“Your friend is still in that car.”

“This is a dream,” I said.

“No it isn’t, David. This is your real life. Everything that has happened in this place has led you to this truth. You walked away from your best friend when he needed you most. It isn’t a lie. Nothing that I speak is false. You’ve read the book. Everything I speak is the truth. The Spirit that’s guided you in this flat is the Spirit that speaks to you right now, even as you write these words.”

“And the solution statement is?”

“Go back. Ever since that night you’ve been held in this place. I’ve held you here all this time, and now you’re ready to make the choice you should have made all along. You always knew that something was wrong and now you’re ready to deal with this situation.”

“Do you expect me to…”

“You will.”

“Right, fine.”

“This is my last conversation with you here. I want you to know that I’m proud of what you’ve achieved, and I wish you all the best for your life.”

“What’s left of it.”

“Faith. Hope. And Love. You don’t need anything else.”

“I’m afraid.”

“Do it afraid. Are you ready to go back?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Dad….!”

“Whatever. Bring it on.”

“Close your eyes.”

“God be with you.”

(Derek D’Wally was an unapologetically big man. His whole demeanour spoke to someone who is utterly confident in their own body and all that happens within and without of it. He was not overly cock-sure, but modest and considered in his dealings with his fellow men, and when he spoke he exerted the authority of a man who had dealt with just about every problem that life could throw at him because, basically, he had handled most problems that life has to offer. To see him would be to understand.

When I first encountered this man I was travelling on a train from London King’s Cross to York. I’d been visiting an old friend in London and Derek, as it happened, had just been on a long and eventful flight from New York. The conversation he had with whoever he was speaking to stayed with me. It’s so funny that I want to share it with you:

“It happened like this. I was sitting sipping my coffee, flicking aimlessly through “The Times,” and this man walked into the carriage and slipped his suitcase into the rack just inside the door. He walked the few rows into the carriage that separated the door from me, and parked himself on the seat opposite mine.

“Do you mind?” he said. “Not at all.” I replied. “Thanks.”

After a moment or two, during which time he made himself seamlessly comfortable in his seat, he pulled his phone from his pocket and dialled a number, adjusting his collar slightly during this process, and clearing his throat. After a few more moments he started speaking.

“Hi, it’s Derek.” A small pause. “How’s it going?” Another small pause. “Oh, right, great. Listen, I’ve just got back to from New York. It was, without doubt, the worst flight of my life. I was sitting in JFK waiting to board the flight and I was listening to this fella talking to his daughter. He was telling her about the “infinite” benefits of retaining perfect control of one’s “functionality” in every situation. He said, and I quote, “A Jedi must never, ever, be at a loss in any situation. There is never a time when he (or she (he was wagging his finger in her face at this point)) must behave, nay (this is a direct quote), even betray a sense that he is out of control or at a loss of what to do in any given situation.” Are you following this?”

A moment or two passed during which time Derek held the phone to his ear, open mouthed, looking in a palpable state of shock and awe. He coughed and pulled his collar down slightly while lifting his chin upwards, creating some space in his clothes.

“Are you ready for this?” he said. Another small pause, then he said, “he then proceeded to shit his fucking pants halfway across the Atlantic whilst he was asleep. Can you believe that? The meal came round after take-off and they ate and then the lights went off and they went to sleep and then a couple of hours after that, as I was reading the fucking agenda for the meeting tomorrow, the smell of shit drifted down the cabin. I thought that someone’s child needed changing…..until I heard them talking about it.”

“Just go to the toilet”, she was saying to him (his wife). “No, it’s fine” he says! “How can it possibly be fine?” she says. “It’ll pass” he says. “You’ve shit yourself! Go to the toilet!” she says. “No!” he says.”

“I’m not shitting you man. It happened just like that. I was almost in tears at this point and if it hadn’t been so funny I’d have been ready to throw this lad out of the airplane.”

“What a fucking shambles” Derek said after a small pause, then continued.

“How can it not be a problem to shit your pants on a transatlantic flight? This dude didn’t seem to understand the dynamics of the situation, either. I could hear them arguing and by this time the stewardess had taken more than a passing interest. She was urging him to go to the toilet. If he’d have just upped and headed for the bog he’d have saved himself a lot of embarrassment but no, he dug his heels in.”

“”There’s no problem here”, he says. “Sir, I think you should go to the toilet”. So this guy raises his hand, and waves it in front of her face while saying, “I don’t need to do that,” putting emphasis on the “don’t.” Can you believe that? “Yes you do sir,” she says to him, “right away.” “No,” he says, “I don’t,” using his hand again when saying, “I don’t.”

“So the stewardess calls for help and they forcibly remove this guy from his seat and take him to the toilet, basically kicking and screaming. They actually had to push him into the toilet and then, wait for this, they had to give him instructions about what to do when he was in there. “Just wipe yourself clean now sir. We’ll get some wipes and pass them through the door.” Can you imagine that? Fucking, “wipe yourself clean” they say, in front of a hundred and fifty passengers. Fuck me. What a shit-show.”

“Anyway, this guy basically got cleaned up and walked back to his seat to a round of applause. Unbelievable. The cabin crew must have tipped off the authorities because the last I saw of him he was being led away at customs. What a clown. Anyway, how are you? Long time no speak.”
)

“David! Can you hear me?”

I was standing in my flat, by the front door. I opened the door. No need to look through the keyhole. I opened the door and when it was halfway open I began to feel resistance until I could hardly move it at all. Then I was wrestling with the door, moving closer to the middle of it then I was reaching inside a window, clamouring for the handle. The flames from the car were licking up my body.

HOT, so FUCKING HOT!!…

…job to do…

I managed to open the door, flung it open and reached for the seatbelt and released it, pain searing through my body and face. The fire was all around me. I pulled my friend from the car. I could feel that my face had been burnt and my hands. My friend was screaming wildly:

“SHIT! FUCKING SHIT I’M ON FIRE! SHIT. FUCKING SHIT!!! FUCK’S SAKE,….MY LEGS!”

“Easy now mate. Almost there.”

I pulled him clear and scrambled him up the bank. I knew the car was going to explode, and it did. Bang, straight across my back, flinging me and my mate up the hill, almost onto the road.

I heard someone screaming in the ambulance. I didn’t realise until later that it was me.

I guess in a way I got what I deserved. My mate was burnt but not so much that his life was irreparable. My life changed completely. After they got me into a fit state to go home I wasn’t really anything that resembled my old self to look at. Shit happens sometimes. I only really took a passing interest in life for a long time. Things changed so much that I didn’t ever think I’d be able to do anything but sit and think about it, over and over and over again. My mate visited occasionally. He’d had a painful time having his bones restructured. We didn’t talk about much. Things had changed permanently.

I could walk and I considered this a major blessing in my life. I used to walk the paths I walked as a young man. Everything was pain, pure unfiltered pain down to the core of my being. Everything that I had as a man I had lost. Pitch black. Miserable.

This is what it was. It’s all I can do to write it down, perhaps in the hope that you’ll look at your life now and think about what it could be in the future. Not everyone is lucky. Not everyone escapes.

You will be required to go back one day. God will visit on you the consequences of everything you do, whether good or bad.

It’s all in the book.

And the book never lies…..