Chapter 63: Interpreting Dreams

Chapter Sixty-Three
Interpreting Dreams

After walking several steps, Klein saw the customer who had come for a divination. He wore a black formal suit, held a gold-inlaid wooden cane, and had a half-top hat on his head. Short blond hair stubbornly emerged from beneath its brim, and the tip of his nose curved faintly, like the beak of a hawk.

Anna’s fiancé… Joyce Meyer, the man who experienced terrible ordeals…

Having seen the other man during dream divination, Klein immediately smiled and greeted him.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Meyer.”

“Good afternoon, Mr. Moretti.”

Joyce removed his hat and bowed.

“Thank you for the guidance you gave Anna. She has been praising how miraculous you are almost without stopping.”

Klein chuckled.

“I changed nothing. The person to thank is yourself. Without a resilient will and yearning for good things, you could not have defeated those calamities.”

After finishing this exchange of courtesies, he could not help inwardly commenting:

Does this count as mutual business flattery?

“To be frank, I still feel as though surviving and returning alive was a dream. Even now, I can hardly believe I made it through one disaster after another.”

Joyce sighed, shaking his head.

Without waiting for Klein to say anything else, he asked curiously, “When you saw me just now, you immediately knew who I was. Was that because my nose is too distinctive, or because you had already divined my visit in advance?”

“I have your detailed information. To a Seer, that is enough.”

Klein deliberately answered vaguely, assuming the air of a charlatan with mystical airs.

Joyce was indeed stunned. Only after more than ten seconds did he force out a smile.

“Mr. Moretti, I would like to ask you for a divination.”

The moment he finished speaking, he suddenly realized something.

Mr. Klein Moretti called himself a Seer, not merely a diviner or fortuneteller.

“All right. Let us go to the citrine room.”

Klein made an inviting gesture.

For some reason, he suddenly felt that he ought to be wearing a long black robe and speaking as little as possible in order to better display the mystery of a Seer.

Once they entered the divination room, Joyce Meyer locked the wooden door himself and examined the surrounding environment. Klein used the opportunity to quietly pinch the space between his brows twice and activate spirit vision.

Joyce sat down, leaned his cane nearby, adjusted his black bow tie, and spoke in a lowered voice.

“Mr. Moretti, I would like you to interpret a dream for me.”

“Interpret a dream?”

Klein maintained the attitude that everything was within his expectations, repeating the phrase in confirmation.

He saw that Joyce’s health colors were dim to varying degrees, but none had reached the level of illness. His emotional colors were dominated by the blue of thought, yet the blue was so dark that obvious tension seeped through.

Joyce nodded solemnly.

“Ever since the Clover arrived at Enmat Port, I have had the same dream every night. The dream is full of fear. I know this might be the shadow left by calamity, and that perhaps I should go see a psychiatrist. But I suspect it is not an ordinary dream. Ordinary dreams, even when they repeat every night, should surely have differences in the details. Yet this dream—at least the part I remember—has never once changed.”

“To a Seer, dreams like that all belong to revelations given by the gods,” Klein said, half soothing and half explaining. “Could you describe the dream in detail?”

Joyce pressed his fist to his mouth and thought for a moment.

“I dream that I fall from the Clover, falling toward the ocean. The ocean is deep red, like rotting blood.

“As I fall, someone aboard the ship catches me. I cannot see his appearance clearly. I only know that he is very strong.

“And I am also holding on to someone, trying to keep him from falling into the sea. I know this man. He was a passenger on the Clover. Yunis King.

“Because of his weight, because of his struggling, I can no longer bear it. I can only let go and watch him wail as he falls into that blood-colored ocean.

“At that moment, the one above me also lets go. I wave both arms, trying to grab something, but I cannot catch anything at all. My whole body begins falling rapidly.

“After that, I wake in terror, my back and forehead covered in sweat.”

Klein pressed one hand against his forehead and tapped lightly, appearing to think. Then he organized his words.

“Mr. Meyer, an ordinary nightmare, similar nightmares, or continuous nightmares all belong to psychological problems, and each has a corresponding root. But the same nightmare appearing repeatedly is your spirituality reminding you. It is also a revelation granted by the gods.”

Seeing confusion appear on Joyce’s face, he explained more deeply.

“Do not doubt it. Ordinary people’s spirituality will also give them certain reminders.”

“I do not know exactly what happened on the Clover, but I can see that it was a tragedy with blood and iron as its protagonists. It left an extremely deep shadow upon you.”

Seeing Joyce give a slight nod, Klein continued, “When you were on the ship, you must have been terrified. You must have been afraid. And under such extreme emotions, human beings easily lose their powers of observation and overlook many details that should not be overlooked. But that does not mean you did not see them. You merely ignored them. Do you understand? Ignored them.”

“In your subconscious, within your spirituality, those ignored details still exist. If the matter they point to is important enough, your spirituality will remind you through dreams.”

Previously, when I recalled that ignored feeling and discovered the notebook had fallen into Ray Bieber’s hands, it was the same kind of case… It is only that I am more sensitive, have stronger spirituality, and possess more mysticism knowledge, so I could immediately make a judgment…

Klein paused for several seconds, looked into Joyce Meyer’s eyes, and said, “That Mr. Yunis King, who fell into the blood-colored ocean because you let go—did he beg you aboard the ship, yet still fail to escape his destined end?”

Joyce shifted his body unnaturally. His mouth opened several times before he answered.

“Yes. But I do not sympathize with him. Perhaps in several days, perhaps in a week, you will read in the newspapers what a cruel and hateful villain he was. He violated and murdered at least three ladies, threw an infant into the raging sea, and led a group of irrational beasts in slaughtering passengers and crew members.

“He was cunning, strong, and evil. I dared not stop, and I could not stop. Doing so would have cost me my life.”

“I am not questioning what you did,” Klein first stated his position, then explained. “Your dream merely tells me that you regret something. You are filled with remorse and feel you should not have let go. Since you believe killing him was an act of justice, why would you regret and lament it so much that you dream of letting go again and again?”

“I do not know…”

Joyce shook his head in bewilderment.

Klein interlaced his fingers and placed them beneath his chin. Testing the waters, he analyzed, “Combined with what I just described, is it possible that you overlooked something in that matter? Something Mr. Yunis King mentioned, the contents of his pleading, the way he behaved, and so on. I cannot recall it in your place. Please think carefully.”

“No… At that time, he only had time to say, ‘Spare me. I surrender’…”

Joyce muttered in puzzlement.

Klein did not know the specific events and could only use the dream itself to guide him.

“Then is it possible that you believed Yunis King would have been more useful alive, that he could prove something, or explain something?”

Joyce’s brow immediately furrowed. Only after quite a while did he speak.

“Perhaps… I have always felt that the conflict aboard the Clover came too suddenly and developed too violently. It was as though all the evil desires hidden in everyone’s hearts suddenly escaped control and erupted… It was not normal. Very abnormal. Perhaps—perhaps I wanted to interrogate Yunis King and ask why he first did such a thing, as though possessed by a demon…”

Listening to Joyce’s sleep-talk-like description, Klein combined it with the dream and suddenly felt his thoughts open wide. In the unique tone of a mystic charlatan, he said, “No. It is not merely that.”

“What?” Joyce seemed startled.

Klein interlaced his hands, propped them beneath his chin, and stared deeply into Joyce’s eyes. His tone was slow, low, and powerful.

“You not only believe the matter abnormal. You also saw things you ignored. And when those ignored details are linked together, they can produce a terrifying conclusion.

“Therefore, your spirituality is telling you that one person is highly suspicious—the person in the dream who caught you, yet ultimately let go. In your subconscious, you do not want to suspect him, so you cannot see his face. He is your companion. He once held your life in his hands—or rather, he once saved you.”

Joyce abruptly leaned back, striking the chair back with a dull thud.

Sweat slowly beaded on his forehead. His eyes were filled with chaos.

“I… I saw it…”

Clang!

Joyce suddenly stood, making the high-backed chair sway so violently it nearly toppled over.

“Mr. Tris…”

He used almost all his strength to speak that name.

That was a round-faced, kind, shy boy.

That was the hero who had saved the survivors.

Klein did not disturb him. Leaning slightly back, he waited in silence.

Joyce’s face changed several times. Finally, he returned to normal—a normal that carried a trace of pallor.

He gave a bitter smile.

“I understand. Thank you for interpreting the dream. Perhaps I need to make a trip to the police station.”

He took out his wallet and drew out a one-soli note.

“I do not believe money can reflect your value. I can only pay according to the price you set. This is your fee.”

Joyce pushed the note toward Klein.

I would not mind if you directly gave me ten pounds… One soli. You and your fiancée really are alike…

Klein maintained his charlatan’s composure. He said nothing, merely pressed down on the note with a smile.

Joyce inhaled, put on his hat, turned, and walked toward the door.

While unlocking it, he suddenly looked back and said sincerely, “Thank you, Master Moretti.”

Master?

Klein laughed inwardly and watched as the man left the divination room. Then he muttered soundlessly, “It seems something extraordinary happened aboard the Clover… If only the Captain were here. He could learn the whole story from Joyce Meyer’s dream…”

…

Tuesday morning, Backlund, Queen’s Borough.

Audrey, who had risen early, summoned Susie, the large golden retriever, and said with complete seriousness, “Susie, you are also a Beyonder now. We are the same kind—ptui, no. I mean, we must help each other better. In a moment, guard the door and do not let anyone disturb me. I need to perform a ritual.”

Susie looked at her owner and helplessly wagged her tail.