more street to go” – said Mara and yawned so hard, that it hurt her jaw.

This was the only location on the north-west side of the city, so now they were heading up north. Camden was still bursting with nightlife. Punters were loud and most of them had a very unpredictable trajectory. All the bouncers looked the same, as if they were 3D-printed from a very convincing model. Gab looked excited, observing nocturnal Londoners in their natural habitat. Mara had plenty of experience driving drunks around after a night out, and she found them mostly boring and quite disgusting. Alcohol never appealed to her. You cannot drive when you drink, so why drink at all?

The next location for the night was just down Camden Road, right next to the overground station. These were very fancy mews, refurbished and redesigned into some luxurious flats.

“Basically a garage with a hefty price tag” – thought Mara, while trying to find a good parking spot. She was quite proud of her parking abilities; she didn’t need any sensors or fancy rear view cameras, just a plain old mirror and a trustworthy gut. She hated the “woman-driver” stereotype with whole her heart and wanted to prove everyone wrong.

Gab was going through the logbook. “It looks like we have all of the flats on this one. Do you mind parking closer to the centre of the street, otherwise we will need to move” – asked Gab.

“Sure, as you say” – said Mara, with a bit of hostility in her voice.

“Hey, cheer up! Don’t be a grumpy old hag!” – Gab was climbing into the back again.

“Sorry, man, I am just not sleeping too well lately…” – said Mara and, as if to provide proof of this fact, yawned twice in a row.

“Oh yeah? Why is that? That boyfriend of yours being naughty?” – Gab was taking the piss.

“I don’t have one”

“What? I don’t believe you! I mean, look at you!”

“What do you mean by “look at you”?

“Oh, now you are just asking for a compliment. Okay, here goes! I think you are awesome and I am sure that …

“This is not how life works… Can we just get this over with? Please?”

“Sure, sorry… I will shut up now” – Gab unbuckled the seatbelt.

His heart was pounding faster when he was once again climbing into the back of the trusty old Transit. “It’s funny how excited I am about this night shift…”

Gab was an optimist and always tried to see the best in people, believe in the brighter future. Some statistics regarding the overall progress of humankind fuelled his optimism: less poverty, less disease, less suffering. Going into marketing he felt inspired by the notion that he could help people discover new products and make their life more convenient, comfortable and exciting. With this new position at a bustling London start-up he felt truly on the verge of innovation, but the optimism started to fade slightly. Exploiting loopholes in the law for huge profits wasn’t quite aligning with his idea of making the world better.

The machine was making these low rumbling noises, that actually felt quite pleasant. “It would be quite interesting to try it out myself. I wonder how vivid the picture might be?” – thought Gab and looked at the dim LCD screen. The bar indicating the warm-up procedure was crawling slowly to the right.

Mara was leaning against the side window in the front and her profile looked even prettier in the artificial light on the nearby street lamp. “I like her, but she definitely has some problems that prevent her from enjoying life… I won’t be nosy though, I cannot make everyone around me feel better by just being nice to them, that’s not how it works… I need to keep reminding myself of that…”

Warm-up has concluded with a cheerful beep. And at the same very moment there was a knock on the door. Transit had no windows in the back, it was a typical panel van that is usually used by every breed of working class individuals, from plumbers and carpenters to decorators, dog walkers and micro-brewers.

Mara was in her grandpa’s garage. She knew she had to find a socket wrench and she knew exactly where to look, but for some strange reason she just couldn’t open the drawers, they felt as if they were glued shut. You know how you usually have the weirdest little dreams when you just doze off for a second.

Police officer was shining a light right onto Mara’s face. It took her a good while to get back to reality and figure out what’s happening. “Ma’am, would you please roll down your window?” – politely asked the officer. She looked just out of college and her uniform was clearly a couple of sizes too big for her.

“Huh? Yeah, sorry….” – Mara was still recovering from her peaceful slumber. – “What seems to be the problem?”.

“No problem, just a routine check. I will just need your license for now” – said the officer in her most professional tone.

“Okay, here you go. Just ignore the photograph on this one, I had an awful night just before I took that one…” – Mara tried to make a joke. She knew quite well that a van, parked in the middle of the back alley at night might look suspicious to a police officer. She also knew the protocol, thoroughly explained to her on several different occasions by several different colleagues.

“Thanks. Just give me a second” – said the officer and disappeared inside the patrol Vauxhall Astra, parked right behind the van. Her colleague was behind the wheel, and Mara could see his face in her side mirror, lit by the glow of the on-board computer screen.

“Hey Gab! Would you please turn everything off and use the dust cover? Try not to make any noise, okay? They might still want to look in the back, so don’t say anything stupid, alright?” – Mara was whispering through her teeth without turning her head.

“Sure, I know the drill, don’t you worry, Mara” – Gab noticed his hands shaking, but he quickly exited into the main menu and shut down the power. LCD screen slowly faded to black.

Police officer was back at the front window. Her colleague was still in the patrol car.

“Ma’am, here is the license, all okay. There’s been an increase in car theft and burglaries around Camden in the last few months so we are conducting random checks, especially at this time of night” – explained the officer.

“Oh really? That’s a shame….” – mumbled Mara. Every time she had an encounter with a police officer she couldn’t help but to be amazed at how polite most of them were. “Will she be curious enough to ask what the hell are we doing here? Will she want to look in the back?”

“Can I kindly ask you to park the van closer to the side of the street so other cars can pass through here, if needed?”

“Sure, no problem, officer, will do.”

“Drive safe” – said the police officer and smiled with a very professional kind of smile.

“Okay… thanks...” – said Mara and tried to smile back, but it most probably looked quite weird.

The engine turned over with that typical sigh of an old and beaten up diesel, that has done 200000 miles in 5 years. Mara moved the van a bit further down the road and closer to the left side. Her side window was now facing someone’s living room. It looked quite fancy, bathing in soft lights of a modernist ceiling fixture, with a massive and filled to the brim bookshelf and a couple of armchairs, that were clearly not from an Ikea catalogue. A guy in his 50s was sitting in one of the armchairs with a book in his lap. His eyes were closed and his mouth was open, with his plastic rimmed glasses on the very edge of his long nose, ready to fall off at any second.

- “Crisis averted? Should I start again now? I think I can reach everyone from this position” – Gabe was feeling anxious in the back, after what was his first encounter with a police officer. It is quite hard to have that experience when you are usually sitting behind a desk all day.

“Sure, fire it up” – said Mara and rolled the window back up. “I wonder if this guy will see something in 5 minutes. I still cannot believe this whole thing works the way they describe it….”

With yet another cheerful beep the machine was all warmed up and ready to go. Low rumbling intensified a bit, but it was still pretty quiet. Gab turned the dial to the 3-8Hz position and pressed a couple of buttons. The timer on the screen started counting down from 600 seconds. “It’s just a soft drink commercial, nothing sinister about it and not so different from those pesky omniscient Facebook ads”.

“Have you ever considered that by the time most people die, they’ve spent approximately twenty-five years asleep and around six years dreaming?” - Gabe was trying to keep Mara awake.

“Yeah, I know, it’s weird. And we only remember the smallest fraction of the dreams we have. Usually the shitty ones. Or the awfully weird ones. I don’t remember last time I had a nice dream…” – said Mara.

“Well, disruption of sleep might be caused by stress and anxiety and a lot of other factors. You know there are specialists that you can see about this?”

“I am fine, just need to finally book that vacation, I think I still have two or three weeks left till the end of the year. These night shifts are really messing with my routine…”

“Circadian rhythms dictate how we feel and how much energy we have. According to some recent studies in the field morning sleep is particularly important, with its restorative function…” – said Gabe, leaning back on his seat and stretching his legs.

“I know sleep is important. But I just always felt that it is such a waste of time. I really wish we could use this time more efficiently. Can you imagine how incredibly cool it would be to study something every night? While sleeping?”

“Yeah, I thought about that as well. I seriously think we are getting there. The tech is already viable and affordable; I think today it’s more about tuning the software and finding ways to integrate specific program functions. But it is definitely possible” – Gabe was glad to finally have a meaningful conversation in the van. He also recently finished “Why we sleep” by Matthew Walker, a book that had a lasting impact on him.

“Yeah, maybe. But it will be the privilege of the very few super rich” - said Mara and yawned. Her coffee cup was now empty.

“Mobile phones and laptops were a privilege not so long ago…” – said Gab.

“Sure. You are right. Maybe our grandkids will be smart enough to stop ruining the planet then. They will learn while they sleep and sleep while they learn. Sounds like a perfect world to me. By the way, are we done for tonight? I have this stupid test early in the morning and I don’t want to fail it”.

“Just 2 more minutes and we it’s all done and dusted. What kind of test?” – Gabe was eyeing the LCD screen with the countdown.

“Nothing fancy, just and entrance test to this short course at a college. In the end, I will rather die than be a cabbie again. And this job doesn’t pay that well either. I figured some formal education won’t hurt” – said Mara and put the key into the ignition.

“Whoa, that’s great. Good luck on the test, I really hope you make it through”

“Yeah, me too. Thanks Gabe”.

The book slipped from the lap of the guy in the armchair and was now on the floor. He was dreaming about his grandkids, Ethel and Adam, splashing in the backyard pool, back in sunny and peaceful Seaford, Sussex. They were hollering and laughing and kept climbing out of the water and then jumping back from the side, right into the deep end. The house seemed in better shape and the restorations were all done neatly and the garden was looking marvellous. The table was set outside on the patio, with some fruit salad in a big bowl.

Ethel and Adam once again climbed out of the pool and ran to their grandpa. “We are thirsty, can we have some lemonade?” – asked Adam, being the oldest of the two and usually taking upon himself the role of the leader of the gang. – “Can we have some Coca-Cola?”

A sudden gust of wind made the neighbour’s gate squeak and smack into the wall with the typical loud “clang”. Simon woke up in his favourite armchair. His throat was dry, probably because he fell asleep with his mount open.

“I really wouldn’t mind a Coke right now. I wonder if the corner shop is still open?”