It’s Nice, When You’re Here

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“I like how I can just reach out and touch you.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well I’ve dreamt of seeing you so many times, and I really believed I would never see you again.”

She had one hand on the wheel and the other out her window.

“You know this is a dream too, right?”

I looked down at my jeans and all else where my eye was not focused faded into vague perception where I believed there was context but couldn’t stare down the context of the current moment. I believed I was in a car heading to Boston with Mary, but the usual clues stemming form perception were not there. It was as if through my belief the current moment grew, rather than the current moment revealing itself to me through my senses. I “felt” my setting, in the realest sense, and had faith that it was real.

“Ah, damnit.” I whispered.

She was a blur, a collection of clouds of memory floating beside me, vapors of a life distanced. Her hand was not on the wheel. There was no wheel. There was no her and in this context there was no me.

I piped up, “Where are we going?”

She replied, with a smile, “We’re going to the lighthouse where your aunt got married. We looked at all those pictures  in your family’s photo album and fell in love with it, the lighthouse. We imagined stepping into the image itself and that’s our intention today.”

And then she added, “Remember?”

I kind of lightened up a little, and smiled too, “Oh, yeah, right.”

I pressed down on the button and the window rolled itself down. The wind felt cool on my face, and I imagined myself a dog with nothing to think about but happy dog thoughts.

“What do you think dogs think about when they’re in vehicles, going on long trips?” She asked me.

“Hm. Dog thoughts: what an original concept. Can we really imagine how any other animal thinks, though?”

“True,” she replied, wanting more, “But if we could imagine, what would you imagine they think of?”

“Well, I would imagine their life would seem composed of simple moments in time, dictated only by survival, but once they could move beyond the simple thoughts of survival, because they were taken care of by their owners, they would start to pursue interests of their own. Love interests, long walks, toys.”

“Hm,” She pondered, “What if dogs were so happy because they all were born knowing the secrets of the universe? They couldn’t say it to us, but they tried to convey it through their actions.”

God, I really loved her.

She went on, “Like, all dogs understood the fundamental law of the universe, spent their entire highly-evolved brain actually comprehending the profundity inherent in the size of all space, and the size of all time. And once they understood this, they reached a point of absolute zen, crystallized and perfect. After that, they went about trying to teach us about it. But everyone knows you can’t really say what you mean with words, and you can’t really do it with actions either, but they’re trying, you know?”

Outside the windshield was an entire world, possibly.

I let the cool fingers of the wind sift through my long hair.

I smelled lavender and sage.

Blackness.

She was gone. I was reduced to a singularity.

Water, rain, gray skies, the lighthouse.

“We made it.”She said, looking at me.

Her rain jacket was light green and with the rain it reflected what little sunlight was peering through the rain clouds.

We were staring on the rocky coast just beyond the lighthouse. One footstep ahead of us was a cliff’s drop of perhaps 100 feet.

The oceans were wrestling the shore, always taking a little more, a little more…

“You know, one of these waves will wash us out.” She said, staring straight ahead. She had the zipper of her rain jacket completely zipped up, so that I couldn’t see her mouth or the lower half of her face.

“I know.” I said, looking down and ahead as the waves crashed higher and higher, always taking a little more…

“Remember that time we went camping in that guy’s backyard?” She asked.

“Haha, yeah. Apparently he watched every inch of that field like a hawk, even at 11PM.”

“You were pretty scared.” She added.

“I’ve always been a little scared.”

“Are you scared now?”

“Yeah.”

“It’s ok.”

“Ok.”

“None of this we can undo, but none of this exists anywhere outside of this place.”

“Yeah, I’m stuck on trying to figure out the meaning to all of this.”

“Stop looking for meaning. The meaning is in the experience. Think of all the good times you’ve had. Don’t you think that’s enough? Don’t you consider yourself lucky?”

Always taking a little more…

“Of course I do.” I said, kind of breaking a smile, thinking of all the good times.

The water was turning more and more white and foamy. A wave crashed on the shore and reached up and soaked my shoe.

My heart began to race.

“Shouldn’t be long now.” She said.

Always taking a little more, always taking a little more…

 

 

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