Floating & Flaming - Syd Barrett

Through the Window

After Curfew - St. Mary's Preparatory Academy
Lindsey had already snuck out for the night and I was left all alone as usual. Sleep was not coming to me as quickly as I would have liked. I stared up at the cracked, water-damaged ceiling, alone with my endless thoughts. I became so delusional in the early hours that I wondered if anything was really real.
My existential crisis was interrupted by a rustling sound outside. I assumed it was the wind in the trees. As it continued, I knew that I must be crazy.
I got out of bed and tiptoed over to the window. I yelped and leapt back in fright.
A dark figure, backlit by the moon, was peering into my room!
I rushed over and turned on the lamp on my side table.
His face was suddenly fully illuminated. He raised his knuckles to rap lightly on the pane, requesting entry.
Flustered as usual, I complied, lifting up the rusty thing as quietly as I could.
"Piper."
"Syd."
"Would it be alright if I..." He gestured toward the empty room.
I cleared my throat. "Yes - ehem - of course! But..."
He had already climbed through the window. "Yes? What?"
"It's lights out. And if the nun sees my light on, it could be not so good."
Wow, Piper. You really know your way with words!
"That's fine! Do you have a candle? I know I have a matchbook in here somewhere," he smirked, rifling through his jacket pockets.
I grabbed the quilt hanging over the footboard and the candlestick from my desk.
"Ready?" I asked, my hand on the switch.
"Let there be dark!" he whispered emphatically.
And there was. I hoped that we'd never have to light the candle. The darkness cloaked my rosy complexion and less-than flattering nightgown from Syd's ardent eyes.
I spread out the quilt, inviting my guest to take a seat before passing him the candle. He struck the match, suddenly bathing his features in a warm, golden glow. He was dressed in his school uniform, a knit sweater over a button-down, but he'd taken off his tie and undone a couple buttons at the top. His wild hair seemed even more unkempt than the last time I'd seen him. He was effortless, focusing less on his outward appearance, and channeling his energy into his art.
"There. Now we see each other," he mused.
"So... what brings you here? And will we ever meet at a decent hour?" I inquired, attempting a joke.
"Well, I tried to get here earlier, but I couldn't until I knew that this was perfect." He drew his journal from his back pocket. "And as much as I'd love to grab a cup of tea or go to an art gallery with you, it's a bit difficult to escape the confines of my own school. It doesn't seem like you were asleep anyway."
I shrugged. "That's true. I've had a lot on my mind. How about you? You look like you haven't slept in days!"
He chuckled at my motherly concern. "I can't help it that the night is where my imagination thrives. Some people are afraid of the dark, but I embrace it. That reminds me." He handed me the journal. "Flip through some of the last pages."
I saw poems about the night, clouds, floating through rivers, all beautiful blue images.
"Are these new songs?" I gestured to the words in front of me.
"They're in the process of being put to music and getting the band's stamp of approval, but yes. I'd really like it for you to hear one of them now, but-" He glanced at the closed door, the faint sound of Sister Margaretta's snoring carrying in the corridor.
"I completely understand. I guess you'll have to make it up to me some other time then?" I gave a coy smile.
"As soon as I can."
Suddenly, his gaze was drawn to the corner of the room. He got up to get a closer look.
"Wait! Don't look at-" I whisper-shouted.
"Did you paint this? It's-"
"Sub-par and disappointing according to my art instructor." I sighed.
"Remarkable. I'm no longer here. I'm standing in the middle of those apple trees as we speak." His eyes caught the light of the flickering candle, and I could see how truly amazed he was by my painting. "Why are you laughing?"
"Because you're so easily enthralled by the littlest things!"
He rejoined me on the quilt, this time on my side, facing me.
"That's what can make life vibrant, fascinating. Piper, don't be afraid to live freely."
"You have no idea how easy that is for you to say! I honestly can't believe you're real. Here. In front of me now." I said, baffled.
"I'm real. At least I think I am. Last time I checked, anyway. Do you need convincing?" he said in a tone implying something other than scientific evidence.
Before he could finish that train of thought, however, Lindsey decided to make her appearance. She struggled through the window, not realizing we had company.
"Piper, you'll never believe it! Rick said there's going to be an underground- oh." She noticed.
"Hello, Lindsey. I guess that's my cue to exit. I hope we can have a more complete conversation the next time we meet. Goodnight, Lindsey. Goodnight, Piper Gates." He did a mock salute and slipped out the window and out of sight.
Lindsey shut it behind him. "Piper. WHAT JUST HAPPENED?"
"Shhh! Sister Margaretta!"
"I don't care one bit about Margaretta! Syd Barrett was in our dormitory! There was candlelight! EXPLAIN!" Lindsey exclaimed with abandon.
"I'd rather hear about this underground..." I trailed off, allowing Lindsey to finish. I knew that if I could get her talking, I could avoid my own surreal experience.
"Gig! The boys were finally able to get into a club instead of those dreadful dance halls. It's at this kind of obscure place called the 'UFO.' Rick, Roger, Nick, and Syd are all spreading the word secretly at St. Matthew's, and Rick's told me to do the same with trusted students here. Obviously, your attendance is implied. And mandatory."
"That's so exciting! How on earth are we going to get a bunch of Catholic-school kids into a club?" I said, nervously.
Lindsey brushed me off. "We'll figure that out when we get to that point. I'm more concerned about who to invite that won't open their mouths and get us in trouble. Or worse! If St. Matthew's authorities find out, they could break up the band!"
I was a little concerned about Lindsey's priorities. Our expulsion was on the line if we were caught, and she was more preoccupied with The Pink Floyd.
Later, as I finally drifted off, I imagined hearing those mystical words I had read earlier brought to life in music. I dreamed of their otherworldly composer as well, completely in his element as he captivated his audience