“The line between innocence and ignorance is impossibly thin
We’ve been tightrope trotters since no one remembers when
Balancing on our dear misunderstandings to get by
And the stories we tell ourselves in order to survive” – An Anonymous Duck
When Charles’s nightmares first began the ducks were hoping for some sort of explanation, but by this point, their curiosity had waned. They would help him wake up and possibly assist him in dialling in his Penfield Mood Organ, which he was perfectly capable of doing himself, and then the ducks would slip into slumber until the wee hours of the morning when dew drops tickled them awake once more by forming across their slick feathers. Ducks generally woke early but later on would take naps as they desired throughout their day.
Back in London, Charles relied on numbing his mind with countless hours of thumbing through Instagram photos — a technique he had learned from an ex-girlfriend who had suffered from crippling depression ever since being separated from her pet parrot. He didn’t carry those habits or much technology at all along with him to Simone. He actually was a little worried about Johnny Appleseed bringing her iPhone 5s along, but he was pretty sure he would have the self-control to not begin using it. “Self-control” is a funny phrase. I mean, we are always controlling ourselves. I suppose it’s usually referring to control by our conscious selves rather than our subconscious selves or psychopaths.
If there is a point, it may be that whatever Charles had been trying quite successfully to suppress in London was now gurgling up to the surface in Simone and it was choosing to tear into this world from Charles’ subconscious dream state. It was a disfigured horrible thing that was entering but Charles still couldn’t make out what it was. This is not to say that he didn’t have a few guesses.