Sherman Hilary, at the age of 31, could have been identified as a dreamer by anyone. His eyes, unspectacled, had nonetheless the misty look of one who either needs glasses or rarely focuses on anything mundane.
Weill said heartily, ‘ Sherman, my boy, you look fine. What’s the, matter? A dream is cooking only so-so at home? You’re worried about it?… Sit down, sit down…’
The dreamer did, sitting at the edge of the chair and holding his thighs stiffly together as though to be ready for instant obedience to a possible order to stand up once more.
He said, ‘ I’ve come to tell you, Mr Weill, I’m quitting.’
‘ Quitting”?”
‘I don’t want to dream anymore, Mr Weill.’
Weill’s old face looked older now than at any time in the day. ‘ Why, Sherman?’
The dreamers lips twisted. He blurted out, ‘ Because I’m not living, Mr Weill. Everything passes me by. It wasn’t so bad at first. It was even relaxing. I’d dream evenings, weekends when I felt like, or at any other time. And when I felt like I wouldn’t. But now, I’m an old pro. You tell me I’m one of the best in the business and the industry looks to me to think up new subtleties and new changes on the old reliables like the flying reveries, and the worm-tuning skits.
Weill said, ‘ And is anyone better than you, Sherman? Your little sequence on leading an orchestra is selling steadily after ten years.’
‘ All right, Mr Weill. I’ve done my part. Its gotten so I don’t go out anymore. I neglect my wide. My little girl doesn’t know me. Last week, we went to a dinner party – Sarah says I was sitting on the couch all evening just staring at nothing and humming. She said everyone kept looking at me, She cried all night, I’m tired of things like that Mr Weill. I want to be a normal person and live in this world. I promised her I’d quit and I will, so it’s goodbye, Mr Weill.’ Hillary stood up and held out his hand awkwardly.
‘ I want to explain something. Do you know what a dreamer is, Sherman? DO you know what he means to ordinary people? Do you know what it is to be like me, like your wide Sarah? To have crippled minds that can’t imagine that can’t build up thoughts? People like myself, ordinary people, would like to escape just once in a while this life of ours. We can’t, We need help.
‘ In olden times it was books, plays, radio, movies, television. They gave us make believe, but that wasn’t important. What was important was that for a little while our own imaginations were stimulated, We could think of handsome lovers and beautiful princesses. We could be beautiful, witty, strong, capable, everything we weren’t.’
‘But always, the passing of the dream from dreamer to absorber was not perfect. It had to be translated into words in one way or another. The best dreamer in the world might not be able to get any of it into words. And the best writer in the world could only put the smallest part of his dreams into words. You understand?’
‘But now, with dream recording, any man can dream. You, Sherman, and a handful to men like you, supply those dreams directly and exactly. It’s straight from your head into ours, full strength. You dream for a thousand million people every time you dream. You dream a thousand million dreams at once. This is a great thing, my boy. You give all those people a glimpse of something they could not have by themselves.’
Hillary mumbled ‘, I’ve done my share.’ He rose desperately to his feet. I’m through. I don’t care what you say. And if you want to sue me for breaking our contract, go ahead and sue. I don’t care.’
Weill stood up, too. ‘ Would I sue you?… Ruth,’ he spoke into the intercom, ‘ bring in our copy of Mr Hillary’s contract.’
His secretary brought in the contract. Weill took in, showed its face to Hillary and said, ‘ Sherman my boy, unless you want to be with me, its not right to make you stay.’
Then, before Belanger could make more than the beginning of a horrified gesture to stop him, he tore the contract into 4 pieces and tossed them down the waste chute. ‘That’s all.’
Hillary’s hand shot out to seized Weill’s. ‘Thanks Mr Weill,’ he said earnestly, his voice husky. ‘You’ve always treated me very well, and I’m grateful. I’m sorry it had to be like this’
‘Its alright, my boy. Its all right.’
Half in tears, still muttering thanks, Sherman Hillary left.
‘ Why did you let him go boss?’ demanded Belanger distractedly. ‘Don’t you see the game? He’ll be going straight to Luster-Think. They’ve bought him off.’
Weill brought his hand. ‘You’re wrong. You’ve quite wrong. I know the boy and this would not be his style. Meanwhile what a fine day I’ve had to argue with a father to give me a chance at new talent, with a government official to avoid censorship, with you to keep from adopting fatal policies and now with my best dreamer to keep him from leaving. But about Sherman Hillary at least, there is no question. The dreamer will be back.’
‘How do you know?’
Weill smiled at Belanger and crinkled his cheeks into network of fine lines. ‘ Belanger my boy, you know how to edit dreamies so you think you know all the tools and machines of the trade. But let me tell you something. The most important tool in the dreamie business is the dreamer himself. He is the one you have to understand most of all, and I understand them.’
‘ Listen. When I was youngster – there were no dreamies then – I knew a fellow who wrote television scripts. He would complain to me bitterly that when someone met him for the first time and found out who he was, they would say: Where do you get those crazy ideas?’
‘ They honestly don’t know. To them it was an impossibility to even think of one of them. So what could my friend say? He used to talk to me about it and tell me. Could I say, I don’t know? When I go to bed, I can’t sleep for ideas dancing in my head. When I shave, I cut myself; when I drive, I take my life in my hands. And always because ideas, situations, dialogues are spinning and twisting in my mind, I can’t tell you where I get my ideas. Can you tell me maybe, your trick of not getting ideas, so I, too, can have a little peace?’
‘ You see Belanger, how it is. You can stop work here any time, So can I. This is our job, not our life. But not Sherman Hillary. Wherever he goes, whatever he does, he’ll dream. While he lives, he must think; while he thinks, he must dream. We don’t hold him prisoner, our contract isn’t an iron wall for him. His own skull is his own prisoner. So he’ll back. What can he do?’
Belanger shrugged. ‘ If what you say is right, I’m sort of sorry for the guy.’
Weill nodded sadly. ‘ I’m sorry for all of them. Through the years, I’ve found out one thing, It’s their business; making people happy. Other people.’
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