Coronado Dreaming (The Silver Strand Series)

by Brulte, G. B.

  Gid would only have to explain concepts to me once, and I pretty much instantly grasped them. Terminology that was unfamiliar made its way into my vocabulary and settled in like old friends amongst all of the other words normally at my disposal. At times, it seemed I was reading his mind, understanding what it was I should do with the lines and the wheel and the wind without really having to be told. A point or a nod conveyed reams of meaning, and soon we were working together like a well-oiled machine.

  I began to understand the magic that is sailing, and why it has captured Man’s imagination for millennia. I felt something of a kinship with all of those who had ever stood on a deck and been surrounded by water and wind and freedom. The liquid below us and the air above us were alive, and even though I knew they could become savage beasts, that day they were more akin to domesticated pets, happy to play and give us support, momentum and passage. Looking at the sky and the sun and the water, I realized what a limited life I had led. So much wasted time not appreciating the glories of all that is around each and every one of us. So many possibilities unfulfilled. So many frames of reference not sampled. I found it ironic that I was only just learning to live while being in a coma.

  To sleep; perchance to dream…

  __________

  We anchored exactly in the spot where I was in my dream. I went down below to grab us a couple of beers… a Fat Tire for me, and a Corona with lime for Giddeon. I turned on the radio and dialed it to 97.3, a country station. Taylor Swift sang about an old boyfriend in the song ‘Tim McGraw’. I came back on deck and handed Gid his beer.

  “Thanks,” he said. I sat down across from him and took a sip of my brew. Seagulls flew overhead, and a few clouds accented the sky. It was surprisingly warm for early Spring. “I told you it wasn’t that hard to learn. You’re almost an old salt, now.” Giddeon grinned after delivering his complement and tipped back his Corona.

  “I can’t believe I’ve had this boat for over two years and never took it out… afraid I didn’t know what I was doing, I guess.”

  “Tons of videos on the web where you can learn all about it,” said my sailing instructor. “Plus, the marina has a list of captains that really don’t charge that much per hour.”

  “I know… I know. I was really bad about getting off of my butt, back then,” I admitted.

  “Fear and laziness are formidable companions, my friend. Those two things, together, kill more dreams than everything else, combined.” He took another sip of beer.

  “You’re sounding more and more like a philosopher every day,” I observed. “I promise, though, if I ever make it back, there’ll be less T.V. and less web surfing. Just pick me out a stock every now and then.”

  Gid grinned. “You don’t need me to make money… just ‘stock’ up on dreams and actively pursue them. The money will sort itself out. You can’t just live in your head.”

  “You seem to do fine.”

  “Touche’… I don’t really have a choice. You do.”

  “At the moment, I don’t.” Silence fell between us for a few seconds. Not wanting to bring the day down, I cast my eyes out over the water and commented, “But, I’ve gotta say… this ain’t bad… this ain’t bad at all.”

  “Oh, yes. Not bad at all.” Giddeon paused for a few moments, and then, carried on. “But, over ‘there’, you can interact. You can share… you can shine.” He sounded almost reverent, which was out of character for him. “You can shoot for the stars, and it really means something… because gravity exists. You can live your life free to fail… you know? For, without failure, there’s no success.”

  He had that faraway look in his eyes that he got every so often, and was quiet for a moment or two before he continued,

  “Over here, everything’s real, so nothing’s real. Imagination’s pale without something solid on the flip side. Don’t forget that. If you get the chance to live, again, take it.”

  I nodded. “I will.”

  Giddeon was quiet, again, for a small interlude, and then said, “I think Jack London summed it up best:

  ‘I would rather be ashes than dust!

  I would rather that my spark should burn out in a brilliant blaze

  Than it should be stifled by dry-rot

  I would rather be a superb meteor,

  Every atom of me in magnificent glow,

  Than a sleepy and permanent planet.

  The function of man is to live, not to exist.

  I shall not waste my days trying to prolong them.

  I shall use my time.’”

  “Wow,” I said and took in some Fat Tire. “That’s pretty good. I never heard that.”

  “It was in the foreword of one of those ‘White Fang’ books you read. I thought the poem was awesome, even when I was twelve. Anyway, you get more out of your life if you get out more in your life… plus, visitors will have a whole lot more fun than hanging out with a dullard.” He took another swallow of his Mexican beverage.

  “I’ve always been kind of a loner.”

  “Oh, I don’t mean actual visitors in the flesh.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked, after propping my feet up and looking out over the water.

  “I mean the ones in your head.”

  “Not following you…”

  He scrunched up his lips and brow, as if thinking. I had come to learn that when I saw him doing that, something of import was coming soon.

  “Okay… let’s see,” he said. “You know how we’ve been sampling realities… how in all of the parallel universes there are infinite probabilities?”

  “Yeah…”

  “The same is true of the future… and, the past. Infinite probabilities, infinite timelines.”

  “Makes sense,” I responded as the wind gently rocked our boat.

  Gid nodded. “Yep, it does. So, when you want to put yourself into another frame of reference ‘over there’ (air quotes, again, even with the beer in his hand) in our time, what’s the best way to do it?”

  I thought for a moment.

  “A cheap bottle of tequila?”

  Giddeon almost blew Corona out of his nose as he was taking a swallow. “Good one! No… I mean something more proper… think date night, but, it’ll be double the price, then.”

  “A movie?”

  “Correctamundo. A movie. However, what do you think is better… real life, or a movie?”

  I considered for a moment. “Real life? As long as it’s a good one.”

  “Okay. Stay with me, now… if there are infinite futures, and technology continues to advance in billions of those, what do you think the probability is that in one or more of those realities they’ll be able to interface one brain with another? Interface them so that one person can directly experience what the other person is experiencing?”

  “Hmmm… 100 percent, I suppose.”

  “All right… and, if we’ve colonized other star systems and galaxies, what will our population be in this ever expanding cosmos compared to what we have, now, on this one planet?”

  “Lots and lots more, obviously.”

  “Yep, LOTS more. Now… we’ve already established that time and distance are illusions, so time travel shouldn’t pose much of a problem in those highly advanced futures. Do you agree?”

  I was beginning to see where he was going with all of this.

  “Okay…”

  “So,” Gid continued, “if you’re from the future, would you rather go to a movie about your distant ancestors on planet Earth, or would you rather see it through their actual eyes?” He had turned his blue eyes towards me as he spoke, as if to make a point.

  I began to balk. “Oh, come on… are you serious? Are you telling me that people from the future are linking with our brains and using them as some sort of virtual reality movie theaters?”

  He grinned and tipped back his drink. “Quite possible. As a matter of fact, almost guaranteed.”

  “That’s ridiculous… there’s no proof that anything like that is happening.�
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  “In this frame of reference. I suspect there are rules about interference… the possibility of altering timelines and all.”

  I shook my head vigorously back and forth. “I’m not on board with this one… it’s too crazy!”

  Giddeon finished his beer and tossed it overboard. It disappeared before hitting the water. “You’re arguing with your subconscious aboard a Flying Dutchman about what is and is not possible. Don’t you find that a bit ironic?”

  “The Flying Dutchman had dead people on board… I’m in a coma.”

  Another beer appeared in his hand with a lime slice already pushed into the neck. He took a slow swig and smiled. “Details.”

  “Anyway,” I continued, “I don’t have to worry about it… who would want to visit someone in a coma?”

  Giddeon smiled. “You’d be surprised. You’d be surprised.”

  His gaze turned towards the shore.

  I followed his eyes. There on the bank, looking out into the water was a familiar figure. She had on khaki shorts and a blue halter top; a bag was slung over her shoulder and a camera was in her hands. She turned back towards the clubhouse and took a picture.

  Melody.

  Without thinking, I was on my feet. I ditched my shirt and shoes, made sure no wallet, keys or any other items were in my pockets, and dove overboard.

  Chapter 37

  I’m a strong swimmer. I spent so much of my youth in ponds, lakes and municipal pools, that I have a natural stroke. I cut through the water like a knife, covering most of the two hundred yards in a couple of minutes. When I was almost to shore, a dolphin surfaced next to me and called out in an excited voice. Melody turned back from facing the clubhouse and began snapping photos.

  I stopped and reached out to the animal, but, of course, my hand went right through him. I had just a bit of a slick rubbery sensation under my palm as we intersected, and I could have sworn the dolphin looked me in the eye. I turned away and continued on towards the bank. ‘Flipper’ submerged under the water, and, in a few seconds, leaped into the air, breaching like a whale. Melody had a huge smile on her face; she kept clicking away with her Minolta 35 while I climbed up onto the muddy sand.

  Rivulets of water were running down my bare torso as I brushed wet hair back from my eyes. I made my way up behind the third tee over the big, gray rocks to where Melody was standing on the grass overlooking the water. The dolphin made one final leap, this time with a partner, and then the two moved on… as if giving us some room.

  I stood next to Melody and was having a hard time catching my breath, so I rested my hands on my knees for a few seconds and sucked in oxygen. I could smell her scent next to me, and as my breathing stabilized, I noticed that my heart did not. It was pounding in my chest, almost like the organ, itself, was excited by being so unexpectedly near to her. I stood up and reached out, but, as always, there was no contact.

  She was so heartbreakingly close that it was wrenching to not be able to communicate… I gave it a try, anyway.

  “Melody… I’m here. Can you feel me? I’m right here next to you.”

  She turned towards the clubhouse, and then, back to the water as if attempting to triangulate exactly where we had been on the boat. The breeze played just a bit with her golden mane.

  “This is where we were… this morning in the dream. You dreamed it, too, didn’t you?” I tried to hold her by the shoulders; once again, it was to no avail. I put my lips close to her ear and said in a soft voice, “I know you can’t hear me… but, can you feel me?”

  The wind continued to gently move her blonde locks around her shoulders. She took another picture of the water, out there in Giddeon’s direction.

  I went on, “Melody… I just want you to know… I… love you. I love you, and I’m going to do everything I can do to get back to you. I don’t know how… I don’t know when… but, I’m going to do it.”

  Then, she turned… and, for a very brief moment I thought she could see me. There was such surprise on her face that for a second, just for a second, I believed I had become real and manifested right there next to her. It was by far and away the best moment of my life, up until that point.

  As it turned out, the surprise she registered wasn’t from seeing me… it was from seeing Boris. I looked behind me, and there he was… walking carefully across the unfamiliar ground. Melody called out to him, and he started a little trot straight in our direction. I was almost as shocked as she was. I had never seen him so far from home.

  “Come here, kitty. Come here.”

  Melody stooped down, and she called to him, again. Boris ran right through me to her. She let him sniff her hand, and then scratched him behind the ears. She held out her other hand, placed it under his chin, and raised his head up so she could see his whiskered face.

  “You have big yellow eyes, just like in my dream. Are you the kitty from my dream? Were you on the boat?”

  Boris answered with a meow and flopped down in the grass. Melody began stroking him on his side and stomach. She took a picture of him lying there. He slowly blinked his eyes. That’s cat language for ‘I love you’. Maybe he was trying to translate for me.

  “You’re not missing any meals, are you? No, you’re not,” she said, and began patting his belly. “Someone is feeding you, huh? Do you live here on the golf course? Is this where you live?” She continued scratching.

  Melody looked so lovely resting on one knee, there, in the green of the grass. Her golden hair hung down, almost obscuring the cat, and I wished that I had a camera, myself. After the better part of a minute, Boris got up and moved away from her in order to come in my direction. He attempted to rub against my shins, but, naturally, was unsuccessful. Next, he stood up on his hind legs and tried to support himself upon my thighs. He fell forward, through me, and then rolled onto his back. Melody came over and started scratching, again.

  “You’re a strange one, too. Just like my Samantha. Aren’t you? I think you two would get along. Want to come home with me? Want to be an indoor kitty?”

  I wasn’t sure that was a good idea, but, then again, I wasn’t sure it was a bad one, either.

  If I didn’t know better, I could have sworn Boris was contemplating it, also. Finally, he got to his feet, rubbed up against her suntanned legs, and began walking away… back towards the marina which was almost a mile away. My loyal cat meowed back at her just before spotting a butterfly; he began to chase briefly after it, and then, continued on.

  Melody stood up and waved.

  “I guess not. You probably have a good life, here… be a good kitty! Bye, bye!”

  She turned and took one more picture of the water. I watched her put the camera away and then make her way across the fairway towards the putting green. She was everything I wanted, incarnate.

  I made my way back out into the bay. The saltwater tasted just like tears.

  __________

  I swam slowly to the boat. Giddeon threw a rope ladder down over the stern for me and I climbed up the wooden slats that were knotted into the hemp. He handed me a towel.

  “You could have just transported yourself there and back, you know?”

  “I haven’t really gotten the hang of that, yet,” I said. “Besides, it’s a good day for a swim. Did you see Boris? He must have followed us here.”

  “That’s some cat. I guess he wanted to make sure we didn’t sail off and leave him.”

  I nodded. “Melody recognized him… she even asked if he was the kitty in the dream.”

  “What did he say?”

  “I don’t speak cat, but it sure sounded like he answered in the affirmative.” I shook my head. “By the way… what was up with that dolphin? I could swear he was staring right at me.”

  Giddeon grinned. “Looks like we’re gonna have to add another animal to our list of those that can detect us. I wonder if it has anything to do with their sonar? Pretty cool… you learn something every day, huh?”

  “You didn’t know?”

&nbs
p; “Nope. Brand new info,” he replied.

  “Humph… I wonder if the time travelers in my head knew about it?”

  Gid hauled up the anchor and threw me a grin. “Hard to say… they don’t talk much. It’s impolite to make noise in a theater, you know?”