Dream Five?

Stalemate.

A conspiracy was brewing against the White King. I discovered that Rob was a White Rook, but that he had gone rogue and thereby sabotaged the other Rook in what was supposed to have been a very premature attempt at a Rook Roller. In the process, the other White Rook had ended up inexplicably in North Korea, without a car to get back. Rob said: that’s what he gets for rolling with the wrong crowd. The two of us exchanged puns about rolling for about an hour as he and I drove to the Otherside of the Chess Board in search of my old friends. One of them was the White Knight. The other was a woman named Stephanie Black, about whom the White Knight had told me.

The White Knight lived in a mobile home on the fringes of a watershed in the Enchanted Desert. The house had an exterior like a crawfish, and from within neighbours could hear angelic music playing for hours; like the opposite of a Bronze Bull, I guess.

When we showed up, we had some trouble finding the doorbell for a moment. Rob, at my right hand, finally saw it; it was not unlike that thing that Chuck McGill used to Ground his guests in Better Call Saul. We both had to press it before entering. A woman answered the door. It was the friend I rescued from the flood. Rob had not seen her in the Theatre, so intently had he watched Anthony prance about with a cookie over his own crotch. (Anthony’s crotch, I mean. Not Rob’s, though who can say what went on down there at the time?) To my added surprise, I was not alone in recognizing her. Rob had that Knowing Look again.

Inside, as she withdrew into the kitchen for refreshments, Rob and I pieced the story together. We based our theory on a wedding painting of her and an other man he knew named Bishop Black. This double-portrait overlooked us from atop a fireplace, where it hung next to a Communist Flag on one side (closer to the entrance window) and a poster for two emo bands on the other (closer to the Kitchen): Brand New and Sunny Day Real Estate. I guessed (or should I say: I guest?) that the White Knight was running some sort of Punk Rock Commune out here on the fringes of the only water source in the Desert.

Stephanie was formerly named Stephanie Bishop, but she got married to a man named Steven Black, who happened to have been a Bishop. Rob and I wondered if maybe she married him out of implicit egoism, given that his occupation was all so her Father’s Surname. But we realized that she was probably not that shallow. Rob told me that he had not recognized the name Stephanie Black, but that Stephanie Bishop had helped him years ago with his early recordings. She had all so turned him on to the music of Elliott Smith.

Stephanie returned with chocolate chip cookies. I past. Rob indulged, after asking me, with palpable alarm, if I was sure I did not want any.

Finally the White Knight showed up. The fire was stoked, as were the three of us, as our host sat down beside it. The back of his head faced an open window. I found the courage to speak up now, advising him that he switch sides. He told me, defensively and with indignation, that he all ready had. I said that I meant to switch to the opposite armchair. Relieved, he did so. I felt relieved as well, knowing the dangers now of sitting with the back of your head exposed.

We spoke for some time about a very elaborate strategy. We were trying to play a stalemate game, as in Twin Peaks. Rob and Stephanie kept pushing for an aggressive win, but the White Knight and I kept pulling us back to a more Civil strategy. It seemed more likely than they thought. Ultimately, they were convinced. Stephanie Rose, informing us that she would go out and find her husband, who was swimming in the Reservoir, and she would tell him the strategy. We all stood to applaud her, instinctively. The White Knight even took a knee and offered to protect her along the way.

As they left me and Rob alone and to our own devices, I looked up at the Wedding Photo. Something felt odd about it, though quite usual. It struck me all of a sudden. I asked Rob if it was customary for women to be dressed in white and men to be dressed in black. Rob replied: “Honestly, bro. That’s like every wedding that I’ve ever seen.” Nonetheless, I stood up. I walked closer. I noticed that Stephanie Bishop was wearing not a white tiara but a white Bishop’s Cap. Where had she gotten it? I asked Rob. Rob told me that maybe, prior to marrying Bishop Black, she was a White Bishop. Equally bemused, we sat back down and stared at the painting for a long time.

Dm.A.A.