AZOTUSLAND chapter fifteen

At around 1:30 a.m. the two vans pulled out of the parking lot and Maugham slumped back towards Ops and hopefully a good night's sleep. No one would disturb him after a concert night until at least 11 a.m. if they knew what was good for them.

He rinsed off quickly in the tiny shower, threw on some boxers and hit the lights. There was only a small candle by his bead that floated in water that he used.

About fifteen minutes later the door opened. It was Martine.

She came over to the bed and climbed in next to Maugham with her back to him. He did not object.

"Finally he whispered in her ear, "I'm sorry about what I said last night. I didn't mean to push you away."

"Then can you just hold me Maug?"

"Yeah," Maugham said revealing a sweet side. "Let's do that." Then he draped his long arm over her after pulling up the sheets, blew out the candle and they both fell asleep.

That night Maugham had a vivid dream. It was so vivid he was awake inside the dream and knew it.

He swam off into sleep holding Martine and awoke inside a large room. The ceiling was at least 50 feet high and sepia-toned clouds on old wallpaper were high above him.

The expanse of the room was impressive and Maugham knew it was a dream so he got up and marveled at what the human mind can conjure as it sleeps.

While awake inside the dream, he was still somewhat it's captive (it is rare to be able to make things happen once inside...but he have done that).

He walked around and morphed at bit. The high ceilings became a dark industrial charcoal which came down about ten feet. The last forty feet became a warm reddish color interspersed with large windows revealing a dark cool blue moonlight. Then he saw the most dazzling array of candles around the room in clustered bunches of 3 or 5 or 7. Stunning really.

He wanted to capture it's beauty and maybe interview a few people along the way. There were others, but they had their own agendas. Maugham's agenda was purely aesthetic and simple.

He looked down and he was dressed in a dark black suit, a white Oxford button-down and good shoes. He walked the room and turned right past a few other rooms. Each had the same ambiance. There were also some dark black bamboo dividers which were just perfect. The same candles burned in those other rooms with a rich orange glow.

He found a pad of art paper in the kitchen and asked for a few pencils. When he got back to the room he tried to draw it. It was futile.

He was just not that good.

The room was 140 feet long and 60 feet deep. The floors are richly-aged hardwood and there were thick padded sofas and the same bamboo divider for two major areas.

A woman walked in. Maugham knew her as "The Betrayer". She was not a looker, just a seducer.

Maugham was leaning back on an ottoman of some sort, trying to draw when she flopped down next to hime. He have not seen her for over 3 years. The candles were burning and the room smelled wonderful. It was the most beautiful room he had ever seen.

But he knew it was not his room. He started to suspect it was hers. Adn he could see that it was not the one he had known at all. This woman had never been his, but was still no less a Betrayer.

She made a play for him which he quickly disregarded.

"I have to draw" he said flatly. Then she left upset. He was not the least so.

He stood up again. "You know you are dreaming" he said to himself. "Yes, I know. It's still a good dream. Look at this room. Imagine having candles like that in a regular house," he said aloud.

Then he woke up. Martine was snoring lightly whic made him smile.

"Some betrayer," he thought. "Must be somebody else. Rnonymous?"