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Visions of Paradise - Continued
by John J. McNally
Sam woke up that
morning still tasting the pizza he had the night before. The left side
of his neck was stiff all the way down to his arm. The punishment of sleeping
on a futon with no pillow, he mused. He winced as he tried to stretch
his left arm; better to just nurse it then, I'll take it easy today.
He was surprised
that he hadn't heard anything from Joanie, but then realized that he forgot
to check the answering machine. Sure enough there was a message: "Sam,
I'm setting off some bug bombs in the apartment, so don't come over until
tomorrow. I'll be staying in a hotel in the city, I'll give you a call
later."
A bug bomb! He laughed,
that's what his dream had been about! He must have been there out of body
and interpreted the bug bomb as a white tornado. Feeling elated he went
out to McDonalds to get some breakfast.
As he crossed the
street in front of his studio, he had to step over the body of a cat someone
had moved out of the road. A car had hit the poor thing, and it looked
like a mother too. Sam tried to console himself that the cat had chosen
this manner of dying, but it didn't help much. The cat reminded him of
Stormy, and he still felt bad for that loss.
Back in the studio,
he decided to download his email, and saw the message Joanie had sent
him there as well. "The message…" he said aloud feeling
a strong sense of déjà vu, but from where. The dream of
course! The one before the white tornado dream, he had been in that house
again!
There was something
about an email message in that dream, a message that Joanie had left for
him? No, she was in the bed talking to him. She said there was a message
for him on the computer. He thought she was playing a joke, the message
had said "check the back door" or "go to the back door"
something like that. He remembered going down the stairs, but that was
where the dream had ended.
Sam got a weird butterfly
feeling in his stomach as it suddenly occurred to him. What if the dream
had meant the back door of his studio? He tried to shake it off; that
was a bit of a stretch even for him. He had never gotten that sort of
direct information in a dream, nor could he imagine anything of value
in the airshaft that passed for an alley in the back of his studio. It
had both aluminum blinds and iron gates to discourage visitors. Sam had
opened it only once before and decided it was best left alone.
Still, the thought
nagged at him, so he got the keys out from the cupboard, and unlocked
the door and gates. He heard the mewling before he had even risen the
aluminum blind up. Kittens! No doubt the orphans of that dead cat out
in the street. The world fell silent as he opened the gate, he realized
the noise must have scared them.
Well, here's a chance
to see how much I believe in a safe universe. He thought as he stepped
back inside leaving the gates unlocked. He would need food to tempt them,
unless they weren't old enough to walk yet, but somehow he knew they were.
As a child, cats
had fascinated Sam. There was a family of strays that lived in the garage
behind his families. He watched and studied them for hours, and ultimately
learned how to befriend some of them. One tabby in particular had become
one of his companions, and he convinced his mother to let him keep her
as a pet.
There was an all
night deli on the corner from the studio. Sam went over and bought some
canned cat food, and some milk. He knew the milk would give the kittens'
diarrhea, but they also might not be eating solid food yet so milk would
be a good introduction.
When he returned
to the studio (intact of course) he could hear the kittens mewling again
from the alley. He couldn't be sure where they were. Garbage bags and
old boxes were piled up outside the door opposite his. He wasn't about
to start hunting through that mess. Besides, he learned as a kid that
one doesn't hunt cats, one engages their curiosity.
Sam filled a small
plastic bowl with milk, and another with a can of food. He made himself
as comfortable as possible on the ground and began making soft noises
to get the kittens' attention.
Instantly the mewling
stopped. Sam knew that at this point they were probably retreating into
each other as much as possible. His eyes scanned the piles of refuse for
some movement, but there was none. He was pretty sure they were behind
the pile of old smashed cartons, probably bound for recycling eventually.
The cartons had several entry points, and made an excellent hideout for
a couple of kittens.
It didn't take long
for Sam to realize that the cement of the alley was much less comfortable
then the grass in his backyard. He also had a lot more mass resting on
his legs then he did as a child. He got up a couple of times, and even
brought a chair out for when the ground got too hard. He knew this might
scare the kittens even more, but there were limits to even his near infinite
patience.
Finally, during a
break in which he was just sitting quietly, he saw a tiny nose poke out
from under one of the box flaps. The move was ever so slight, and pulled
back almost immediately. Sam tried to send telepathic messages of love
to the little creature, knowing the kitten could pick up on the vibe if
not the thought.
The little nose poked
out again, and a gray and white face like the mother's appeared. Sam projected
warm, motherly feelings toward them, speaking softly and coaxing them
toward the food in front of him. The process took several hours, but finally
the gray and white one came over to where he was sitting.
The kitten sniffed at the milk, and promptly stuck its whole face in.
After it sneezed the milk out of it's nose, and jumping back afraid of
its own noise, the kitten crept forward again. Finally, it sampled the
milk with its tongue, all the while waiting for so much as a flicker of
movement from Sam. Sam's eyes however were elsewhere, for curiosity had
finally gotten to the brother or sister as well.
The second kitten
was almost pure black, with just a hint of white below the neck. It paced
around at first, not willing to get near the strange creature. Sneezy
(as Sam had temporarily named her) was drinking milk steadily now. Sam
watched patiently and hummed a little melody to himself. Hoping the sound
would make her feel safer.
The black one moved
like a thief, flanking Sam and then suddenly running right over his legs.
If his butt hadn't been totally numb from sitting too long he might have
jumped up in surprise. Feral cats, even kittens, were usually very reluctant
to actually touch humans.
Sneezy jumped back
in fear, not realizing that it was her brother's movement at first. Blackie
twisted around and pounced on Sneezy, obviously pleased with his surprise
attack. After a moment the two of them came back to the milk bowl and
Blackie learned how to drink from it as well. Sam estimated them at about
4 weeks of age, and hoped they would follow him back into the studio.
When they finally
were finished, Sam said softly: "Well you guys, how about sleeping
indoors tonight?" They backed off at first, sensing the shift in
his energy. He stood up ever-so-slowly feeling achy now in his legs as
well as his neck. He picked up the two food dishes and brought them inside
the doorway. Then he filled the milk bowl again. The two kittens had vanished,
but he knew they were close by.
He sat on the chair,
now well inside the studio, watching the back door patiently. After a
few minutes the black one had poked its head out again. It sneaked back
over to the doorway looking very suspicious, Sneezy hung back by the boxes.
Once again Blackie charged in, running through the doorway and then ducking
behind the garbage can. Sam chuckled at his behavior, and hoped that Sneezy
would follow soon so that he could lock the back door again. At first
he thought he was lost, Blackie ran back outside to rejoin Sneezy. But
the two of them seemed to be feeling frisky now, and Sneezy chased Blackie
back in through the door again.
Swiftly Sam got up
and pulled down the aluminum blind. He secured the locks and closed the
back door, triple checking that neither kitten had tried to sneak out
and gotten stuck between.
Next, he walked around
making the studio as kitten proof as possible. He closed the door to his
darkroom and removed everything breakable to cupboards. The kittens watched
him in horror at first, he had just cut them off from the only home they
had ever known. They hid in fear behind the kitchen garbage pail, no doubt
wondering what they had gotten themselves into.
"I'm going to
leave you two alone for a little while." Sam announced. "I'm
going to get you some more food and a some cat litter. This may come as
a shock but you two are going to need to learn manners if you want to
be civilized kittens." Blackie poked his head out momentarily watching
Sam with curious eyes.
"Blackie's not
a suitable name for such a brave kitten, how about Nova? That star on
your chest reminds me of one of my favorite superheros." With that,
Sam left the studio and paused to look at the dead mother cat in the street.
"Well little mama, I've got your two kids. I didn't see anymore back
there so I'm guessing that's all there was. I'll do my best for them although
right now I'm not sure where any of us will end up."
It was funny how
things worked. When he and Joan were together, the idea of bringing home
a new kitten had crossed his mind more than once. But it never felt like
the right time, it always felt forced. Now that they were apart two of
them fell right into his lap and she couldn't even be there to appreciate
it. Ah, irony!
*
* *
If there was any
truth to be found in reality creation, it was in the sadistic sense of
humor that the universe had, thought Joanie. In order to get through her
physical discomfort she had watched TV for the last four hours. Every
program seemed to revolve around cats or animals somehow. One station
was playing: "All Dogs Go to Heaven" another had the episode
of the Simpsons where the dog needed an operation and has an NDE on the
operating table. There was a special on big cats on the Nature channel,
etc… Even the vapid movie she had settled on on USA network ended
up having some philosophical commentary on life after death.
"Life after
death." She said out loud, noting how harsh and raw her voice sounded.
Of course she had considered that Stormy still existed in some afterlife
before, but what she hadn't realized was how much she still really believed
in the concept of death.
"Death, it still
seems so final." Joanie had read lots of books that talked about
life beyond death, and as an intellectual idea she was very comfortable
with it. Stormy however, was the first real loss in her life. There were
relatives, who had died that she knew only passingly, but Stormy was a
deep and intimate friend, this was the first time she had ever come face
to face with the finality of death.
"Or lack there
of…" she muttered. Stormy's physical form was gone, that she
believed. His spirit might remain, or reincarnate into something new,
but what good would that be really? It still wouldn't be Stormy! Joanie
might have a wonderful new relationship with this new cat, but it could
never replace that special moment in time the two of them shared.
Maybe she could channel
Stormy - the idea was so absurd she snorted as she laughed. She imagined
herself in a deep trance repeating "meow, meow, meow" over and
over again with Sam dutifully taking notes. She found herself giggling
for the first time in ages.
His physical form
was gone, but where was his energy? She wondered. Was he here now, an
out of body cat trying to rub against her and curl up on her lap? She
tried to open her inner perception, but she was still to out of it for
any sort of real concentration. She sighed and went back to flipping channels.
She realized that her body was feeling a little better and that maybe
she could eat something soon.
She stumbled upon
an old episode of "Quantum Leap" in which, the main character's
name was Sam. This got her thinking about her Sam, and about what she
wanted. The last thing she wanted right now was to be with him again.
She felt repulsed by the idea although she didn't know why. There was
something in his manner, his actions of the last few months, which just
made her want to scream. Perhaps it was the passive aggressive way in
which he had expressed himself for so long. She couldn't take that shit,
Joan was a very direct person, either say what was on your mind or fuck
off!
That wasn't quite
it either though, there was still something bugging her. There was something
that Sam was reflecting back to her that she just couldn't put her finger
on. She felt like Sam in Quantum leap with his "swiss cheese memory"
always trying to put these little bits and pieces together.
Thirst finally motivated
her off of the bed and into the bathroom, the sink water tasted funny,
but it didn't matter right now. She was parched. Joanie glanced into the
bathroom mirror, and saw her reflection as if for the first time. The
person looking back was not her!
The eyes were the
same, that was for sure, but the skin around them was bloated and pinched,
and her hair had grown out a lot, looking like a limp mop hanging over
her ears and neck. Her face was palid, and angry looking, as if someone
had carved a permanent scowl into her features. The more she stared the
angrier the reflection seemed to become, when she thought for sure it
would strike her, she ran out of the bedroom buried her face in a pillow
and screamed.
That Thing! That animal! That utter picture of self loathing! That's what
she had become! And THAT, she realized was what she had been so repulsed
by. It wasn't Sam, but the reflection of herself that was in his eyes.
Waves of self hatred went ripping through her, judgements about her life,
about the pills, about being a bad mother to Stormy, about being a bad
lover to Sam, everything she could imagine came up with that horrid accusing
face she saw in the mirror.
She was shaking again,
although she knew it wasn't the drugs this time. It was the THING! The
Thing that she had become, that was waiting for her to let down her guard
again. The drugs had kept the Thing at bay, they had buried the sound
of its judgements under a peaceful sea of gray indifference. It was no
wonder people stayed on antidepressants their entire lives, who could
stand to face down such a beast?
"You could."
a voice said softly. Joanie sprang up and looked around. That voice had
sounded real, could someone physically be in the room. She checked the
entire room twice, carefully not looking into the bathroom mirror before
giving up.
"You could face
the beast. In fact you must." The voice was male.
"Go away Sam,
I'm not ready to deal with you yet."
"This isn't
Sam, I am the one Sam calls Darius."
"Yeah, so what
are you talking to me for? Don't I rate my own oversoul?"
"Yes. I could
introduce you if you like."
"Really? Yes!"
Joanie felt a small thrill run through her.
"Close your
eyes." he said softly. and wait until you can see the pathway."
Joanie did so, half expecting not to see anything, she had tried visualization
exercises before with no results, she couldn't be hypnotized either, she
just couldn't allow herself to let go.
There was, to her
surprise, a path lay out before her. It was made of stone and continued
straight as far as the eye can see. She began walking it with Darius coaxing
her verbally. "Look down at your feet, you will get there faster."
She did this, noting
to herself that she was wearing the comfortable leather shoes she usually
wore out in the city. She glanced up to see a door in front of her, she
recognized it immediately as the door to her old apartment.
As Joanie entered
the apartment, she heard the phone ringing. She rushed over to the phone,
taking a mental note of all the familiar details of her old home.
"Hello?"
"Hi, Joanie.
Do you know who this is?"
"Yes, sort of.
I was hoping to meet you in person."
"And so you
shall," the voice said. The surroundings changed and Joanie was standing
in a field during early evening, low hanging clouds and flashes of lightning
were filling the skies. In front of her was a woman that could be her
sister. She resembled Joanie closely, yet seemed a little bigger, as if
more life surged through her veins. Her hair was longer too, over the
shoulders and flipped back. The wind was blowing it around crazily. Perhaps
the oddest thing of all though was that the woman was flying a kite.
"Isn't that
dangerous?"
"This is a dream,"
the woman laughed. "Nothing here is dangerous."
"What should
I call you?"
"How about Treyanna?
That's what you called me as a child."
"Treyanna? I
don't remember that."
"You were young,
3 years old to be exact. You and I spoke freely then, and interacted often.
However you had chosen a framework in which you would experience being
alone, so your mother dutifully told you that I didn't exist until you
finally believed her."
"But why?"
"It's part of
the great game silly! We all enjoy these little vacations away from ourselves,
even when they turn out tragic. It makes the part of us that knows itself
as Joanie more distinctive." Turning to Joanie with a momentarily
serious face she said, "there are more important matters to discuss
however."
"I screwed things
up, didn't I?" Joanie looked downcast.
A huge thunderclap
made Joanie jump, and Treyanna laughed at her. "Oh yes, that's it,
you screwed up so make nice and everything will be all better. Is that
what you want to hear? Do you want a cosmic mommy to run to every time
you skin you knee? Well forget it sister! You made choices. You are making
choices now, and you will continue to make choices. Right and wrong are
your own demons to play with, not mine. I'm here to help you face the
beast."
Just the mention
of it made Joanie's heart quell with fear. "What is that thing? she
asked. "That's more then just me when I look in that mirror, and
I don't think it's a side effect of the drugs either."
"Your right,
it's not the drugs. Now tell me what it is."
"It's hateful.
No, it's even more than that its pure hatred, it's self loathing. It feels
like the sum total of every negative thought I've ever had about myself."
"That's fairly
close to the mark. What you have been afraid to face is your own inner
judge, the critical voice that nagged at your every mistake through the
years. For a long time, you had put her in the closet. You weren't listening
to her anymore, but you hadn't actually dealt with her either. Stormy's
death allowed her full reign making in necessary for you to deal with
her once and for all."
"I blame myself
for Stormy's death. If I can move past that, will she go away again."
Joanie felt weak and shaky as she spoke.
"Stormy's death
was merely the doorway of opportunity for dealing with her. You might
drive her back into submission, but I rather doubt it. You summoned her
because you are finally ready to deal with her. No matter how scary she
seems."
"I - I summoned
her?" Joanie pondered this a moment until it sunk in. She, Joanie
had chosen this particular reality where Stormy had died. Stormy made
his own choice, for his own reasons, and she had accepted this path for
hers. Treyanna was only pointing out what she really knew all along.
"So, how do
I get rid of her?" Joanie felt her courage rising a little. The world
was starting to make sense again.
"That's easy.
Do not reflect what she radiates. Your bond is formed by the acceptance
of similar beliefs. Change the beliefs, break the connection."
"What beliefs
though?"
Treayanna smiled.
"You don't really think I could answer that for you do you? Here,
hold the kite for a second."
Joanie took the wooden
handle that held the kite string. "What's the purpose of this kite
anyway."
"You need a
fresh burst of energy." And with that the sky lit up as a huge lightning
bolt arced across it in 5 separate directions. One of the tendrils touched
upon the kite, sending a huge surge of energy down the string. Joanie
felt the blast lift her up off her feet, travelling through every atom
and molecule in her body.
Suddenly she was
sitting up in bed, her heart pounding, her skin flushed. The only difference
she realized was that she felt wonderful. Better than she had in ages.
She put her feet to the floor, wobbled a bit as she tried to stand and
then headed for the bathroom. Showdown, she thought to herself, and then
promptly stopped in her tracks. To deliberatly face the thing was scary
as hell. It felt so much more powerful than her.
Still, she pressed
on, forcing each foot to lift from the plush carpet and step toward the
bathroom door. She knew that It was there, waiting for her in the miror.
The grotesque mockery of her own visage. She rounded the corner to the
bathroom and held her breath. "You are not me." she said aloud.
There was no verbal
response. This gave Joanie enough confidence to look into the mirror.
The visage she saw there was a frightening mockery of her own. The face
was bloated, with pinched eyes and an angry scornful mouth. There was
a madness about her, and the longer Joanie looked the more she felt wave
after wave of pure hate directed at her.
"I can't say
I love you. Not yet at least, but I do accept you with my heart."
Joanie tried to open herself, but the feelings emenating from her reflection
seemed only to increase in their anger. "What can I do to make it
better? How can I ask for your forgiveness?"
The resulting blast
of fury almost knocked Joanie down. "You can't forgive me can you?
Only I can do that, I forgive you." Joanie's voice was wistful as
she spoke. "And what's more important, I forgive ME. For everything,
whether it was real or imagined. I love and accept me and let go the blame
for what I thought were my mistakes. And what's more, I forgive me, for
Stormy's death. For letting it happen, for choosing this reality, I forgive
and accept and even love myself for the choices I've made."
Was there a scream?
Joanie wasn't sure, inside she felt as if she were glowing with energy.
The reflection in the mirror had changed, the face looking back was Joanie's,
with the only similarity being the serious need for a bath and a haircut.
"First things
first, she thought. Picking up the phone she dialed the operator.
"This is room
402, could I get some room service please?
"Yes ma'am.
What would you like?"
"A swiss cheese
and mushroom omelet, and a large orange juice please. Oh yes, and some
white toast on the side, buttered while it's still hot please."
"Very good,
ma'am, it should be delivered in about 15 minutes."
Ah, first class hotels,
you had to love the service. Even in whatever god awful hour it was. She
glanced over at the little digital clock on the desk 7:00! AM? She glanced
at the curtains to see the daylight hiding behind them. God awful! she
laughed, I must have hit breakfast primetime!
Her sense of missing
time freaked her out a little, but she wasn't too worried about it. She
was here and she was happy and she was totally famished. Food would be
a wonderful thing, followed by a long, hot shower. Then back to Queens
and…
Shit. If there was
one thing she didn't want to do it was go back to that rat hole. And what
about Sam? She still wasn't sure what she wanted there. She loved him,
that she knew but did she really want to be with him anymore? The question
hung in her mind until the room service arrived.
*
* *
The afternoon was
down right hot! Sam complained to himself as he went back to the studio
with the cat supplies. The kittens would be petrified for a while, but
he hoped they would at least check out the litter box. He knew some cats
were smarter than others when it came to burying their waste. These two
might be used to using cardboard, so he grabbed some free newspaper to
mix in with the litter.
It felt really good
to be moving around, and Sam realized he had spent over six hours in the
studio alternating between the chair and the floor. After setting up the
litter box and food and water dishes, Sam grabbed his camera and went
out to search for inspiration.
His project needed
something more. It was good, but not great. He had this nagging feeling
that he had seen something else in the picture but couldn't place where.
Best to return to the scene of the crime, he thought and walked northward
towards Washington Square Park.
As he reached the
park, Sam realized there was a shift in the weather. Clouds had gathered
overhead and the air had become almost oppressive. He decided to cut through
the park and take refuge in a pizza place until the storm passed. He was
about halfway through when he recognized a figure sprawled out on one
of the benches. It was James, the kid whose eye he had photographed the
day before.
Sam looked James
over, fearing for a moment that he was dead. He was lying on his side,
with one arm covering his head. His skin looked beyond pale, and it didn't
look like he was breathing. Sam leaned in close and he could hear a slight
wheeze coming from James' nose. He was alive anyway, Sam decided that
it was probably better to just leave him alone.
"Wait."
The voice didn't
come from James, but from inside Sam. It wasn't Darius, at least it didn't
sound like Darius. Still, Sam had an almost overwhelming compulsion to
sit down next to the sleeping figure. "If it starts raining, I'm
outta here." he smirked. James only continued sleeping in reply.
Above, the clouds
had become ominous, and rolling thunder was growing closer with every
moment. It was almost as dark as night and Sam realized that it would
be a great opportunity to get some lightning shots. He fished through
his bag and began setting up his camera. Lightning was a hit or miss sort
of operation, and he would probably wind up with lots of cloud shots for
his troubles, but the opportunity was too good to resist.
Despite the rather
odd circumstances Sam realized that he was having a wonderful time, the
best time he had had in months. He thought of Joanie, did he want to try
and make things work with her? Even if she straightened out, there was
so much crap there, so much extra garbage that he didn't really need.
Maybe he really was better off on his own.
The lightning was
getting closer now, and the first real bolts were visible over the sky
scrapers. Sam considered how cool it would be if he photographed lightning
actually hitting one of the buildings. It was too bad the Empire State
building wasn't in view.
Next to him, James
began stirring. Possibly sensing the energy of someone sitting next to
him, he opened his eyes and looked around. "Oh, photographer dude.
You scared me man, I thought I was being robbed or something."
"Sorry, I saw
you sleeping here and had the impulse to sit down."
"That's some
thunder, are you trying to get pictures of the lightning?" James
voice had a heavy nasal quality to it.
"Yeah, I thought
that would be cool."
"Definitely.
It beats getting pictures of all this earthbound shit."
"You sound congested,"
remarked Sam. "Do you have a cold?"
"No, it's my
damned asthma. My body sucks, that's why I try to spend so much time getting
away from it. I was born with both asthma and diabetes, making me weak
and sickly most of the time. "
Sam was listening
with half an ear as he began snapping pictures of the sky. The lightning
was almost directly overhead now, and jumping back and forth in wild zigzag
patterns.
"That is what
I want to be," said James. "That is the ultimate freedom right
up there, to be pure energy and travel anywhere instantaneously. No matter
to slow you down, just energy pure and simple. I thought I was going to
make it last night, I'm kind of surprised I even woke up again."
"You know,"
replied Sam. "It's believed by some that all matter is really just
concentrated energy, and that everything you perceive around you is just
a manifestation of what your mind believes."
"Not that new
age shit, I've heard that stuff before."
Sam smiled, "Well
you've told me you have both asthma and diabetes, both of which have to
do with the management of energy in the body. You appear to spend most
of your energy getting as far away from your body as possible, which I'm
sure is only causing it to get weaker."
"Yeah, that
makes some sense I guess. But so what? When I tried to take care of it,
I was still weak, my body sucks and that's the end of it."
"What if your
body only sucks because you believe it does?"
"That's stupid,
you can change little things, but not major stuff, even I know that."
Sam grinned, "it's
what you think you know that can hurt you. You believe these things without
ever having a shred of proof to back them up. I'm willing to bet that
if you looked into it, you would find a path that would lead you to the
physical body of your dreams."
"I don't know
- HOLY SHIT!" James cry was due to a huge 5 armed arc of lightning
that flashed overhead. It was blinding, Sam saw a huge green after image
right in the center of his vision, his camera had been snapping the whole
time, so he hoped that he caught it.
The rain exploded
with a vengeance, riding in on the surging winds and covering the sidewalk
in sheets. Sam buried his camera into its bag and shouted to James that
he would buy him lunch. The two of them ran across the park to the pizza
place.
Sam had to slow down
in order for James to keep up with him. They made it into the entrance
already soaked to the skin. "Wow! Did you see that lightning!"
exclaimed James. "It was so powerful, so completely free, man it
was paradise!"
After ordering some
pizza for the two of them, Sam joined James in one of the booths. The
place was typical and a bit touristy, but the food was good. On the table
were a napkin dispenser, grated Parmesan cheese, salt and pepper, and
hot pepper flakes. There was also a small candle, which Sam imagined they
used at night to give the place more atmosphere.
James was still excited
about the size of the lightning they had witnessed, he said that he felt
as if the bolt had blasted him with new energy. "Earlier, when we
were talking about your body," began Sam between bites of pizza,
"you said that people could change small stuff but nothing really
major. What did you mean by that?"
James almost scowled
behind his face full of cheese and crust. "Like, you can psyche yourself
into thinking that something is healthy, even when its not. And you might
actually get some real results temporarily, but it can't last, and then
your even more messed up then before. Like an Olympic athlete for example:
They injure themselves
while going for the medal, but ignore that injury so that they don't lose
the prize. Afterward they have to deal with an injury that has only gotten
worse. Ignoring it doesn't make it go away."
"What about
people who walk on coals then?" asked Sam.
"I think you
can step on something hot for a second or two without getting burned by
it. Let's see somebody stand on hot coals, then I'll be impressed."
"Do you have
a match?"
James laughed thinking
Sam was joking, "uh, yeah sure." He passed a lighter to Sam.
Sam lit the small votive candle on the table and let the wick get comfortable.
Then, very casually he put his hand about 6 inches above the flame.
"Now, according
to your theory," said Sam. "I can keep my hand here a short
time without being hurt, but not for very long. Even if I were to ignore
the pain, I should still get burned correct?"
"Yeah."
James seemed to relax visibly when Sam removed his hand.
"I want you
to put your hand where I was for a second, just so you can judge how hot
it is there." While he said this, Sam removed his watch and held
it in his hand.
James tentatively
put his hand about 6 inches over the flame and held it for about 30 seconds.
"It's getting hot now." he said, and at the 44 second mark he
pulled it off. "Ouch! It's definitely hot now!"
"Did you burn
yourself?"
"No, not really
anyway. It wasn't that bad at first but then suddenly was really hot."
Sam passed his watch
over to James. "Your time was 44 seconds. I want you to start the
stopwatch by pushing the lower right hand button. James did and Sam replaced
his own hand to the position over the flame.
"Why are you
doing this?" asked James.
"I had the impulse
to share this with you. I'm not really sure why, you could say that I
was motivated by God, or Spirit or maybe just an uncontrollable urge to
show off."
James was visibly
worried as he stared at Sam's hand. "Dude, you just hit the one minute
mark, you can stop now."
"Thanks but
I'm not uncomfortable." Sam replied. "I think its important
for you to see this while I tell you that there is nothing that happens
in your life, or in the world that is not created by your own beliefs.
You can blame others, the government, or your body… or even your
girlfriend" he said softly, as the reality of what he was saying
dawned on him. "But the truth is, reality is only a game, a game
in which we create the rules while we play, and if we don't like the game,
we can change the rules.
"Dude. It's
been over two minutes."
"Oh, yeah."
Sam had gotten momentarily lost in thought and forgot about his little
demonstration. "See," he showed his undamaged hand to James.
"It's not even hot, touch it."
James put his finger
to it and while it felt warmer then his own, it definitely wasn't hot,
or burnt for that matter. "How did you do that?"
"I saw it on
a TV show years ago and I just knew I could do it myself. At first I would
be able to hold it a while and pull back the way you did, but one day
there was just no pain, and I could hold it continually with no damage."
"You should
go on Guinness World Records or something."
"Nah, monks
do this kind of stuff all the time. It's really just an empowerment exercise,
not to mention a great party trick."
"So, you believe
it's possible for me to heal my body and be like, a weightlifter?"
"Is that your
goal? Some how you don't strike me as the weightlifting type."
"Nah, I guess
not. I want to be an adventurer, like Indiana Jones or something. I want
to go rock climbing and snowboarding and shit like that."
"Then be it.
I'm not saying it will be easy for you. At first it will probably seem
like the hardest thing in the world, but I guarantee you'll get there."
"Thanks. Man,
I should get home, the old folks always freak when I'm out all night.
I think you helped me a lot."
"Actually, you
helped me too. I just remembered a lot of stuff I need to deal with."
They left the pizza
place, the rain had gone almost as quickly as it had come. The once cool
air was starting to heat up again. Sam barely noticed this as he walked,
his head was wrapped up in what he caught himself saying earlier.
All along, thought
Sam furiously, I've been blaming Joanie and the pills for what was going
on. But I should know better damn it! I'm the creator here, she is only
a reflection. It always feels more complex in relationships, like there
are two people steering the same boat. But that's the illusion, I'm still
choosing the probable reality I experience, and the probable version of
Joanie that I interact with. All along this has been my creation- MINE!
"So what do
I want to create, that's the million dollar question." Sam said aloud,
not caring who overheard him. The question bugged him, did he create this
situation so that he could break up with Joanie easily? After all he was
virtually guilt free by "normal" standards. He hadn't done anything
"wrong," he was actually the victim of her nasty attitude over
the last few weeks especially.
"But that's
all crap" he spoke again, grinning a little out of embarrassment.
He might get away with that stuff to his friends, but he could never convince
himself of it. There would always be the question of why? What motivated
him to choose this reality and end this relationship in such a manner?
Did he want to continue?
His gut reaction was "no" but that was also based on the way
things had been recently. The better question was, did he want a new relationship
with Joanie? Ambivalence, he just didn't know, he sighed and hoped that
clarity would come in time.
He entered the studio
and heard the sounds of mad scampering for cover.
"Helloooo!"
he called. "What are you two little buggers into?" He was really
enjoying having the kittens around. He would love to tell Joanie about
the dream, and about how he found them, but… Then again maybe he
could.
He found the two
of them cowering in the corner of the litter box. Sneezy actually let
out a little hiss as he looked down at them. "It's okay," he
cooed softly, "it's just me."
He picked up the
phone and dialed the apartment. He go the answering machine on two rings,
so he knew there were messages ahead of his. He thought about checking
them remotely, but decided against it, let Joanie deal with them.
After the beep he
said: "Hi Joanie, I just wanted to let you know that I'm doing alright.
I've had some amazing things going on here, and I've just got the finishing
touch to that project I started the other day. I'm assuming your still
in the city, give me a call when you get in, I'm turning the ringer on."
With that out of
the way for the moment, Sam set about developing the photos he had taken.
He felt like a madman, there was so much energy running through him that
he could barely stand it. The photos were awesome. He had some spectacular
displays, but that final bolt had them all beat.
At its center, the
lightning resembled a five pointed star. It's tendrils spreading out perfectly
at first before choosing new random directions. Sam scanned the picture
into his computer and opened the "Visions of Blue" folder. For
the heck of it he scanned in the picture of he and Joanie with Stormy
as well.
He took the bird
image out of the center of James' eye, and replaced it with the lightning
bolt instead. Then he scanned in several of the other interesting bolts,
and lightly weaved them like a mosaic in the background. Next, he took
the picture of Joanie, Stormy and himself and faded it into the bottom
corner, so that it was barely visible. He knew it was there, and that
was all he really wanted.
Then he rearranged
the other images, the blue jay was now just left of the center, balanced
by the small child over to the right. The other members seemed to gravitate
toward these images, as if they were being guided there.
Sam saved the new
piece as "Visions of Paradise" which was completely inspired
by James. He sent a copy to the printer to see how it would look on paper.
Not surprisingly, the fist print wasn't what he wanted. It was also just
an 8x11 print out, and not his 24x36-inch layout that he used for finished
(or nearly finished) projects.
Saving a second copy
of the file, Sam began the process of making the printed version match
the power of the screen image. The work was tedious, multilayered images
tended to blend badly when forced into a two dimensional format, but Sam
knew his equipment well, and with a little magic he could make this picture
dance.
Music, he thought,
and went over to turn on the stereo. Classical, was definitely the theme
for this event. That would also play down the more obnoxious commercials.
He tinkered with the colors of each image, knowing just how to blend certain
areas in order to contrast others. With printed material, it was the proper
contrast that helped the eye define what it was viewing, otherwise things
dissolved into an almost abstract quality.
The work took hours,
and while he worked two little visitors were becoming curious about this
strange being. Sneezy was watching from the distance, ever the more practical
one it seemed. Nova however, had noticed Sam's shoelaces, and the way
one of them was dragging every time Sam moved his foot. The temptation
became too much for the little kitten, and he dived at Sam's feet trying
to capture the lace.
"Well hello
there."
Nova jumped back
immediately, but then launched himself at the shoe again. Sam deliberately
baited him, sliding his foot gently back and forth. This process continued
for hours while Sam worked on his picture. Finally, exhaustion got the
better of them, the kitten first and then Sam. Sam turned off the light,
kicked off his shoes and flopped onto the futon. It never felt so comfortable
he thought as sleep captured him.
He awoke as usual
in the warm bed pressed against Joanie's back. He decided to stay for
a moment, just to enjoy the sensation. Part of him felt guilty, as if
he was a voyeur in his own life.
"What's wrong?"
Joanie asked. Sam silently cursed himself, she always knew when something
was going on.
"I don't belong
here." he said. "In my world, you and I are separated."
Joanie pressed even
closer to him and said: "That's okay, I still love you anyway. There's
another message for you on the computer."
Message? Sam blanked
for a second, then his waking memory of the kittens came streaming in.
He found himself completely lucid in this other probable world. He jumped
out of bed as if he were trying to escape his skin.
"I - I'm sorry,
but I really shouldn't be here! I have to get back to where I belong."
Joanie sat up and
turned on a light. "Shh, its alright. I know who you are, you've
been visiting us for months. This Sam knows you two, although he puts
himself to sleep while you come in. Go check the computer, there's another
message for you on his email."
"Why doesn't
he just tell you the messages?"
"He said something
about remembering things better when you read them, if your still here
just lie down and go to sleep, you'll find your way home."
"Thanks."
Sam said, feeling a little reassured. He walked across the hall and noticed
that there was the sound of rain outside. Where is this place? he wondered.
He flicked the light switch to the den and let his eyes adjust. He noticed
that "Visions of Blue" was there on the wall, it was much closer
to his original picture then the "Visions of Paradise" one he
was working on.
He noticed the computer
was new too. Apparently, the two of them were doing even better financially
then he and his Joanie were. He opened the email program and saw the message
marked: "Letter to myself #2," clicking on it, he read: The
past and the future are fictions, you know this. Don't let a fictitious
past keep you from experiencing a happy future. Go back home at 3:00.
Sam stared at the message for a long time, expecting to find himself being
carried back to his world. Instead he only felt more awake. He was completely
physically HERE! And he was afraid that he didn't know how to get back.
Movement caught his
eye and he saw Joanie standing in the doorway. "Are you alright?
I was starting to miss you."
"Yes, but I'm
still here, and I'm wide awake." Sam almost blushed as he looked
at Joanie she was wearing a thin nightshirt with nothing under it. Normally
he wouldn't feel embarrassed seeing his lover this way, but this wasn't
his Joanie!
"I think you're
supposed to kiss Me." she said.
"Huh? I can't."
"Don't worry,
Sam will forgive us." She grinned mischievously. "C'mon, all
the probable selves are doing it."
Sam wanted to kiss
her, he wanted to take her in his arms and lose himself in her beauty,
to connect with her as a lover again. It had been so long for him, and
this Joanie was so much like the Joanie he remembered.
He stood up and walked
over to her, he hoped that his pants would cover his erection until he
realized that he wasn't wearing any. He stayed a good six inches back
and leaned in to kiss her. Just one polite kiss, he thought.
Joanie closed the
distance though and wrapped her arms tightly around him. Sam thought he
would explode, their lips crushed together and tongues intertwined, he
felt her body sliding against his and pulling him to the floor. He entered
her, he felt like there was no control at this point, she wanted him every
bit as much as he wanted her. Finally, after what seemed both an eternity
and an instant, they orgasmed, her body arching up hard against his, he
almost falling on top of her with exhaustion. He tried to speak as his
body came to rest, but he found his consciousness slipping. He sank almost
immediately into a deep sleep.
* * *
This
story is presented in three parts - click on 'Section 3' below to continue.
Section
1 - Section 2 - Section 3
© 2000,
John J. McNally. All Rights Reserved. Do not copy or distribute without
the author's permission.
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