The Prisoner of Vandam Street: A Novel

One of the interesting things about an illness like malaria, in which you float from altered state to altered state, is that you never know if something that has just happened is really something that has just happened. As the fever overtook me again, I found myself deeply troubled by the practical unlikelihood of Piers's visit. I wondered if my old friend from down under had actually been in my loft at all. The only witness other than the cat, of course, was McGovern, and he didn't seem to be revealing too many cards at the moment. I would, apparently, be forced to wait to see if Piers returned, no doubt carrying a large tucker bag and many bottles of grog. Or maybe, even now, he was peacefully sailing on a yacht somewhere off the Great Barrier Reef. Maybe he hadn't really been in my bedroom at all.

These are the kinds of thoughts that will drive a sane man crazy and sometimes cause a crazy man to see a world that even a sailor never gets the chance to see. It is a world of the mind, a world of the restless, troubled spirit, a world every bit as real as any other that man has yet been able to invent. It is there for the asking, in fact. All you have to do is acquire a severe case of lurid, lingering, lonely malaria. Fevered thoughts of any manner can be interrupted, however, when a large, half-Irish, half-Indian, drunk and incoherent journalist comes reeling in the most dangerous and disoriented fashion into one's little sickroom screaming at the top of his lungs.

"I had a dream!" shouted McGovern. The cat bolted for the living room and the relative safety of the davenport.

"Kayan witches " I inquired, shivering at the thought.

"Say again " said McGovern, leaning forward and almost falling on top of me. "Lyin' bitches "

"Forget it, McGovern," I said, losing all patience with him. "What the hell did you have a dream about Did you dream of Jeannie with the light tan folks Did you dream you saw Joe Hill last night Did you dream of little white children and little black children playing together "

"You don't have to make fun of me," said McGovern with growing belligerence. "My dreams are just as important as anybody else's."

"Fine. So what the hell did you dream about "

"I dreamed a large kangaroo came hopping into the loft."

"That's not so far off the mark," I said.

"Say again " said McGovern. "You dreamed of Lewis and Clark "