The Arms of Morpheus

Chapter 5

'She's pretty amazing, Mel. The strain her body must be under, not being able to sleep, surviving on naps here and there.'

Noel had spent the last fifteen minutes telling Amelia about his day and, more specifically, about Rachel.

'Yet she doesn't let it show. In fact she is one of the funniest, most intelligent people I know.'

Since arriving home, Noel had talked non-stop about his day, work, and the weather; anything but his recent bereavement. It was what psychologists called a "displacement activity"; doing anything to avoid confronting the actual issue. Still, it took him to a happier place and for Amelia that counted for something.

'You know, Dr.Maher, if I were the jealous type; I would think that you were falling for her. She is young, blonde, pretty and, as you keep telling me, extremely intelligent beneath her comic façade.'

Noel listened to what she said, realising it sounded as though he was developing a schoolboy crush on his subject. He expanded further.

'Add vulnerable, frightened, and anxious and you are getting nearer the mark.'

She playfully tweaked his nose and kissed him. In reality, Amelia never had any reason to doubt Noel's motives. He had an understanding, a clear and distinct empathy with his patients, which she applauded. It was part of what made him such an outstanding neuroscientist.

'Do you remember that new technique that I told you about a few weeks ago?' Noel asked. 'The stroboscopic device that I needed your old record player for?'

'What, your dream weaver?'

'Dream machine.' He corrected.

She thought awhile, the edges of her pink lips curling up as she remembered the contraption that he had made. A real Blue Peter special.

'How could I forget that? Six years of medical school to produce something that looks like a rotating chef's hat! '

'Whatever. Anyway, it seems to work. I tried it with Rachel this morning. It put her into a semi-hypnotic state, a place we call hypnagogia. She lapsed within a minute, far quicker than the effects witnessed by any of the drugs we have trialled so far. Without the side effects too.'

'I would have thought the best way to send somebody to sleep would be to play them any of your 80's music back catalogue. Don't tell me you've found something better.'

'Very drôle.' Noel retorted. 'Anyway, it's quite simple. You know what a strobe light is, right?'

Amelia nodded. 'A flashing light?'

'Cool. Now one of the critical features of a strobe light is the speed at which it flashes on and off, giving it its distinctive flicker effect.'

'You mean its frequency? You don't need to dumb it down too much for me. I know I'm a lowly teacher, but still.'

'Sorry, babe. 'Noel smiled, suddenly aware of how patronising he sounded. 'When we start to relax, our brain wave patterns change, decreasing in frequency ', he accentuated the word, 'to around 8 – 12 Hertz, or cycles per second. The dream machine is set, so that at the 45-rpm speed, the light is emitted at this frequency, or very close to it. When the subject views the machine through closed eyes, in other words, just letting the light pulses stimulate their retina through the eyelids, it reproduces a similar state in the human subconscious.'

'What, so she fell asleep? Isn't that good? You've been trying to get her to do that for weeks.'

'Yes and no. I mean, yes sleep would be great, but at no point did she fall asleep. The light impulses only fool the brain for a short while; when the eyes open the illusion stops instantly.'