Dreams Are Free (Until Further Notice)

Ever since I’d become an Internal Revenue dream auditor, cases such as his had troubled me. It had been a few years since the federal government had begun enforcing its dream tax policy and I had a number of cases like Jung’s on my files: taxpayers who were not, so far as we could tell, exercising tax avoidance and yet who were engaging in dreams of absentminded transgression (cigarette smoking and drug-taking dreams belonged in this upper tax bracket), or who were experiencing dreams that were subject to tax when they had failed to maintain previously agreed payment plans.

Jung was a 45-year-old taxpayer. He had given his profession as “artist”, but he had sold no paintings for several years. And yet even with no income stream he had the affront to experience taxable dreams. Lucid dreams, sexual fantasies, and religious ecstasy were all above the threshold, and were detected by our compulsory cortex implants.

It aggrieved me to be visiting Jung. His demeanour was one of perpetual sarcasm, as though he didn’t care about not paying his dues to society. Yet Jung always found sufficient funds to cover these obligations.

“Officer Hobson!” exclaimed Jung upon seeing me. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

I removed my hat and stepped inside. “I am here, Mister Jung, to deliver a communication from the Internal Revenue Neurological Department.”

“What does the communication say?” Jung asked, glancing at the envelope in my hand.

“In accordance with the Privacy Act I am not required to be acquainted with the document’s contents, only to deliver it to you.”

“Then open the envelope and read it to me.”

I opened my mouth, but Jung held up a hand. “You’re an agent of the Department, after all,” he said, smugly.

I looked at him for a long time without saying anything.

“Open it, Hobson,” he said.

I tore open the envelope. Inside was an IR7 form bearing Jung’s address. I read from the form as bidden. “Dear Mister Jung, of the dreams listed in the Internal Revenue Exemption Charter, certain are eligible for a rebate from this Department. These include but are not limited to positive dreams about your spouse; pets either living or dead; and dreams of natural harmony…”

Tears of rage welled up in my eyes.

“Go on, don’t stop now,” said Jung, beaming.

“You are hereby granted a rebate of three thousand five hundred dollars and ninety-one cents. This rebate, which will be credited to your nominated bank account, has been granted for a series of six dreams during the current tax year about civil service employees and which have been classified as ‘good natured’ by the Internal Revenue Department’s cortex implants.”

“God bless you, Hobson,” whispered Jung as the IR7 form fluttered to the floor.

Email me the title of this story and I will send it to you as a PDF file, free of charge: chrisb[at]xtra[dot]co[dot]nz