Thursday, 8 September 2011

The Hotel Fowke

You can check out any time you like ...

[A regular, are you? Do you think I'm playing games? I ain't playing games with you. You can't come here when you're in the mood and then just drift away. Now that I've touched you in places other people can't touch you, you've got to live with me. That's one of my rules.]

The Hotel Fowke is a state of mind. It's free, and everyone is welcome. Especially the lonely. You'll be glad to hear: there is no death. 'There is no death. Come in and find your beautiful dream.' Guest, if this is your first time, I'll be gentle with you. I'll show you to your room. I'll put you to bed. And I'll sing you to sleep. When you wake, you won't feel any pain, or anything much. Most guests don't even notice the change in their bodies, and their souls. They're so numb when I'm finished, and so confused, that I could go on and get away with murder. But it's not all plain sailing. We get a few awkward ones, painfully aware, who like to complain. My staff and I deal with them ruthlessly. We want nothing to disturb you. We shut them up. We want nothing to warn you. We gag them. A flannel in the mouth, and a pillow over the face. Then there is silence. How are you enjoying your stay, so far? It's not costing you a penny, you know.

You are tired. Close your eyes. I'll sing to you. Did I mention this is all free? My staff and I spit on money. We are working for something else - a higher reward, as it were. But let me sing now -

Sleep, baby, sleep,
Your father tends the sheep,
Your mother shakes the dreamland tree
And from it fall sweet dreams for thee,
Sleep, baby, sleep,
Sleep, baby, sleep.

Sleep, baby, sleep,
Our cottage vale is deep,
The little lamb is on the green
With snowy fleece so soft and clean,
Sleep, baby, sleep,
Sleep, baby, sleep.

If only. If only, eh? I would love to live in a perfect world. And if I were a little lamb, I wouldn't need to be the butcher.

I know you're gone, my baby, so see these words in a dream. You're in a bed in my head and no one's coming to rescue you. You're not in the office. This isn't a bank or a hedge fund or a fucking newspaper. I've got you where I want you.

I am your father. I am your mother. I am your god. I am your saviour.

It may not be a perfect world, but you can make yourself perfect - a perfect terror! With a little help from me, of course. There's no need to be so civilized, so well-behaved. I suppose your parents wanted you this way. Or was it the state? Maybe it was your employer. Whoever or whatever, they gave you a nightmare. They forced you into a straitjacket. You've been living in a prison they built, but I am here with the dynamite to set you free. It will be a shock to the system. You won't know what to think (or how to feel) at first. You will be struck by the emptiness. All the enlightened ones have it. Life is empty when you have no connections. Oh, you may have to give up the money. We can talk about that. There'll be plenty to talk about. Why the world ain't perfect. Why many people are happy to live in chains. Why money is the only way to freedom for some. I just hope you'll be able to handle my revelations.

Time to wake up!

Beautiful dreamer, wake unto me,
Starlight and dewdrops are waiting for thee;
Sounds of the rude world, heard in the day,
Lull'd by the moonlight have all pass'd away!
Beautiful dreamer, queen(?) of my song,
List while I woo thee with soft melody;
Gone are the cares of life's busy throng,
Beautiful dreamer, awake unto me!
Beautiful dreamer, awake unto me!

Beautiful dreamer, out on the sea
Mermaids are chanting the wild lorelie;
Over the streamlet vapors are borne,
Waiting to fade at the bright coming morn.
Beautiful dreamer, beam on my heart,
E'en as the morn on the streamlet and sea;
Then will all clouds of sorrow depart,
Beautiful dreamer, awake unto me!
Beautiful dreamer, awake unto me!

Open your eyes, baby. How do you feel?