But he wasn't getting sick. He was just cold. It was the middle of summer, and a freak change in the weather had caught him unsuspecting, sleeping on top of the bed in nothing but his shorts while the temperature dropped. The blankets, socks and sweatshirt finally worked their magic and the shivering stopped. But his body and mind still fought over who was right. Frustrated, Blair rolled over, punching a fist into the pillow. There had to be a way to stop this sensation of still being out on the water. He sighed heavily and closed his eyes again. Immediately he felt as if the bed and the room were gently rolling over waves.
"Come on, Sandburg, you can get past this. Just take control." Yeah, that's it, try visualization. It worked the other night to cool you off. Now just change the setting and get yourself settled.
First it was a matter of relaxing. Now that the room's chill had worn off, and he was warmer and comfortable, Blair could let his muscles relax out of their shivering tension. He took a deep breath, then let it out slowly, forcing all thoughts of boats, water, and drowning to leave his mind. When he inhaled again, he pictured something as far away from the water as he could think of. The tree homes of the Kombai where he'd spent those three months living high above the ground. He pictured the bamboo flooring, the warm jungle breezes that swayed the trees slowly back and forth. The wind was like waves, making his bamboo raft rock and creak. The ground was so far below, like the bottom of the sea.
"Great, this is working." Blair shook the vision from his head and sighed, trying again.
Rock. That's what he needed. Something solid, firm, not inclined to roll or move. And a mountain, hundreds of feet above sea level. The canyon was orange and purple, and as the sun moved across the sky, the colors changed and muted. The rock he was sitting on was hard and covered in dust which he didn't bother to wipe away. Thick jeans protected his legs against the sharp corners of the boulders surrounding him. Heavy hiking boots made his feet sweat, but he knew better than to take them off. An eagle soared high overhead, screeching down to protest his intrusion. The air there was thin, but warm.
Blair looked around at the dry rocks, wondering what secrets the ancient stones held. The area he was in now had once been a river, but hundreds of years had turned it from a living waterway to a dry creek bed, harboring a different kind of life. It reminded him of a rock garden he'd seen once at a Zen temple. The monks could sit for hours gazing at the rocks, meditating about what they saw, interpreting the images that changed with the moving sun. Blair had also sat for hours one day, watching the monks as they watched the rocks. They were so vigilant in their quest for understanding, and so patient in their wait for its revelation. Sitting there, as solid as the rocks they watched, each man attained peace in the knowledge that the answers he sought would come to him in time.
Blair looked out over the dry river bed and watched a lizard scurry by. The sun warmed him as it climbed over the sky, casting different shadows over the face of the canyon walls. At first glance the area looked lifeless and void, but he knew, hundreds of years ago, there were native tribes here that flourished in a different environment. Once this river carried water instead of sand. The canyons grew trees instead of dust. And the rock he was sitting on now saw fish swim by, instead of lizards. Blair tried to picture the area back then, back when the water flowed and the trees grew tall. He pictured water filling the canyon, raining down from the clouds to drift slowly and gently down the canyon, into the valley farther on.
Listening carefully, Blair could pick out the sounds of children playing by the river's edge while their mothers and aunts washed clothes and pounded animal skins against the river rocks. Dogs barked, and men were discussing the day's hunt. Idly he wondered what tribe this would be. Blair wasn't sure if his canyon was in North America, or South. He understood the language the natives used, but he knew just enough of so many he could get by in several regions. But as he listened more intently, another sound intruded. A sharper, piercing squeal that sent a shiver down Blair's spine. It was almost as if...
Blair looked up suddenly. Water! A surge of water was barreling down on him from the far end of the dry river bed. It was as if someone had opened a flood gate, and there he was sitting in the middle of a river with a wall of water bearing down on him. There was no way out, no place he could possibly run in time! He braced himself, ready for the body-slam that was fast approaching. There'd be no time to think, and no room to swim. If he was lucky, the impact would kill him, saving him from a slow drowning.
It hit hard, sending Blair straight up in bed with a gasp.
"Oh, man!" With one hand over his pounding heart, Blair sat on the bed, listening to the shower shut off with a squeak. A minute later, Jim came out of the bathroom with one towel wrapped around his waist and another in his hand.
"Jim, we gotta get that cold water handle fixed." His heart was slowing back down to normal. Jim paused at his door.
"Sorry, Chief. Were you back in nirvana again?"
Blair shook his head, then swung both legs out from under the covers. His socks were half off his feet and Jim glanced at them, chuckling. "Not exactly." Tiredly, he pushed the hair from his face and stood up. "More like an Irwin Allen movie."
Jim laughed and shook his head while he walked through the living room toward the stairs. "Just so long as I wasn't in it. Come on, let's get a move on. I don't want to be late, Gilligan."
Blair stopped in the middle of his bedroom doorway. "Gilligan?"
Jim flipped on the coffee pot, then turned and flicked his towel at Blair as he walked back out of the kitchen. "Yeah."
"Jim, I was piloting that boat. Remember?" His friend just laughed as he walked to the stairs. Blair shook his head and started toward the bathroom. "The least I should get is Skipper." He stepped inside and shut the door. "Or the Professor."
"That would make me Maryann, Chief!"
Blair burst into laughter as he reached for the toothpaste. It took the better part of that morning to get the vision of Jim Ellison, and a pair of coconuts, out of his mind.
End
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