 
#

Coronado Dreaming

The Silver Strand

A Novel

By:

G.B. Brulte

# What Others Say

"Coronado Dreaming is a smart, fun read. It's the easiest, most pleasurable physics lesson I've ever had... with a So-Cal love story thrown in for good measure."

Stan Bertheaud

Screenwriter and Producer

#

Copyright © 2011 by G.B. Brulte. All rights reserved. SMASHWORDS EDITION

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either products of the author's imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. All rights reserved. No part of this publication can be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, without permission from the author.

ISBN-13: 978-1463781170

ISBN-10: 1463781172

Cover Photo by John Bahu

sandiegoscenics.com

# Dedications

To Mom and George. Thanks for always being there.

To my brothers, step-brothers, step-sisters, aunts, uncles, nieces, nephews, cousins and in-laws. Thanks for being my family.

To my high school English teacher, Mrs. Bray, who/whom really understands the importance of words. Here is my homework, 35 years late.*

Also, thanks to my proofreaders/editors: Dean, Rick, Stan, Stan and Kim.

*sorry about making up some of my own grammar and punctuation rules... so glad you introduced me to e.e. cummings :)

# Chapter 1

She was beautiful.

Sitting there at the table, with a menu in her hand. I could imagine the DNA in each and every one of her cells cranking out transcripts... transcripts that would be translated into proteins that all knew just exactly where to go, and exactly what to do, in order to construct such a magnificent creature.

She was truly stunning.

I almost wanted to weep because human perfection is both rare and transient. I knew she would age and wither and rust, but, that day, she was beautiful. That day, she was a goddess.

If only I could stop time, I would have stopped it for her. I might have sat for an eternity simply contemplating that countenance. It was as if the universe had created matter, energy and a myriad of elusive forces just so such loveliness would be produced. After 15 billion years of endeavor, the universe could finally rest... mission accomplished.

Good job : )

I was attracted to her, but sex wasn't really much of the equation. I'm sure it was a component, for I did feel something of a stir in my nether regions. However, I think that was more from a rush of blood that made it to every part of my body and soul, reproductive organs included. Moths are attracted to flame... she was a supernova. I had no choice but to wing my way into the brilliance. No choice at all. If I had burned... well, I suppose that would have been a righteous end to my existence.

I got up from my chair and made my way over to her table.

"Could I have your autograph?"

She looked up from her menu and smoke grey eyes dissolved the natural world around me. Her head tilted to one side, and the hint of a smile graced her lips.

"I'm not a celebrity."

"I know. I just wanted to watch you write... it doesn't even have to be your name." I handed her an old Jiffy Lube card, flipped over to the blank side, and a pen.

Her beautiful head then tilted the other way, but the fragment of a smile remained.

"As a matter of a fact, it could even be numbers," I said. "It might be better if it was numbers... six random ones, like _The Lotto_."

"Six numbers?"

"Or five, or seven... it doesn't matter."

She seemed to contemplate for a moment. Then, "What will you do with them?"

"I... don't know. I haven't thought that far ahead."

At that point, she did smile... and, of course, her teeth were perfect.

"You're a bit strange, aren't you?" she responded. The upward curvature on her lips lingered... that was a good thing.

"I was fairly normal... up until a minute ago."

"What happened?"

I shook my head. "I honestly have no idea."

It was ' _now or never_ '. I braced myself. "Could I buy you lunch?" I held my breath and felt a deep hammering within my chest. After an interminable pause, there finally came an answer.

"No... I don't think so."

It had been going so well. She could see I was crestfallen. I nodded twice, and slowly, turned to leave.

"You forgot your numbers."

I turned back. She was scribbling them down... underneath something else she had written there. When finished, the goddess then handed the pen and the card back to me. Still, the smile. I looked in my hand. On the rectangle were seven digits and a name:

Melody

555-0127

A phone number... _oh, my God_ ... I put the card in my pocket.

"I'm Greg... I'll... I'll just let you get back to, umm..." I stammered.

The supernova seated there grew even brighter. "I said you couldn't buy me lunch... I didn't say you couldn't eat with me."

It was a good day to be a moth.

# Chapter 2

That was how it started.

My life, that is. I was born 2.4 decades earlier, but my life didn't fully begin until that day. I still remember the lunch. I had fish tacos... an Ahi and a Wahoo. She had a Greek salad and bread-sticks. We both had iced-tea. The San Diego sky was blue, as usual, and the only earthquakes that particular afternoon were inside of me.

Amazingly, we hit it off. She was a Master's student in Ecology, with an undergraduate in, of all things, Philosophy... brains _and_ beauty.

I, on the other hand, was pretty much a professional drop out. I had switched majors 4 times, was on my 'summer break', and, at the time, employed only twenty hours a week.

I did have a little money. One night I was dead drunk and put my entire student loan check on a penny stock using an SDSU library computer. I don't really remember doing it. A few days later, after discovering there was no money in my ATM, I ran into the nearest branch office of my bank, got a print out of my Checking, and saw there was a debit to Charles Schwab for 5,500 dollars. I had opened that account with a Benjamin Franklin from my brother (a birthday present), and the cash had been sitting there for 2 years in a money market fund. That fund was supposed to have 107 dollars and 26 cents in it, according to my last statement.

I stumbled to the only payphone around, looked through the yellow pages, and called the brokerage.

My account was worth $27,286.24.

I put in an immediate sell order.

I bought a sailboat, even though I knew nothing about sailing... I just thought it would be cool to live on one. It's a 32 footer, and, at the time that I met Melody, the vessel had never been outside of its slip since I'd owned it. The marina is on Coronado Island, which is a fantastic piece of real estate just across the bay from San Diego, California, and I can't think of a better place to just sit on the water. The weather here is probably the best in the country, and visitors tend to flock to this idyllic locale from places both near and far.

Between dock fees, sporadic tuition and what I had paid for the boat, there was about 7 thousand dollars left in my Charles Schwab account on that fateful day at the restaurant. Almost all of the money was in penny stocks... I spent an inordinate amount of time reading IHUB message boards while hoping for another big pay out.

At best, I had been breaking even.

To supplement my day trading, I had taken a part-time job mowing greens at the Coronado Municipal Golf Course. I could walk to work in the mornings since it was adjacent to the marina, and although it didn't pay much, I really loved the job. I had done the same type of work in my hometown (back in Alabama when I was a teenager), and there I was, doing it again. At least the second go 'round I had a sailboat... however, what good is a boat without a girl?

Preferably, one in a bikini.

I didn't really think of her in that way. She was much too good for ordinary lust. Besides, we had just met. As our little lunch went on, though, I fell deeper and deeper in... love? Is that the word for the feeling you get when you meet someone, and you know, without a doubt, that you'll do whatever is required of you just to breathe the same air into your lungs that had moments before been exhaled from theirs? The feeling that you would start cutting off your own body parts if they were shackled to an immovable object keeping you from them?

Is that the word?

We went for a walk down by the bay. We watched seagulls careen off the wind and surf the atmosphere. Sunlight glinted on the water as if thousands of diamonds were floating in the ripples, and, as we stood there, a dolphin surfaced through the brilliance only twenty yards out... I took that as a good sign. On the way back to our cars, we actually held hands. I was in heaven.

I didn't see her again for four years.

# Chapter 3

I didn't see anyone for four years. Well, that's not exactly true... I saw lots of people, only I'm not sure if they were really real. They were more like figures in a dream.

I was in a coma.

It was the morning after our lunch on the previous day and I still had Melody's number in my wallet. In addition, I had written it down three other places in my boat, one place in my glove compartment, and, just to be sure, had also e-mailed it to myself.

Plus, I memorized it... 555-0127.

I'd just finished mowing the greens, and had hopped off of the machine to check for a hydraulic leak in one of the hoses. In order to bend over and view the underside of the mower, I removed my protective helmet. That's when the golf ball hit me in the temple. It was a 3 wood shot, and it ricocheted off my head and onto the putting surface for a gimme birdie. I don't remember it at all. I vaguely remember the sound of a siren. They had to drill holes in my skull to relieve the pressure, and give me copious amounts of medication in order to stop life-threatening seizures.

My brother, the only actual blood relative I had, flew out from Alabama... I have no real recollection of that, either. I spent two weeks in the ICU, and then was moved to a long-term care facility. They said I had low-level, sporadic brain activity... but, for four years I never quite made it up to the threshold of consciousness.

Luckily for me, I had just gotten on the employee insurance plan at the golf course, so some of the hospital bills were covered. My brother Jeremy had to soak up the rest. Thank goodness he and his wife made decent livings as pharmaceutical representatives.

My sibling came out several times a year, stayed on the Catalina (he kept up the slip fees), and consulted with doctors and specialists. They all said the same thing... I could come out of it the next day, or, I might be a vegetable for life. There was no way to know.

Some said the brain activity was promising and that the radiographs and CT scans looked good... but they didn't want to give him false hope. Periodically, I would mumble something unintelligible and the nurses would get all excited; inevitably, though, I would go back down into my slumber. I don't remember being in the facility all of that time... at least not in the normal sense.

However, I do remember my guardian angel.

# Chapter 4

His name is Giddeon. Kind of a smart-ass for an angel.

What kind of a guardian angel lets you get hit in the head by a Titleist and spend the next four years in a coma?

In Giddeon's defense, he said he wasn't an angel at all. He said he was just a part of my brain that I had access to due to my injury. Giddeon insisted that all of the things he knew and related to me during those four years were already in my head, or, had somehow been 'tapped into' by me... supposedly, there is a _collective consciousness_ that I and everyone else on the planet can employ. He also maintained that most people only use 10 percent of their brains (apparently, I had not been anywhere close to that benchmark), and that the 90 percent left over is capable of almost supernatural feats.

To this day, I'm not sure I totally buy it. I still have a hard time believing that the things he showed me were already in there, or were somehow 'obtained' by me from the ethers. A man's got to know his limitations, and, I do. I was a slacker with the sub-10 percent... and I'm pretty sure that the other 90-plus percent was just as slack.

# Chapter 5

The first thing he said to me was, "Man, that must have hurt!"

I was sitting on the fringe beside the number three green. The sun was setting, the mower was gone, and the course seemed to be deserted. A few sailboats were tacking in the light breeze, making their way across the bay to wherever they were berthed.

I reached up to feel the side of my head with my left hand, for some reason expecting to find a very tender area, and possibly, blood. To my surprise, nothing. . . no pain, no blood.

"Where's the Jacobsen?" I asked, casting my gaze about for the machine.

"They took it back to the work shed hours ago, after the ambulance hauled you off."

His words were dipped in a slightly Southern accent, similar to my own.

"After the... who are you?"

He walked over and offered a hand.

"Giddeon."

I took his help and he pulled me to my feet.

"What time is it?" I questioned, noticing from my new angle a difference in the light and shadows all around me.

Giddeon looked at his wristwatch. "7:15... P.M."

"P.M...? How did it get to be...? What did you say about an ambulance?"

"It took you away hours ago. You're in surgery at Sharp Hospital," said the young man. I noticed that he had serious, blue eyes; however, the skin around them had faint tracings of smile-induced lines.

"In surgery...? What are you talking about?"

"You got hit in the head by a golf ball this morning. Don't you remember?"

"I remember mowing this green, and getting off to check something... and, then..." I pushed the dark hair back from my own hazel eyes as I tried to recall, "... I'm right here talking to you, so, how could I be in the hospital?"

"Let's just call this a dream."

"A dream?"

"Actually, you're in a coma."

"No way."

"Way."

I thought to myself that this guy must have watched a lot of old ' _Saturday Night Live_ ' reruns. I rubbed the side of my head, again, and inspected my surroundings. After a few seconds, I replied,

"This is too real to be a dream... I can feel the breeze, smell the water..."

"Nah... it's pretty much a dream," said Giddeon. "At least that's the closest thing I can compare it too." He gazed around and took in our local slice of the world. "I have to say, I'm impressed with what you've done, here... very impressed."

"Look, I don't know what's going on, but, I'd appreciate it if you..."

Giddeon began to rise up off of the ground. About 3 feet of clear space appeared below his feet.

"Could I do this if this wasn't a dream?" He then did a slow, graceful back-flip, and gently, returned to the earth.

I stood, stunned, for a moment.

"I guess not."

"Or, this?" Giddeon morphed into a perfect facsimile of Melody, and, after a few seconds, back into himself... which was kind of a cross between a young Brad Pitt and a boyish Kevin Bacon. He seemed to be approximately my age. Longish hair, slightly scruffy.

"I like you better the other way."

"I'll bet you do. She's something, huh?"

I blew air out of my cheeks. "You've got that right."

Other than being in a coma, I couldn't believe my recent luck.

"You know," said Giddeon with a bit of a lecturing tone to his voice, "looks aren't everything."

I nodded in agreement. "I know. I think she could be the whole package, though. She's very nice... and, smart... really seems like a good, good, person. Back to me being in the hospital..."

"You held hands," he interrupted and smiled. His eye-lines crinkled a bit at the corners.

I paused, remembering. "Yeah, we did. That may be the crowning achievement of my life, so far."

Giddeon laughed, and his indigo irises seemed to almost dance when he did. "You're probably right." He looked back out over the bay and the breeze rustled his light brown locks. "We could go over to the operating room and check on you, but I don't really like the sight of blood. How about we go back to your boat, and then, maybe get something to eat?"

I reached back up to my temple. I could have sworn I felt just the slightest sensation of something drilling through the bone. Not knowing what else to do, I agreed.

"Sounds like a plan."

# Chapter 6

We walked back along Glorietta Boulevard to the marina. The sky was going that dark blue that makes the palm trees into long-necked silhouettes with just a hint of color to them... browns and greens gently fading into grays and blacks. By the time we arrived, the moon had just come out over Mexico. It looked like a large, yellow painting of the moon. The golden orb hung suspended against the canvas of infinity, dappled with textures here and there as if by the brush of a gigantic, master artist.

The gate was open, so we made our way over to the boat, stepped on board, and then went down into the living quarters, below. The cabin door had been unlocked... crime's not really much of a problem on the island... so I flicked on the lights and was greeted by my usual disarray. I had intended to start cleaning up that afternoon in anticipation of a beautiful houseguest sometime during the weekend. Giddeon reached back and closed the cabin door behind him.

"I see your outside environment is much like your inner one," he commented.

"Come again?"

"As above, so below."

Then, I got it... he was making cracks about what was inside of my cracked cranium.

"I was gonna clean up this afternoon... didn't know I'd be in surgery and all." I looked around my small domain. "This is sure one heck of a hallucination."

Giddeon inspected the interior of the boat, also. After a few moments, he said, "It looks so real because it sort of is... in its own way. Oddly enough, your brain seems to work better under pressure. That's what they're trying to relieve right now, by the way."

I could definitely hear a dull noise, if I concentrated, and was also aware of some unsettling vibrations.

"Don't worry... no pain receptors in the brain."

I shook my head back and forth. "I need a beer."

"I'll take one, too," said my new acquaintance. He had a seat at the small table on the starboard side of the cabin.

I opened the door to the little square fridge and fished out two Coronas. After popping the tops, I handed one to Giddeon.

"Sorry, no lime."

"No problem." He set the beverage down on the Formica surface before him, crossed his arms, and did a rather excellent impression of the ' _I Dream of Jeannie_ ' head bob and blink. A perfectly cut lime slice appeared on his bottle, stuck partway into the opening. "Want one?"

"No thanks." I was impressed with his magic trick, but it didn't compare with the back-flip and image changing, earlier. "Right now, I just want to get this inside of me."

I sat down on the couch across from him and took a swig. It tasted great... nice, cool and real.

"So... am I gonna die?"

"Everybody dies."

"I mean, like, soon?"

He shrugged his shoulders. "No idea. It's probably a darned good thing they got you to the hospital so quickly, though."

The vibrations stopped... I thought I could hear people murmuring, and wondered if it was the surgeon, anesthesiologist and assistants. Giddeon pushed his lime slice into the clear neck of his Corona, and took a sip.

"Anyway, no point in worrying about it," he said. "Why don't you tell me about Melody?"

I took another drink and glanced back around the interior of the boat, unsure if it would continue to remain so solid with people fishing around inside my head. Finally, I decided he was right, and answered, "She's awesome. I wrote her number down in four places... plus, I e-mailed it to myself so I wouldn't lose it."

"Good thinking."

I took a long draught of lime-free beer, and then continued, "Also, I memorized it. I even considered writing a song about it like that 867-5309 one by Tommy Tutone."

"Oh, yeah! That's a great song. You should take your guitar more seriously... maybe have some lessons." He pointed at the Ovation next to me on the couch.

"Soon as I'm out of this coma, I'll get right on it."

Those words kind of had a dampening effect on my mood, so we just sat there for the better part of a minute and drank our drinks in silence. The quiet around us seemed to grow softly into a hushed crescendo; then, from outside of the door, I heard a familiar scratching noise and a faint meow. Giddeon stood up as if glad for the distraction and said,

"I'll get it."

My visitor walked over and popped the latch.

In strolled Boris, the local marina cat. A big, brindle-coated tabby. The feline hesitated and looked around as if something was not quite right with his surroundings. After a few seconds, he came right over to me and sniffed the air in a quizzical way. The friendly animal then leaned over to rub against my leg. To his surprise, he went right _through_ me to the couch. Boris backed away and tried again... with the same result.

I was as surprised as he was.

"He can see you and hear you, but that's about it," said Giddeon.

"He's not part of my dream?"

"No... he's real."

I patted the couch next to me. "Come here, Boris."

He jumped up beside me and meowed. I gently reached over and 'patted' him. I noticed that my hand sank down _into_ him, and I could sort of feel his fur as it did... oddly, though, the thick, keratinized layer didn't ruffle at all when my fingers went through it.

Boris made his way over to my lap and settled in... seeming not to care that he was actually lying on the couch and unsupported by my frame. I looked down, and the effect was surreal. It was as if the head and tail of a cat were sewn into my blue jeans. I couldn't see the rest of him. I 'scratched' what parts of the brownish-grey mammal I could get to.

Boris purred and meowed, again.

"Now you know why cats act so funny, sometimes... they can see things humans can't," informed Giddeon.

"What about dogs?"

"Not so much... sometimes they can hear and smell, but it just freaks them out. Cats go with it. Now, back to Melody." He said the last sentence as if he could hardly wait to hear all about her.

I nodded.

"She's amazing..." I began, again, but then something occurred to me and switched my focus. "Wait a minute... Boris couldn't come in. You opened the door and let him in. I'm petting him, but nothing is happening to his fur... why couldn't he just come through the door?"

"To him, the boat is 'real', too." Giddeon made quotation marks in the air with his fingers to accentuate his remark. "For the most part, it overlaps with 'his' boat."

More quotation marks followed his first pair.

"Hmmm..." I intoned. "Well... what about the beers? They sure taste real. Why aren't our hands just going through them? Instead, we're holding them and drinking them."

Giddeon nodded.

"Well, we sort of are. They're actually in the refrigerator, over there... it's kind of hard to explain, but, I'll try." He paused for a moment, as if collecting his thoughts, and then said, "You've heard about quantum physics, right?"

"I saw that documentary ' _What the Bleep!?'._ "

"Okay, good. Do you remember how the film explained that individual particles can exist in a supposition of states? How they might have all possibilities until their field of probabilities 'crashes' down into one reality simply by being observed?"

"I think so..." I said, trying to remember back.

"Like in the _Double-Slit Experiment_ ," relayed Giddeon. "Where a single electron can go through two different slits, simultaneously, as a wave. It flows through both openings like water. So, if you fire a succession of them, they leave an interference pattern on a wall behind the openings. It's as if they each somehow interfered with themselves... like waves do... when they passed through." Giddeon paused, again, to make sure that I comprehended, and then carried on, "However, when you try to measure which slit individual electrons go through," he gestured at two imaginary spaces, "they become particles and the interference pattern disappears. You just get two rows recorded on the wall where they all hit."

I pursed my lips and furrowed my brow, trying to get my damaged brain to recall.

"You know," said Giddeon. "When the experimenter actually makes a recording, that's when the field of probabilities condenses around the electron, and it goes through either one opening or the other. It's like the observation, itself, actually influences the experiment." He looked at me expectantly, as if waiting for an echo to come back to him.

Finally, I nodded. "Yeah... I remember, now."

Giddeon smiled. "The beers are like that... so is this boat. We're just picking one of their realities and leaving the rest alone. We're not crashing the system and condensing the fields... the door, on the other hand, I had to crash."

He nodded in its direction.

"It really is open?"

"Over here and over there."

"And, by over there, you mean..."

He smiled, again. "Where Melody lives. Now, tell me about her. I know she's all you've thought about since yesterday. Other than her physical perfection, what's the attraction?"

I had stopped petting Boris. He looked up and meowed for me to resume. Apparently, he liked the 'virtual' attention.

"Like you said... ' _As above, so below_.'... I'm pretty sure the perfection is through and through."

____________

Note: for a more complete understanding of the Double-Slit Experiment, please view the following clip at You Tube by typing in: Dr Quantum - double slit experiment. It's entertaining, and, quick : )

# Chapter 7

If I live to be a hundred, I'll never forget the way she looked that day. I know a person is more than their epidermis and bone structure, but, man-oh-man! Dirty blonde hair with auburn hues buried here and there. A cute nose and succulent lips. Not a trace of make-up... why cover up something like her face? That would be like trying to touch up a Rembrandt with a can of spray paint. Her body was perfect... at least for me. Maybe 5'9", a hundred and thirty-five pounds, or so. She had an athletic look about her, and moved with the grace of someone who had taken dance lessons from a very young age. Melody's appearance was elegant, and yet, wholesome, at the same time.

Like I said... perfect.

I don't know why she was attracted to me. Nothing special, here. I'm in decent shape, but fairly non-descript. No glaring deformities... however, I'm most definitely not in her league. Maybe she's so beautiful that nobody ever approached her... lucky for me that I worked up the nerve.

We instantly seemed to understand each other. You know how people talk about how when they met their 'soul-mate' it's like they'd known each other, before? How they say they just seemed to fit together like pieces of a puzzle? It was like that, except that the puzzle pieces were vibrating in harmony and a backdrop of celestial, symphonic music was playing at the same time. When I touched her hand, it was as if a transfusion of possibilities, endless summers and purpose invaded my basic being.

Like the future began to glow

I know it sounds ridiculous, but I had the feeling that with her I could become so much more than the bumbling, drifting excuse for a person that I had been... and, I suspected that even if I didn't become more, it wouldn't really make a difference. I was almost certain that no matter what, she would have accepted me for who I was, and would have been totally satisfied just knowing all of those possibilities were somewhere in there.

Apparently, she felt something, too.

We were actually completing each other's sentences after talking for five minutes. After ten minutes, it was like we had grown old together... we could have simply sat on a park bench, fed the pigeons, and been totally happy just watching them waddle around and peck at crumbs. When lunch arrived, it was as if we had died in each other's arms and gone on to our reward. And, there, our reward was... the delicious food and the San Diego sky. The beautiful setting all around us like a three-dimensional frame on a piece of Southern California. We were young again and just meeting for the first time. What a perfect reward. What a perfect day.

What a perfect woman.

I told all of this to Giddeon, and all about our little conversation as she and I walked beside the bay, holding hands. I remembered practically every word and gesture... and even though it was about nothing, it was about everything.

Giddeon listened attentively, almost raptly, until at length, I was finished.

"Wow... you have quite a way with words. The pictures you painted are almost as clear as this 'dream' of yours. Most people go their whole lives and never have a day like that. You're a lucky man."

"Who's in a coma," I added.

"Well, there is that. If you survive, you should write all of this down. You might have a future as an author."

# Chapter 8

I considered what he said.

When I finally did emerge from my coma, I was much too overwhelmed to attempt something like that, at first... I was simply elated that I was fully alive and able to have the opportunity to walk and talk and interact. I was so grateful that all I really wanted to do was to have actual human contact and participate in the world all around me. It was just incredible to once again share in the magic of everyday life and the wonder of living.

Writing was the furthest thing from my mind.

# Chapter 9

As real as my dream world was, I found that it just wasn't the same without 'real' people.

Giddeon and cats make for pretty good company, but even with all of the amazing things I could see and do and experience over there, all in all, I'd rather be over here. This is where she is. Whether I'm with her or not, I'd rather be where our fields of probabilities are collapsed into the same reality. I'd rather be under the same sun and the same stars.

I want to be where I know it's possible to actually talk to her, and touch her, and hold her hand... even if it has to end.

Life is about love, or, at least, the possibility of love. All of the other emotions can be interesting distractions, but love is a tsunami of feeling that sweeps the rest of them away... leaving them pale, washed out and scattered on the sands of time.

After being in a coma for four years, I've learned that life without love isn't really life at all.

Life without love is pretty much an amusement park with no electricity. All of the rides are still there, but nothing actually moves you and spins you around.

# Chapter 10

Boris stood up to where I could see most of him, sans legs, turned around a couple of times and lay back down on his side, facing me. I 'scratched' him under his chin and he began to purr, again.

"You hungry?" asked Giddeon, finishing the last of his beer.

"I could eat."

"Brigantine?"

"Sounds good... I think happy hour for the bar food is still going on."

"Time doesn't really matter so much over here, but, yeah... we can still catch it."

Giddeon set his bottle on the table, and looked back around the interior of the boat. "This is pretty cool. How come you never take it out?"

"Don't know the first thing about sailing. I just like being on the water."

He nodded. "If you're unconscious long enough, I'll teach you. It's not that hard."

"We'll see..." I stood up through Boris. He meowed, but showed no inclination to roust himself from the couch. "We'd better get going."

Giddeon followed me to the cabin exit. We made our way outside, and I heard him close the door behind us.

"Just leave it open for Boris. He likes to come and go," I said.

"Oh, right." I saw Giddeon reach back, and for a moment, I could see two doors... one open and one closed. There was a flicker, and then, there was just the one open door.

We stepped onto the dock under the full, Coronado moon.

__________

The Brigantine wasn't very crowded. We made our way to the tables near the bar and had a seat strategically by one of the televisions. As luck would have it, a re-broadcast of a golf tournament from earlier during the day was on. We checked out the menus; none of the waitresses acknowledged us.

Without looking up, Giddeon said, "They can't see us. What do you have a taste for?"

"The baked chicken sandwich... and, fries."

"Iced tea to drink?"

"Sure."

I saw a shimmering. My plate of food and glass of tea, along with silverware wrapped in a napkin, appeared before me.

"I'm going for the fish tacos," said Giddeon.

Before he had fully finished the sentence, there they were. I began unwrapping my fork and knife.

"What do we do if someone wants this table?" I asked.

"Won't happen for another 53 minutes."

"You can see the future?"

"There is no future."

"No future?"

"Not really... the future, the past, the present... they're all part of the same thing."

"Which is...?"

"You," said Giddeon.

"Me?"

"Or, them." He motioned to the people in the room.

"I'm not really following," I remarked.

"That's because there's no such thing as following... or, leading." He took a bite of taco, and then continued on with his mouth full. "Or, even being in step with... all of that's an illusion. It's all happening at the same 'time'." He made quotation marks in the air with his fingers, and swallowed.

"So in 53 minutes, someone's going to come and sit at this table?"

"52... in their frame of reference, which we're observing," he motioned to the people, again. "But, there's an infinity of other frames in this universe. And, there's also an infinity of other universes... each with their own endless frames. A multi-verse if you will. We could skip over to one of those, and it would be different. That someone could be sitting here, then. Or, just leaving... or, just arriving. Whatever you can imagine, it's happening. Which leads to the question, would we be 'choosing' a frame of reference that matches what we wanted, or would we be 'creating' that frame of reference?"

More air quotes punctuated his last sentence.

"I really shouldn't have taken off my hard-hat."

Giddeon broke into a grin. A beer appeared in his hand. He poured it into an empty mug that had come along with it.

"Hind-sight is 20/20." He raised his glass to me, and took a drink.

__________

We watched the tournament as we ate our food. As always, I found the process of how the pros worked their way around the golf course fascinating. The chicken sandwich was just right... not too hot and not too cold, not too juicy and not too dry. Seasoned perfectly. Just the way I would have wanted the sandwich to taste if I had... created it. One of my favorite golfers almost chipped in from the fringe beside the green.

"Oh man, that was close," I said.

"It went in somewhere else."

"In another 'frame'?" I used my fingers to make quotation marks, then.

"Yep. That's what makes golf so much fun. The ball has this field of probabilities all around it, and you try to choose the frame it goes into."

"Like the double-slit experiment?"

"Exactly! Except there are billions of slits for the ball to fly through," he said, looking pleased with my correlation.

"I thought it was all about practice and dedication."

Giddeon nodded enthusiastically. "It is! It is! That's what's so cool... it's both. Have you ever seen someone with a really funky swing, yet, they were a great golfer?"

"Oh, yes... all the time. However, I don't really know anybody that uses the word 'funky', anymore."

"You use it, in your head."

"How do you know?"

He pointed at his temple. "It's the same head."

"Humph," I grunted, and let his curious comment pass. "Anyway, I don't use the word 'funky' out loud... that's from the 1970's."

"You watched a lot of sitcom reruns when you were a kid... it kind of stuck."

I rolled my eyes. "Back to golf... I have a pretty good swing, but sometimes I struggle to break 90, especially on a strange course."

"Ninety's a decent score, actually, from the blues... if you play by all of the rules."

"Doesn't feel like it."

"That's because you know what's possible," he said. "You have a taste of picking the frames the universe contains. So do those golfers with the funky swings. They're just better at choosing the realities than you are, most of the time. But, you do it quite often."

"Like when I chip in?"

"Or, when you made that eagle with the 2 iron."

"That was awesome," I said, remembering back. Apparently, he remembered it, too.

Giddeon took another drink of his Fat Tire beer. "But, not as awesome as Melody," he said.

"Not even close," I agreed.

He smiled, seemingly happy with my answer. "Inanimate objects pale in comparison to those with their own conscious, living fields."

"Anything pales compared to that field."

"No argument, here."

I picked at my fries with my fork. Finally, I said, "I hope I come out of this coma, soon. She doesn't even know my phone number... she'll be expecting me to call."

"Yeah, I know... bummer... but, whatever will be, will be."

"Now you're quoting Doris Day lyrics? Those are from the 1950's, you know? That doesn't really help a lot."

I glanced back at the television. A golfer had almost drained a forty-footer, but, it stopped right there on the edge of the cup... as if defying physics.

He sank to his knees, and looked up to the heavens.

__________

After eating, we went back to the marina. Boris was gone, and even though it was early, I was feeling rather tired. Giddeon told me to get some rest; that he would be back, tomorrow. He said good night, and closed the cabin door.

I went to the fridge, thought about getting another beer, but decided against it. I took off my clothes and collapsed in the forward bunk. The last thing I remembered before drifting off to sleep was walking beside the bay and holding Melody's hand.

I could almost feel her warm, soft skin against my fingers.

# Chapter 11

I awoke to dawn light filtering in through the windows, and the sound of Boris meowing outside of the cabin door. I groaned, threw on a pair of khaki shorts, and made my way aft. I opened the door and looked down at the cat.

"You hungry, Boris?"

He meowed, again, and rose up on his back legs. He stood there, balanced in a way that seemed most unnatural. With surprise, I realized that only 'my' door was open... 'his' was still closed, and apparently, he had his front paws against it. I felt around in the open space for a door handle, but found nothing. Finally, I gave up and stepped outside.

Boris was happy to see me and started meowing, again. He attempted to rub against my bare legs, but only succeeded in going back and forth through them. I could feel his fur where it intersected with my flesh, and it was very strange... like he was rubbing against the front and back of my legs at the same time. I watched with fascination, and then reached down and 'scratched' behind his ears.

"I guess I'm still in a coma, boy. Can't let you in. Maybe they have something down at the Boat House for you." The staff at the restaurant next door was pretty good about feeding Boris and a couple of other local felines. "Wait here and we'll go down there in a minute."

__________

I went back inside, took a leak, brushed my teeth and hair, and then donned a t-shirt and flip-flops. Everything felt totally normal... just like any other morning from my previous twenty-four years of existence. I pinched myself with quite a bit of force on the cheek to make sure I was truly 'awake'... I was. I inspected my hands, shook my head, and then made my way back aft, once again. Boris, as instructed, was waiting for me outside. We made our way down the dock and towards the restaurant; my four-legged friend heeled behind me just like a well-trained dog.

__________

The red-topped roof of the restaurant, similar to the one on the Hotel Del across the street, stood out against the wisps of the marine layer that were so common that time of year. The cat and I walked up to the structure, and then, down the little gang-plank that's to the right side of it.

There's a porch that runs by the water sides of the building where diners can eat at wooden tables, and, since it was fairly early in the morning, they had yet to be set. I took a seat at a chair that was pulled away from an eating station. Boris jumped up into my 'lap' and we just sat there for a while, watching seagulls in their element amongst the sailboats of Seaforth Boat Rentals.

Eventually, a cute waitress came through the door from the bar in order to begin preparing tables for the weekend lunch crowd. She looked over and spotted Boris.

"Hey, Boris... whatcha doing?"

She sauntered over and started petting and scratching the cat. He obviously knew the young brunette, and moved his head this way and that... evidently enjoying a real scratching instead of a virtual one.

My eyes grew wide and I tried to scoot back out of the way when I noticed her hands were disappearing around Boris into my crotch area. As that was happening, Giddeon came walking down the planks.

"Whoa! What's going on here?"

"It's not what it looks like... she's friends with Boris."

"Looks like she's ' _in_ ' to you, too."

"Very funny... have a seat."

He pulled out a chair on the opposite side of the table. For a moment, I had the unsettling image of two chairs... the original one still in place and the other one into which he sat. The waitress gave one final rub to the cat and stood back up.

"I'll get you some milk. Don't you go anywhere," she instructed Boris as she went back into the bar area.

Giddeon watched her go, and then asked, "How did you sleep?"

"Like a log. I guess I'm still in a coma. How did the surgery go?"

He nodded. "The doctors seem pleased. You're in ICU."

"Great... I figured I must have survived. I haven't seen any tunnels of light."

"Neither have I... I can show you what to look for, if you want."

I shook my head back and forth. "No thanks... I'll wait." Boris tilted his head up and meowed, as if congratulating me on a smart decision. "I wonder if they've notified my brother."

"He's on his way out. Should get here sometime this afternoon."

"How do you know?"

"I overheard some of the nurses talking."

That, amongst a host of other things, puzzled me.

"How could you overhear the doctors and the nurses if I'm unconscious?"

He brushed his hair back from his eyes with his fingers. "Your brain is still working... just not the way it normally does."

"So... what you were saying is true... this isn't really a dream, is it?"

"Not technically," Giddeon said, "but, close enough that there is some common ground."

I looked him over in the morning light. He sure seemed real.

"Humph," I grunted after a long pause. I thought for a few seconds more, and then asked a question that had been on my mind since the night before.

"Are you an angel?"

Giddeon let out a laugh. "Hardly... I'm you."

My eyebrows went up on my forehead. "Me? You don't look like me."

"I'm your subconscious. I don't really look like anybody... this is just convenient for you... I mean me... I mean you..."

I rolled my eyes at his lame joke.

"Well... you seem like you're a lot smarter than me."

"You're plenty smart. You just don't use all of your faculties."

"And, you?"

He brushed his hair back from his eyes, again, leaned back in the chair and spread his hands wide as if presenting himself.

"This is just the rest of your faculties in action."

"Humph," I grunted, once more. "All of that stuff about quantum physics, frames of reference, and, tunnels of light... not to mention sailing boats... I don't know much about any of those. You seem like an expert."

"You know more than you think you do."

I was about to respond, but just then the waitress came out with a saucer of milk. Boris jumped right through my hands to the floor.

"Here you go, Boris! How about leaving a tip, this time?"

She scratched him for a few moments as he lapped up the white fluid. Then, the brunette sashayed back inside. I watched the cat enjoy his breakfast and contemplated what Giddeon had said. Finally, I asked,

"How can I know more than I do? That doesn't make any sense. I'm no Einstein... just ask my school guidance counselor if you don't believe me."

Giddeon nodded, again, and pursed his lips as if pondering. After a second or two he said, "You know all of the times when you had the T.V. on and weren't really watching it? Or, when talk radio was playing in another room, and you could just barely hear it? Also, all of those books, magazines and newspapers you flipped through while waiting for an appointment?"

"Yeah...?"

He pointed to his head. "All in here."

"In your head?"

"In _your_ head."

"My head?"

"Yep... almost everything you've ever seen, heard or read. Every movie, television show, book, conversation, lecture... et cetera. All in here." He pointed at his head, again, and then, mine.

"For real?"

"Oh, yes... for real. And, more. Scientific theories, hypotheses, certainties... all constructed by you or 'gleaned' from the ether." Again, he had made air quotations.

"By me? I'm no scientist... I never 'gleaned' anything."

Giddeon gave me an animated look. "Everyone's a scientist. They just don't know it... except for the scientists, I suppose. And, everyone's a philosopher... it's hard to be one without the other."

He smiled, and the little lines around his eyes became more indented.

"Melody has a degree in philosophy," I said.

"And, you would like to have a degree in Melody."

"Definitely a field I'm interested in."

Most of my brain, which was apparently seated across from me, laughed. "You just made yourself a pun about academics and quantum physics... clever. I told you you're smart."

"I think it was an accident."

"There are no accidents."

"What about a golf ball slamming into my temple?"

"Well... maybe there are a few. Then, you just have to make the best of them."

He winked, and two heaping platefuls of waffles topped with strawberries and cream appeared on the table.

"Orange juice?" asked Giddeon.

"Sure."

# Chapter 12

When we were done, my subconscious decided we should play some golf. We stood up from the table, leaving our mess in that frame of reference. Boris looked at us from his place near the saucer; Giddeon spied something under the table, and held his hand out to me.

"Hold on... I want to try something."

I saw him stoop down and reach for a penny that was there on the wooden floor near the animal. Giddeon seemed to be concentrating very intensely as he placed his thumb and index finger around it.

Slowly, very slowly, he picked up the copper coin. I had the feeling that it was all he could do to keep it within his grasp. Carefully, he moved it over to the porcelain dish which had been licked clean by the marina's mascot. I heard a clink as the penny dropped into the saucer. Giddeon then rose back up to his full height, seeming happy with the results of his labor.

"We can't have her thinking Boris is ungrateful, can we?" He smiled. We then walked back over to the boat to get my clubs, and the cat followed right behind us.

# Chapter 13

It was a perfect day for golf. Not a soul was on the course. Apparently, Giddeon had found a day that the links were closed for some reason or other, and we were in that frame of reference. Boris stayed on the boat, curled up in the captain's chair outside, catching rays from the morning sun. He's not much into golf, although, I had seen him on occasion beside number 15 (the par three closest to the marina). He sometimes just sat there in the weeds by the tennis courts, watching birds and people with his big, yellow eyes.

Standing on the number 1 tee was like standing in a post-card. The marine layer had burned off and the sky was blue; the green of the grass and trees stood out in sharp contrast against it. Just the slightest of breezes was blowing, and a couple of fluffy, white clouds accented the California horizon beyond the graceful curve of the Coronado Bridge that connected the island to the mainland.

"No place like Coronado," observed Giddeon.

"It's hard to beat... probably the best weather in the country," I replied.

"Sure better than the Sahara in summer, or the Faulklands in winter."

"Have you been to those places?" I inquired. Then, I realized how odd it was to be asking 'myself' that question.

I didn't expect the answer I received.

"Oh, sure... I've been lots of places... and, lots of times. _Time_ and _place_ aren't really the way you perceive them from your normal viewpoint... well, they are, but they're other ways, too." He was bent over, teeing up his ball. When it was oriented just so, he stood back up and took a couple of practice swings using an FT-I driver that had conveniently popped into existence just a few moments before. "Everything's in the same place and it's happening at the same time... sort of."

"How come I don't remember you going, if you're really just me?" I questioned.

"I remember it for you. You only use 10 percent of your brain... that's being generous, by the way... I'm the other 90 percent. We don't talk much, normally." He smiled and waggled his club.

"So, you're my subconscious... and, you have frequent flier miles?"

Giddeon chuckled. "That's pretty good... wish I had thought of it... that's a darned good description."

He addressed the ball. After a few seconds of intense concentration, he took one of the most bizarre, crazy-looking, hitched swings I have ever seen in my life. In comparison, video of Charles Barkley's golfing form was a thing of beauty. Upon impact, the ball flew off of his clubface 310 yards straight down the middle, and then faded just slightly in order to follow the gentle dog-leg of the fairway.

"I hope you don't make me look at that swing for 18 holes."

He grinned. "Nah... I was just making a point. Funky, huh?"

I shook my head and went over and teed up in the same general vicinity as he had. I hit the ball about 275, also down the center.

"Good drive. What are we playing for?"

"I don't play for money... especially against dream-genies."

He grinned. "You do have a knack for descriptions... I'll give you that."

"At least my sub-ten percent is good for something." We made our way down the fairway.

"Ten percent of a lot is still a lot. Don't forget that."

# Chapter 14

I learned quite a bit about golf that day.

Evidently, the swing doesn't matter nearly as much as your state of mind. Giddeon did spend some time correcting my stance and my take-away, but, for the most part it was more about Zen Buddhism and metaphysics than mechanics.

After 4 holes I was one over par, which was very good for me. Giddeon had managed a birdie on every hole, and somehow that didn't surprise me... after floating off the ground, shape-shifting, and making food appear on plates, I figured golf was pretty simple for him. And, it was. My subconscious hit the first four greens in regulation, and drained all of the putts. He actually put it in a bunker on the par 3 number 5... a car horn blew in the middle of his backswing and seemed to affect his concentration. Of course, he then hit a beautiful sand shot that rattled the pin and fell into the cup.

Giddeon whistled while he raked the trap... I think the tune was a bad rendition of _'Mr. Sandman'_.

"You should go pro," I advised him as he walked up onto the perfectly manicured surface.

"What would you do without me?" he replied plucking his ball, and then, the pin from the hole.

I two putted for a par, retrieved my golf ball, and watched Giddeon replace the flag. "The same as I was doing before... you weren't around, then," I said.

"Oh, but I was... you just weren't paying attention," he responded as we walked over to number 6 tee.

I shrugged my shoulders even though they were weighed down by my bag. "Too busy playing golf and not getting much accomplished, I suppose."

"Were you having a good time?"

"I guess. I wasn't miserable."

"But, you weren't overflowing with happiness and a zest for life?"

"Yesterday, I was."

"Ah, yes... yesterday. The day after you met Melody. I think that would make almost any man's heart sing... from eight to eighty, from skinny to weighty."

I smiled. However, I'm sure it wasn't my best smile. "You've got to help me get back to her."

"Nothing would please me more... I am you, after all," said Giddeon.

"Can you work some of your magic and get me out of this? You know, nod and blink, or snap your fingers... or, something along those lines?"

"I wish it was that easy... believe me, I've tried."

"You have?"

"That's what I was doing last night... I don't really need much sleep."

He teed up his ball and hit another beautiful drive. Giddeon picked up his tee and handed it to me since I couldn't find one in my pocket. Then, he said, "Apparently, there are some rules that can't be broken... or, at least that I don't know how to break, yet."

I grunted, put my ball upon the little wooden pedestal, and promptly hooked my shot into the trees on the left. "Ain't that a fine kettle of fish? I hate it when that happens!" I exclaimed.

"Concentrate, young grasshopper. Being in a coma shouldn't affect your golf game."

"Sorry... I was thinking of Melody."

"Want a Mulligan?"

"Life doesn't give you do-overs, does it?"

"You'd be surprised, you'd be surprised... depends on what you call life."

The tee I had used lay fractured at my feet, so I didn't bother collecting it. We began our stroll down the fairway, me carrying my bag, and Giddeon, empty handed. Whatever club was called for at the time simply appeared in his grip just before each shot, and then dissolved back into the atmosphere when he was done. We made our way into the rough, looking for my Callaway.

"There it is." He was pointing ahead, and I spotted it. Surprisingly, it was sitting up nicely in the thick grass. I pulled out a 3 iron to punch it laterally back out into the fairway. As I was setting up, Giddeon interjected,

"Why don't you go between those two trees, there? It's a straight shot." I looked up and saw him pointing at two young oaks, at least I think that's what they were... botany's not my strong point. The nearest one was about 35 yards away.

"Through that little gap? Are you nuts? It can't be more than 2 feet wide!"

"I can see the flag between them. It would be such a cool shot if you could pull it off."

I shook my head back and forth. "More likely, I'll hit one of the trees, and this ball will come straight back at me."

"You're already in the hospital... Live la Vida Oaka."

I assumed he had attempted a pun pertaining to the oak trees... obviously, my percentage of the brain got the sense of humor.

"Oak-kay." I replied with an equally bad play on words in order to show him just how ridiculous his joke was. Giddeon, however, seemed delighted, and grinned from ear to ear. I shook my head, then repositioned myself and started to line up my shot; he was standing a few feet behind me, watching my setup, and came out with some advice.

"Just ignore the trees and focus on the opening. I'll tell you a little secret... there's nothing around the gap you're aiming for... it just seems like it is."

"Those trees look pretty solid to me."

"Don't worry about them," said Giddeon. "Think only of your target, which is on the other side of the space... anything else, is a distraction. Distractions are only real if you make them real."

He then stepped away.

I looked at the small target area, and he could tell I wasn't sure about such a low percentage endeavor. "Jack Nicklaus would say to play it safe," I said.

Giddeon smiled. "I'm not Jack Nicklaus. A perfect shot is a perfect shot, and you've already hit a couple of those, today... it just looks more difficult when 'things' are near the path."

"I'll try," I said, gripping the club a bit too tightly.

"Ahhh... 'try' implies doubt. See it as inevitable and your swing as part of that inevitability," advised my subconscious.

It sounded like hocus pocus, but, I cleared my mind and attempted to picture it. I relaxed my grip just a tad. When ready, I made what felt like a really nice, smooth swing.

The ball jumped from my clubface as if eager to be on its way. I saw it accelerate towards the trees, and, for just a brief moment, I believed that all that Giddeon had said was true.

It felt like everything was in slow motion as I watched the tiny orb tunnel through dappled sunlight. Then, the little sphere just caught the edge of the tree on the right, ricocheted into the tree on the left, and careened off of it straight backwards... directly towards my head. I ducked, and heard it whistle past. Giddeon laughed like a maniac and ran over to pick it up.

"That was awesome!"

"Awesome?! I almost put myself into coma number 2!!"

He came back excitedly with the ball and positioned it exactly as it was.

"You almost put yourself into a superposition of states! The ball was traveling like a wave... remember the double slit experiment?"

"There's only one slit between those trees!"

"Don't get hung up in numbers!" he exclaimed. "Think of the trees as slits, too. The problem was you tried to observe the path. You crashed the system. Make the same swing, only this time don't look. When your right shoulder brings your head up, close your eyes at that moment! Practice it a few times, first."

"If I wasn't looking, I would have been hit in the head!"

"If you weren't looking, the ball would be on the green."

I gave an exasperated grunt, looked at him with distrust, and finally took a practice swing. I forgot to close my eyes on the follow through, so I did it again. It felt very unnatural, so I did it, yet, again. After four or five more times, it seemed more fluid.

Giddeon said, "I think you're getting it. Do that a few more times."

"If I get hit by the ball, I'm holding you personally responsible." I continued with the drill.

"I have liability insurance."

"No you don't... you're me, remember?"

"Then I guess it's _lie_ -ability, huh?" I could tell he was grinning at his joke, even when I closed my eyes. After I had taken two more practice swings he said, "I think you're ready."

I addressed the ball, looked at the gap one final time, inhaled, and then let my breath slowly escape on its own. At the beginning of the next inhalation, I started my backswing. I could tell that at the top of my swing that the club head was in a perfect position; the beginning descent seemed to be on track, and I held my breath while the forged blade entered the bottom of the arc in order to strike the low punch shot.

Impact was again in slow motion, and I could see blades of grass shearing off just in front of where the ball had been microseconds before. As my right shoulder started to carry my chin forward, I closed my eyes and could see only red blackness behind my lids. I opened them after a couple of seconds, but was disoriented and couldn't find the Callaway in flight. Then, I saw it settle down, roll up over the fringe and onto the edge of the green... 180 yards away.

"It worked!" I shouted, excitedly.

"Of course it did."

"It really worked!! I can't believe it... that was amazing!"

After a few seconds of jubilation and a high five from Giddeon, a thought occurred to me.

"Wait a minute... you did it, didn't you?"

"I'm you, remember?"

"You know what I mean... it wasn't really me."

"That was your 10 percent, or so... at least, I think it was," said my coach.

"You wouldn't lie to me, again, would you?"

"A lie is just the truth on vacation in Bermuda shorts."

"You're like the worst philosopher in the world."

He grinned. "We don't have a degree like someone we know, now, do we? Whose fault is that?"

"Humph." I made my way towards the green, thinking of Melody. Giddeon whistled something that vaguely resembled ' _The Impossible Dream_ ' all of the way there.

# Chapter 15

I shot a 79 that day, thanks to the Mulligan between the trees. Not a personal best, but still good for me. Giddeon had a 53... 17 consecutive birdies and an eagle on number 18 just for good measure. We were in the parking lot, and I was putting my clubs and golf shoes into the trunk of my Ford Focus.

"Why didn't you just eagle every hole?" I asked.

"I like to keep it real."

I changed back into my flip flops, closed the trunk and made my way around to the driver's side. Giddeon waited by the passenger door until I clicked it open with the remote.

"Where do we go, now?"

He plopped down in his seat, closed the door, strapped himself in and answered,

"Melody's place."

"Really? I don't know where she lives."

"I don't either, but I know the complex... Collwood Point Condos on Montezuma Avenue."

"How do you know that?" I asked.

"It was on a sticker in her car window... a parking pass. You'd have noticed it, too, if you had more blood in your upstairs brain than your downstairs brain at the time."

"Don't lecture me... I'm doing the best I can with my 10 percent."

"Actually, it's 5.6 percent, but, who's counting?"

"5.6...! For real?" I started the car.

"That's not so bad."

"That's like..."

"I think they say mentally challenged, nowadays," interjected Giddeon.

"Is that what I am?" I asked, beginning to get concerned.

He adjusted the vents to the air conditioner and pointed cool currents in his direction. "I think maybe you have more capacity than most, so, the relative percentage is less."

I felt somewhat better. "Is that what you really think?"

"Let's just say I do."

I found his answer less than satisfying. I reached down, put the car in reverse, and backed out of my spot.

"Just tell me where to go... talk slow, so I'll understand." I shifted into drive.

"Okay... first, though, let's swing by MooTime and get some smoothies. I'm thirsty. Mooooo-Tiiiiime." He dragged it out slowly for my benefit.

"You want to walk?"

Giddeon smiled and held his tongue. ' _Pretty Woman_ ' came on the radio when he reached over and punched the knob.

__________

We entered MooTime between the nearly life-sized plastic Elvis and the big, plastic, black and white dairy cow.

I looked over the menu and decided on a MangoMooMania. Giddeon went for a Rockin'MooBerry. Of course, the guy behind the counter couldn't see us and neither could the patrons, who consisted of a couple of soccer moms and their progeny, so we went to the front of the line. The smoothies appeared in our hands, so suddenly that I almost dropped mine. Giddeon laughed at my surprised fumbling, and then, we walked back towards our car.

"Why did we have to come here? You could've just zapped us up a couple of drinks at the golf course."

"I wanted to see if they had anything new on the menu. They didn't, so I went with an old favorite. I see you're living on the edge... you've never had one of those, before. How is it?"

I had just taken a taste. It was surprisingly delicious... I'm sure being thirsty accented the experience. "Good. Getting out of my comfort zone."

"Just like you did with Melody?"

"Guess so." I unlocked the car doors with the remote, again. We climbed in; I started the engine and then pulled out onto Orange Avenue.

"Collwood Condos are over by the college, right?"

"Yep... you've driven by there dozens of times. They used to be apartments and were converted to condos a while back."

"How do you know she'll be there?"

"I don't... just playing the odds. It's a weekend and she has a test on Monday."

"Oh yeah... she did mention that."

"Pays to listen, Greg. Go up 15 and get off on Adams. Take Aldine down to Fairmont, and then take that onto Montezuma."

In a minute or so, we merged with traffic onto the Coronado Bridge and took the graceful, curving structure high up over the bay. The water glistened below us, and in my rear view mirror the island looked for all the world like an emerald embedded in the azure of its embrace.

# Chapter 16

We came to the gate of the condos. There was a keypad with numbers on it, so I looked over to Giddeon.

"What, now?"

"Try 1-2-3-4."

I punched in the numbers, and to my surprise, the gate rumbled open.

"How did you know?"

"Lucky guess."

I grunted, thinking to myself about frames of reference. After making it through the opening, I scooted into one of the visitor spots. A few cars down was Melody's silver Accord.

"Looks like you were right... there's her car."

"Yep." Giddeon unbuckled his seat belt. "Let's just hang here for a minute."

I undid my shoulder harness, also, and complied.

It was actually more like five minutes, but then, I saw her. She was in a multicolored sun dress; her honey-blonde hair hung loose around her shoulders and down her back. Sunglasses were on the top of her head, and upon emerging from the shadow of the foyer, she slipped them over her eyes. On her feet were those sandals with the Greek-looking straps that go up over the ankles and almost to the calves... the total effect was as if a supermodel had come to life and stepped off the glossy cover of a magazine. My heart skipped a beat. I wondered if it did the same thing in the hospital, too.

Giddeon let out a low whistle. "Wow! Even better than I remember."

Melody got into her automobile, cranked it up, and backed out of her slot. I watched as she put the car in gear and went behind us in what seemed like slow motion; my brain recorded every detail of her profile in the rear view mirror. There was silence in the interior of my Focus for fully 15 seconds as that vision of her receded into the past. Then,

"Let's go check out her place," said Giddeon, opening his door.

"What? Isn't that like breaking and entering?"

"Not for ghosts."

"We're not... ghosts... are we? Did I die!?" I was suddenly alarmed.

"No, you're fine... if you consider being in a coma fine. It's just the best way to describe us that I could think of on short notice."

"Think of something else."

"Inter-dimensional tourists?"

"Okay... I can live with that."

"So, get your IDT butt out of the car and let's go before the trail grows cold!"

Unsure of what else to do, I opened my door and exited the vehicle. Giddeon was already on his way over to the area from where Melody had come out of the building.

I caught up as he went through an open gate and down a little hallway which spilled into an expansive area that contained a swimming pool and a hot-tub. It was open above us, and the blue sky was cut into a large rectangle by the outline of the three story structure. The other 94.4 percent of my brain was in front of me with his head tilted backwards at an unusual angle; he appeared to be sniffing the air as he made his way over to a stairway.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

"Smelling for her perfume... she came from up there." He pointed, and started up the stairs.

"You can track like a dog?" I followed close behind him.

"So could you if you used a bit more of your frontal and temporal lobes. This way." He turned to the right, and continued on with his nose in the air. He rounded a corner and stopped in front of a door. "This is it."

I reached out and tried the knob... of course, it was locked. After releasing it, Giddeon put his hand forward and I saw that unsettling flicker, again; the wooden plane swung open. We crossed the threshold and Giddeon closed the door behind us. For the first time I could just barely make out the scent of her perfume as we walked past the small kitchen into the living area.

__________

There, on a couch, was a medium-sized, white cat with long, silky fur. The feline looked at us with curiosity, but no fear. I walked over to the animal and held out my hand. She sniffed my fingers, and then looked to me as if for an explanation about the lack of odor. On its neck was a pink collar with a little heart that said, ' _Samantha_ '. She had two differently colored eyes... one blue, and one gold. I 'scratched' her head, and then let my hand pass through her.

She seemed to understand, and lay down on her side. The feline began to purr... audible contentment softly radiated into space.

"Cats love the undead," said Giddeon.

"Even ghosts beats that... stick with inter-dimensional tourists."

He seemed to contemplate for a moment. Then, "Hmmm... I know! How about coma-chameleons?" Gideon then enthusiastically launched into a bad parody of the old Boy George song:

"Coma, coma, coma, coma, coma chamel-e-ons!"

I groaned as he walked over to a Yamaha keyboard situated on a stand by the wall, turned it on, and picked out the tune. After that, he treated me to another round of the lyrics, this time with full blown accompaniment.

"Coma, coma, coma, coma, coma chamel-e-ons... we come and go...... we come and goo-o-o-oh!"

"Oh, God... please stop... even the cat's about to vomit." That wasn't true. Samantha seemed to almost be smiling at his antics.

"Probably just a hairball," Giddeon said as he played out some more of the song with his right hand.

"More like a goof-ball... is this really the rest of my brain in action?"

"Afraid so..." He shut off the instrument, and then walked over towards the window. "Hey, check this out."

At least he had left the keyboard. Giddeon was standing in front of a canvas on which there was a partially finished painting. I could tell from his demeanor that something unique had focused his attention.

__________

The scene on the easel was familiar. It was done in an impressionistic style, but, still, I recognized the table and the patio where she and I had eaten our lunch two days before; I couldn't be sure, but it looked like Melody had recently been putting our images into the chairs that were across from each other.

We stood there in silence, taking in the work.

After several seconds, the world unexpectedly seemed to move under my feet; I could feel blood rushing in my ears and all around the vasculature of my phantom brain. The full reality of my situation finally came crashing down on me for the very first time: I was in a _coma_ , and the woman of my dreams was waiting for my call... a call I was totally unable to make.

I suddenly feared that I might never be able to make that call.

The cat, as if sensing my distress jumped down from the couch and twined back and forth through my legs, giving me at least something of an interface with her world.

I gazed at the painting for a few moments more, regained my composure, and turned away. We looked around the dwelling for a bit, but, didn't tarry... Giddeon and I then went back outside and made our way down to our car in the parking lot.

I remember that the last thing I saw before we closed the condo door was the painting by the window.

# Chapter 17

As difficult as it was for me to contemplate Melody painting that picture and waiting on the phone to ring, it paled in comparison to seeing my brother next to my bedside in the I.C.U.

Jeremy was 8 years older than me, but looked to be twice my age at that moment. If I ever had any doubt that my brother loved me, it was dispelled by the look on his face as he stood in that room surrounded by a plethora of machines and tubes dedicated to maintaining and monitoring my status. I listened as he talked over my condition with the doctors... watched as he was comforted by the nurses... and, wept as he held my hand and tried to coax me into waking up. Giddeon remained respectfully in the background.

Seeing yourself unconscious and in critical condition is an experience that few must ever get to experience; I don't recommend it. Watching your only living relative see you in such a condition is almost impossible to take. I wanted to tell Jeremy that I was alright, and not in any pain. That I had played golf earlier during the day, and, had had a MangoMooMania smoothie. I wanted to say that when I came out of the coma, the most beautiful woman in the world was waiting to go out with me... but, I couldn't tell him.

I couldn't communicate with anyone in the reality that I had left behind.

It seemed, for the time being, that I was stuck in a supposition of states with my guardian angel/subconscious... and only cats, and possibly dogs, were capable of sensing my existence.

After an hour, I couldn't take it anymore and asked Giddeon to drive me home. I went to my boat, had him crash the door open for Boris, and made my way forward to the bunk where I fell asleep with the marina cat by my side.

__________

I was awakened by Jeremy stepping onto the Catalina. I recognized his curly brown hair in the entryway and watched him come through the open door and down into the cabin. He looked around, spotted Boris and walked forward to the triangular-shaped bed.

"Hey kitty... what are you doing in here?"

He stretched out his hand and Boris sniffed at it uncertainly.

After a few seconds, my buddy must have determined that Jeremy was indeed a cat person and rubbed his face against the outstretched fingers. I wondered if the animal possibly smelled a genetic link between me and my brother. Jeremy sat on the end of the bed, and Boris deserted his spot for real human contact. He situated himself next to my sibling, who scratched him on his neck and behind his ears.

"I don't see a litter-box, anywhere, so you must be one of the locals, huh?"

Boris meowed his answer and Jeremy smiled.

After a minute or two of interaction with his four-legged welcoming committee, my brother stood up and looked around the boat. He opened the refrigerator and checked out the contents... beer, sandwich meat, a box of cat food and a carton of orange juice... then, closed the small door. Jeremy had been to Coronado twice before, and had a key to the dock gate and the boat. I figured he was planning on staying there while I was in the hospital... that was okay with me. I watched as he flipped out his phone and punched in some numbers. He held it to his ear for a few seconds.

"Hey, babe. I made it here."

There was a pause as his wife spoke to him. After a few seconds, my brother continued, "I just got back from the hospital... he's still in I.C.U. He doesn't look so good..."

I could hear the strain in his voice as he paused, again. Then,

"...he's still out. His head is all bandaged up, and they have an I.V. in each arm. Lots of monitors... oxygen under his nose. The doctors said the surgery went well, but, they don't really know the extent of his damage... he had a lot of bleeding... sub-dural hematoma."

More silence as he listened to the phone.

"I'm okay... it's just, I don't know... I'm okay. I'm on his boat. I'll probably spend the night here and then go back to the hospital first thing in the morning."

Again, he was quiet as his wife communicated with him.

"I know. I think he's gonna be alright. He just looks so bad, right now. Oh, yeah... the door here on the boat was wide open, and a big tomcat was asleep on his bed... Boris? That's his name? How do you know that...? He talked about him before...? Guess I don't remember... Everyone at the marina feeds him...? Well, he definitely isn't missing any meals."

Boris was rubbing against Jeremy's legs and begging for food since he was next to the refrigerator. My brother opened the door back up, got the box of dry cat food out and shook some of its contents onto the floor. The feline settled down for a snack as Jeremy put the Kibbles and Bits back in the fridge, and then, he had himself a seat on the couch.

I continued listening in to the side of the conversation I could hear. "I don't know... my friend's covering for me. The doctor said Greg could come out of it tomorrow, or... it could be... a while."

He seemed to have trouble getting the last part out.

"Thanks, babe. Anyway... I'll keep you updated. I'm gonna get something to eat. I'll call you tomorrow. Love you, too. Bye, bye."

He hung up the phone and put it in his pocket. He sat there watching the cat as the last rays of the sun found their way into my little boat from 93 million miles away.

That's about how far away I felt at the time, also.

__________

I walked out over the waterfront, giving Jeremy some space even though he didn't really need it. The lights were starting to come on around the cove as dusk crept in; Giddeon came up beside me. His hands were stuffed down into his blue jean pockets just like I had a habit of doing when the air was slightly cool.

"We can stay over at The Del while Jeremy is in town. They have great room service," he said.

The air around us was still, as if the growing darkness brought with it a weight that settled any breeze.

"Every place has great room service for you... all you have to do is snap your fingers."

"That's true. However, the view is better than here on your boat. Plus, there's a swimming pool, hot tub, bikini's..."

I smiled with one corner of my mouth, and shook my head.

"There's only one girl I'm interested in... but, The Del might be a good idea. I'll go get my things." I started back towards the Catalina.

"No problem... come as you are. I'll bring everything, later."

I turned back around, put my hands into my pockets, too, and together we walked over to the historic hotel across the road.

# Chapter 18

The Hotel del Coronado was completed in 1888, and is one of the oldest hotels standing in Southern California. The woodwork in the large dining room is all tongue and groove; no nails or screws hold the beautiful, arched ceiling together. The craftsmanship is phenomenal, and it's a popular spot for receptions, parties and gatherings.

A steady flow of tourists, both domestic and international, come through the place, which has quite a history. ' _Some Like it Hot_ ', with Marilyn Monroe, was in large part filmed there, and several presidents and celebrities over the years have frequented its rooms... rooms which have the benefit of overlooking one of the top 10 beaches in the world. These facts and this history, along with the famous San Diego weather, help make 'The Del' a popular tourist destination. As luck would have it, Giddeon knew of a set of adjacent rooms that were unoccupied on the third floor, facing the Pacific.

As I suspected, both doors were unlocked. We each entered our units, and then my subconscious came through a door that adjoined the two rooms.

"I stay here a lot. Especially when you're reading message boards for the penny stocks... I find that rather mind-numbing."

"I wouldn't have my boat without those message boards. You'd rather I flip through ' _War and Peace_?"

"Definitely ' _War and Peace_ ', or Sci Fi, like when you were a teenager. By the way... I picked out that penny stock for you. I also showed you how to hack the system so that your wire transfer would be immediately available. You were dead drunk, remember? That's when you can hear me, sometimes."

"No kidding? You picked it out? Why don't you pick more? I haven't really hit one, since." I was feeling better being in the new environment of the hotel; not quite as melancholy as before.

He smiled, opened the sliding glass door and walked out onto the balcony. I followed and stood beside him, my hands on the railing.

"You don't drink that much, normally... I was feeling a bit tipsy, myself. Otherwise, I wouldn't have done it."

"Is there some kind of rule against it?" I asked.

He chuckled. "Not that I know of... it just doesn't seem right to interfere without your permission."

"Why would you need my permission... you're me, remember?"

That put a quizzical look on his face.

He shrugged his shoulders. "I haven't really worked that out... I just know what feels right, and I go by that. Of the very few times I've stepped in, one of those was Thursday. I practically pushed you out of your chair towards Melody."

Two beers appeared in his hands. He gave one to me.

"You done good," I said.

"You're in a coma."

"There is that. But, still... you done good."

He grunted and then said, "That's not proper English, you know?"

I nodded. "I know... but, it just feels right."

He laughed. We drank our beers and watched the sky and the sea become one.

# Chapter 19

Jeremy stayed for nearly two weeks. Towards the end of that time, it was becoming evident that my condition wasn't improving. I had been moved to a regular hospital room close to the nurse's station, and Giddeon had listened in on several of the conversations between my brother and the doctors. Apparently, I had a little brain activity, mostly Alpha waves, which were common in both deep sleep and some comas.

I never heard finances discussed, however, I was sure the bill was going to be enormous. I know that must have worried Jeremy... he was well off, but not what I would have called rich. My brother has always been responsible and hardworking; I really hated knowing that his irresponsible sibling was going to cost him an arm and a leg, if not more. All I ever heard him say to the doctors was in the form of what more could he do... were there any specialists that could be called in... any treatments that could be initiated? Not, ' _How much is all of this going to cost_?'

I realized that he was a much better person than me, and I began to feel not only invisible, but, small.

__________

I followed Jeremy to the airport and watched his plane as it rose into the aqua marine sky. I slipped back out of the terminal, unnoticed by TSA agents and all of the other people in the building. Giddeon was waiting beside my car in the parking lot.

"He'll be back... probably in a week or two," said my new best friend.

"I know... hopefully, I'll be awake by then."

Giddeon shrugged his shoulders, indicating ' _I don't know_ '. He took the keys from me. "I'll drive."

I got in the passenger side, and Giddeon went around to the driver's door; he climbed in and started the engine. Of course, the parking bar at the exit gate was up and we drove right through. He didn't head towards the interstate, however. In a minute or two, it became evident what our destination was.

Seaport Village... where I met Melody.

__________

"I want to show you something," Giddeon said. Before long, we were there.

He slowed, pulled into a parking spot, and got out. I followed, and we made our way down the waterfront on the little path that borders the bay. After a brief stroll, we approached the restaurant where she and I had met. As we got closer, I saw, to my surprise, that Melody was actually there... seated at the same outside table with a glass of iced tea in front of her.

She looked amazing; if anything, she was even more beautiful than the day I met her.

Yet, there was something different about her. A fragment of sadness in her eyes. I realized that she was there hoping to see me, and the realization was crushing. I hadn't called. I'm sure that she was thinking that maybe I had lost the number and that I would show up at the restaurant, looking for her.

We walked over close. Giddeon informed me that Melody had been there three days in a row... always at the same time, and at the same table... our table.

The table in the painting.

I had never even told her my last name... or, where I worked. At the time, I was embarrassed to say what I did for a living. Why? I don't know. I was so stupid. I knew she was more interested in me than what I did, but, for some reason I had been reluctant to say anything more about my situation than that I was taking the summer off from college. I suppose I was trying to play it cool and break it to her, slowly, that I wasn't exactly a captain of industry or a Rhodes Scholar.

She had no way of knowing that I was in a hospital just a few miles away. That I was an 'inter-dimensional tourist' that had just waved goodbye to his brother... a brother doing everything in his power to wake me up. I couldn't tell her that I wanted nothing more than for her to look up and see me... not to see through me as she was doing at that moment.

I sat down next to her and reached out for her hand. Naturally, mine went right through hers to the table below; still, I kept it there, covered almost completely by what I knew was her soft palm, and warm, elegant fingers. Melody looked down, almost as if she detected something, and then, her gaze returned to the passersby, searching for me.

"Do you think she can feel my presence... just a little bit?" I asked Giddeon.

He replied, "Doubtful. For the most part, you couldn't even detect mine."

Melody removed her hand from my attempted touch and put it around her glass of tea. She stared into her drink, and the lashes of her eyelids momentarily masked the look that I found so painful. The look that was full of questions... ' _Where are you? Why haven't I heard from you? We had such a nice time..._ '

It broke my heart to see her like that.

The vision seated beside me finally sighed, dug through her purse and paid her tab. She stood up and waved goodbye to her waiter. I watched her look out over the people on the concrete path one last time, and then join them on the walkway. Her honey-blonde hair shimmered in the breeze, and I sat there as the last of her fragrance dissipated around me into the bright, California sky.

# Chapter 20

Giddeon sensed that I needed cheering up, so we went to a movie. ' _Avatar_ ', at the theater on Orange Avenue. I'm pretty sure ' _Avatar_ ' wasn't playing there... as a matter of a fact, I'm fairly certain the theater was closed for renovations. I suppose Giddeon just sampled the field of probabilities of the building until he found the reality that he wanted, and, _poof_ , there we were. I wasn't really interested in the particulars of how he did it... I was just glad that he did.

The special effects were awesome; I didn't even mind wearing the clunky 3-D glasses. For over two and a half hours, I forgot I was in a coma... I forgot about my brother's pain... and, I almost forgot about how much I wanted to be with Melody... except for when the love story woven into the plot of the movie kept reminding me. All in all, though, it was nice to just put my brain on hold and let the scenes of Pandora wash over me.

When it was finished, we stepped out onto Orange Avenue into the afternoon. As always, it seemed strange going into the daylight after a movie... for some reason I always forget I'm at a matinee when I go to one. Giddeon was thirsty and wanted another smoothie.

We crossed the street and made our way over to 'MooTime', once again, so that Giddeon could peruse the menu. Sure enough, a new flavor had appeared on the Formica board and he 'ordered' it. I stuck with MangoMooMania.

We sat down in the seats outside and took our time savoring the drinks.

Tourists and locals were out in force, and we silently watched the parade of real people file past our position. The colors, textures, sounds and smells all around us were in their own ways more overpowering to me than Pandora; it was easy to forget I was somewhere else, and, that that particular somewhere else was a sterile, aseptic room full of monitors.

__________

Boris was asleep in the captain's chair when we got back. He had a pretty good life. If there's a lottery for cats, he must have hit it. Everyone at the marina knew him, food was not a problem and the weather is practically made to order. He showed no inclination to get up from his spot, so Giddeon and I went on inside the Catalina. I had a seat at the table; Giddeon positioned himself on the couch across from me and picked up my Ovation guitar. He strummed a few chords, and then did a perfect rendition of the beginning of ' _Hotel California_ '. The clarity of the Elixir strings was extraordinary, and his timing mimicked the original so closely that it was like listening to a CD. He went on up to the part where the vocalist comes in, and then, stopped.

"Any requests?"

"That's really good. Where did you learn to play like that?"

"You've been to a lot of concerts and watched a lot of music videos... I pay attention."

"I pay attention, too, but I don't play like that."

He smiled, and did part of a Fleetwood Mac intro... I couldn't recall the name of the song at the time.

"5.6 percent, remember?"

"If I ever get out of my coma, I'll work on upping that."

"You can try... but, you won't be able to change it, much. Kind of the way humans are wired. Everyone has sort of a firewall keeping them out... don't really know why."

"Even with your percentage, you can't figure it out?"

"Nope. There're lots of things I can't figure out."

"Like how to wake me up?"

He smiled, again, and ripped into a bluesy pentatonic scale.

"Or, what the most beautiful girl in the world sees in you."

I contemplated for a moment. "The Lord works in mysterious ways."

Giddeon showed a fully enameled grin.

"He sure does... he sure does."

Music filled the inside of my little boat. I'm still not completely sure an angel wasn't behind it.

# Chapter 21

Periodically, Giddeon and I went to check on my inert body in the rehabilitation facility. We would attempt different things to see if we could raise me out of my slumber. I even tried climbing into the bed and occupying the space inside my body to see if I could get something to move, or, my eyes to open, when I was in there.

Of course, it didn't work. Nothing did. Try as we might, during those early days of my coma, nothing ever seemed to change my condition... not even a little bit.

__________

On one occasion an older man was in my room, looking very uncomfortable on a wooden chair. A hat was in his hands and he just sat there cloaked with silence... looking at me in the bed. His crystal blue eyes seemed on the verge of spilling over with tears, and slowly, very slowly, he kneaded the old Scottish-styled cap that was contained within his grasp. I watched as he silently kept a vigil beside my supine shell. For some reason, I remained quiet in his presence.

After a while, I pulled Giddeon out into the hallway as if our speaking could somehow disturb the gentle fellow seated near my comatose body.

"Who is that?" I whispered.

"Father McCreely," Giddeon replied. "That's the guy that hit you with the golf ball."

I peeked back inside the room. Other than his hands, he hadn't moved. His haunted eyes were still focused upon me lying in the bed. I turned back to my better 94.4 percent.

"He looks awful," I said.

"Guilt will do that. It's a most unforgiving emotion."

"He's a priest?"

"Yep."

"That sucks... it's hard to be mad at a priest. Especially one that plays golf."

Giddeon gave me that Kevin Bacon smile and shook his Brad Pitt hair from his eyes. "I know."

"I wish there was some way to let him know it wasn't his fault... even if it sort of was," I said, still using just a bit of a whisper.

"I've tried... no luck. He's been here a lot. He met with your brother the second day you were in the hospital... looked even worse, then. He stays for an hour, and then goes to the chapel-like area down the hall and prays."

I looked back, once again, into the room.

Father McCreely had quit kneading his cap. It was hard to say at that point which of us was the most inanimate. "Poor guy. I think I'd rather be me than him."

"That's something, I guess. Small miracles are better than none at all," Giddeon responded.

__________

I leaned against the door frame for a bit, feeling badly for the poor man surrounded by such torment. Then, I turned and walked down the hall with Giddeon beside me. We made our way through the quiet building, past rooms filled with pain and suffering, boredom and questions, loneliness and despair. It seemed like we were walking in a heavy dream, the cool, dehumidified air a clear molasses through which we slowly traversed.

# Chapter 22

It's hard to stay depressed under a blue sky and near salt water. I think that's why so many broken souls are crowded against the coast of California. The air and the sea are bottomless tonics that must constantly be taken in order to stave off a sadness that can emerge from our limbic systems like a dark, heavy Phoenix. The tonics are so successful that many go their whole lives out here and never realize they're not happy. I suppose that's close enough to heaven for some... it used to be good enough for me.

Only when I held Melody's hand that day did I realize that I, like so many others in this golden state, had been numb. That the sun and the sea and the sand are just a backdrop for living, and that living isn't so much to do with where, but, with whom. It's ironic that I found myself truly awake for less than 24 hours before I was asleep, again.

No longer ' _California Dreaming_ ', but, dreaming in a coma.

I should have been more distressed than I was... however, I suppose the cobalt sky and turquoise ocean do their magic even in a dream. Plus, I had Giddeon and Boris. It wasn't like I was alone.

__________

Days turned into weeks. My brother came out approximately twice a month for 3 or 4 days at a time. His wife, Janice, came with him, sometimes. She really took to Boris, and, to my alarm, wanted to adopt him.

Luckily, Jeremy convinced her that he was a fixture there at the marina, and quite possibly the happiest cat in the world.

Giddeon and I played a lot of golf and I got closer to scratch; my best score at the time being a 73. I bogeyed the last hole... nerves, I guess.

I spent a lot of time learning music theory from my possible angel, both guitar and keyboard... I had gotten the cheap Casio out from under my bed. It helped to pass the time.

Sometimes, we went to visit Melody.

We would watch her study, or paint, or write in her journal. For the most part, she was a loner like me. I suppose I wanted to be alone, together... so one evening, I went over there by myself, without Gid, as I had taken to calling him.

He must have known I needed some space.

__________

I stood outside of her door.

My sense of smell had grown more acute, and I could tell she was home by her gentle aroma seeping from around the seal. I reached out, found the door unlocked, and entered uncertainly. I walked through the entrance, and, for a brief moment, could detect the feathery presence of the actual closed door as I went through it and breached her reality. Samantha, her cat, looked up and ran over to greet me. She tried to rub against my legs, but had to settle for objects near to me. Melody, who was sitting on her beige sofa, glanced up from a book.

"What are you doing, silly girl?" she asked the well-groomed animal.

Samantha gave me a look and a trill, and then ran back over to Melody and jumped onto the couch beside her. The young woman sank her fingers into the animal's long, white fur and turned back to her reading. I walked quietly over, sat down next to the feline and reached over to Melody's hand. I could almost feel her fingers working on the back of her pet. Samantha looked in my direction, and purred like a small, white, well-tuned motor.

We sat like that for some time.

I realized that this would have been a normal scene if only I weren't in a coma; a boyfriend and a girlfriend spending time together on a Saturday afternoon; so comfortable with each other that no talking was required... hands touching gently as they each petted their companion feline. No distractions other than the muted sounds of cars passing by on the road outside.

I felt something well up inside of me and was surprised by a tear rolling down my cheek. It took a moment or two for me to understand that I was feeling grief... grief for a reality that I could not participate in. I wiped at the tear, and then reached back out to Samantha. The cat seemed to understand, and gave me a look that I could have sworn was full of compassion.

A few seconds later, Melody stopped her reading and glanced down at her hand. She rubbed her fingers together.

"How did you get wet, girl? Have you been playing in your water bowl, again?" She put down her book, and then lifted the cat up from under its front paws and held it to her face, nose to nose.

"You're such a funny girl. Aren't you? You're such a funny girl."

She plopped the cat onto the floor and then stood up. Her long, shapely legs extended from underneath short, black and red, SDSU shorts. Melody walked in her bare feet to the kitchen, got a bottle of Arizona Green Tea from her refrigerator, and returned to the couch. She picked up the remote and began flipping through channels.

I sat, perplexed, beside her and lightly rubbed at my cheek where the tear had been.

Maybe the cat had been playing in her water bowl.

Melody scanned through the channels, and I watched a montage of mindless scenes pop onto the screen as she searched for something of interest. Finally, _The Movie Channel_ was settled upon.

__________

At first, I wasn't focused on the television... but, after a while, I recognized Patrick Swayze and Demi Moore. With a shudder, I realized that the show was ' _Ghost_ '... I sat there mesmerized by the actors on the television, struck by the irony of the situation I was in.

Thirty minutes went by, and along came the scene with Patrick and Demi at the pottery wheel. I looked over, and, sure enough, tears were brimming in Melody's eyes.

My heart felt like it was being ripped from my chest when the wetness spilled over onto her cheeks. She wiped at her tears, and I reached out as if I could help to rub them away. My hand slid through her skin and I saw a bit of a _golden flicker_ around the area that I was interacting with.

Amazingly, I could feel the wetness from her lacrimal glands.

Samantha looked back and forth between the two of us, and also around behind her, as if confused. She let out a series of meows and trills.

I rolled my thumb and fingers together, and then touched my index finger to my tongue... I could actually taste reality in the salt from her tears

Melody picked up her cat, held it close, and then put it back down in her lap. Samantha began to purr, again, as she settled into her nice, comfortable spot.

__________

When the movie finally ended, Melody stood up and carried the languid animal to her room. She lay down on the mattress, still holding onto the feline as it curled up in the crook of her arm. I stood there at the foot of the bed for quite some time, just watching them rest. Melody was beyond lovely in her t-shirt and shorts. Her beauty in repose was heavenly. She closed her eyes and long lashes cut across the flawless planes of her upper face.

I watched the little crease between her eyebrows disappear as her relaxation became more complete.

Gingerly, I seated myself on the bed, afraid that I would disturb the serenity. Then, once again, I realized that I was invisible and insubstantial, so I lay down next to her. I cuddled up and reached out for her waist. Of course, my arm went right through her to the mattress, below, but it didn't really matter... I still felt close, almost as if we were touching.

The rhythm of her breathing was hypnotic; I closed my eyes and fell into synch with her respirations.

Soon, I, too, drifted off to sleep.

__________

We were at our table, again, in my dream.

This time, we were accustomed to each other... as if we had been dating for some time. Melody was wearing the same clothes she had on that afternoon in her condo, except she also sported a pair of white, slip-on, Ked's tennis shoes. We were sharing a MangoMooMania smoothie, even though we weren't on Coronado, and she and I laughed at happy kids that were running up and down the path near the water; they were chasing pigeons and seagulls. A couple walked past with a Golden Labrador puppy; it was intensely interested in every object it came across, sniffing and pawing momentarily before it then bounded off to the extent of its leash to sniff and paw at something else.

She and I were holding hands, and I thought to myself how nice it was to actually feel our fingers intertwine... solid flesh pressing against actual, solid flesh. Periodically, Melody would lean her head close to mine for a kiss, just light and gentle on the lips since we were in public. Her breath smelled of lemons, or maybe it was mangos... whatever it was, it was intoxicating.

Never have I felt so complete.

Never have I felt that there was no other place in the universe I would rather be.

I had a seat at the most exquisite spot in existence... location, location, location... that's what the real estate people always say, and I have to agree. The location was next to her. Next to her sweet personality and beautiful countenance. Next to her shining hair, soft skin, and lilting laughter. Next to her enthrallment at the sights and sounds and smells all around us.

We stood up, still holding hands, and walked upon the concrete path. The same path that I remembered her looking out over a few weeks ago... searching for me and finding nothing.

In the dream, however, we were together, and all was well... beyond well... simply perfect, in fact. She stopped and pointed out into the water. This time there was a pair of dolphins. They surfaced together, and we could even hear the whooshing sounds as they cleared their blowholes to take in the crisp, San Diego air. We watched in disbelief as they frolicked in the water, happy and slick and muscular. I wanted a better view, so we stepped up onto the little seawall. Melody looked over at me and smiled an impish smile... like she had a surprise and couldn't wait to show it to me.

She did. Still holding hands, we began to rise over the bay.

__________

I've only had a couple of flying dreams in my life, and they were fantastic. The wonder and freedom and joy that come with the suspension of gravity are amazing... but, to have at your side a beautiful creature experiencing the same emotions, sharing the same experience, is doubly amazing.

We could see the dolphins from above, and still holding tight to each other's hands, we swooped down low over the water.

The wind whipped past our ears. It gave me that excited feeling you get in your viscera when you jump from a high diving board. We could see the two marine mammals barreling through the water like torpedoes, and then they leaped into the air as if they wanted to join us. They called out in their high-pitched voices as Melody and I arose into the bright, blue sky; the dolphins splashed back down and continued on just under the surface.

Sailboats and jet skis were small below us as we circled the bay, and I could see the red roof of The Del in the distance. The golf course was deep green and the graceful bridge curled against shimmering waters.

We flew higher and higher, until the sky began to darken.

Looking out, I could see the curvature of the earth from our height, and still, we rose. Stars began to shine and flicker... Coronado Island and the protective arm of Point Loma began to look like places on a map, and then, places on a globe.

__________

The atmosphere had become merely a dim, blue halo around the planet when we stopped. We hung suspended in the inky blackness all around us, and hugged each other close; I could feel Melody's body against mine... our contours were perfectly matched. I buried my face in the area between her neck and shoulder, and despite the lack of oxygen I could smell her delicious fragrance. I had come to associate that aroma with life, and love.

Then, we kissed... long and passionately, in our private world high above the world.

# Chapter 23

Melody woke up with a start. Samantha looked around with wide eyes and then stretched as cats are prone to do after a period of sleep.

"Sorry, honey... didn't mean to startle you," she said. "What a dream!"

She shook her tousled hair and ran her fingers through it. Melody swung her legs over the edge of the bed and stood up. I watched as the beautiful young woman made her way into the living room. The cat was torn between staying with me on the bed, or, following her owner.

When I got up to go after Melody, Samantha beat me to it... so I ended up behind the cat. We both came up behind Melody; she was stooped down, flipping through a stack of canvases leaned against the wall. In a few seconds, she found the one she wanted and put it on the easel by the window. I instantly recognized our table... it was the painting she had been working on the very first time that Giddeon and I had stolen into her condo. Melody got out her brushes and paints and turned her attention to my partially finished image.

I kissed her on the cheek, petted the cat, and silently made my exit.

# Chapter 24

Living between worlds has its advantages. Money isn't a problem. There is no hunger. Pain is only momentary. In addition, the golf course is never crowded and the weather outside is however you want it to be. Apparently, Giddeon simply sampled realities until he found one that fit our wishes at the time... and, there, we would be.

You know that country song, ' _It's Five O'clock, Somewhere_ '? Over in the realm of inter-dimensional tourists, it was more along the lines of ' _It's Right-O'clock, Somewhere_ '.

At first, I was only mildly curious about the alternate realities to which we seemed to have access. To be honest, I figured if I was in a coma then it really was just a dream like Giddeon first described it... none of it was 'real'.

As time went on and I became more and more accustomed to my new existence, it was almost like I didn't want to jinx it all by trying too hard to understand.

For some reason I was afraid that if I dug too deeply, or asked too many questions, Giddeon would go away and I would end up in darkness... all alone in a hospital room. The nearest thing I can relate my reluctance about trying to understand anything about the _how and why_ of it all to, was... superstition. Like a player that was winning on the ball court, I was hesitant to change things. Pete Maravich (a basketball player from the sixties and seventies) had had his floppy grey socks that he wore during every game, and I had my acceptance of everything otherworldly.

That's why, for months, I just went along with my existence as it was.

Finally, though, I realized that I wasn't 'winning'. That even though I was in a coma, it wasn't just a long and complicated dream that was unfolding around me.

I began to understand that most likely I, with the help of Giddeon, was actually sampling different realities. That all of those different planes of existence did, in truth, exist and reflect off of each other into infinity like a hall of mirrors... or, like the never-ending facets of a diamond. Each similar, and yet, different, from the rest.

Real, but at the same time, not so real.

At least, not real enough.

The reality that I wanted most of all was my old reality.

The one where I held Melody's hand and it fit perfectly into mine. Where she knew I was there. Where we could kiss, if we wanted to. Where we could talk and laugh and hear each other's words. Where we could maybe go to a club, hold each other on the dance floor and sway to the music... sway to the music and feel intimate heat from our bodies pressed so closely together.

After dozens of rounds of golf, a ridiculous number of restaurant meals, hours and hours of jamming with Gid, communing with Boris and sporadically visiting Melody... I was ready to risk it.

I was ready for some answers.

__________

We had just finished playing golf. I had scored a 74 and Giddeon was somewhere in the 30's. I no longer paid much attention to his game. We were in Clayton's Coffee Shop on Orange Avenue... an old fifties/sixties style joint with real table-top juke boxes that you can flip through and select songs from. Giddeon was torn between Elvis and the Beatles.

"What do you think? Old swivel hips or the hipsters?"

"Beatles."

"You sure? They've got ' _Blue Suede Shoes_ ' on here."

He had taught me that one the other night.

"Yeah... time to move on."

He punched some buttons and ' _Day Tripper_ ' began to play.

"I'll teach you that lead when we get back."

"Cool." Our omelets arrived... of course no waitress was attached. The plates just appeared on the Formica. Gid had the Spinach, Tomato and Feta. I went with the Nado... tomato, Swiss cheese and avocado.

"Exactly how do you do that?" I queried.

"I told you, before. Everything has a field of probabilities... even omelets."

He covered his in hot sauce and dug in.

"Could I do it?"

"You are doing it. I'm you, remember?"

"You know what I mean."

"Sure... it'll take a little practice, with your 5.7 percent and all."

"I'm up to 5.7? When did I gain a tenth?"

Giddeon smiled. That day he looked more Brad Pitt than Kevin Bacon. "A while back. I was just waiting for the best time to tell you. I figured even par today... may as well have a little more good news to go with it."

"I was two over."

He shook his head. "That ball didn't really go in the water on number 9... I was just messing with you. Fabricated a memory."

"So my third shot...?"

"Was really your first."

"Great. How do I know you haven't been fabricating anything else... like my dream with Melody?"

"I'm not that good. Besides, I just learned how to do it. Seems like having you over here gives me a little more horsepower." He grinned and ate some more Tabasco covered eggs.

"I see. So... ummm... when did you learn about the separate realities? How old were you... was I?"

He swallowed his bite. "Let's see. I think I... you... we, were around 13 or so. Adolescence is so confusing. Especially when there's no one to talk to. You're not a very good listener, by the way."

"Firewall, remember? Plus, I didn't drink when I was 13."

"That's true. Anyway, you did read the encyclopedias, sometimes, and every now and then you listened to NPR science programs. ' _Star Trek_ ' helped... so did other old T.V. shows like ' _Quantum Leap_ ' and ' _Stargate_ '. Technically, ' _Alice in Wonderland_ ' and ' _A Wrinkle in Time_ ' deal with quantum physics."

"Really? I loved both of those books."

"Oh, yes... not as much as I did, though." Giddeon almost had a wistful look to him, remembering my past. "Anyway, it was all about the same time I was becoming independent, so to speak. Taking on my own personality. I knew that we were the same, but also, that we were... different. I felt what you felt, and saw what you saw, but I had come to understand that we were joined in such a way that made communication difficult, to say the least."

"Were you lonely?" I asked and took a bite of my omelet. It was delicious.

"I used to beg you to play with me when we were little."

I nodded, trying to understand what that must have been like for him. Then, something occurred to me, "My mom said I had an invisible friend for about a year."

"That was me," he laughed. "Hard to play catch with yourself, though, isn't it?"

I smiled, remembering how I threw a baseball in my room that shattered a mirror. Next, I asked, "Do you think everyone has their own 'Giddeon'?"

"I think most do."

"Even the... mentally challenged?"

He nodded, took another bite, swallowed it down and then continued, "Probably... look at savants. I think those are some of the few cases where the 'subconscious' can interface with the outside world. Then you have the people that can remember every day of their lives. Sounds an awful lot like 'Giddeon' territory." He once again made his quotation marks in the air.

"Hmmm... can you remember every day?"

"Not as far back as they can... I was a late bloomer."

I thought that over, and queried, "Do you think you have your own 'Giddeon'?"

He stopped with his knife in mid-air, and looked genuinely surprised.

"I never thought about it. Maybe I do... you always were the intuitive one. You got most of the creativity, too, by the way." He buttered some toast that had just appeared, and took a bite.

"I got most of the creativity? What are you talking about? Look at the way we play music... I suck."

He swallowed his food, took a drink of orange juice, and then readied his fork for more eggs. "Technically, I'm far superior. I understand the theory and the progressions... but, all I'm mostly doing is spitting back out what I know. Ever notice I let you come up with the lyrics when we're composing? Or, when you go off on a tangent with new combinations of chords, I just fill in behind you? Your 5.7 percent has some powerful good stuff, my friend. Don't underestimate it."

"Humph," I grunted. "Anyway, as long as we're at it, how come we drive everywhere we go, or walk... but, when you 'sample' realities, omelets, orange juice and beer just appear?"

"I was wondering how long it would take you to ask." He paused, and put his fork down. "The quick answer is... because you want to. It helps you stay connected to the other world. Reality is all in the same place, so, it really isn't necessary. Not necessary, at all."

He reached out and finished his orange juice. Another one shimmered into our existence.

"When you say reality is all in the same place, you mean over here?"

"Over there, too."

I thought that over for a moment. "Seems like I remember things being pretty far apart... I've driven across Texas a few times."

Giddeon grinned. "Feels that way, doesn't it? Let's see... what's the best way to explain this?" He thought for a few seconds with a finger to his lips. "Okay, just pretend you're the first thing in the universe. Nothing else exists except you. You don't really have any size, because size implies other reference points... so, you're just a 'point', yourself."

He had removed his index digit from his mouth in order to use that hand to gesture with alongside of his other hand. Gid obviously loved making quotation marks with his fingers in order to emphasize his points... no pun intended.

"Got it." I responded.

"Now, you're all alone. Nothing else exists except you. There is no time and there is no space, because in order to have those things you need distance... and, you can't have distance without other points of reference." He paused to make sure I was following. "Then, along comes a second point. That point has two choices... it can be in the same 'place' (again the finger marks) as your point, or it can be separate. That's the only two places there are."

I nodded. "So far, so good."

"As you can see, there are now two places in the universe... where you are, and where the other point is, assuming it's not in your 'place'. No distance, yet, because there's nothing to relate them to."

"Okay."

"Along comes a third point. That point now has three choices... it can be at your point's position, the second point's position, or, somewhere else."

"Still no distance?" I queried.

Giddeon nodded his head and smiled. "That's right... not yet. No way to measure. Now, imagine a fourth point joins the party. You get something akin to distance, but it's fuzzy. Two points may appear like they're right next to each other compared to the third one from your original 'point' of view. But, are they really? If you could move around them," his hands were in the air trying to mimic the points and their motions, "you could see if that was actually 'so'. In order to do this, you would be introducing a multitude of new positions, or points, into space." He glanced off for a second, and then back. "You know... like the way two stars look really close together, but are really millions of light years apart because one is closer to you than the other?"

"Yeah, I think I see..."

"Suppose one is maybe 6 light years away, and the other one is on the other side of the galaxy. They look like they're next to each other because they have no real size to you... they're just points to your eyes. Their light is coming in close to parallel." He paused, again, to make sure that sank in, and then went on, "Meanwhile, a star over laterally to these two guys may only be 8 light years from you, so it's actually closer to the first star than the other one is... the two that look like they're closer together are actually further apart. It becomes evident if you could get into a spaceship and travel around... time and distance."

"Makes sense... geometry and frames of reference."

Giddeon seemed pleased. "Correctomundo. So, you can see that the universe is just billions and billions of points. Actually, an infinite number of points."

"Sure."

"Here comes the kicker. Let's just take your geometrical center and call it a point, okay? Now, take the geometrical center of the closest star, Alpha Centuri. How far apart are these two points?"

"4 light years, more or less, if I remember correctly from high school."

"That's right... sort of. As long as you have an infinite number of points to measure from, that would definitely appear to be the case. Now, dissolve every other place in the universe except those two points. You're back to your two options... they can be in the same place or 'point', or they can be separate."

I thought that over for a bit. "And, if they're separate, there really is no distance between them... they're just separate?"

"Just like every other potential point in the universe would be to you," he said, beaming like a proud teacher. "Remove all of the points except the one you're interested in at the time, and it's always the same... everything is right next to you."

"So distance..."

He finished for me, "...is just an illusion that keeps us apart."

# Chapter 25

We left the diner as I mulled over the metaphysical aspects of the universe, and together, we walked down the sidewalk bordering Orange Avenue. Giddeon was uncharacteristically silent as we crossed a side street and continued on. In front of Bayside Books, he paused and looked in the store from underneath the green canvas awning.

"Let's go in here for a minute," he said.

The door was open since the outside temperature and the inside temperature were identical... that happens a lot on Coronado. The smell of books was strong; I never really noticed it, before. I had been in there dozens of times in my old life, but I was only using 5.6 percent of my capabilities back then.

I followed Giddeon back to the far end of the bookstore to the section that contained 'Philosophy and Religion'. He seemed to know exactly where he was going.

"Here you go." He handed me a small, hardback book. There were birds on the front cover. ' _Johnathan Livingston Seagull_ '.

"I read this a long time ago... good book," I said.

"Time to read it, again. It'll only take a couple of hours."

Shrugging my shoulders, I said, "Okay. I don't really feel like playing more golf this afternoon, anyway." I took the book from him.

"You go on back to the boat. I'm gonna hang here for a while," Gid said as he turned his attention back to the wooden ledge where, of course, ' _Johathan Livingston Seagull_ ' was still shelved in the other reality. I saw him reach for a copy of ' _Illusions, The Tale of a Reluctant Messiah_ ', which was written by the same author. He then walked over and sat down in one of the two chairs beside a little round table nearby, and began flipping through the book. I made my way to the front of the store and past the pretty desk clerk without paying.

Just another advantage of coma surfing.

__________

Boris was waiting on the bed since Giddeon had left the door open a crack. He looked up, stretched, and then laid his head back down on his right paw, while gazing at me through sleepy eyes. His nictitating membranes halfway obscured the yellow-gold of his irises.

If there's one thing cats know, it's how to get comfortable... they seem to have perfected it compared to all of the other creatures on Earth. Nothing flows into soft surroundings and becomes one with the contours of a good spot quite like a cat. Then, when they've achieved absolute success in their endeavors, they announce it to the world and the rest of us stiff jointed beasts with such a look of satisfaction and relaxation that, if it wasn't so comical, would induce envy enough to kick them straight away out of their bliss.

Of course, those beasts would have to actually be able to interact with them on a physical plane.

Since I was in a coma miles away from there, I didn't even depress the mattress when I lay down next to him and opened my book. Boris yawned and flipped over on his back with all four feet in the air.

__________

I found myself enjoying the novella just as I did when I read it several years ago. The second time, however, it was a bit surreal... especially towards the middle and latter parts of the writing. Since I had recently gained a new appreciation for the fluidity of reality, the way that Jonathan and his mentors moved from place to place seemed eerily similar to the way me and my subconscious alter ego sampled fields of probabilities. I was so engrossed in the tale that I read it straight through. True to Gid's prediction, I wrapped up my reading in two hours (I took quite a bit of time looking at the pictures) and closed the book. Boris hadn't moved.

"No need for travel when you're in a good spot, hey buddy?" I reached out for the cat. He rolled over, expecting to be 'scratched'.

"That's right," replied Giddeon. I hadn't heard or felt him come in, but, there he was, at the foot of my bed. "What did you think of the book?"

"Sounds like Richard Bach had his own Giddeon putting ideas into his head."

"That's kind of what I think, too. Maybe a breakdown in the firewall. Still don't feel up to golf?"

"Nah... not really. We played this morning."

"Even at Pebble Beach?"

I looked at him quizzically, "For real?"

"As real as it gets, over here."

I noticed he had on a golf glove. "That's quite a drive... it'll be dark when we get there."

He took on a Chinese accent. _"Young grasshopper... did you not read the book?"_

"I'm not a seagull."

"That's right... but, you are getting a little bored with playing the same course, aren't you?" He was back to his normal Southern voice.

"Maybe a little, but there's always 'Sea and Air' (the Navy course on the island). We haven't played there, lately. I just don't know how I feel about getting too far from my comatose body."

Giddeon held up a hand and then imitated Yoda, as best I could tell. " _Everything's here, it is. There is no far away_." His voice was crackly, and he grunted afterwards, for emphasis.

"So am I Kwai Chang Caine or Luke Skywalker?"

He laughed. "You're anyone you want to be." He morphed into Obe Wan Kenobi, and then, back, again. "And, anywhere."

Darkness enveloped us and then I saw a flash all around me in my peripheral vision that seemed to be a pretty darned good imitation of that notorious tunnel of light.

# Chapter 26

I had seen the first tee on Pebble Beach quite a few times on television, so I recognized it, instantly. The clean, cool ocean air came at us from the direction of the water, and the greens and blues all around were spectacular. I knew the scenery would only improve as we made our way along the holes bordering the Pacific. Of course, there wasn't a soul on the course.

Not for the first time, I considered the possibility that I had indeed died and was in heaven, or at least an upper level of Purgatory. I wasn't even Catholic like Father McCreeley, but, I supposed there could be such a place situated in the space between postulated reward and punishment.

Giddeon had his left hand up close to his nose and imitated the inflections from an old movie, " _I love the smell of glove-palm in the morning_."

"You really should work on your jokes, dude... and, it's after noon."

"I thought that was pretty good... and _does anybody really know what time it is_?" Giddeon smiled as he teed up his ball. He took a couple of practice swings and promptly hit it 320 down the middle. "Nice change of scenery, eh?"

"Played here, before?"

"Oh, sure... I've got to do something with all of the spare time you give me. I don't care much for reading message boards and watching re-runs of ' _Two and a Half Men_ '.

"Sorry. I'll tune into ' _Masterpiece Theater_ ' more often if I ever make it back."

Giddeon grinned as I then teed up. "I'll settle for ' _The Beverly Hillbillies_ '... now, _that_ was a show," he said.

I hit a bit more of a fade than I wanted, but stayed in the first cut of rough about 285 yards away. A red-tailed hawk soared above us, and his shadow hugged the terrain of the course. "Are we really here?" I questioned my playing partner. "I mean, I've seen Pebble Beach many times on T.V., but not in this kind of detail."

Giddeon reached down, plucked a few blades of grass from the tee, and then let them loose in the breeze. "Feels real to me."

"Looks real, too," I observed. "Have you been to other courses?"

"Heavens, yes. Oak Tree, The Black, St. Andrews... the Nicklaus course in Cabo... I highly recommend that one, by the way." We began walking off the tee, and then down the perfectly manicured links.

"So even if I've never seen them or read about them...?"

"Oh, I see what you're getting at. You think that this is like virtual reality, and I have to have had exposure, through you, to the layouts in order to 'reconstruct' the settings." Again, as he was prone to do, he put quotation marks in the air with his fingers as we strolled down the fairway. Maybe there's a gene that's responsible for that quirk, because me and my brother have been known to use our digits in that way, also.

"Something along those lines..."

"At first, yeah. Years ago. As I became more and more aware of the nature of reality, though, the parameters changed. I was no longer constrained by your experiences. Have you ever heard the term ' _collective consciousness_ '?"

"On that late-night talk station, ' _Coast to Coast_ '."

He spun his driver into the air, where it glinted in the sunlight high above our heads and vanished. "There seems to be something to that... although ' _collective sub-consciousness_ ' might be a better description."

"So... every place anyone has experienced...?"

"Is at your disposal," Giddeon finished for me. "Reality requires observers, and we have plenty of those."

"Any place on Earth man has been?" I inquired.

"And, some I don't think we have. I suspect maybe bugs and birds and even things as small as protozoa contribute to the collective."

"Wow... I never really thought about that." We were silent for the next 20 paces, or so. Then, something occurred to me, "The moon?"

"Been there, done that. No t-shirt, though."

"Bet you can't wait for a manned mission to Mars."

"We've already sent rovers... good enough."

"For real?"

"Oh, yes... beats the heck out of ' _Two and a Half Men_ ', by the way. Don't forget about Voyager 1 and 2."

"Jupiter, Saturn, Neptune...?"

"Not only have I seen what's inside your head, I've seen Uranus."

He let out a guffaw at that one. I even smiled.

Giddeon continued, "Not much to Pluto, though. Poor little guy... so far away from everything... basically a lump of dirt and ice. It does have a couple of rock satellites to keep it company, though."

We had come to my ball in the rough. I set my bag down and chose a 7 iron.

"So, the way Jonathan Livingston got around later in the book is not so far-fetched, after all?" I asked.

"Pretty close. It really has nothing to do with speed, though."

I lined up my shot and hit a nice high approach to the middle of the green. The thick grass in the low rough had taken the spin off of the Callaway, however, and it rolled onto the frog-hair off the back.

"Not bad... you can par from there." We continued on towards his ball and he continued on with his tutoring, "There's no such thing as distance... or time, for that matter."

"Oh, yeah..." I made a note to myself about time, and decided I would save that one for later. "What about everything the Hubble has seen... that's observation... does that count?"

"I haven't fully checked it out, yet, but I'm thinking it does. As a matter of a fact, I'm thinking consciousness may be universal... just like they talk about in quantum mechanics. Particles of matter may actually be making choices and 'sentient' in their own fashion."

He removed a nine-iron from an invisible bag. I watched the shaft appear and grow as he 'pulled' it out... showing off a bit, I suspected. After a couple of practice swings, he hit it a few feet past the hole; the back-spin, however, brought it back to within inches... just below the cup and to the right. "Aw, heck...misread the break off of the backstop."

He smiled, and I knew he was just 'keeping it real'. The nine-iron disappeared from his hands.

"So, you can go anywhere?

"Looking that way... couldn't before you showed up. Like I said, I seem to have a lot more horsepower with you around."

"5.7 percent kind of put you over the top, huh?"

"Not much difference between escape velocity and crash and burn, if you want a rocket analogy."

"Humph," I grunted, and then thought everything over. Finally, I conjectured, "Maybe there's intelligent life out there."

"I hope so, 'cause there isn't much here." He tilted one corner of his mouth upwards and scratched at his Brad Pitt stubble. "But, you're right... it could be that ' _collective consciousness_ ' isn't Geo-Centric... little green men and all of that."

We walked towards the putting surface. I marveled again at the scenery around us. The temperature, of course, was perfect. After a hundred and forty yards of silence, we approached the green.

"So, what's the best place you've ever been?" I questioned.

He walked up to the pin and removed it with his left hand. He tapped his Pro-V-1 into the hole with the Scotty Cameron putter in his right hand.

"The table where you met Melody at Seaport Village."

Our eyes met. A sad smile played with his lips. I turned my head and looked again at the views surrounding us. A formation of Brown Pelicans winged their way overhead, south, towards San Diego.

"Me, too."

We finished our round in under four hours. I would have gladly traded that time for four seconds with Melody.

# Chapter 27

What are the symptoms of love?

The fluttering you get in your core when you think about that special person? That flush of excitement you have when you see them, every time so much like the first? When they move about in three dimensions, and the grace and realness of it all makes you almost want to collapse... is that a sign? What about the forever imprinting of their sights and sounds on the celluloid of your mind, so that you can play it in an endless loop, over and over, again, like a favorite movie... should that be considered?

When just the slightest touch of their skin will send a jolt deep into hidden recesses... a jolt that makes internal organs contract and quiver while your soul sings out an inaudible song of gratitude... a song of thanks to the universe for providing such an opportunity to connect... does that contribute to the diagnosis?

I don't know what the symptoms are, for sure, but I would bet that all of these things are leading indicators. Indicators that you're in love.

Some say it's all just hormones. Chemical pheromones in the air that help attract one person to another. I was in a coma, and miles away from her every time except for the first time, so I don't think molecules really had much to do with it... although, I _could_ smell her essence, over there, so I guess it can't be totally ruled out. Whatever the reason, when I would go for a visit, I would get virtually all of the above feelings, and, if anything, they got stronger over time. The more I observed her and learned about her, the deeper I 'fell'.

__________

I would sit for hours just watching her paint; sometimes, she sketched out detailed beauty using only charcoals. Landscapes, people and animals. Whether in shades of grey or rainbows of color, her renditions of the world were reflections of her inner vision, lovely and unadulterated... they covered my heart as completely as the canvasses.

I would look over her shoulder as she wrote in her journal... I know you're not supposed to do that, but, how else could I get to know her? I was a ghost, for all practical purposes. Giddeon didn't seem to have a problem with it, and since I figured there was a strong possibility he was an angel, or, at the very least, my conscience, I assumed he would have at least clucked his tongue if it was truly inappropriate.

The things she wrote on that bound paper were fundamentally exquisite. I would sometimes go home with her words swirling in my head and floating in my heart. I would run my favorite lines over and over to myself like an actor preparing for a debut; her words were perfectly placed stepping stones in a stream of consciousness... they helped me cross over into her mind and love her all the more.

Maybe one day I can share them with you.

The first few weeks, she sometimes wrote about me. That's how I know she felt a lot of what I was feeling. I don't know why it happens, I'm just glad that it can... love, that is. I wanted so badly to be able to pick up the pen and write her a note... to tell her that I was there. I wanted to relay that I wished to hold her, and talk to her, and really get to know her the way a guy's supposed to get to know a girl. I yearned to communicate across the divide and tell her that I wanted to be with her. That I would like so much to go to movies and to restaurants... to the beach and to the mountains... with her.

Simple things.

I wanted to stroke her arm and kiss her lips. I wanted to invite her and her cat over to the boat where they could both meet Boris. I longed to let her know that I would even learn to sail, so that we could go out into the bay and play the radio and lounge on the deck in the sun... lounge on the deck and sit there and talk about how wonderful the weather was, and, how often wonderful the world is, too.

I wanted to rub sunscreen on her shoulders while she held her blonde ponytail out of the way, and then have her smile and kiss me on the cheek for doing such a good job.

But, I couldn't do any of that, because I was in a coma.

I remembered Giddeon picking up a penny and putting it in the empty milk saucer at The Boat House, so, I had him try to take a pen and write a message for her in her journal... it didn't work. I saw the effort and the concentration on his face, but, it just couldn't be done. He said there seemed to be rules... that the coin hadn't really affected the 'other side' and perturbed the realities. It could be explained away.

A note from a guy in a coma was just too much.

There is apparently an inertia to the quantum states, and crashing headlong from one into another requires too much energy... too much force. We would have been changing too many realities and realities are 'heavy', for lack of a better word to describe them.

Just my luck.

Eventually, we gave up on the note. However, I couldn't help but think of that scientist that once said _'Give me a lever long enough and I'll move the world.'_ "

I vowed to keep looking for that lever.

# Chapter 28

After Pebble Beach, Giddeon 'teleported' us back to good old San Diego. Bronx Pizza, on Washington Street, to be exact. We were in the back room, the very back booth, sitting on red vinyl seats surrounded by photographs of old boxers and New York baseball greats. In front of me appeared my favorite two slices... Spinach Ricotta and an Eggplant Red Pepper. Giddeon had a Cheese and a Pepperoni. The restaurant was fairly deserted at that hour on a weekday, but I knew from experience that the supper crowd would be coming, soon.

"Sure quicker than flying back," I said.

"No TSA pat downs, though... you might have enjoyed that, if she was cute."

He was sounding less and less like an angel to me as time went on.

I rolled my eyes. "Her hands would have gone right through me. Plus, she wouldn't have been able to see me."

"Maybe they could have picked you up on their CAT Scanner."

He was grinning from ear to ear, obviously referring to the fact that only cats could see us. I told him that it wasn't a CAT Scanner... it was a Backscatter Radiation Detector. I'm sure he knew that, but it didn't go with his joke.

"So... you don't need oxygen on the moon?" I inquired, changing the subject.

"Apparently, not. I'm unsure if I bring it with me, or if I'm in a frame of reference where those things are unnecessary. It's kind of weird, but it seems like I'm breathing when I'm there." He took a bite of his cheese slice, chewed and swallowed. "Also, it's really hot or cold depending on if you're in the shadows, or not... I'm aware of it, but, it doesn't really bother me. Sort of like that dream you told me about when you and Melody went up into space. You were still comfortable, and you could still smell... remember?"

Mango and lemons invaded my memory. "That was a dream."

"Maybe everything's a dream."

"Humph." I grunted. "Then, I'd like to wake up, now."

"And not finish your pizza?"

"Oh, yeah." I took a bite of the Spinach Ricotta. It was hot and crisp, and I realized how much I really liked white stone pizza without the tomato sauce.

"Dreaming's not so bad, is it?" my better half remarked.

"As long as it's not a nightmare... I had my share of those when I was a kid."

Giddeon got a sheepish look on his face. "That was probably my fault... I have a vivid imagination. Probably spilled over onto you, sometimes."

After a sip of Coke, I said, "You know, I dreamed a snake bit me, once. I woke up screaming. Scared the heck out of my brother in the next room. Funny thing... later on that same day, I was almost in the same position down by the lake..."

I demonstrated the position using my arms.

"...I had my left hand on a cypress tree and was reaching down to the water for something shiny, just like in my dream." After another bite of pizza, I repositioned my arms, and dipped one hand towards the floor, mimicking my childhood movements. "I stopped, because it was déjà vu to the max. I backed up and looked around the tree, and there, behind it, was the biggest water moccasin I'd ever seen! We scared him off throwing rocks at him. I got the shiny thing from the edge of the lake, by the way. It was a ball bearing... I kept it so I would always remember."

"Glad to be of service," said Giddeon with his palms out towards me in a magnanimous gesture.

"You showed me the future in a dream?"

"Yep. It doesn't always work, though... and, I was showing you a possible future. There're so many that it's hard predicting which ones will actually come to pass."

He took in some of his Pepperoni slice.

"So, you are a guardian angel."

Giddeon smiled, swallowed and shook his head. "I don't think so... it was more an act of self-preservation."

I mulled that over for a moment. Then, "Where were you when that golf ball was flying my way?"

"Like I said... it doesn't always work. Plus, I was asleep."

"Great. My guardian angel has narcolepsy."

"Hey, I tried, but you were so preoccupied with Melody that there was no way I was getting through. Anyway, I think some things are meant to happen."

" _This_ was meant to happen? I meet the perfect girl, and the next day I'm in a coma?!"

It came out a little more sharply than I had intended.

"Hey... you get to play Pebble Beach. Free pizza and smoothies anytime you want... it could be worse."

"Sorry... didn't mean to raise my voice. But, what could be worse than that empty feeling I get when I think about her being over there, and me, being over here?"

Gid replied, "Oh, lots of things...lots of things." He had a faraway look in his eyes. "As a matter of fact, I'll show you, tomorrow. Tonight, the Presidential Suite at The Del has got my name on it. I'm a little tired."

We finished the rest of our pizza. When our Cokes were refilled, Giddeon said, "You ready to go?"

"Yeah." I felt a little bad about kind of snapping at him, earlier, so I said, "Hey Gid... it was fun, today. Thanks."

"Yeah, it was. Glad you came along. See you, tomorrow."

There was a flash, and then I was on my bed next to Boris... the cup of cola still in my hand.

# Chapter 29

I had a good night's sleep. The cat was gone when I woke up, but he made his appearance about 30 minutes into my morning. Boris jumped onto the table and began licking his paws and cleaning his face... most likely, he had been to The Boat House for breakfast and a real scratching from the waitress.

I took a shower, brushed, flossed and put on blue jeans along with a jersey type shirt and tennis shoes. I knew none of the hygiene ritual was necessary, but old habits die hard. I picked up my guitar and strummed a few chords; Giddeon and I had recently been working on a song called ' _Breathe_ '. I chopped an A chord for a few measures, and began:

Every time you walk into the room...

I feel a little zoom.

And, when you turn my way...

I know everything, is all okay.

And, every time I look into your eyes...

I see the summer skies,

And, when I hold your hand...

I understand,

Who I am... who you are...

and, just what life is for.

At that point, Giddeon appeared on the couch beside me. He joined in the chorus, singing harmony while playing his Martin Guitar.

It's for living, loving, laughing, too.

Simply breathing, next to you.

Losing all track of time.

Drink it down like red, red wine.

Watching the sun go down.

And, waiting for it, to come back around.

Just another day with you...

and, all I want to do...

is just breathe, just breathe, right there next to you.

Breathe. Breathe. Just breathe.

I want to breathe... right there next to you.

And, every time you walk into the room...

I feel a little zoom.

Do you feel it, too?

And, all I want to do...

Is just breathe. Just breathe. Right there next to you!*

*(song available at http://www.thefivesecondphilosopher.com) Songs may also be heard at <http://quantumclassic.wix.com/brulte>as they become available.

We finished with a sustained chord. Boris meowed his approval. Giddeon grinned... pleased, also, with our work.

"3 minutes and 6 seconds. Perfect! Short and sweet. I like the way you tied it all up," he said while pointing his index finger at me.

I smiled, happy with the outcome, too.

Gid ran a hand through his thick mop of hair. "Melody and her friends are headed to the beach this morning. Wanna go surfing?"

"Hmmm... sounds good. I thought you had other plans for us, today, though."

"Plenty of time for that, later. Throw on some trunks. Surf's up!"

__________

Of course, we had to stop and eat breakfast on the way.

Pancakes at a place called the Broken Yolk, on Garnett Avenue. Giddeon ate a large order and I had a small. Both meals were covered in maple syrup and washed down with lots of O.J. Then, we made our way over near the coast by the Ocean Beach pier, found a place to park (why we drove the car, I don't know), and went to the beach, not bothering to lug along surfboards.

We found Melody and her two friends, Amanda and Brooke, just arriving with their boogie boards. When they stripped down to their bikinis, it was like something out of a movie. Her two friends were hot, but Melody was sizzling. The few males in the vicinity had their heads on swivels as they watched the girls rush into the cold, Pacific water.

Giddeon and I took our boards, which, along with wetsuits, had miraculously appeared. We followed the trio into the ocean. I had only tried surfing once, before, and never quite graduated to standing up. I could catch the waves, but by the time I was ready to get upright, my balance would be off, my momentum spent, and down I would go. Maybe some of the problem was that I had been on a short board, which is far more unstable than the lengthier ones. This time, I had a long board... a G2 limited edition by Tim Bessel... and Giddeon had given me some pointers in the car.

We sat on our boards out past the break, watching the girls for a while. They were having quite a time in the shallows and waves near the beach. Laughter and squeals could be heard as they paddled around and scooted on the foamy water towards the shoreline. Then, they would pick up their Styrofoam boards, run back into the ocean, splash down, and paddle out to do it again.

I was amazed that they were tolerating the cold water so well... I suppose youth and enthusiasm are exothermic. I never used to use words like exothermic, by the way.

Maybe Giddeon rubbed off on me during those four years.

I caught the first wave that I attempted. Amazingly, I actually made it to my feet and went quite a distance towards the shore before the energy dissipated. I'm sure I was grinning from ear to ear, even as I lost my balance and fell into the water for no apparent reason. I surfaced and called to Giddeon as he readied himself for the following wave.

"Did you see that? I did it!" I yelled excitedly, pulling my board back towards me by its tether.

"Good job! I told you that you could! Watch this!"

A big wave formed behind him and I could see him paddling furiously to match its speed. His short board caught the swelling water and he was on his feet very easily in what seemed like microseconds. Gid went straight down the front of the liquid surface for a few feet and then began to cut to my left.

He zig-zagged back and forth in that direction, showing total control of the fiberglass underneath him. Next, he cut towards my position in the water; when he was almost upon me, he jumped his board high into the air and over the back of the wave. He hung suspended for what seemed like a small eternity, and then, basically did a half-gainer into the blue-gray of the Pacific.

I was so enthralled while watching his performance that I forgot to duck beneath the wall of water and it smacked into me and my board and drug me halfway to shore. I came up sputtering and was torn between cursing and laughing, so I did neither. I paddled back out to Giddeon.

He had no problem laughing for me.

"Dude... that was awesome! I wish I had it on video. We could make a public service announcement... ' _Always respect the power of the ocean_!" he exclaimed in a narrator type voice. "I thought I was gonna have to do CPR!" Again, he laughed, and also slapped his board to give it more emphasis.

"Glad you're so entertained by my misfortune. My lip is bleeding," I said as I reached up and wiped at it, gingerly.

"Don't worry... sharks can't smell it. Only dogs."

"Great." I was beginning to believe that maybe he wasn't a guardian angel, after all. At least, not a very good one. "That was a nice ride you did, though. Gnarly exit," I observed.

Giddeon lit up. "Now, you're getting with it. Surf talk! Come on... I'll show you how it's done!"

We began to paddle back out, and I noticed my lip was back to normal. I washed the blood off of my face with seawater, and then kept going. We got to a good spot and sat on our boards to wait for a set to come in. Melody and her two friends were still cavorting happily in the distance, so we watched them for a while.

"The sea nymphs are certainly having a good time," observed my subconscious.

I took in their shapely, wet forms as they glistened in the golden rays of the sun. "If you don't get me back to her side, soon, I'm gonna explode," I replied.

"Hormones starting to back up, are they?"

"I didn't mean it like that... I just want to be with her."

"Can't say that I blame you... she looks good in that bikini."

"She would look good in anything."

"She would look good in nothing at all."

I splashed water in his direction. "Don't go lusting after my girlfriend."

"I'm you, remember? Where you lead, I will follow. Here comes a wave! Now, when you catch it, try to stand up a bit sooner. You're waiting too long to make your move. Trust the board to be stable... it's big and sturdy. Just stay centered and go for it."

We began paddling for all we were worth. I could feel the kinetic energy come up from behind us, and it began to augment our efforts.

"Now!" yelled Giddeon. I saw him in my peripheral vision as he started to upright himself. I placed my hands on the board below me and did my best to imitate his motions. After a few seconds of imbalance, I found the center and stood up almost fully erect, left foot forward and knees flexed. I rode straight down the face of the big wave, too scared to make a turn but totally enjoying the rush.

When I felt steady enough, I shifted my weight and actually made progress to the right, in Gid's direction. I was skimming along at a good clip, and then I shifted back to the left, but overdid the maneuver. That caused me to fall backwards into the curling blue-green monster behind me and tumble around beneath it for a few seconds. I didn't care. I was elated.

"Whoo-hoo!" I screamed when I surfaced. "I can't believe it!"

Giddeon splashed in the water down from me, collected his board and paddled back in my direction.

"Stellar, man, stellar!" he exclaimed.

"That was so cool! No wonder people get hooked on this!" I shouted. We began stroking back out to our spot. For the moment, I had even temporarily forgotten about Melody and the girls.

"Surfing and golf! Two of the best sports in the universe, don't you think?" queried Gid.

"Looking that way! Geeesh...I can't believe I didn't try this again after that time a couple of years ago!" We made our way out for the better part of a couple of minutes. Giddeon finally sat up on his board, signaling that we were where we should be.

He grinned. "You can't give up too easily. Some things are worth going after over and over, till you get it right." I saw him nod in the direction of Melody as he scooted his board around.

We watched the girls laughing and playing in the water about 75 yards away.

"I hear you, dude, I hear you."

Soon, we caught another wave.

# Chapter 30

After two and a half hours of surfing, I found that I had worked up quite an appetite. Melody and her two friends were on the beach; a few guys had tried to approach them, but thankfully had met with little success.

When we saw the three uber-maidens donning their over-clothes and collecting their gear, Giddeon and I made our way to shore. We ditched our boards and walked across the sands... I looked down and noticed that oddly, even though I could feel my feet digging into the silicon, no footprints followed my steps. Sometimes, I could see a flickering as my feet left or connected with the beach, but I had grown accustomed to that type of weirdness and ignored it. As we got nearer to the girls, we could hear them deciding to get fish tacos at South Beach Bar and Grill.

Gid gave a thumbs up, and I knew where we were headed, also.

He and I parted from the young ladies and walked towards the restaurant while they went to store their boogie-boards in their car. We made our way past people on the boardwalk... teenagers, college students, bicyclists and the homeless... all out enjoying the San Diego weather.

Just before we got to the pier, we took a left and went past a small parking lot. We then exited the sidewalk right into the bar. It was moderately busy; a few patrons were enjoying early afternoon cocktails and looking out of the open windows at the beach. We went into the adjoining room and took seats at a table against the far wall.

Giddeon blinked and two tall iced-teas appeared in front of us, whereupon I took a long, replenishing draught. We looked over the menus as we waited for the three women to arrive.

"I'm thinking a Wahoo and a lobster," said Gid.

"I'll go with a shark and an oyster, but, no rush. Wait 'till they all get here."

We relaxed in our seats; the wet suits were magically gone and we were back in dry shorts, t-shirts and flip-flops... standard Southern California uniforms. Someone dropped some money in the juke-box and Jimmy Buffet's ' _Come Monday_ ' filled the air.

It was easy to forget that I was in a long-term care facility half-way across town.

"Not a bad day, so far," I observed.

"Not bad at all," replied Giddeon. "I want you to remember how you feel right now, and how absolutely fantastic it would be if you were 'real' and waiting on Melody after all of the sun, sand and surf we just experienced." Again, he had made finger quotes in the air. "That would be pretty much a 10 on a scale of 1 to 10, wouldn't it?

"Maybe a 12... hey, here they come!" They must have been parked nearby.

Melody, Amanda and Brooke entered the bar/restaurant, looked around, then came and deposited themselves at a table in the middle of the room close to us, naturally. I'm sure Gid had somehow sampled where they would most likely sit. They had on shorts and jerseys over their swimsuits, and dampness showed through their clothes. The co-eds all picked up menus and were pointing and talking amongst themselves, trying to decide what to get. A waitress came over and took their drink orders; they all went for iced tea as well.

Jimmy Buffet went off and was replaced by The Beach Boys... ' _I Wish They All Could Be California Girls_ '.

The California Girls at the table all bobbed their heads and sang along. Other patrons in the eatery were definitely enjoying the impromptu karaoke from the good-looking college ladies with the menus in their hands; the waitress, cute in her own right, danced over towards the end of the tune and took their orders. Everyone was smiling, and I felt the mood of the restaurant lighten perceptibly in sync with all of the happiness and music.

' _Wipeout_ ', by the Surfaris, came on the jukebox, next.

Amanda and Brooke couldn't contain themselves. They jumped up from their chairs, began to dance, and succeeded in dragging Melody from her chair, too. Giddeon and I, along with every other male in the place, watched in amazement as three gorgeous women entertained the customers for 2 minutes and 36 seconds. Short and sweet. Just like my guardian angel said a song should be. Maybe he was on to something.

The day went to at least a 13, even being in a coma.

Our tacos arrived, and quite possibly, they were the best tasting tacos in the world.

# Chapter 31

After the girls finished their meals and left, Giddeon and I walked outside into the afternoon sun. I was feeling pretty good about having 'spent' some time with Melody while learning to surf... also, from being with her while partaking of delicious seafood. The sky was crystal blue, and the water beneath it shades of a deeper blue, touching on green. A few clouds skirted the horizon, but for the most part the atmosphere was clear.

"Not bad, huh?" said Gid, taking in the view as the ocean breeze pushed the hair back from his forehead.

"No place like paradise," I replied.

We stood there, in silence. My companion had a faraway look in his eyes. I remember thinking to myself that it was the first time I had ever seen anything close to sadness on his face. Finally, he said something rather cryptic...

"You know, heaven and hell have the same zip code." Giddeon continued looking out at the ocean. Slowly, the sky began to darken.

There was a flicker, and then, everything around us changed. Well, not everything... the sea and the air were still pretty much the same, but the buildings to our right, our left, and behind us were all suddenly dilapidated and in various states of disrepair. The sidewalk had become cracked and shifted... grass and weeds were growing up through the gaps. A mangy dog foraged nearby; he stopped and sniffed at a dead seagull that was mostly feathers and bone, decided against it, and continued on with what appeared to be a quest for a meal.

"What happened?" I asked, quite alarmed.

"Just showing you a future."

"The future...?"

"A future. There are so many. This one is about 17 years from our present, after a series of wars... both international and civil." He turned towards me and his blue eyes were like fractured glass; streaks of cerulean radiated out from the dark, black centers.

Giddeon continued in a voice that was devoid of his usual inflections, "After the wars, famine and disease ensued. Weaponised bird flu, cholera, and something similar to smallpox were the worst ones. That plague resembling smallpox just came about on its own, by the way." He turned his head back to the water. "Those three pandemics, along with other minor epidemics, have wiped out at least 70 percent of the earth's population... oh, yes... before that, dirty bombs and chemical bombs had crippled most of the western economies."

Gid shoved his hands in his pockets and I felt just a bit more breeze come in off of the water. It didn't have the same smell that I had grown accustomed to. "All of these problems started a downward spiral into ubiquitous violence," he said. "Many of the large urban centers, whether bombed or not, are now abandoned except for roving gangs. However, a few brave people come to places like this to fish... like that group over there."

He pointed to the pier, or rather, what was left of the pier. A small cluster of people had lines in the water from off the northern side. We walked over in their direction and carefully made our way onto the damaged structure.

__________

The people on the cement construction were a scraggly looking bunch...6 adults, 4 teens and 2 small children. Some of them had pock-marks... apparently from the scarring, smallpox-like disease. They all wore rumpled designer clothes, and I noticed that two of the men had on expensive watches. Apparently, razors were in short supply; the males that could grow them had beards, and the women wearing shorts and sleeveless shirts sported underarm hair and unshaven legs. Several rifles were propped against the pigeon speckled railing.

Suddenly, one of the men exclaimed, 'Got one!" The Rolex on his wrist flashed brightly in the sun as he reeled in a small sea-bass; the people around him cheered with delight.

"Plenty of luxury items around... just no running water, electricity or food," said Giddeon. "Small bands of people group together for protection. Most stay near the coast or by rivers and streams, and nearly everybody carries a weapon... kind of like in the Wild West."

We circled the group, and then stood next to the broken end of the pier. The water below could be seen from our location, sloshing back and forth as it had done for eons. My subconscious resumed his narrative, "A few towns, mostly in Colorado, Idaho and the Midwest are making a comeback. Some even have sewerage systems and running water. The feudal system is basically how those areas manage themselves, and no one new is allowed in unless they have a skill to share... otherwise, they're out of luck. They can't get past the town perimeters."

I looked over the poor little group for a while, and asked, "What about medical care... what if you get sick, or a woman's pregnant?"

Giddeon shook his head. "Darwin rules. Most of the doctors and nurses died in the epidemics. They were on the front lines, so to speak."

"Not good."

"Not so bad compared to some places."

Before I had time to ask what he meant... the flicker and light tunnel came and went, again.

__________

We were then in the remnants of a city. Without having to be told, I sensed that the destruction around me could only have been caused by a nuclear weapon.

Gid and I were near the outskirts of a devastated area, and I ascertained that we were somewhere in the Middle East by the remaining architecture still standing. Here and there, graffiti sprayed in a foreign print could be seen... possibly Hebrew, Farsi or Persian. The area was deserted. Not even a bird could be seen winging above the ruins.

"This is where one of the few actual nuclear exchanges occurred," said Giddeon. I'll show you what it looked like back then... 10 years ago... or maybe, I should say, 7 years from our normal, present time."

__________

Abruptly, we were transported to high on a hill near the area we had just been standing. I could sense that we had been carried through time, again... a tremendous blast had obviously just occurred, and the sky was filled with yellow dust and a reddish haze. The remains of what must have been a mushroom cloud towered above us, and an eerie silence was punctuated here and there by the sounds of sirens.

Oddly, I thought I heard a call to prayer mixed in with the horns.

Then, from the periphery of the destruction came a terrible sight... a sight that I'll never forget for as long as I live.

__________

They looked like zombies in a movie.

People were moving away, as best as they could, from the periphery of the blast zone... at least for the most part. Not everybody was able to do so. Some were walking in a daze. Others were trying to run. Many periodically stumbled, arose, and then continued on. Several crawled pitifully, and some just sat holding their arms out away from their bodies as if it was too painful to do anything else.

I'm not sure if they all got closer to us, or if we got closer to them, but the scene came into greater focus as the horrible seconds ticked by.

I saw that their clothing was burned and melted. Skin, reddened and sometimes in strips, hung from appendages and torsos. Obviously, many were blind even though quite a few were wide-eyed due to their eyelids having been seared away.

Thankfully, those poor souls could see nothing.

A little girl of about three or four was screaming for her mother in a universal tongue. She sat in the dirt, and her dress was totally fused with her body... what was left of her jet black hair still smoldered there upon her head.

I turned to Giddeon, who was taking in the scene, quietly.

One of the zombies walked through us on his way to wherever he was so intent upon going. I could almost feel the liquids on his flesh... blood, lymph and interstitial fluid... as he passed through my insubstantial form.

I suppressed a shudder.

"There are worse things than a coma," said Giddeon. "Far worse."

I looked back at the carnage. It was more terrible than any hell you can ever imagine. My grim tour guide gently reached out and took my arm. "Hold on for a moment... I'll show you what they feel. It won't last long."

__________

How can I describe the most unbearable pain in the world?

Have you ever burned your fingers on a hot stove? It was like that, except that it was over every square inch of my body. But, that wasn't the worst of it. It was inside of my body. My mouth, my eyes, my gut and my bladder. It was inside my rectum and between my ribs. Not just horrific burning, but that awful feeling like the wind has been knocked out of you and you can't catch your breath. Not that you want to breathe; every breath brings in liquid fire down your trachea and into your lungs.

There was a roaring inside my ears, not from sound, but, from pain.

Every nerve ending in my body was screaming and nothing could be done to assuage the onslaught. I thought I would pass out, and then, realized with horror that I wasn't going to. The crescendo of misery seemed to have no plateau, but continued on and on in an unrelenting exploration of the parameters of suffering.

It just got worse, and worse, and worse.

When I couldn't take it anymore, I began praying to die. Whom I was praying to, I don't know. Any god that could end my existence would do. I wasn't particular at that point. Not particular, at all. I closed my eyes and was engulfed by pain so pure that time itself seemed to stand still.

Giddeon released my arm, and I fell heavily to the sand.

We were back in Ocean Beach. As suddenly as it had come, the pain was gone. People were walking past on the sidewalk, and music was playing from South Beach Bar and Grill behind us. I vomited onto the off-white quartz crystals below my face.

The shark and oyster tacos weren't nearly so good coming from the other direction.

"Sorry about that." said Giddeon, quietly. "I'm sorry you had to feel what should never be felt... by anyone."

I reached out and he helped me to my feet. "It's alright," I finally rasped after a few seconds. "I... I'll never complain about being in a coma, again."

He smiled a sad smile. I stood unsteadily beside him, holding onto his shoulder for support. Normal seconds ticked by as I regained my composure.

"Hey, Giddeon?" I said in a weak voice.

"Yeah?"

"I don't think today's a 13 anymore."

He burst out laughing and patted me on the back.

"Let's go get a MangoMooMania and see if we can bump it back up a point or two!"

# Chapter 32

The MangoMooMania was delicious in a way it had never been, before. Also, everything around me seemed more alive and vibrant. The buildings, the people, and even the street signs had a glow about them; an aura of rightness and stability that said, ' _This is the way things are supposed to be_ '. I had to agree... it sure felt like that was the way things were supposed to be.

There's no place like Coronado.

The late afternoon air was just right... slightly cool with just a hint of a breeze. Giddeon and I took our time strolling down Orange Avenue and wound up at the little park across from the library. There's a large gazebo type structure in the middle of the grass and trees, and the platform is large enough to accommodate bands, which often play there on the weekends. We sat down with our drinks. I was still a bit shaken from being burnt alive earlier, but, thank goodness, the memory had begun to fade.

The park was deserted save for a good-looking mom and her daughter. The little girl appeared to be about 4 years old... around the same age as the poor child I had seen smoldering on the ground an hour before. She was in a swing, and the pretty brunette mother was pushing her rhythmically at the apex of each backwards arc. The scene could have been straight out of a Norman Rockwell painting if it weren't for the cell phone sticking out of the back of Mom's blue jean shorts. Gid and I watched the pair in silence as my world finished returning to normal. And, by normal, I mean what I had become accustomed to during the past 6 months.

As we sat there taking in the surroundings, I noticed a faint twitching in my arms and legs. I assumed it was just left over responses to the unbelievable pain I had experienced earlier, but Giddeon informed me differently.

"They've started electrically stimulating your muscles to prevent atrophy. Jeremy read about it and coordinated the treatment with your physician."

"Feels weird."

"You'll learn to block it out. Minor inconvenience."

I shook my head. "After today, everything pretty much falls into that minor inconvenience category."

Giddeon smiled. "It does help having something to judge things by, doesn't it?"

I blew air out of my cheeks. "You've sure got that right. I never thought just sitting on a bench could feel so good." Looking around at the beautiful grass and trees near to me, I remembered the scorched city and the devastation.

"Suffering may be the greatest blessing of all," replied Gid.

"Now look who's a philosopher," I observed. "But, yeah, I see what you're getting at."

He nodded. "Sorry, again, about the pain. It's one thing to intellectually have empathy with someone's suffering, but quite another to actually feel it. I just thought you should know."

I slurped down the last of my smoothie.

"So... I take it that you've felt that type of pain, before?" I asked, glancing over at the happy mom and child, once more.

"Oh, yes. Time and time again. I spent a lot of days in alternate realities once I learned how to do it. No point in visiting without getting the full effect."

I held the empty cup in my hand and looked about for a trash can; before I could locate one, the juice container vanished. "How many of the realities are so horrible?" I inquired.

Giddeon answered, "Lots and lots. An infinite amount, of course. But, there's also an infinite amount of good ones, too. That's just the way it is."

"Got to take the good with the bad, right?"

"The Buddhists say there is no good and bad," he replied.

"I disagree."

Brad Bacon/Kevin Pitt laughed a belly laugh. "Spoken like a man who believes in pain receptors."

"You don't have to believe in them to have them."

He slurped down the rest of his drink and tossed his cup high into the air. It disappeared before it hit the ground. "Don't be so sure... don't be so sure."

__________

We made our way even further down Orange, towards The Ferry Landing. Giddeon wanted an organic cookie from Boney's, so we ducked in there. I stood patiently as he tried to decide between a chocolate chip and a peanut butter. In the end, he took both and we exited the building.

"You could have just zapped those up for yourself without going through all the hassle," I said.

"I like the full experience," he replied while unwrapping the chocolate chip. Then, he took a bite.

"Like I had, today?"

"Exactamundo."

"That's not a word, you know?"

"But, still I use it... sort of like the cookies. Real... but, not really real," he said around the pieces in his mouth.

"Humph," I grunted.

Giddeon swallowed. "Hey... want a slice of pizza from Village Pizzeria? I'll bet they just put out some hot ones."

After having deposited my shark and oyster tacos on the beach, I actually did feel slightly hungry. Even though we had had pizza the day before, it seemed like a good idea. "Okay... maybe one."

We continued on down the sidewalk. We passed an upscale coffee shop on First, and then jaywalked across to the other side. The Sandman, a Coronado local that wore something similar to a dark Sailor's uniform and white Captain's hat, was spreading out crystalline artwork on the side of the road in unused parking spots. A series of swirls and flowers created from beach sand graced the pavement. He seemed to take his work very seriously, and brushed this way and that with a long handled broom; in his own way, he reminded me of those Buddhist priests that create intricate sand paintings that only last for a day. Maybe he, like them, was making a statement about the temporal nature of beauty... or, maybe he just liked making images out of sand. I'm not sure it mattered. He seemed happy.

After a minute or so, we turned left, towards the bay. We passed by local shops; they mainly contained artwork, clothing, knickknacks or food. The area was bustling with tourists. I saw Giddeon contemplating a cupcake at a place that sold only cupcakes, but he decided against it, which was rare for him... he could always eat. I've seen him devour a full meal at Vigilucci's and then go right next door to La Salsa's for a shrimp taco. We continued on a few more steps and came to a stop.

"You go on and get some pizza... I'll wait for you, here. I suddenly have a taste for a 'Lil' Piggy's' Pulled-Chicken Sandwich, instead."

"Okay."

I made my way around to the take-out side of Village Pizzeria, which was situated near the Ferry Landing, and left Gid outside of the bar-b-que joint. At the time, I didn't think it out of the ordinary that he had changed his restaurant choice.

__________

An adorable waitress with 'Hot Pie' written across her tight black t-shirt was behind the counter. I almost placed my order with her until I remembered that I was invisible.

So, I stood there, perplexed, unsure of how to get my pizza from behind the glass enclosure.

There was no opening to her side of the clear display, so in order for me to get over there I would have had to have gone all of the way around to the other side of the building, and then, through the kitchen and past the cooks.

A beautiful cheese pizza had just come out of the oven.

There were air bubbles in the crust, just the way I liked it. For experiment's sake, I tried to put my hand through the glass and grab a slice... it seemed reasonable that a 'ghost' should be able to do that. I had no luck... the clear barrier was as solid as could be.

My fingers met with resistance and folded into my palm, leaving my knuckles on the glass.

I toyed with maybe climbing over the counter, but it was rather high and topped with items ranging from napkin holders and cardboard boxes to plastic forks and knives. I had pretty much resigned myself to making the trek around the perimeter of the joint when the smell of the newly minted bread and cheese wafted over to my side of the display.

Then, I was hungry.

For some reason, I wanted it so badly that I didn't think I could wait. At the time, I thought my sudden appetite was perhaps from having a caloric deficit due to all of the energy expended from surfing that afternoon... not to mention the new muscle twitching therapy that was burning ATP (adenosine triphosphate-- the way energy is stored in cells) on the other side... and, being sick on the beach. Little did I know, Giddeon was behind my craving. I looked longingly at my desired slice and could almost feel its warmth in my hands. It would be nearly too hot to hold, with the bottom lightly dusted in flour... just stiff enough to be a bit crunchy when bitten through.

As I was fantasizing about the pizza, the girl behind the counter reached down, grabbed the slice I was fixated upon, plopped it onto a paper plate and handed it to me across the glass. Stunned, I almost dropped it before I got my left hand under it to add support.

It was in my grasp, feeling exactly how I had imagined. A bit of tomato sauce was on my right thumb from the result of my fumbling a few seconds before, so I licked it off. I mumbled ' _Thank you_.', but the employee obviously didn't hear me; she turned to other duties at the oven. I looked down at the pizza in the case, and it was exactly as it had been... complete and whole.

I held the slice in my hands and compared it to the one I had been eyeing. It was obviously the same piece.

I tried ' _Thank you_.', again, but, of course, she didn't respond.

Shrugging my shoulders, I guided the slice to my mouth and took a bite. Delicious. Just the right temperature. Just the right amount of cheese. I took another bite, and not knowing what else to do, headed back to Lil' Piggy's.

Giddeon was sitting at a table, chowing down on his sandwich.

"Well, well, well... look who's learned to manifest. Where's your Coke?" asked Gid.

"Oh... I forgot."

One appeared on the table. "Don't worry... there you go," he said. "Congratulations on conjuring up your pizza. I knew you could do it."

"What do you mean?" I questioned. "The girl... she handed it to me. We... interacted... sort of."

He raised his eyebrows. "Did you, now? Did she talk to you?"

"No... she just handed it to me and went about her business."

"I see."

"Why would she do that? She can't see me, can she?"

Giddeon smiled. "No, she can't. She didn't hand you the pizza, either."

I answered with my mouth full, "What do you mean... it's right here? Well, most of it, that is."

He nodded. "That's what you remember. Are you sure you can trust your memories?"

I swallowed my bite. "Well, yeah... I think so. You didn't fabricate another memory for me, did you?"

"Not me," said Giddeon. "You did this one all by yourself... I just kicked up your hunger a notch."

" _That's_ why I was starving. Anyway, I was just standing there and she handed it to me. I saw her do it as plain as day."

Giddeon took a bite of his sandwich. When it had transited down his esophagus, he licked some bar-b-que sauce from his finger. "Your brain likes to keep things rational. It's easier to accept that someone handed you some food rather than acknowledging that it just appeared in your hands."

"You make food appear for me all the time. It's no big deal."

He held up his newly cleaned phalanx. "That's different. It's 'me' doing it. You've come to terms with that. It all has to do with what and where. You wanted the pizza... that's the 'what'... but, it was in the glass case... that's the 'where'. It was in the wrong 'where'."

I knew it was just a matter of time before he used his air quotes in our conversation... sure enough, he had gotten them out.

He continued, "You know you can't interact with people over there in 'reality', but that didn't stop your brain from thinking you did. It makes a lot more sense to your senses than pizza just materializing in your hands... hence, the memory."

I pondered for a moment. Then, I said, "Maybe we did interact, but it was in another frame of reference... I just didn't crash her normal system."

"Possible... that's what I used to think, too. I used to have 'help' getting the things I wanted. People would hand me smoothies and fish tacos. A caddie carried my bag and gave me the correct club when I asked for it. Eventually, I realized they just weren't needed. They weren't really 'real'."

I took that in. Finally, I conjectured, "Well, maybe they are real, and you're just erasing your memories."

"Good, _young grasshopper_ ... good! Of course, anything's possible. But, when I hear hooves, I think horses. Not zebras, not gazelles. I go with the most likely probability. Do you really think that there are people just handing over pizza, golf clubs or fish tacos in alternate realities, or, do you _think_ it more likely that we just _think_ they are?"

"So... you're asking me to believe in magic?"

Giddeon grinned and took another bite of his sandwich. After swallowing it, he replied, " _Science just allows you to incrementally believe in magic_. Remember our talk about matter and distance? The 'points'?"

"Yeah..."

"Everything's in the same place. There is no distance. There are only two ' _wheres_ '. ' _There_ ' and ' _here_ '... if it's not ' _there_ ', then it's ' _here_ '."

"So, I already had the pizza in my hands?"

"Not at first," Gid replied. "Google something called _Quantum Tunneling_ ... old televisions depend on it, by the way. That's where electrons 'tunnel' through the impenetrable barrier of a diode and create a current. They shouldn't be able to get through, but their fields of probabilities helps them jump across... like pizza through glass," he smiled. "Sort of like magic... _Ask, and you shall receive_."

"Seems like I've heard that one, before."

"That's how it works... especially, over 'here'." More air quotes graced his conversation... apparently there were a lot of those stored up in the other 'place'.

"How about over ' _there_ '?" It was my turn to use atmospheric punctuation.

"It's a little more complicated over there. A lot more inertia involved... tons of overlapping, living, breathing fields."

"I'm not sure what you're saying..."

He thought for a moment, the sunlight in his eyes. A pair of designer shades appeared, covering them. Then, he said, "Let's say you're in California, but, you want to go visit your brother in Alabama. You picture yourself in his house, talking to him and his wife. That's where you want to be, so, you leave your boat, get into your car and start driving. You stop at several gas stations and fast food joints along the way. You stay at a hotel. You have a fender-bender in Texas. Eventually, you make it to his house, and there you are, sitting in their living room, munching on chips and dip, drinking beer, watching television and catching up... just like you pictured."

"Okay... so far, so good."

"You remember driving. You remember eating. You remember bumping into another guy's car in a parking lot in Texas. All of the people you interacted with along the way remember you, too. They can verify that you came through on your way to Alabama. Lots of witnesses."

"Alright..."

"Now, suppose you erased all of the memories of your trip. Every single one. Then, one moment you would be on your boat, and the next... Viola! You're at Jeremy's house. It would be like you were teleported there. Like on Star Trek."

I furled my brow and mulled it over for a while. Then, I responded, "Well, what about all of the people I interacted with on the trip... they would remember me, wouldn't they?"

"Exactamundo! That's where the inertia is."

"Memories have inertia?"

"Everything has inertia."

I thought about that for a moment. Then, I asked, "What about inertia? Does inertia have inertia?"

Giddeon burst out laughing. "I think you just went to 5.8 percent!"

"I was just trying to be funny," I said while shrugging my shoulders.

"Ever heard the term, comedic genius? It is a form of genius, you know? Comedians are masters of irony. They go right to the linchpin of truth. The thing holding a particular reality in balance... and, then, they wiggle it. That's what makes you see how precarious it all is."

"If you say so." I wanted to get back to our teleportation conversation. "So, if I wiped out my memories, I would have to wipe out the memories of everyone else I encountered on the trip in order to really 'magically' appear?"

"And, the memories of everyone they interacted with, and the memories of the ones they interacted with, and, so on," explained Giddeon.

"Hmmm... so reality is sort of like multi-level marketing? Everyone contributes?"

"We all strut and fret our hour on stage... and, the whole world is that stage. We're all in the audience, too."

"Humph," I grunted. "What about if there were no other people? No audience? Would it be easier to erase the memories, then?"

"Good question! ' _If a tree falls in the forest_ ' kind of thing. I think over there, there's always an audience. I think maybe the world itself is kind of an audience. Matter and energy, particles and sub-particles. Over here... not so much. Maybe the pieces are too busy on that side to give us much attention over here. More layers and layers of observation going on," he said.

"Back to quantum physics?"

"You can't go back to something you never left."

"So, I would be still on my boat, having never really left it, when I'm at Jeremy's?"

"Nice segue...that's basically right." Giddeon seemed very pleased.

I nodded and mulled. "But, if there's no such thing as distance, there's no such thing as matter, and particles of matter make up my boat and me, not to mention other people and pizza."

"Oh, what a wicked web we weave."

"Is this the beginning of a Shakespeare kick, now?"

"Thank God they made you read him in high school... that one isn't Shakespeare, by the way."

I shrugged, again. "My mistake. I preferred ' _The Fantastic Four_ ', ' _Batman_ ' and ' _Superman_ '."

"How well I remember," said the obviously more jam-packed portion of my brain.

I finished the last of my pizza and had a drink of Coke. "So, if there are no particles, over there and especially over here... exactly where is my audience?"

"Confusing, isn't it? Have you ever used a dictionary?"

"Of course. Just because I'm slow-witted, compared to you, doesn't mean I'm not witted." I'm sure I sounded somewhat offended.

He grinned. "Okay, when you look up a definition of a word, what do you find?"

"A description of what the word means."

"And, how is that description relayed to you?"

"It's written down in a nice, concise sentence."

"I see. And what is that sentence composed of?"

"Words?"

"That's right. Words. Words are defined by using other words... and, those words are defined by using yet _more_ words... on and on, in an endless quest for substance."

I took that in, and finally, replied, "Kind of odd, when you think about it too hard. But, words are used to describe things. When you say 'tree', I see an image of a tree... I don't always think in words."

He nodded enthusiastically. "Yes! Words are used to describe the material world, which is made of particles. Particles make up your brain, which pictures the tree. The question is, can you have particles without description, or description without particles?"

"Chicken and the egg?" I questioned.

"Pretty much. You know, lots of religions and cultures talk about the importance of words... the Toltecs, for example... summarized quite nicely in that book, ' _The Four Agreements_ '."

"Never read it."

"You need to get in, more."

I assumed he had made a weak pun on an old saying and let it pass. He was a bit lacking in the humor department, sometimes... actually, most times... in my humble opinion.

Giddeon went on. "Why, just look at what the Bible says about the subject... 'In the beginning was the _Word_ , and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.' "

I scratched my chin. "I remember that verse from Sunday school... I thought the Word was referring to Jesus."

He smiled, "That's probably what John was trying to point out, because in the Old Testament, the ' _Word_ ' of God has to do with the personification of God's revelation. But, there's more. The Greeks of that time translated the Jewish word for ' _Word_ ', as ' _Logos_ '... and Logos was thought of as sort of a bridge between God and the material universe. John may have cleverly been speaking to both Jewish and Greek cultures by choosing his opening sentence to introduce Jesus; he probably knew how it would be translated... God in the _flesh_. The _bridge_ between the transcendental and the material. The flesh is made of particles, by the way, so I think, maybe, there's another meaning, too... or, a supposition to the meaning, if you will."

"What's that?" I asked, tentatively, not sure I would be prepared for the answer.

"Words... are alive."

Of course, my intuition had been right on the money. " _Words_ are alive?"

"Words, thoughts, feelings... apparently, God was the first to have them. He was and is them."

"So you believe in God?"

"I believe in lots of things. The question is, does anything believe in me?"

I grunted, again, doing my best to keep up with his thought process. It struck me as odd that, apparently, it was also my thought process... the 90 plus percent I normally had no access to.

Giddeon continued, "Words have no real meaning without other words, and you need particles to picture words... at least we do... I can't speak for God. Words and particles are like two sides of the same coin. They depend on each other for sustenance."

"So, let me get this straight," I said. "You're saying that if words are ' _alive_ ', then particles, being a kissing cousin to words, are also alive?"

He pushed his sunglasses up to the top of his head.

"Not the way I would have put it, but, yeah... pretty much. Also, one word does you no good. Neither does one particle. You need lots and lots of each to build upon."

I looked around and listened to the daily, Coronado sounds in the perfectly temperate air. Tourists were chatting with each other as they passed by all of the shops.

"Seems like there's plenty of both," I finally said.

"Yep... no shortage of either," he confirmed. "It helps if you just think of the universe as a novel. It has a plethora of words, because without words you would have no story. And, what good is a story without someone to read it? Not only do words have no meaning without other words, they have no meaning without someone to understand that meaning... and, that someone is made of particles." He paused, to make sure I was following. "Words need particles, and particles need words. Someone has to write the words, and, someone has to read the words. Someone... or _something_ if you're not religious... has to make the particles, and, someone has to be the particles." He held his hands out, palms upwards and then turned them over to use his fingers in the next sentence. "Particles, like words, in my opinion, are 'alive'... kind of like in quantum physics where they seem to actually be making choices on atomic and sub-atomic levels."

Once again, air quotations had punctuated a remark. I thought of _The Double Slit Experiment_ , and, also, one called _The Quantum Eraser_ that he had explained to me.

"In the end," said Giddeon, "someone has to read, or there really is no novel. Someone has to be, or there is no place to be."

He relayed that last bit of information just before he finished off his sandwich.

" _To be, or not to be_?" I said.

"Now, look who's quoting old Spear-shaker," Giddeon said after downing his last bite and taking a drink of cola. He took the other cookie from out of his front shirt pocket and carefully unwrapped it.

"It's about the only other one I remember," I confessed. We stood up to leave. I looked around at all of the people, places and things in my vicinity. "So... tell me this... how can particles be alive if there are no particles? You know, if there's no distance, there are no particles... nothing is alive to observe me."

Giddeon grinned. "I think you may have just answered your own question."

"How so?" I queried.

He smiled. " _Nothing_ ... is alive."

I grunted, once again, as I digested his newest bit of information. I seemed to be doing that a lot back then... grunting, that is. I'm not sure if a grunt counts as a word, but it does seem to stand nicely on its own. It was all a little too much, and I understand that phrase, ' _Bitten off more than you can chew._ ' a little better, now. Giddeon munched on his dessert as we walked. Another question occurred to me as we made our way back onto the sidewalk bordering First Street where The Sandman was still working on his creations... glistening particles of reality were being arranged just precisely so by his diligent efforts.

"How long is the novel?"

Giddeon took a slurp of his drink that he had carried with him, and then deposited his paper cup into a trash can that I'm pretty sure wasn't there on our trip in. 'It's a work in progress... it's a work in progress."

We headed back to the car. It sure felt like a long walk.

# Chapter 33

Back on the boat, after the sun had set, Gid and I picked up the guitars and jammed. After seeing the nuclear devastation that afternoon, a chord progression had been playing in my head. It was hard, and rocking. Discordant, with a driving beat. As we worked it out, the words just seemed to come. Within thirty minutes, it was complete:

New Mexico White sands, turned into glass.

I think I see my reflection there, what a pain in the ass.

The devil took a holiday, and, left it all up to us...

said we do it better anyway, turning dust into dust.

Look what's out of the bottle...

it's in all of us.

Surely you're joking, Mr. Feynmann... surely, you jest.

And, Einstein, your equations, are such a human mess.

The genie's out of the bottle, I do believe he's pissed.

The genie's out of the bottle, smoking mushrooms in his fist.

Look what's out of the bottle... let's give him a little kiss.

And, heidi-heidi-ho.

Heidi-heidi-hey.

Where you gonna go,

come Judgement Day, come Judgement Day?

Heidi-heidi-ho.

Heidi-heidi-hey.

Where you gonna go...

come Judgement Day, come Judgement Day?

Oh, yeah!

At that point, an instrumental ensued. Giddeon took the lead as the chords changed from A, to C, to D and then back to A... all the while keeping the fast paced rhythm. Then, it went back into the strong, chopped melody.

New Mexico White Sands, turned into glass.

Hiroshima, Nagasaki... well, we had a blast.

The genie's out of the bottle, I do believe he's pissed.

The genie's out of the bottle, smoking mushrooms in his fist.

Look what's out of the bottle,

will Armageddon, be like this?

And, heidi-heidi-ho.

Heidi-heidi-hey.

Where you gonna go...

come Judgement Day, come Judgement Day?

Heidi-heidi-ho...

heidi-heidi-hey.

Where we all gonna go...

come Judgement Day, come Judgement Day,

come Judgement Day, oh yeah!

"Awesome, dude, awesome!" Giddeon said with gusto. He was quite excited about the collaboration.

"Who was Mr. Feynmann, again?" I asked. Gid had written that line.

"The youngest guy to work on the atomic bomb project in Los Alamos... PhD. in physics. He co-wrote a book called, ' _Surely You're Joking Mr. Feynmann_ '... sort of an autobiography."

"I never read that book."

"I read it for you."

"I thought you only read what I'd read... that's why you were complaining earlier about _Batman_ , _Superman_ and _The Fantastic Four_."

He shrugged. "At first, yeah. Over time, I got the hang of accessing other material. ' _Collective consciousness_ ', remember? Everything's in the same place... even thoughts."

"Oh," I said. "Well... it's a good line for the song. Makes sense, now... kind of a play on words." I thought for a moment, then asked, "How many books have you read?"

"Let's just say my library card has a lot of ink on it. I probably need a new one."

I thought back to when I was a kid and we had library cards on which the names of the books we checked out were written. I actually read quite a bit, back then. Mostly ' _Hardy Boys_ ' type novels and adventures by Jack London. A little bit of Jules Verne.

"You also liked Ray Bradbury, don't forget."

Giddeon had read my mind. Technically, I supposed it was his mind, too.

"You ever read anything about how to wake someone up from a coma?"

He chuckled. "Not a lot of best-sellers in that category."

I felt some twitching in my muscles, again.

Giddeon stood up. "I'm headed over to The Del. Want me to let Boris in while you're exercising?"

"Sure."

Giddeon 'crashed' the door open, and made his exit.

Boris and I took a book down and read for a bit. Somehow, a copy of Richard Feynmann's book had appeared on my shelf. Besides being burned alive, it was a good day, all in all.

__________

That night, I dreamed I was with Melody, again. We were on my sailboat out in the bay, anchored off the third tee by the Coronado Golf Course. She had on one of my long-sleeved, denim work shirts over a red bikini. The sleeves of the shirt were rolled up, and it was unbuttoned down the front. Her sun-kissed skin contrasted against the scarlet of the swimsuit and beige of the denim to create a decidedly most awesome effect. Her hair was in a ponytail, and she wore a white visor and sunglasses. She was painting the view of the clubhouse from the water on an easel-mounted canvas near the stern of my vessel.

I was behind her, watching her work. Every now and then, she would reach back and give me a squeeze on the knee or a stroke on the arm. The wind was cool and the sun was hot... a good combination. Samantha and Boris were loose on the boat, sniffing and investigating the floating platform; they seemed to be comfortable with each other and, also, with being surrounded by water.

The green of the golf course and the tan of the clubhouse were captured perfectly on her canvas. I love to watch her paint. This one was more in the Realist style, and I was amazed at how quickly the image came to life before my eyes. As the dream went on, the cats settled at our feet in the sun, and I settled next to Melody's side on a small, portable chair. Our legs were touching as I scooted close to her in the small space afforded us... she leaned over and gave me a sweet, moist kiss. I returned the kiss, with my hand gently holding the corner of her jaw. She looked back to her canvas, put down her brush, and turned towards me, again.

I closed my eyes and once more felt her lips touching mine as I melted into her essence. The breeze grew still and the moment seemed to go on and on, forever.

# Chapter 34

I opened my eyes to find myself on her bed. Our faces were together, and she was moving her beautiful mouth just the slightest bit... I could almost feel her soft, perfectly formed lips against mine. Startled to find myself awake in her condo, I pulled my head backwards to look around. Her cat meowed in a high-pitched voice, and Melody opened her eyes. She seemed as confused as I was, and called out to Samantha, who was at the foot of the bed.

"Oh... come here, girl."

Samantha trilled and walked through me to her owner. I realized that the dream was then over, but had no idea of how I had come to be transported to that location. After petting the cat for a minute or two, Melody threw back the covers and stood up. She walked over to the window in her panties and t-shirt and opened the blinds, letting in the morning sun. I looked down, and realized that I was in only my boxers... no shirt, pants, socks or shoes.

Samantha looked at me, came over and tried to nuzzle. Of course, there was nothing for her to rub against, so she flopped right through me and landed on the bed, purring all the while. She lay there on her side and gazed at me from out of my torso.

"You're a strange one, girl. Strange as they get... aren't you?" said Melody.

Her cat twisted back her head, and answered with a meow.

"Not as strange as my dreams, though. I keep dreaming about Greg. You remember me talking about him. Hmmmm? Do you remember?"

Melody was standing by the edge of the bed. Her underwear and t-shirt were nearly translucent in the morning light. I briefly entertained the idea, once again, that I had died and gone to heaven. After further consideration, I thought maybe I had expired and gone the other direction... allowed to be so close to the object of my desire, yet, unable to even touch her. Melody reached down and stroked the cat; her hand went right through me, naturally. Samantha meowed, again, and looked back at me as if to question why such things happen.

Melody went to the kitchen and started a pot of coffee. While waiting for it to brew, she went back into the living room and picked out a blank canvas for her easel. She seated herself before it, and spread her legs apart so she could wrap her ankles around either side of the chair. The sight of her smooth, perfectly muscled thighs positioned like that took my breath away, so, I tried to keep my eyes on the canvas as she picked out a shade of blue and began. It didn't take long for me to recognize my boat in the bay, anchored off the coast of the golf course.

I watched for a while. Then, I petted the cat, kissed my girlfriend, and went downstairs not knowing how I would get back home. I thought maybe I could take a bus downtown and the ferry across the bay. I didn't have to, though, because Giddeon was waiting for me in the parking lot.

He opened the door to my Ford Focus, and I climbed inside.

__________

"So... am I gonna have to put a GPS on you?" said my good-natured metaphysical cohort as we pulled out onto Montezuma Avenue through the open gate.

"I have no idea what happened... I woke up out of a dream and I was here."

"You were dreaming about Melody?"

"It was so real... we were on my boat in the bay, kissing," I said. "I think she saw it, too... she's in her condo painting a picture of my Catalina anchored right where we were."

Then, it was Giddeon's turn to grunt. "Humph... how about that?"

"How can that be? How could she and I have been having the same dream?"

He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel for a moment as we rolled up Montezuma. At the first light, we made a U-turn to go back down towards the interstate. "That's a good question... that's a darned good question. I'm no expert, but I have read of this happening a few times, before. Congratulations on quantum leaping over here all by yourself, by the way."

"I didn't try to do it... it just happened. What have you read?"

He grunted, again, as he pondered. Finally, he said, "All I can tell you about sharing a dream is that it's very rare... and, that there are a couple of theories about it."

I adjusted the air vents away from me, cold in only my boxers.

Giddeon conjured me up some clothes... cargo shorts, Top-Sider shoes and a bowling shirt; I felt more comfortable even though I looked a little too much like a re-run of Charlie Sheen for my taste.

"I'm all ears."

"One theory is that one of you is telepathic... not sure I buy that one. Lots of double blind studies have been done on telepathy, and it always pretty much falls within statistical probability... or, very close to it. Of course, none of those included subjects in a coma as a control."

"Okay... and the other theory?

"The other one is that you two are joined in a way that most people aren't... the closest similar example I can think of would be identical twins."

"Please tell me we aren't related."

Giddeon grinned. "No, no, no... according to the other theory, you're much closer than that." He took an exit for the Interstate.

"Closer than identical twins? How is that possible?"

He reached down and turned on the radio. "Easy... you're soul mates."

"Humph." I sat there in the passenger's seat taking that in. ' _Such Great Heights_ ' by The Postal Service began to play... I listened to the first few lyrics about freckles being perfectly aligned in two people's eyes when they kissed.

The music continued on. I reached over and turned it down a bit so we could talk.

"So... we're like one soul in two bodies?"

Gid nodded. "That's the way it's commonly described. Maybe, since you just got half a soul that left plenty of room for me." He grinned at his conjecture, and the song kept going on at its lower level.

"Funny," I admitted without enthusiasm.

"Good an explanation as any."

We motored onto I-15. After a mile or two, a thought occurred to me from out of the blue.

"Who do you think Melody has squatting in her empty room?"

Gid reached out and turned off the radio. I could always tell when I had surprised him. With a quizzical look on his profile, he nodded his head, again.

"That's a good question. That's a darned good question."

We drove on in silence. Shortly, we found ourselves on the Coronado Bridge. At the apex of the structure, the island's green hues were spread below the brilliant sun. As we curved downward, I got the feeling, as I always did, that I was inside an airplane on final approach and coming in for a landing. The Hotel Del shimmered in the distance and the number 2 and 3 fairways of the golf course were below us and to the left. The bay glistened in a beautiful, blue-grey arc around The Marriott and Il Fornaio's, and I could almost imagine Tattoo from that old television show pointing up at us and saying, ' _Boss! The plane! The plane!_ '

We made a smooth landing on ' _Fantasy Island_ '.

Two MangoMooManias appeared in our cup holders.

# Chapter 35

I think the dreams of Melody were so real to me because I could actually touch her and feel her warm, soft skin. In Comaville, there is no human contact... unless you count the times when Giddeon had helped me up after getting struck by a golf ball, clapped me on the shoulder because I had made a good chip shot, or picked me up off the sand after experiencing nuclear war or something else equally as horrible. Over there, I went right through people and animals... anything that was surrounded by a conscious, living field. I suppose Giddeon had been like that all of his life. No contact with anyone. No contact at all.

I wonder what that was like for a baby? Or, a child?

Touch is so much a part of who we are. There are millions of receptors embedded in our skin. Structures that relay information from the outside world to our inner domains. Structures that tell us the shapes and textures of objects... their temperatures and motions... their angles, protrusions and invaginations. These small neural endings assist us in decoding the material world around us; they protect us from harm and help us to survive.

Mostly, though, I think they're there to feel for the ones we love.

The ones that mean something special to us. The people that we want to hold onto so very tightly before time can tear them from our grasp. I'm almost certain that the receptors exist so that we can know where the ones we love are located... and, so they, too, can know where it is we abide in this vast expanse of reality.

I think the receptors are in our skin so that when we touch, we are, also, touched.

When fingers intertwine, I believe, so can nervous systems. So can hopes and dreams. So can the never-ending multitude of pasts, presents and futures from every frame of reference within the countless infinities all around each and every one of us.

You see, when the proper digits hold on to each other, I think it's possible for two people to become one organism, linked forever in a small embrace that transcends mortality.

And, even though I couldn't touch her, I felt lucky... because out of all of the billions of inhabitants on this world, I knew just exactly who and where my soul mate was. I knew whose hand fit perfectly into mine.

All I had to do was get back to her.

# Chapter 36

Giddeon took me out sailing that morning. We motored from our berth, leaving Boris looking very perplexed on the dock. He loudly meowed his concerns to us, and kept looking back and forth between the actual boat in front of him, and our ghost ship making its way into the bay. I yelled to him that we'd be back, soon. He licked his paw, took a few steps in our direction, and stood there watching us with those big, yellow eyes... looking for all the world as if he wanted to go, too.

When we were the appropriate distance from the marina, Giddeon shut the engine down and began explaining the process of how to catch the wind and harness its power. He freed up the lines and showed me how to hoist the mainsail by pulling down on the halyard. Before that, he had pointed us into the wind and there was a minor amount of 'luffing' (a nautical word for the flapping around of a sail in the breeze) as the canvas went into place. Gid explained to me that too much luffing reduces the life of a sail, and care should be taken to minimize it... not that it really mattered in our frame of reference. The word 'luff' means the leading edge of the sail, by the way.

Then, we raised the jib, otherwise known as the head sail. When we were underway, Gid had me turn to port (left) until we were 90 degrees off the wind... he called that a 'beam reach'... whereupon, we trimmed the jib. The wind was blowing about 5 knots, and I could feel the fabric begin to take in the air and redirect it into useful energy, which pushed us along. It was interesting to see how the Catalina cut easily through the water just as it was designed to do, and I could have sworn that our ghost ship was happy to be out there on the bay instead of sitting idle at the dock.

Over the next hour and a half, I learned quite a bit. How to 'come about'. How to run with the wind versus 'reaching'. How to pull the jib across the boat to go 'wing on wing'... which looked really cool, from my perspective, but blocked almost all of our forward view. There weren't any other boats nearby; we probably would have just sailed right through them, anyway, so I suppose lack of vision wasn't really a concern. I learned to keep an eye on the wind direction indicator atop of the mast, and to watch the water and even the birds for changes in the atmosphere so that we could take advantage of shifts in the breeze. It was a glorious morning, and it occurred to me that I seemed to be learning things more quickly than I did in my old life.

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."

"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?"

"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?"

I stowed away the ladder. "How many do you reckon are in there?" I asked, pointing at my head.

He shrugged his shoulders and chuckled. "According to my calculations... at least several thousand. Probably more."

"Humph... don't you think they would have somewhere better to go? Like into Elvis Presley or Valentino?"

"Oh, I'm sure they get their fair share of viewers. But, they're kind of at a disadvantage compared to you."

"How so?" I questioned.

He fired up the little outboard engine, and then shouted over the noise,

"They didn't know Melody!"

# Chapter 38

On the way back to the dock, I contemplated the possibility that there were people inside my cranial vault living vicariously through me. I didn't really buy it at the time, but, still, the thought was disconcerting. If they could see through my eyes, could they also hear my thoughts? Would they feel what I felt? There are some things I would rather keep private... actually, there are lots of things I would rather keep private. It just seemed impossible to me that they were in there... but, then again, cell phones and computers would have seemed impossible to a cave man, too.

The more I thought about it, though, the more I had to concede that with so many infinite realities (and, I had personally seen evidence of those) the chances that a civilization in the future would eventually develop such interfacing technologies were good.

I took some solace in the argument that reasoned that if time travel was possible we would have already been visited by people from the future. The fact that we haven't had visitors is considered by some as proof that it's impossible. The problem with such a line of logic is that it's hard to prove a negative. What if our descendants are just very well behaved and don't interfere?

I pondered all of this as we made our way through the bay. Finally, I decided that although there could be something preventing actual bodily transport through time, the same rules might not apply to the transfer of consciousness. Maybe that was still possible. Kind of like when Gid and I sampled alternate realities but didn't 'crash' the systems. I thought to myself that if they _were_ in there, the 'firewall', or something like it, could be separating them from me like it had me from Gid.

I shook my head and let the wind dry my hair. I took in the day around me; the air was clear and sweet as is often the case near the island. I certainly understood why tourists from all over flocked to Coronado for vacation. Could it be that maybe the same holds true on a larger scale? I wondered, on the ride back to the dock, if the island was a place so unique that everyone wanted to visit... even those from the future.

I didn't know, but I supposed that if there were people in my head they may as well have a good view. I turned this way and that, taking in the scenes all around me. The bridge aft and the island to my right. The green of the golf course and red roof of The Del in the distance. Masts of sailboats in the marina pointing skyward with seagulls and pelicans flying in and out of frame. Pretty much a living postcard. Nope... I couldn't really blame them for wanting to come here. I couldn't blame them at all.

__________

I could feel a song forming in my brain. I had come to recognize that feeling... I knew the finished product was in there, and all I had to do was uncover it. When we were docked, I went straight for the Ovation and Giddeon grabbed his Martin. This is what came out in the next twenty minutes:

There's a revolution in my head.

There's a revolution in my brain.

They say if I don't get out of bed,

There's gonna be a revolution of pain.

They say they're from the future.

They say they're from the past.

They say they paid good money,

They say they're here to have themselves a blast.

And, they want it all real fast.

And, video killed the radio star, and the radio

Killed the stage.

We all killed adventure,

When we printed out the page.

Simple evolution, that's what they said.

Ain't no entertainment like being there,

In someone's head.

So, let's dance...

Let's sing...

Let's laugh...

And, show them everything.

Let's love...

And, let's sigh...

Let's live...

'Cause it ain't time to die...

Inside my head.

There's a revolution in my head.

There's a revolution in my brain.

Every time I get out of the bed,

I love to see the sunshine and rain.

I say there ain't no future,

I say there ain't no past.

I say I paid good money,

And, I say I'm here to have myself a blast...

And, I want it all to last.

And, Video killed the radio star,

But, the radio, it ain't dead.

I tried to change the channels, but, they're

Changing me instead.

Simple evolution, that's what I say,

Ain't no entertainment like being here,

All the way.

So, let's dance...

Let's sing...

Let's laugh...

And, show them everything.

Let's love...

And, let's sigh...

Let's live...

'Cause it ain't time to die

Inside my head...

Inside my soul,

There's a common thread

We all love rock and roll,

Inside my head...

Inside my soul,

There's a common thread

We all love rock and roll,

Rock and roll, rock and roll...inside my head!

Boris once again meowed his approval. He had come in halfway through the process and sat there watching, silently letting us work. When we were done, it occurred to me that since the cat could see us, he might possibly be aware of... others. I observed as Boris rubbed up against the leg of the table, the corner of the couch, and then came and jumped in my lap; he looked hilarious with his head poking out from the center of my guitar. I played a few chords and let him watch my fingers on the frets.

I supposed maybe anything was possible.

# Chapter 39

Life is a wonderfully strange phenomenon in the circus of strangeness all around each and every one of us.

Sharing a life exponentially increases that effect.

I never used to sit and think about such things. Not like I do, now. I was mainly concerned with golf, work and keeping my boat afloat, both literally and financially... introspection and altruism weren't my strong points. I wasn't much of a student, so classes didn't really interest me much... I pretty much just kept going to school because I didn't know what else it was I was supposed to be doing.

Maybe some of my aimlessness was due to having lost my parents at the end of my adolescence... I had no real guidance. My brother, bless his heart, tried, but he had his own fish to fry at the time. He always told me just to do what it was that I really wanted to do... the only problem was, I didn't have any idea of what it was that I really wanted to do.

So I drifted... always on the surface, like a piece of wood. Luckily for me, Coronado was a good place to drift to. Had I not encountered the woman of my dreams and then been hit in the head by a golf ball, I don't think I ever would have been able to go any deeper into the strange waters of life than a broken bit of flotsam on the bay. For all practical purposes, that's what I was. A lump of carbon-based molecules with no real goals or appreciation or insight... a floating, bobbing cork with no true intention or meaning.

Only when I met Melody, did I get a flash of what could be.

Only when I was next to her, did the expansion of the universe begin to make sense... there simply isn't enough room for the way she makes me feel.

__________

I knew instantly that I was inadequate compared to her... mentally, physically, emotionally and any other 'ally' you can possibly think of.

Yet, as perfect as she was, oddly, my deficiencies didn't seem to matter to her. I know she didn't really know me, but, I have the feeling that my lackluster performance on this planet wouldn't have been a big deal. She probably would have intrinsically understood that she had the ability to help me evolve and live up to my potential, if that was what I wanted. Had I not gone into a coma, I'm sure we would have both totally enjoyed the process.

With her by my side, in that reality, maybe I could have even grown into something she would have been proud of. I still can't believe I didn't trust her enough to tell her about my situation with school and work.

Looking back on it, she most likely would have just laughed and thought it was cute.

__________

In our brief time together that afternoon, I feel like we connected so deeply that she knew things about me that I didn't quite realize, myself. Like I said before, I don't know what she saw in me... but, now that I think about it, maybe she saw something that I didn't even know was in there.

Maybe she saw Giddeon.

__________

As far as my perceptions went, I understood that day that she was smart... and, beautiful. Also, that she was kind. It would be hard not to be attracted to those things. Mostly, though, I think I was drawn to her wonder. The way she looked at everything in a low-grade state of awe. She took in her Greek Salad as if each bite was a prayer, and each sip of tea as if it was a blessing.

Her overall attitude was one of _thanks_.

She was simply mesmerized by the sights and sounds all around her, and fortunately, those sights and sounds included me.

I don't know how I knew all of this so instantly, but, I was as sure of her inner landscape as I was of gravity. It's like when a vibrating tuning fork is held next to another one of the same note; the quiet one picks up the resonance and begins to sing, also. I somehow just absorbed what she was feeling and thinking because natural laws that I don't really understand transmitted her essence to me. I had lived for over two decades, and had never vibrated. Had never heard the sound I was born to make. Only when I was next to her did I feel the harmonics that were buried in my soul.

For the first time in my life, I knew that I was part of a song, and that the song was, also, part of me.

The Aborigines say that the world was sung into existence. I think they may be as close to the mark as anyone.

# Chapter 40

One night, Giddeon and I went to the restaurant at the top of the Hyatt. I could see the outline of Coronado across the bay in the light of a full, alabaster moon. The bridge was illuminated by the amber of mercury vapor bulbs, and periodically a boat would glide past in the waters, below, surrounded by semi-darkness.

Steak and lobster were cooked to perfection, as was the case with all of our meals. I had grown accustomed to gustatory excellence, and, also, with not having to interact with wait-staff. I missed the interface with real people in those situations, but I have to admit it cut down on the frustration of trying to flag down a waiter or waitress when it came time for a drink refill. I had just finished a succulent, butter-soaked piece of crustacean and reached for my nearly empty glass of iced tea... by the time it made it to my mouth, it was brimming with fresh liquid. I took a swallow or two.

"Whoa, dude! Way to go!" said Gid.

"What are you talking about?" I replied, re-depositing the caffeinated beverage onto its coaster.

"You filled up your glass."

I blinked in surprise. "That wasn't you?"

"Not me... I didn't even notice it was empty. I was checking out the chick in the red dress."

I looked over at a table across the way. A gorgeous Hispanic woman was at a table for two, apparently waiting for her date.

"Are you sure?" I questioned.

"Absolutely. She's a lot more interesting than an empty vessel."

"You are talking about the glass, right?"

He grinned. "You're not empty... you're at 5.9 percent and rising."

"For real? I'm up 2 tenths?" I looked back in his direction... I was actually excited to hear this news.

"Before you know it, you'll be tying your own shoes," he ribbed.

"Humph," I grunted. We turned our attention back to the beauty in the red dress. Her profile was exquisite... kind of a cross between a twenty-something Rachel Welch and a more mature Selena Gomez. Her long, dark hair was all one length and parted down the middle. She was stirring a drink with a straw and checking the door every few seconds. In a minute or two, a happy-looking, clean-cut fellow came in.

She waved to him and her whole demeanor changed; she reminded me for all the world of an elegant canine, like an Afghan Hound, that looks so regal when sitting in repose, and then, upon seeing its master, becomes an excited puppy.

Not that he was her master, but, you get the picture.

She jumped from her chair and planted a kiss firmly on his cheek. Her face was alight with animation, and her enamel flashed white even in the low light. If she had a tail, it would have certainly been wagging, slapping her shapely thighs on both sides.

"Wow!" said Giddeon, obviously much impressed with her proportions.

I watched Gid as he watched the interaction between the two people. It occurred to me that he had never really experienced such a meeting for himself. He was stuck in ' _Ever-Never Land_ '... where you have everything, but, nothing. For the first time, I actually felt sorry for him. Able to see and hear, smell and taste... but, unable to touch anything that really mattered. Unable to share. Unable to commune... like the couple at the table was doing.

Giddeon didn't seem to mind... however, that existence was all he had really ever known. I was just thinking that he deserved more than that when he interrupted my thoughts.

"Want to go to the moon?"

The question took me aback. "I haven't finished my supper."

"Not right now," he said. "When you're done!" He looked genuinely excited.

I cut a piece of steak and dipped it in ketchup, glad that no waiter was there to frown at my ability to ruin a work of culinary art. "I don't see why not," I replied. "Can I bring my golf clubs?"

"You read my mind... your mind! The golf balls are already there. So is the flag!"

I was sure he was talking about the Red, White and Blue.

"Aw, man... this is gonna be great!" he gushed. "You need some sand practice, anyway!"

I nodded. The background music in the restaurant, which I hadn't really noticed before then, changed to Frank Sinatra singing ' _Fly Me to the Moon_ '. I smiled, shook my head, and cut another piece from my steak.

# Chapter 41

How can I describe the moon? The stark isolation. The silence. The magnificent views of the heavens and the earth. We were basically in a large crater; an area known as 'The Sea of Tranquility'. The landscape around us was pockmarked with impacts from meteorites that had been colliding with the surface for eons. We were right next to the base of the Lunar Lander, and the sands around it still bore an imprint of the exit blast from the life support capsule back in 1969.

It was hot, as Giddeon had relayed, but I didn't really feel it. I had the strange sensation that my skin was burning, yet, I was somehow jumping into alternate realities every few microseconds with completely reconstituted epidermis. It was quite odd... however, after a while I soon became accustomed to it.

I looked over and saw Gid straightening the faded American flag... it had pretty much toppled over, either from the blast of the spaceship, or from the loosening of material around its base over time, or, both. We then explored the area near the NASA dinosaur. I noted the footprints scattered all around it so many years later, and even though I could feel my tennis shoes sinking into the surface as I navigated near the craft, they left no marks as I went. It felt as though I was breathing, but I realized that nothing was actually entering or leaving my lungs.

After experimentation, I found that the easiest way to get around was a kind of skipping movement, similar to what I had seen the astronauts do in old videos. Since Gid and I weren't burdened with bulky spacesuits, our hops were longer and higher than those of Neil Armstrong and Buzz Aldrin, yet, the overall effect was the same.

We careened about like drunken kangaroos in the low gravity.

I jumped straight up to test my limits, and instead of the normal foot or so of height, I found it to be more like six feet of vertical clearance. It took several seconds to complete the up and down of the circuit; I noticed that the landing was a bit heavier than I expected.

"You still have the same mass," said Giddeon. Although 'said' isn't really the proper description. Sound doesn't carry in a vacuum. It was more like telepathy. I realized he was right... mass doesn't change in such conditions, only weight.

"Look... a golf ball!" I exclaimed, still moving my mouth and forming the words.

"Cool" replied Gid. I looked up just as he tossed me a sand wedge. It traversed through the void in a shallow arc and I caught it mid-shaft. I set up the Cleveland behind the Titleist, which was much the worse for wear due to extreme temperature changes over the years, and took a nice little swipe at the 'sand' just behind the ball. I was surprised by a cloud of particles rushing up to my face, and closed my eyes just in time. When I was sure the storm had passed, I looked out to see the ball still rising into the inky blackness and clearing the Stars and Stripes by several meters. The spinning orb continued on past the Lander and finally settled down almost a hundred yards away; a little cloud of dust marked its new spot. Goggles appeared on my head, covering my eyes... my guardian angel, as usual, a little late to the party.

"A tad strong." said Gid. He was next to another faded ball and addressed it, careful not to ground his club. I suppose he considered the entire moon a hazard. He took a smooth, slow motion swing and cut perfectly 2 inches behind the little sphere. It spun through the 'air' straight towards the flag. Five or six seconds after it left his wedge, the ball rattled the flagstick and dropped straight down beside it. Most of it, that is. A piece of the cover spun off the small orb and landed on the steps of the spacecraft.

"I think we need some new balls," suggested Gid.

A bucket appeared at my feet full of Titleist Pro-V 1's; also, a package of extra long tees and a Callaway Diablo Edge Driver. I tried a few more wedge shots, but mostly, we spent the better part of the next hour hitting 2000 yard drives towards the curved horizon. The earth was suspended in the inky blackness above us like a giant eye. A giant eye that watched our every move with blue, white and green fascination... it looked so close that I felt as if I could almost reach out and take it in the palm of my hand.

__________

It was fairly late when we got back. Boris was fast asleep on my bed, but he looked up and sniffed my hand as I reached out to give him a 'rub'. I wondered if he could smell moon dust. He gave me a look that seemed to say, ' _You never take me anywhere_.', and rolled over onto his side. I climbed in beside him and lay there awake in the darkness for quite a while. The last thing I remembered seeing before drifting off to sleep was the full moon through my slit-like window.

I wondered if Melody could see it from where she lay, also.

__________

I awoke the next morning in the familiar surroundings of my boat. I didn't dream of Melody... at least, I don't remember it if I did. I did dream about golf. Not on the lunar surface, however; this time Gid and I were back on Coronado.

__________

At first, everything seemed normal.

Then, I noticed the gravity.

As we carried our clubs to the first tee, we had to hop around just like we were on the moon. When we hit our drives, we literally came out of our shoes because we were wearing flip-flops... the impact made us slip out of them since we only weighed a fraction of our normal weight. We ditched our footwear and went barefoot, the green Bermuda grass soft and springy beneath our feet.

Boris tagged along, chasing butterflies and making magnificent leaps through the air; he would twist and contort in slow motion, but the iridescent insects were always just out of his reach.

On our wedge shots, the divots pirouetted through the atmosphere and we had to chase after them for thirty or forty yards in order to bring them back and replace them. On the putting green, when I pulled the pin from the cup and let it fall to the earth, it took an extraordinarily long time for the fiberglass rod to complete the arc and settle into its temporary resting place on the emerald surface. I found the whole experience to be so much better than on the moon because of the colors and textures all around us.

It was so much more vivid and alive than the black and white desolation of our closest neighbor.

When we were near the water, dolphins shot from the bay like long-nosed, slick, grey rockets... thirty or forty feet into the sky. At their apices, they would flip and barrel roll, and then descend in a slowly gathering rush to slice into the liquid below, leaving hardly a ripple behind them. Seagulls were so light that they could hover over us in just the slightest hint of a breeze. Sometimes, they would bring their wings in close, like fighter jets, in order to descend... and, then, just as they neared the ground, would spread them wide to catch the air and drift back up and about like dandelion feathers freshly released from a pod.

In between shots, we had on small backpacks that would magically appear, similar to the oxygen tanks for astronauts... but, instead of compressed air, ours were full of MangoMooMania. We sipped at it from straws that were located next to our cheeks. To make room for the extra gear, our clubs then followed behind us in remote controlled 'moon buggies' like the astronauts piloted on their later trips.

After I chipped in on number three, Giddeon handed me a baseball cap. It had ' _Coming Soon To A Theater Near You'_ printed on the front. ' _Price of Admission, One Dollar_ ' was spelled out on the back.

# Chapter 42

Still foggy from the dream, I got up the next morning and made my way to the refrigerator. Boris followed me hoping for a treat, even though he should have realized by then that I couldn't provide him with one. To make that point, I shook some dry food onto the floor. He sniffed around and pawed at the phantom Kibbles and Bits, then, looked up and meowed a somewhat annoyed meow.

"Sorry, buddy. How many times do we have to go through this? I can't help you. You're gonna have to go see the waitress."

He seemed to understand, walked over to the door and waited. I drank some orange juice from my never-ending carton of Tropicana, replaced the cap and put the container back in the fridge. I walked over to the door, popped the latch, and let the cat out into the mid-morning haze.

Only when Boris was halfway down the dock did I realize what I had done. I had actually opened the door... over there. Apparently, Giddeon had closed it when I went inside the night before. I had crashed open the door... all by myself. I reached out to shut it, but had no success. Only the 'alternate' door would close. I could still detect a flicker where the 'real' one was. I tried a few more times, and those times were also unsuccessful.

"Baby steps." said Giddeon. "Baby steps. Rome wasn't built in a day." He had appeared behind me in the belly of the boat.

"It's been almost a year," I replied.

"All comes to he who waits," said Gid.

I gave up on the door and turned to my subconscious. "I've noticed your philosophy mostly consists of quips and platitudes."

"I think things should be short and sweet."

"Like your winkie in a Twinkie?"

Giddeon busted up laughing. I even snickered at my quickly made pun.

"That's good!" he exclaimed. "God, I wish I could come up with something like that on the spot. But, you're right... I don't care for lengthy dissertations. I think truth is more easily digested in little pieces... like snack food... snack food for thought." Giddeon smiled, obviously pleased with his play on words, and had himself a seat on the couch.

"So, you're a philosopher with attention deficit disorder?"

"If you can't get it out in five seconds, it's probably not worth opining about."

"You're a five second philosopher?"

"I'm a deep thinker... I just do it fast."

"Hummmm..." I thought for a moment. " _Sometimes, you think so deep you talk out of your butt_."

We both cracked up at that one.

I could then see little wheels turning behind his eyes. Finally, he replied,

" _I think outside the box... I just don't do anything else, there_."

Giddeon had on an ear to ear grin, along with a surprised look, upon his face. I nodded and chuckled. He had used the general gist of the quip, which was thinking, and had come up with another quip about thinking. I thought for a moment, and countered,

" _The best box to think outside of is the coffin_."

My subconscious smiled, furrowed his brow momentarily, and said, " _Always take the scenic route to the cemetery._ " He had absolute delight on his countenance, after that. "Hey... I'm doing it! I'm coming up with original material!"

"Nice," I complemented him, realizing that he had keyed on the coffin and death for his latest quote. I continued with his theme.

" _Cremation is way too late to light a fire under your butt_."

We both cracked up, again.

" _Life's way too short to waste time thinking about how short it is!_ " retorted Gid.

We were getting into it. A couple of Bloody Marys appeared in our hands.

" _Live slow, die old, and leave the ugliest corpse possible!_ " Giddeon announced it like a toast, and, took a drink.

I was impressed with his twisting of a famous quote, and raised my glass to him from the couch upon which I had taken a seat, also.

" _I've never seen my friends drink to excess, but, I'm sure they will... 'To excess!_ '"

We laughed and then each took a sip, both of us enjoying our new word game. Giddeon gave a long look to his partially finished tomato juice and vodka, and said,

" _The glass is half empty, and, I'm pretty sure what's left in there has gone bad_."

Pessimism had become the theme.

" _I think it's time Murphy's Law became a constitutional amendment_ ," I replied.

" _I wanted to make my mark on the world... does this one in my underwear count_?"

I almost choked on my drink. Gid was laughing so hard at his last invention that he was crying.

" _I'd like some Metamucil... to go!_ " I said with enthusiasm and then slapped the cushion next to me with glee. I looked up and saw that Giddeon was holding his sides with both hands.

" _I can't cut the mustard, but I sure can cut the che-ee-eee-se!_ " He could barely get the last word out before he fell onto the floor. Our philosophizing had quickly devolved into one-liners. I was laughing harder at his reaction to his joke than the joke itself. After 30 seconds or so he got back onto his seat. He changed his Bloody Mary into a beer, complete with a foamy head.

" _I've_ _found that beer really quenches that thirst for knowledge!_ " my subconscious exclaimed after a deep draught. We both guffawed, and then guffawed, again, as we tried to drink.

Since I wasn't too good at conjuring things, I went to the cupboard, got out a bottle of Stoli's, held it up and freshened my Bloody Mary. " _I don't know if you can save time in a bottle, but, you sure can lose a weekend in there!_ "

Now, it was Gid's turn to slap the couch cushion beside him. We then fell into a rapid fire cadence, swapping lines that weren't necessarily related.

" _I put my electroshock therapy on a charge card!"_

" _I'm not a porn star, but I do moon people!"_

" _I went to have liposuction, but they accidentally got the muscles!"_

" _Every family tree starts with a little wood!"_

" _I've almost reached hypocritical mass!"_

" _The wheel was invented by cutting corners!"_

" _I think my love handles are just handles!"_

" _You should see me without the steroids!"_

We really cracked up over the last one. I looked over and noticed that Boris had come back from wherever he had been. My animal stood at the door as if hesitant to enter into what was obviously a loony bin.

"Come on in, Boris," I said. "You can be the judge." He came down, took a few steps forward and sat there looking at us.

" _I'd rather be in the cat house than the dog house_ ," said Giddeon.

" _Nobody ever says I've been working like a cat_ ," I replied.

" _Felines have to pay 900 percent more for past-life regression therapy_."

" _The house-cat may be evolution's end-point_."

Boris meowed long and loud from the middle of the room. Obviously, he had had enough.

"Okay, okay... we'll quit." I said.

Giddeon took another sip of beer, and then, his brew and my Bloody Mary disappeared into thin air.

"Too early to be drinking. Geez, that was fun! So that's what it's like to be creative... cool!

"I never came up with things so fast. That was bizarre!" I said.

Boris meowed, again, as if he wanted to make sure we didn't start back in.

"Come here, Boris." I patted the couch beside me. He jumped up and paced back and forth through me and Giddeon; I tried to 'pet' my little buddy, but he would have no part of it. He jumped down and then up onto the table across from us and sat there with a somewhat disgusted look on his face. Then, he began licking a paw to clean his whiskers and ignored our presence.

"Looks like we both have more horsepower over here," said Gid. "That firewall really got in the way, didn't it?"

"I suppose so. What are you doing up so early? I thought you would sleep in after playing lunar tour guide last night."

"Nah... I told you, I don't need much sleep. What do you want to do, today?"

"I don't know. It's gonna be hard to top golf on the moon."

He grinned. "There's always time travel... I'm thinking a trip to the past."

"For real?"

"As real as it gets, over here... let's go and see some of our ancestors!"

At first, I thought he was joking, but, then, I realized he was serious. "We can do that? I know you showed me alternate futures, but that was more like a probable thing. We can actually go back?"

"This from a guy that was playing golf on the moon last night?"

"Humph," I grunted. "You do have a point. Where do you think we should go?"

"Since Rome wasn't built in a day... I was thinking maybe ancient Rome so we could see it under construction." Gid blinked and I was no longer in my boxer shorts, but a cotton sheet and sandals.

"Too much?" he asked. He blinked again and I was in regular attire... blue jeans, a tee shirt and tennis shoes. "Better?"

"Oh, yeah. I don't suppose we have to worry about fitting in. They won't be able to see us, will they?"

"Nah... we're equally invisible in all worlds."

# Chapter 43

The first thing I noticed about ancient Rome was how nice it was without all of the advertisements, automobiles and electrical power lines everywhere. We were in a market; fresh fruit, vegetables, fish, meat and flowers were all on display. The second thing I noticed was the colors. I had assumed everyone would be wearing simple white dress, like at a fraternity toga party, but that wasn't the case. Colors were everywhere. Deep reds and indigos, yellows and blues, browns and greens.

The men were mostly thin, muscular and a bit shorter in stature than in our modern day and age. The women were healthy-looking, suntanned and strong. The younger ones were often beautiful... dark hair, high cheekbones and aquiline noses. Periodically, I would spot a blonde, obviously with ancestry from the northern regions. Small children ran and played, chasing each other in a game of tag as old as Mankind itself; their squeals punctuated the early morning air. A few pigeons strutted this way and that, and overhead, ravens cawed from tree-tops.

Giddeon and I walked up and down the aisles and looked over the produce. A dog underneath a table barked at our passage. Near one stand, a young, somewhat shabbily dressed teenager stood beside a catch of fresh fish and shooed away flies with an ornate fan. I had the feeling that he was a slave.

My subconscious read my mind. "Oh, yes... slavery has been around forever."

I looked him over and said to Giddeon, "Poor guy... he should be in high school, flirting with all the girls."

"I'm sure he does alright. Some slaves in this era had more free time than you would expect. Many were basically considered part of the family... in the end, we're all slaves to something. You know that, don't you? _Freedom's just the ability to choose your master_."

"Now you are becoming a philosopher."

"Notice it was quick? Five seconds or less."

"I thought _freedom's just another word for nothing left to lose_."

Gid grinned. "Oh, yeah... that was a good line... Kris Kristofferson. Quite right, you know. But, one word can have multiple meanings. Sort of like quantum physics... multiple places, multiple times..." he spread his hands wide, "... all the same."

I looked around at the ancient city. He did make a strong argument.

"What year is this?"

"37 B.C. The empire is in full swing. Roads and bridges are being built, also, aqueducts and coliseums."

"Amazing... how can they do all of this with no internet?" I queried.

Giddeon chuckled. "Probably got more done without all of the distractions. Speaking of distractions..."

I followed his gaze. A beautiful young woman in a white dress was walking between the tables, a basket full of apples, radishes and grapes cradled in her left arm. Her hair flowed down around her shoulders in a cascade of dark, shining curls.

The lovely female had a simple gold necklace around her neck and a matching bracelet on her right wrist. Leather sandals covered her feet, and she moved with a fluid grace that also hinted at athletic ability. I had never seen Giddeon speechless, before... I watched with interest as he circled the vision of loveliness inspecting lemons at a kiosk.

She held a yellow specimen up into the sunlight, more as if she was admiring the fruit rather than looking for imperfections. When satisfied, it was placed reverently in her basket. This ritual happened five more times. She then spoke to the merchant, produced a little purse, and handed over a small, copper colored coin. He took it gratefully and kissed her hand. She smiled a dazzling smile, turned her attention to a table of tomatoes a few feet away, and moved in her slow motion, seductive way towards a new goal. Giddeon followed close behind; I could see him smelling her fragrance as he went. He looked for all the world like a cat overdosed on cat nip... his eyes were heavy-lidded on a ridiculously contented face. I came up behind him. After a few seconds, he noticed my presence.

"Isn't she something?"

"Yes, she is."

"I know that for you, Melody is perfect, but I've always been partial to brunettes."

"I totally understand... she's lovely."

"God, I wish I could touch her. I wish I could talk to her."

"Do you speak Italian?"

"Oh, yes... somewhat. We could probably understand each other."

He continued to gaze at the maiden, totally mesmerized.

"I think someone once told me that looks aren't everything," I said.

"I take it back."

I laughed out loud. "My, my... one pretty face and your words of wisdom fall apart like a cheap suit."

"She smells divine."

I shrugged my shoulders. "Well... at least it isn't totally looks. She stimulates your olfactory receptors, too."

"The way she moves... so lithe and graceful," said my infatuated alter ego.

"I guess we can add balance and posture..."

"And, look at the way she admires the produce... it's like she's in love with the bounty of the earth."

"Now, that, I understand." I thought back to the way Melody had been at the restaurant.

Giddeon took one final inhalation of her aroma, and then turned to me. "Mama Mia... we should move along before I can't tear myself away."

"That's your Italian? Mama Mia?"

"I know more... but, it's all from the television."

"Come on, then. At least you know her time and place. You can moon over her, later." I started down the aisle, headed away from the market and towards what I took to be the main part of the city.

"Ciao, my love, ciao!" Giddeon trailed behind me, looking back over his shoulder until the crowds of people blocked his view. He started quoting poetry from the Romantic Era.

Lord Byron, I think.

__________

We found ourselves outside of an art school... at least that's what it seemed to be. Through the open door we could see groups of people gathered around marble statues that were in various stages of completion. Older men were directing younger men in the intricacies of chipping away the white stone, and, also, in the various ways to polish and smooth the material. On one side of the room were male and female students working with clay; they were shaping pots and ornaments from the wet, pliable material. An oven was in the back, and slaves kept the fire stoked as its heat turned the art into nearly finished products. In another room, colors were added to the hardened pieces of art with brushes dipped in various pigments, and then, it was back into the oven for a final glaze.

The activity inside the building was continuous, and although everyone involved looked serious, they also looked happy. Even the slaves. It was like they were all engaged in a grand task, and were simply grateful for the opportunity to bring forth beauty and splendor from raw materials provided by Mother Gaia.

"Industrious, aren't they?" I observed.

"When you love your job, it's not really work, I suppose," said Giddeon.

We watched the sculptors for a few minutes. Their concentration was intense.

"Humph... I like mowing greens, but I'm not really passionate about it," I said.

Giddeon grinned. "There's something to be said for a beautifully manicured golf course, not to mention free green fees... however, I think in the long run, you'll get bored. Maybe you should branch out."

We made our way towards an exit.

"What do you suggest?"

"It's not a good sign if you have to ask... that means you don't really know."

"Humph," I grunted, again. "You're my subconscious. I figured you might have an inside track."

"Fair enough." We left the art school through a side door and stepped out into the gathering heat. The sky was solid blue and provided a dramatic backdrop against the white of the stone buildings all around.

"Well...?"

"I'm thinking."

We walked down a small alley in silence. A group of young children ran through us, chasing a puppy. Finally, Giddeon spoke. "The only thing I've ever seen you really passionate about is Melody."

"Hard not to be." I thought for a moment. "Hey... I like playing golf."

"You don't dream about it."

"I dreamed about it last night."

"You know what I mean."

"Yeah... I know. It's fun, but, I don't sit around thinking about it." We turned a corner and stepped onto a main thoroughfare. "So, I guess club pro is out."

"Hmmm... let me think," said Giddeon. I could see his brow was furrowed in profile. Then, his face lit up. "You have a way with words...why don't you combine the two?"

"Write about Melody?"

"Write about the way she makes you feel. Everyone loves a love story."

"I don't know..."

"You've already got some songs about it... love, that is... that's pretty much poetry. Just expand on the words and cut out the rhymes and music."

"Write about Melody without the melodies?"

He smiled, broadly. "See... you do have a way with words."

"Why don't I just stick to music? I like that."

"Pays to have a Plan B."

I pondered his advice, and then said, "Doesn't seem like there would be much money in it."

"You'd be surprised. Plus, you don't do it for the money. Did those artists back there look like they were worried about money?"

"I guess not." Several men carrying ancient tools filed past.

"Anyway, you don't even have to quit your day job... just work on broadening your creative horizons."

"I don't have a day job... I'm in a coma, you know."

"Excuses, excuses..."

"I would ask for a note from my doctor... but, I'm in a _coma_. If I get back over there, I'll work on it."

Gid smiled. "You've done more over here in ten months than you have in the past 24 years, combined," replied my counselor.

I couldn't argue with him, there.

I had learned tons of scales on the guitar, not to mention on the keyboard. In some ways, I think my piano skills had actually surpassed my abilities on the guitar. It probably helped that I found the synthesizer to be a great instrument for composing songs... so many sounds and rhythms. In addition, I had even taken up the cello, mainly because I always had loved the sound. Everything was coming easier to me at that time than it did in the first part of my unconscious existence. I had learned to surf and to sail, and was pretty much a scratch golfer. Maybe Giddeon had spilled over into my limited domain.

I gave in a little bit. "Okay... I'll consider it. I'll stick to songs for now, though. I can't carry a whole book back in my head."

My time traveling companion glanced around at the young city. "Just jot down memorable scenes of what happens over here... it'll help you remember them. Plus, it'll help you recall how you felt about her when it comes time for you to go back."

"If it comes time for me to go back."

"Oh, ye of little faith."

"Didn't they throw Christians to the lions around here?"

Giddeon shook his head in the negative. "Too early for that... but, there is something I've always been curious about... let's go check it out!" He grabbed my elbow and the tunnel of light flashed around us, again.

Turns out Giddeon was right. Writing down my experiences over there did help me recall how I felt on this side. I started with this one, first:

__________

I had the feeling we were no longer in Italy, but judging from the attire of the people in the stands, I was pretty sure we were in the same general time period.

Giddeon and I were outside of a wooden gate, peering into a stadium of some type. On the inside of the arena was a man being escorted to the center of the dirt area by two strong-looking men with military bearing. The captive had his wrists bound with a leather thong, and when they all reached the middle of the space, one of the guards undid that leather and freed up the hands of their charge; the other guard then stood face to face with the disheveled prisoner and did something that to me seemed out of character for a person in his position. He put out a hand and held the captive by the shoulder... he spoke to him and nodded, almost as if in the way of an apology. The two held a look between them, and finally, the prisoner returned the nod; oddly, it was accompanied by what seemed to be a compassionate smile.

The two martial escorts then left the stadium by one of six gates around the periphery, identical to the one that we were behind.

Giddeon quickly undid the complicated knot on the rope latch of our entryway, and swung it open.

"Come on... I want a closer look."

Hesitantly, I followed him, not bothering to close the alternate gate behind us. We made our way into the middle of the open expanse and I looked around. The crowd was hushed... it seemed to me as if it was an anticipatory hush. After a long minute, or, so, another one of the gates swung open.

My eyes grew wide as two male lions slowly made their way into the arena. A cheer went up from the people in the stands.

One of the animals let out a huge roar, much to the delight of the spectators, turned, and came in our direction. The other lion followed. Then, from the still open wooden barrier came a female lioness... smaller, but, somehow, more menacing. She trotted to catch up with her companions.

I glanced to the man standing erect in the center of the ring. He showed no fear. A look that can only be described as mild curiosity was there upon his face. The lions came closer, and, to my surprise, showed no interest in their offered meal. The largest male went straight over to Gid, who was standing about ten feet away from the man. The other two came towards me. The male on my side of the man was hesitant, but the female was more inquisitive; she sniffed the air at my knees, a rumble in her throat.

Tentatively, I reached out my hand and let her smell of me as best she could. Then, I passed my fingers through her jaws, briefly feeling the outline of her fur, teeth and tongue. She, like Boris and Melody's cat, seemed to understand. The lioness turned and gave her companion a look; in a few seconds, he cautiously approached me.

He was old and had a limp, but the power in his forelegs was evident.

Even though I knew I was insubstantial, it was still very disconcerting being so close to that much dangerous muscle and sharpened claws. He gave a half-hearted roar, and then began to sniff, also. I buried my hand in his mane and did my best to 'scratch' him behind the ears... the female came in closer, as if jealous of the attention I was paying to her friend.

I looked over and saw that Giddeon had completely won over his cat. The huge male was trying to mark him with the scent glands on his cheeks... and my subconscious was having the time of his life. He was grinning from ear to ear. The lion finally gave up his quest to rub against Gid, and began to roll in the dirt at his feet. My two lions were similarly entranced. The big, crippled male sat slowly on his haunches, as if arthritic, and then stretched out prone in the dust and settled onto his side. I gave him a pat and turned my attention to the female. She attempted to reach a paw behind my back and bring me closer to her. Eventually, she abandoned that approach and began to roll on the ground in front of me, also. I sat down right between them and took turns giving them 'strokes'.

After a few seconds, I looked up to see the prisoner standing over me. His eyes were hypnotic, and I found it hard to look away. He crouched down, gave the female lion a tender rub on the shoulder, and then stood back up. The man turned, and very slowly made his way to the gate from which he had been forced to enter. Only then did I notice the silence. I could actually hear the wind blowing past in little gusts, kicking up dust as it swirled in the arena at his feet.

The guards, with a look of veneration on their faces, opened the wooden barrier and allowed him passage.

__________

With a flash, we were back in the Italian market. Giddeon was ecstatic.

"That was awesome! Totally radical! Those lions were huge!!"

"I've never been that close to one, before... I'm surprised my underwear is still clean!" I exclaimed.

"Oh, we weren't in any danger. You should know that by now," he said, with a grin plastered on his face.

"Whew! Old habits die hard... my sympathetic nervous system was kicked in, big time," I admitted. "The guy that was supposed to be lunch was cool as a cucumber, though... lucky for him, we were there!"

Giddeon said, "Yeah... that was lucky... wasn't it?"

Something about his hesitant inflections perked my interest.

"Who was that guy? What did he do to get thrown in with the lions?"

Giddeon looked off for a moment, as if seeing the scene before him, again. The wind blew his light brown hair back away from his suntanned forehead. He then looked at me with those deep, blue eyes, and answered,

"That, was Daniel."

# Chapter 44

Back on the boat, Boris seemed diminutive, even though he was big for a Domestic Shorthair. He was quite interested in my clothes and hands, and sniffed and sniffed like he had never done before. Finally, he meowed, went over to the far end of the couch and lay down. He stared at me with his big, unblinking, yellow eyes; Giddeon was seated at the small table.

"Correct me if I'm wrong... but, didn't we just tamper with a timeline or something?" I inquired.

"Hard to say," he replied while looking around and closely inspecting our domain. After a few moments, Giddeon added, "Everything here seems pretty normal."

I found his answer unsettling and furled my brow. "Isn't what we did against some kind of rule?"

Gid shrugged his shoulders. "I don't recall signing a contract... anyway, since everything here is exactly as we left it, we must not have affected 'reality'."

We obviously hadn't affected his use of 'air quotes'.

"So, we didn't crash their system?" I asked. "Those lions would have eaten him, otherwise. You saw them... seems to me like we 'interfered'." I added my own finger quotes for emphasis.

"Maybe, maybe not."

"You don't sound too convincing," I observed. "What made you want to go in there? Didn't you know the lions could see us... they are cats, you know?"

He shrugged, again. "Actually, I didn't know if they would be able to, for sure. And, I wanted to go in there because it just felt so... right. Like that was the way it was supposed to be."

My eyebrows went up on my forehead. "You're saying all of this was meant to happen? We're the ones who saved Daniel over two thousand years ago?" I inquired with a bit incredulousness straining my voice.

"The Lord works in mysterious ways," he replied.

I blew air out of my cheeks.

"That's pretty darned mysterious. I get hit in the head by a golf ball so me and my subconscious can go back in time to keep a saint from being eaten by lions? Sheeesh! Come on..."

"All of this talk is making me hungry."

I threw my hands up in the air. "Aren't you just the least bit concerned that we've violated some type of commandment?"

"Thou shalt not time travel?"

Boris meowed, again, as if moderating our discussion. I shook my head, blew air out of my cheeks, once more, and gave up. After about ten seconds of silence, I asked,

"What are you hungry for?"

"Cheesecake. At the Cheesecake Factory."

"For lunch?"

He grinned. "Life's short... eat your dessert first."

__________

I have to admit... the cheesecake was delicious. The waitresses were exceptionally cute, although, of course, we had no interaction with them since we were invisible. Giddeon had strawberries and red cream over a huge slice of vanilla. I went with chocolate syrup on top of chocolate. When we finished the pieces, we washed them down with ice cold glasses of milk. All in all, it was a very satisfying lunch.

I was still concerned about the events of that morning, so Giddeon pulled up a Bible from another plane of reality and had me read the story of Daniel. There was quite a difference between what we had taken part in and the actual story. For one thing, it wasn't supposed to have been in an arena... it sounded more like it had taken place in a cave filled with lions. The king of Babylon had Daniel thrown in with the cats and a large rock rolled over the entrance of their lair for one night.

Apparently, the king was testing the strength of Daniel's god, but, the entire time was much concerned over Daniel's fate, because they were friends. To the king's relief, the next morning his buddy was unscathed. I inquired about the vast discrepancies.

Giddeon wiped his mouth with his napkin. "Can't say for sure... either the Bible version contains a lot of exaggerations, or we were in a parallel 'story'." Air quotes, again. I nodded, feeling somewhat reassured that at least we hadn't affected the 'normal' world in which Melody lived. Then, as he was sometimes prone to do, Giddeon abruptly changed the subject.

"Have you ever been to a rodeo?"

"We're not going to the 1800's, are we? I think I've had enough time travel for one day."

"Nah... something much more mundane. There's a movie out down at the IMAX all about 'em. It's supposed to be pretty good."

I thought it over and decided that I could definitely sit in a theater for part of the afternoon. I didn't really want to play golf in normal gravity, that day, anyway.

"Sure... sounds good."

We made our way to the Focus, and drove to Balboa Park.

# Chapter 45

The movie didn't start for 15 minutes, so Gid and I walked down towards the Prado Restaurant to check out the area. It was sunny, as usual, so we stayed under the covered walkway as we went. Lots of families were out; kids were everywhere in abundance. I realized that for some schools it must have been Spring Break... I was beginning to lose track of time, over there.

Everyone around us looked happy. Street singers and magicians did their things, trying to coerce a few dollars from the pockets of people passing by. Dogs on leashes met nose-to-nose for the first time, and wagged their tails before being coaxed along by their owners.

We cut through a parallel passageway and stopped to look in the windows at some of the historical exhibits about San Diego; we didn't tarry, however, and made our way back outside and continued our stroll. Upon arriving at the restaurant, we peered around. It was a very nice setting for an establishment. I had never eaten there, before.

"We'll have to come here, sometime," I said.

"Sure. Just let me know when." We went out into the sun and he pointed across the way. "You've never been to the Air and Space Museum, either. Put that on your list."

"Okay." We turned and began our walk back, this time on the open concourse. "Hey, Gid... do you really think I'll make it back to the other side?" I asked. I was a bit concerned that with Daniel, my 'mission' may have been over.

"I'm not a betting man, but I would say yes."

"Why?"

"It just feels right."

I dug my hands in my pockets, not totally satisfied with his answer.

"Nothing else? No glimpses of Christmas Future?"

"You can't really depend on those. An infinity of scenarios is created each second."

"Humph," I grunted.

We passed a pair of young women... a freckled red-head in a baseball cap, and an African-American with dreadlocks. Both had on very short shorts. Giddeon turned his head and watched them as they went by.

"What about your Italian girlfriend? Wouldn't she get jealous?" I asked.

"Just looking."

I almost made the comment that that was all he could do, but I kept it to myself. Hopefully, he didn't hear it, anyway.

"Have you ever been to a rodeo?" I questioned.

"Oh, yes. I go to the Calgary Stampede every year. Been doing that since you were sixteen."

"I've never been to Canada."

"You should get out more when you get back. Coronado's great, but there are a lot of other nice places in the world, too."

"Okay... but, so far you want me to devote myself to music, writing and traveling. Anything else?"

"Probably need to learn another language or two... and, calculus."

"When will I sleep?"

"You've been asleep for almost a year... that should hold you for a while."

"Good point." We had reached the theater. Gid opened the door and we went inside.

After making our way through another set of doors we found some seats near the center towards the back. Popcorn and soda appeared just as we got settled in. I'm not sure, but I think I conjured up some Jujubes without any help... and, for the next hour and ten minutes, we were carried into the world of Rodeo.

# Chapter 46

It was almost like we were in the dust with the bulls and the horses, the cowboys, cowgirls and clowns. I could see that the animals were every bit as strong and potentially as dangerous as the lions from that morning; the film was so realistic that you could almost smell the sweat and feel the heat and vibrations produced from hundreds of pounds of sinew and muscle thundering past.

I noticed similarities in the overall set-up of the ring compared to the Babylonian stadium from over 2000 years ago. I suppose elevated stands around a center of entertainment are somehow embedded into our genetic codes... judging by the multitude of football, baseball and soccer stadiums around the world. All of our arenas are most probably throwbacks to that earlier era, although the activities in modern centers are tamed down somewhat from the bloodthirsty times gone past... at least, a little bit. After learning about a game known as 'Bull Poker', though, I have my doubts. Four men sit at a poker table, ostensibly playing cards, as an angry bull is released into the ring. Apparently, the last one at the table wins. It's like a game of chicken, except one of the chickens is a thousand pound Brahma bull with an attitude and horns.

I can't imagine that participants in this particular sport have very lengthy careers.

As I sat there watching the culture that had developed during the taming of the American West, I was struck by how different it was from any other type of culture in the world. The boots, the hats, the spurs and other paraphernalia worn by the participants were part and parcel of a unique world view shared by most of the people in attendance at the rodeo. It seemed strange that all of that had come out of a period in history that was relatively short-lived as far as historical periods go... also, I found it strange that the people who helped create and define that culture were mostly imported from other countries.

Germans, Spaniards, Italians, French, British, Polish and a plethora of others were all amalgamated into a group with a completely new identity and set of rules. Even imports from other far flung parts of the world were involved. Africans, Middle Easterners, Asians and Indonesians... not to mention home-grown Native Americans... were all transformed into new animals... cowboys and cowgirls. Many of the people couldn't have been more than a generation or two removed from their countries and cultures of origin, but were almost unrecognizable as the progeny of such.

The fluidity of humanity was interesting to contemplate. How quickly we adapted and changed. Social evolution was on display, and I couldn't help but wonder how changed we would be in future generations. How different would our descendents be on other worlds, in other solar systems, other galaxies? Would bits and pieces of our cultures from Earth still remain, carried forward like snippets of common DNA into the organisms of the future? Would there still be stadiums and contests and danger?

Somehow, I felt certain that there would be. I let the scenes and sounds of the IMAX wash over me like a salve, soothing me with images from our present time. I don't know why it was comforting... it just was.

After the film, we made our way back out into the San Diego afternoon and I noted how the people milling about and enjoying the day comprised their own subset, their own culture. Casual, laid back, appreciative... influenced and nurtured by the weather, the ocean and the dry, Golden State land. It occurred to me that we are all shaped by unseen forces, and that people, like words, can have many definitions.

Giddeon put on some sunglasses that I'm sure he didn't bring with him. They gave him a very Californian look.

"Let's go get some rest. We're going out, tonight," he informed me.

"We are? Where?" I said.

"In Cahoots. We're gonna learn to Line Dance!"

# Chapter 47

Boris and I decided to take an afternoon nap in my bed. Evidently, he had forgiven me for smelling of lions and acting like a fool with Gid, earlier. I stretched out on my back and he curled up in my chest; his tail gently swished back and forth from out of my torso.

I could hear him softly purring as I, too, drifted off to sleep.

__________

I awoke in a new pair of Levi's, along with cowboy boots and a belt... a belt that sported a gigantic buckle. In addition, I had on a neatly pressed, white, long-sleeved shirt. I sat up and saw Giddeon in similar attire, although his shirt was striped with pastel mauve, green and blue. He had on a cowboy hat... I'm uncertain of how many gallons it represented. I felt one appear on my head, also. I looked back and forth between us.

"Really?"

"You've got to get the whole experience. Flip flops and a t-shirt won't do. Cowgirls go crazy for a sharp dressed man."

"That's from a rock song, and they can't see us, anyway."

"Details. Loosen up. You can't dance with a board up your butt."

I consented. "Okay, okay. Let me brush my teeth."

"That's not necessary, you know."

"Neither is this ridiculous get up." I made my way to the bathroom, ducking a bit so my headwear wouldn't scrape the ceiling.

"Touché, padnuh."

I shook my head and checked out my hat in the mirror. I actually kind of liked it. Stomping around in my boots and tight fitting jeans, I did feel a bit different; I found it odd how a 'uniform' can affect one's psyche. I brushed my teeth and considered shaving, but, since my stubble seemed like it was never more than a day old, decided against it. The little bit that was there seemed to fit with the new look. I came back out into the belly of the boat.

"Let's ride."

I suppose Giddeon took me literally, because we left the Catalina and headed for the Focus.

__________

Line dancing lessons were in full swing. Guys and gals were in long rows on the dance floor, where most were attired in a fashion similar to me and my Western counterpart. Country music blared from ceiling mounted Klipsch speakers, and the people before us were moving back and forth like an undecided school of fish. We watched for a while as Giddeon and I absorbed the mechanics of the motions. I took note of how clean the air was; there's a ban on indoor smoking in California. For some reason, I had pictured smoke... in my mind, there seemed like there should have been smoke from cigars and cigarettes. That's what you always saw in Western movies. If you want indoor smoke around here, you have to go into a Casino owned by the Indians.

I find that somewhat ironic.

We stepped out onto the dance floor and positioned ourselves at the end of a line. Giddeon was beside a cute cowgirl with curly brown hair and a red bandanna around her neck. In front of me were a leggy brunette and her date. The instructor showed the next set of moves, and we all practiced it in place. Then, the music came on... a song about how a guy's girlfriend thinks his tractor's sexy. Gid and I easily reproduced the steps and I spent most of my time as I went through the dance focused on the lyrics of the song, which I thought were quite good. Giddeon spent most of his time watching the curly-headed cowgirl next to him.

There was something primal and reassuring about flowing with the group. Another song came on and we repeated the dance, just to make sure everyone was fairly proficient with the moves. Most were; some struggled... usually they were guys...but, all in all, I don't think the majority of the people there really needed the lessons. It was more of a social thing.

When the music ended, the instructor demonstrated some new additions to the steps, making things a bit more complicated. I was amazed at how easily I took to it, but I shouldn't have been surprised. Like I said, most everything was coming easier to me as time went on. With the firewall down, I think I had access to some of Gid's processing power. I made a note to myself to actually work on a foreign language in the near future. I'd save calculus for later.

After thirty minutes or so, Giddeon and I went to a table for a rest. Two long-necked Coors appeared, and we drank our drinks and took in the atmosphere. He offered me some tobacco from a little round can and I shook my head ' _no_ ' emphatically.

He grinned, and the canister disappeared... he had just been having a little fun at my expense.

As we sat there, I noticed how well-mixed the country music was compared to a lot of the stuff you hear on rock stations. It seemed to me like there was more separation in the sound... more space between the notes.

"I think so, too," said Giddeon. He obviously had complete access to my thoughts, then, which he didn't seem to have had when I first arrived in Comaville. "I'll show you the basics of Pro Tools later."

He had referred to the gold standard of recording software. I had read about it a few years back, and had actually considered purchasing it to play with on my Apple laptop. The expensive price tag kept me from doing it... not a problem in Giddeon's world.

"Cool."

I sipped on my beer and looked around. I noticed the ratio of girls to guys was easily two to one... I had kind of grown accustomed to that in San Diego. I'm not sure why it's that way. Maybe because it's such a big military town and a lot of the guys are continually being deployed overseas. Or, it could be that women appreciate and are drawn to nice things, and, as cities go, this one pretty much qualifies as a nice thing. Anyway, as I was contemplating my theories, three more ladies were having their I.D.'s checked at the door. I glanced over and was very pleasantly surprised.

Melody, and her two friends.

They came in just as another song began to thump from the speakers. The trio of women went straight to the dance floor since none of them was carrying a purse. They instantly fell in step with the complicated dance, smiles on their fresh, young faces. Melody was in a form-fitting pair of faded Wrangler jeans, faux ostrich skin boots, a red blouse and a white cowboy hat. She looked magnificent. She also moved like a seasoned professional. I had suspected that she was a dancer from way back, and, boy, was I right. She could have shown the instructor a thing or two.

Gid and I jumped from our seats and he let me have the spot next to Melody. He took the row directly behind the girls, where I'm sure he enjoyed the view. We lost ourselves in the rhythm of the music for several dances and it was quite surreal... almost like I was on an actual date with the woman of my dreams.

We all moved as one organism. I only wished that I could have reached out and touched her and held her hand. It would have been so nice to have been able to talk to her between the songs.

We spent the next two and a half hours spinning, stepping and swaying under the lights and music.

__________

When we got back, Gid and I went straight for the guitars. I had never written a country song, before, but after paying close attention to the structure and story lines of the ones in the club, I felt inspired. E, A and D... three chords, only. This was the product of my first attempt:

I took my Golden Years, just a little bit early.

What good is all that gold if you're too old? Now, surely

You can understand...

I'm a right here, right now, kind of man.

You never know when you're gonna ride in that hearse...

Life's short, eat your dessert first.

I don't delay my gratification,

I think right now is always time for a vacation.

Can't you understand...

I'm a right here, right now, kind of man?

I don't worry none 'bout no rainy day...

Even when it's storming, I play... Let's play.

(instrumental chorus)

Life is for living, don't you die before you're dead.

I think this town could use another coat of red.

Don't you understand...

I'm a right here, right now kind of man?

Times are good... times they could get worse...

Life's short, eat your dessert first.

Eat your dessert first!

(chorus)

And, girl you look like cherry pie to me.

I'm foot-loose, and, are you fancy free?

What you say we dance across the floor...

And, when we're done, let's dance a little more?

When we're done, let's dance a little more!

'Cause, I'm a right here, right now, kind of man.

Surely girl, I think you understand.

When you're feeling blessed,

thank goodness you ain't cursed...

Life's short, eat your dessert first.

Life's short, eat your dessert first.

Life's short... so very short.

Life's short, eat your dessert first!

I thought it was a decent first attempt. Giddeon and Boris agreed. Then, they both left out into the Coronado evening, evidently not ready to call it a night. I fell asleep in my jeans and boots.

# Chapter 48

I awoke in only my boxer shorts, but I don't remember taking off my country paraphernalia. Looking around, I discovered that my pants, boots and shirt were nowhere to be found. Either Gid had taken care of it all, or I had somehow shipped them off to the ether in my sleep. Things like that were happening more and more then, although I didn't seem to have much control over it. I sat down on the couch with my guitar and went back through my new song, finding I liked it as much or more than I did a few hours before. Boris and Giddeon had yet to make an appearance, so I took my time adjusting to the morning.

I drank some O.J. from the carton and munched on some Kashi _Heart to Heart_ cereal, dry, from the box. Then, I sat back down with my guitar in my lap, still crunching on the nutritious oats. I smiled when I remembered how my brother Jeremy told me that _Heart to Heart_ should be renamed _Bowl to Bowl_ after I had raved about it enough that he went and bought some for himself. Apparently, it had too much fiber for his system and pretty much went straight from his cereal bowl to his toilet bowl : ) I was just thinking to myself how I missed being able to call him up on the phone and shoot the breeze, when I felt footsteps on my boat. There was a jiggling at the lock, and, after a few moments, in popped my brother.

I almost got up to shake his hand and hug him, but then realized it couldn't be done. Even after all of that time it was easy to forget that I was in the quantum state of there, and yet, not there. Boris was right behind him. Jeremy deposited his bag by the door, went to the fridge, opened a can of wet food and plopped it onto a paper plate for our mutual welfare case.

Boris settled in on his haunches and proceeded to ravenously consume the offering. My brother watched the cat for a bit, and then looked around the boat; he took my guitar from where it was on its stand, in actuality, and sat down on the couch. I stood up to accommodate him... I still had the Ovation's Doppelganger in my hands... a strap suddenly materialized around my neck and shoulder, suspending it in a comfortable position.

My brother is pretty good on the guitar, himself. After tuning the instrument, he started in on a familiar tune... easily one of the best songs ever written. I filled in with the lead, amazed at how proficient I had grown under Giddeon's tutelage.

The lyrics to that particular song were always haunting, and under the circumstances, were even more so.

After the introduction, Jeremy's soft, on key voice filled the interior of my boat... Pink Floyd's ' _Wish You Were Here'_.

Jeremy finished up the vocals after a couple of minutes, and we played out the instrumental part until the end. It was one of the best renditions of the song I had ever heard... I wished to myself that I had it on tape. I left the boat wearing shorts, tennis shoes and a tee shirt.

The Coronado morning was blurred by the wetness in my eyes.

__________

Jeremy stayed for a week. One of the doctors wanted to discuss options such as removing my feeding tube as it was becoming evident that my condition was not improving. Although he remained polite, I could tell my brother was enraged at even the suggestion. He would have no part of it, and insisted that I would come out of the coma... it would only take time.

Father McCreely was still a weekly visitor. He always sat for an hour, and then went down to the politically correct, non-denominational sanctuary/meditation room to pray. Once, he stayed there in one position for so long that I was concerned he would induce deep vein thrombosis. I heard through the Giddeon grapevine that the priest hadn't played golf since the day when he hit me in the head... I found it ironic that his misguided shot had helped sculpt me into a no-handicapper, at least in my alternate realities.

I rarely had visitors. It occurred to me that other than my blood relative, my sister-in-law, and the man partly responsible for my condition, no one really noticed that I was out of action. I had no real friends... only co-workers and sometime golf partners. If success in life is measured by the number of people that care about you, I had come up extraordinarily lacking. I really had no one to blame but myself... I had always been introverted, and, while I didn't dislike people, I certainly wasn't drawn to them.

I had always lived in my own limited mind... sort of like Giddeon... except, his mind wasn't so limited, and, he had no other options.

__________

In light of the way I had conducted my prior existence, I considered my affinity for cats. They were independent and pure in their own selfish way. They could take you or leave you; unfortunately, kind of the way I had always been with people.

I have found that felines will most certainly take you if food and scratching are involved. They're basically the consummate users of the animal kingdom. Except for Boris. He stuck with me knowing that food, drink and real rubdowns could only be provided by others in the marina or at the restaurant. Yet, for some reason, he preferred my company to all of the other real people at his disposal... he even preferred me to Giddeon.

Other than my family and Melody, I suppose Boris was the only other creature I had ever loved. I tried not to think about that too much because it made me sad.

# Chapter 49

More and more time passed. Days and nights alternated in a kind of bizarre cycle of mundane magic and everyday 'life', and I began to accept the extraordinary without much surprise. Often, I sampled some of the potential times... both in the future and in the immediate past... with my enthusiastic tour guide, and I was always amazed at the number of directions that humanity came and went. Sometimes, though, for weeks, I would live a pretty 'normal' existence; playing golf, eating at restaurants and checking out the beach with Gid. I also read a lot of paperback novels with Boris.

I think I was drawn to normalcy because it helped me feel connected to the other world... the world where Melody lived. Giddeon didn't push much for fantastic voyages or alternate probability entertainment. I think he was content to explore on his own.

Sometimes, I would go an entire day or more without him stopping by.

He seemed to know when I needed my space.

God only knows where he was during those times, and, what he was doing. I think the extra 'horsepower' he derived from my presence kept his curiosity turbocharged, so he was getting as much out of it as he could. I often used to wonder if I ever made it back if he would still have the same abilities without me around... or, would the firewall come back into place and bring him down to Earth, literally?

I could always tell when Giddeon had been off on an adventure and was just dying to show me something new. Usually, I just ignored it. Periodically, however, I would give in and inquire.

__________

I was sitting on my couch, watching television and having some quality time with Boris. I hadn't seen Giddeon for the better part of two days when he suddenly appeared. I turned the volume down on the small plasma screen with the remote, although I'm sure the batteries in it had been dead for six months.

"Where've you been?" I questioned.

"You really want to know?"

"Sure, why not?"

"Just checking... you seem to have been in a bit of a funk, lately."

"No... I'm okay. Just tired."

"Humph..." he grunted. "Maybe you're not getting enough vitamin D."

"We play golf all the time. Isn't that the sunshine vitamin?"

"Yep... but, apparently the sun isn't providing enough. I may have found just the thing for you, yesterday."

"Cod liver oil?"

"That's good, too... but, this is better. Way better. A binary star system!"

"Two suns?"

"Double your pleasure, double your sun."

I think I remembered an old chewing gum commercial for Double-Mint that he had attempted to parody.

"Where is it?"

"Not just where, but when! It's past the Pleiades, and it's several thousand years in the future. And, guess what?"

"What?"

"It's got a planet that's inhabited... by humans! The gravity and everything else is almost the same... even the plants. I think they brought a lot of 'em along with them."

"Humph."

He could hardly contain himself. "Wanna go?"

I shrugged my shoulders. "This won't take long, will it? ' _Glee_ ' comes on tonight, and it's an episode I haven't seen. I hate to admit it, but I actually kind of like that show."

Giddeon rolled his eyes. " _Glee_ ' can wait. You have Tivo, you know?"

"No, I don't."

A box appeared, mounted next to my T.V.

"You do, now."

I sighed and stood up. I was beginning to understand how Major Nelson felt when Jeannie did her thing. "You know, all of the futures you've been sampling, lately, are only possibilities. If you looked long enough, you would find a planet that had only Swedish Bikini Team members on it."

"I think even Captain Kirk would bend the Prime Directive for that one!" Gid exclaimed.

"He always was a ladies man."

" _To go where no man has gone, before!_ " He imitated the narration of his favorite show.

"I thought you said people were there."

" _To go where no man from our time has gone, before!_ " he said, using the same intonation as earlier.

"Okay, okay. What should I wear? Is there a dress code?"

"Clothing is optional."

"Come on...?"

"Well, it is at the beaches, anyway."

"So we're going to Europe?

"Funny... you ever considered stand up?"

"I don't think you could get that many cats to sit through a show. They're the only ones that could see me, you know."

"Don't forget dolphins."

"Do they have a sense of humor?"

"Flipper laughed all of the time."

"Then, Sea World, it is. Book me."

"When we get back... let's go!"

The tunnel of light flashed all around us; it seemed to stay in place for a long, long, time.

# Chapter 50

Green. All around us was green. Vegetation was everywhere. Even the sky was slightly tinted a pale shade of green. The clouds, from the four I could see, were pink, and the 'sun' had an oblong appearance to it... the ends of that egg-like shape, as best I could tell, had somewhat different emanations of gold coming from it. It was too intense to look at, but I assumed I was seeing two stars, one partially superimposed over the other.

On closer inspection of the landscape, I could make out dome shaped dwellings and meandering walkways. The buildings and paths seemed to be alive... or, at the very least covered in some type of fine, plantlike material. Spread out before us was a village, so interconnected with the planet that it was almost indistinguishable from it.

"Welcome to Eden," said Giddeon. "That's what they've named this world, from what I can ascertain."

I saw a man and a woman emerge from a 'house' and step out onto a path, holding hands. They were quite beautiful. Their skin was slightly olive, and both were wearing loose, white cotton jumpsuits and soft-looking shoes. Her hair was a brilliant blonde, and his was dark and wavy. Both appeared to be in their mid-twenties and were tall; maybe six-five, or more. I don't know if their height was due to decreased gravity... I did feel just a bit lighter, there... or improved nutrition. I say improved nutrition because gardens were ubiquitous. Vines with fruits and vegetables, some recognizable, some not, were scattered pretty much everywhere. They were next to the houses and along the small thoroughfares... they were even on some of the rooftops.

The temperature was nice, maybe 75 or so, but it was a bit bright. Sunglasses appeared over our eyes. Giddeon began walking in the same direction as the couple, so I followed. On our way, we saw others... all tall, and all of approximately the same age as the first pair. One lady had a Golden Retriever on a leash at her side. I noticed there were no children to be seen.

"Reproduction is tightly controlled," said Giddeon. "The life expectancy is exceptionally long, here... they're almost immortal except for accidents and the very rare, occasional suicide. Apparently, scientists discovered how to manipulate the genetic code long ago. Telomeres stay the same length, and the proofreading ability of DNA polymerase has been enhanced."

"Telomeres?"

"The little ends on your chromosomes. We lose a bit with each cell division and finally the loss starts affecting the genetic material, itself, when they divide."

"Oh, yeah... I think I saw that on a National Geographic special, once, about stress. What about disease?" I asked.

"Not much to speak of. When the body is in such a fine state, the immune system functions quite well. Plus, Mankind has made big strides in the field of health... they're able to zap microbes and cancers with resonant frequencies that only destroy the problems, not host tissues."

More people stepped from their houses. We all seemed to be heading in the same general direction.

"Do they have golf?"

"Believe it or not, they do," said Gid. "I found a course near a major city. Still 18 holes... 10,000 plus yards. Most just use virtual reality, though."

I whistled. "Wow, 10,000 yards... I hope the gravity is less, here."

"Not that much less. People are just stronger."

We continued on, and even more people joined us on the walkway.

"Where are we going?" I asked.

"To eat," said Giddeon. "It's time for the 'noon' meal. This planet has a rotational cycle of 35 hours, so it gets a little complicated... Breakfast, Lunch, Supper and Twilight. That's how it goes... so technically, this is meal number two."

"They must not eat much... everyone's thin," I observed.

"Mostly fruits, vegetables and some cultured meat. They grow it in sheets in the agricultural sections."

"Meat sheets?"

"Sounds disgusting when you put it like that, but, yeah. Fish, chicken, beef, pork... whatever melts your butter."

"Huh... I guess that is a better way to go," I said. A bit of a breeze blew through my hair. It felt nice, and had a slightly almond smell to it.

"Especially if you're a chicken, cow, fish or pig... easier on the ecosystem, too," said my subconscious.

"No cow farts causing global warming, huh?"

Giddeon laughed. "Earth had a lot more problems than global warming in this timeline."

I looked over at him, "Really? Like what?"

My tour guide rubbed his scruffy face. "Well, from what I can gather, there were quite a few radiation incidents, amongst other things."

"War?"

He shook his head in the negative. "Technically, no, although sabotage was often suspected. Quite a few more meltdowns like Chernobyl and Japan. Large swaths of productive farmland were affected and off limits for years, afterwards."

"That's pretty bad... what were some of the other problems?"

"For one thing," said Giddeon, "there was the re-pressurizing of several of those old, capped underwater oil wells around the globe."

"Re-pressurizing?"

"Yep...the a-biotic theory of petroleum turned out to be a player. Evidently, not all of the crude was from dead plants and animals; seems the mantle of the earth is something of an oil-producer. All of those capped holes in the seafloor eventually starting breaking down, and some of them spewed black gold into the water at alarming rates." He gestured with his hands, in an attempt to mimic fluid flowing. "The good news was, there wasn't an oil shortage... the bad news was, there wasn't an oil shortage. Killed off a lot of the food chain in places."

I scratched my chin. "I see how that could be a problem."

Gid continued. "The leaks were actually dealt with, over time, and more permanent seals and monitoring systems were installed on the thousands and thousands of undersea 'wounds'... so we kind of had a handle on that. The major event that caused trouble was something out of our control... the Yellowstone Caldera."

I nodded. "Oh, yeah... caldera...I've heard that term."

He shoved his hands in his pockets. "A caldera is a super-volcano... an area of the earth's crust that's thin and prone to rupture from the forces beneath it. The Yellowstone one was thousands of times more destructive than a regular volcano. A hole the size of New Jersey blew outwards into the atmosphere, dumping several feet of ash and debris over much of the North American continent." He took one hand out of his pocket and pointed upwards. "The sky became darkened for years, and the resulting temperature changes were dramatic. You can imagine what that did to crop production. Luckily, we had established colonies on the moon and Mars by that point."

"No kidding? What about the earth... did it recover?"

"Oh, yes... for the most part." He took his other hand from his pocket. "' _Today_ ' there are still people there, although the population is only a fraction of what it once was." There were his finger quotes, again. "It's basically a base of operations for the space stations in the neighborhood."

We walked on a few paces in silence. "So, how far in the future are we?"

"About 26,252 years, give or take a couple of months. Leap Years always screw me up."

I wrinkled my brow. "What about Mars... do we still have colonies there?"

"Oh, yes, and even a bit of atmosphere. Terra-farming, you know? We seeded it with microbes, and then, plants... they add new species as the conditions change. It's not an exact science, but, they're making progress. Much easier to find a place that's pretty much ready to go, like this one. Trouble is, they're far and few between."

I looked around me at the alien sky and landscape... it was quite stunning, in total. Gold mountains were in the distance. "How far and how few?"

Giddeon shoved his hands in his pockets, again, and continued forward. "Pretty rare, it seems. And, even this Utopia doesn't have a perfect balance... too much cyanide in the air. Everyone here has been genetically modified to handle it."

Maybe that explained the almond smell.

"Really? I guess I'm glad we're 'ghosts'."

"I thought you didn't like that term," he said and smiled. "Actually, the citizens here prefer the atmosphere the way it is. Kind of gives them protection."

I looked back at him. "Protection... against what?"

"Other humans," he said. "Two hundred years ago they fought off an invasion, of sorts. A passing star-ship decided this looked like a good piece of real estate, so the newbies hatched a plot to kill off the inhabitants here with a parasite that doesn't respond to any known therapies. Then, the invaders were going to circle the planet for a couple of generations until they and their progeny could be modified to handle the atmosphere. Luckily for the people on Eden, the cyanide rendered the microbes harmless."

Giddeon looked down and stepped over an earthworm-looking creature that was making its way across the path... it was bright yellow and segmented. We stopped and watched it with interest. It alternated between normal, wormlike movements, and then, rolling itself into a circle so it could make unbalanced rotations like a wheel. After a few unsteady revolutions it would flop over, continue on as a worm for a bit, and then roll itself back up to try, again.

After a minute or so, we carried on forward and Giddeon went back to his narrative. "Before the invaders could cook up a Plan B, one of their group defected and tipped off the people here as to what had been attempted," he said.

"Wow! What'd they do?" I asked. Looking back, I saw that the yellow worm had finally made it into the thick, green grass there beside the walkway.

"The Edenites used a technology that had just been developed. At the time, they had recently learned to manipulate brain waves through magnetic fields in order to induce a deep state of anesthesia for surgery patients. Thanks to the advanced state of their science, they were able to up the energy of the system and focus it like a beam."

"So...?"

"They put the entire crew of the starship to sleep."

"No kidding? Man... that was smart." I looked down, keeping an eye on the path for any more life forms. "What'd they do with them?"

"What little military they had boarded the vessel and secured the invaders. Then, they took 'em here to the surface where they all remain, today... in cryogenic hibernation."

"Frozen?"

"A kinder, gentler type of warfare," said Giddeon. "I don't think they're in any rush to thaw them out. Maybe in a few hundred years."

A flock of multicolored birds flew past, not far overhead. They looked very much like parrots, except their colors changed dramatically as they flew. "Wow!" I exclaimed as they spirited away. "Oh... what happened to the tipster? I'm sure he's a local hero."

"Unfortunately, he died. The low levels of cyanide got him before they could do anything for him. However, they kept some of his tissue and his modified clone is treated like a king. They have a big party for him every year... I went to it, yesterday. By the way, a large chunk of the gross domestic product of Eden now goes to defense. They don't want to rely on the kindness of strangers, anymore."

"Hmmm... almost a happy ending. I suppose some things never change," I said.

"As for the clone, they've implanted a lot of memories from the dead hero's brain into him. For all practical purposes, he's the same dude."

"Cool... by the way, what do you think they'll have to eat for lunch?" I asked, changing the subject.

"Vegetables."

We came to the edge of our destination.

"I want to try some Petri-dish Rib Eye!"

__________

The Rib Eye was excellent. There must have been 400 people at the group meal. Tables and chairs were sprinkled around a clearing that covered maybe ten or fifteen acres. There were shade trees, similar to Mimosa, and fragrant, flowering bushes all around. I even saw a handful of children... they were always the center of attention of any cluster of people in their vicinity.

Music was playing and food was handed out by workers that were dressed a bit more formally than most of the diners. Levitating trays followed the waiters and waitresses like well-trained dogs. Laughter and animated conversations accented the setting; the language was obviously a derivative of English, but, was as alien to me as the Old English of Shakespeare, if not more so. I only caught around every third word, or thereabouts, when I listened to a conversation.

I noticed Giddeon had grown about 6 inches so that he was on a level with most of the females at the gathering.

We walked around sampling food and drink like party crashers that wanted to get as much in as possible before being booted out. There was no danger of that, however, as we were quite undetectable. The fruits and vegetables were exquisite. The drinks were awesome, too. I could see why a foreign starship would set its sights on a bountiful planet like Eden.

Dessert was a chocolate mousse of sorts. It was beyond good. Imagine the best chocolate you've ever tasted, and multiply it times four. The taste seemed to linger in my mouth for way longer than the sensation normally does; it was as if the receptors that detected the deliciousness just kept firing and firing. It felt like I could savor it all of the way down my esophagus, cool and smooth and luxurious. I think it was also mildly hallucinogenic. The colors and hues of people, plants and things all took on slightly oscillating characteristics when I was halfway done. I waved my hand in front of my face, and could see just the slightest hint of chromatic trails behind the passage. If I didn't focus too hard, I could have sworn that the music playing in the background was visible around the periphery of my vision.

Giddeon ate three cups of it.

__________

That afternoon, we took a trip into near Eden orbit. The spaceship that they had arrived on centuries before was basically an orbiting museum. It was huge, easily the size of two or three aircraft carriers, and was kept in pristine condition... I suppose in case it was ever needed, again. We wandered the interior and I was amazed at the ingenuity and engineering that must have been required to produce such a vehicle. It was quite remarkable, and even though it didn't appear to be rotating, it somehow had its own gravity field.

Up was up, and down was down as far as the floors and ceilings went.

Giddeon explained that, according to what he could determine from their science, gravity might be thought of as more of a 'push' than a 'pull'. He said that, apparently, virtual particles popping into and out of existence create a 'force', and the feeling of being drawn to a planet might be thought of as due to the summation of those particles 'hitting' your body... simply more are 'hitting' on the sides of you that are away from the ground... and, that is what is perceived as gravity.

Massive objects, such as planets, somehow create interference patterns in space, and, apparently, these patterns sort of cancel each other out on the side of your body nearest the planet. This cancellation allows infinity to 'push' you down towards the ground... at least until you're repelled by the stronger electromagnetic forces of electrons between your periphery and what's below. In the future, evidently these kinds of interference patterns are replicated in order to produce 'gravity' on space-going craft. My enthusiastic physics tutor told me to look up something called the _Casimir Effect_ when we got back.

I never got around to it.

There was a crew, dressed in what can only be described as a tribute to ' _Star Trek: The Next Generation_ '. A few tourists were on board, and we even passed a small group of about twenty, or so, elementary schoolchildren.

The ship must have also doubled as a college, because there appeared to be lecture rooms... some with actual lectures taking place. Perpetual twenty-somethings sat in rapt attention as holograms filled the fronts of auditoriums. Giddeon and I wandered about for the better part of two hours while passing gardens, living quarters, restaurants and gymnasiums. Finally, we came to a wing that seemed to be dedicated to history and art.

__________

Paintings and sculptures adorned the rooms. The lighting was perfectly directed to give the maximum impact from each piece, and background music played softly in the air. It was beautiful in total; the whole area reflected Man's journey down through the ages. Scattered among the art halls, in small alcoves, were holograms with audio... all recreating important figures and artists from the distant 'past'. Of course, some of those figures hadn't been born, yet, from our original frame of reference, but, many had.

Giddeon and I listened to Martin Luther King give his ' _I Have A Dream_ ' speech in the strange, lilting dialect of Eden... it was almost like we were there, beside the reflecting pool. There was Abraham Lincoln and ' _The Gettysburg Address_ '. Patrick Henry with a recognizable version of ' _Give Me Liberty or Give Me Death_ '. Mother Theresa administering to the poor. Ghandi and Nelson Mandela walking amongst their people. Elvis singing ' _Blue Suede Shoes_ '. Mozart and Beethoven playing the piano... Michaelangelo chiseling away at 'David'... also, Leonardo Da Vinci, Confucius, Galileo, Picasso and the Wright Brothers.

All in 3-D, and as real as anyone you have ever seen.

I suppose I had my answer to the question of if our cultures would be carried forward into time.

Art, music and education hadn't really changed all that much, despite technology... what was beautiful and informative, before, was beautiful and informative, then.

__________

Finally, we came to a room at the very end of the exhibit. Giddeon and I walked into the carpeted area, and even though it was already quiet in that area, a hush seemed to descend around us.

It almost felt like we had entered a sanctuary, or a church.

There, on a wall, hung a painting... a stunning, beautiful painting. It was surreal. Not really done in a realistic style, but, almost. Just a hint of impressionistic flavor accented the edge of the subjects.

I stood there in amazement, taking in the aura of concern, compassion and love that was expressed on the face of a woman. She had on a veil, of sorts, thrown back over her head. She was looking down and cradling the head of a man in her hands; his face was turned mostly away from view. A tear spilled down her cheek... it was difficult to tell for certain if it was a tear of joy, or sorrow. For quite some time I was rooted to the floor with shock, because there was no mistaking the vision of loveliness hanging on that wall before us. No mistaking it at all.

Melody.

# Chapter 51

Back on Eden, Giddeon appeared just as amazed as I was by what we had seen. What on Earth was a portrait of Melody doing on a spaceship/museum circling a planet 500 light years from our home and 26,000 years in the future? It didn't seem possible.

"Holy Cow! In this time-line, it looks like Melody became an important figure... maybe in the arts or politics," exclaimed Giddeon.

"That was definitely her," I confirmed.

After a few moments of contemplation, Giddeon replied, "Looked like her to me."

"Well... she does paint..." I offered.

"And, she's getting a Master's in Ecology," he responded. "Could be something to do with that."

I scratched my head, and then shoved my hands down deep into my pockets. "Don't forget Philosophy... maybe she becomes a famous philosopher."

"Too weird," said Giddeon. "There were no inscriptions... like she didn't need an introduction."

"Bizarre." I shook my head.

"Humph," Giddeon grunted.

We were walking along the same green path on which we had traveled to arrive at the noon time meal. This time, we were headed in the other direction. I looked around me at the terrain which was filled with a mixture of familiar and unfamiliar vegetation. Flowers on nearby vines and trees were in the process of opening; most seemed to emit a sweet fragrance into the early afternoon air, and the mixture of smells was wonderful. "Giddeon... is any of this even real? I mean, there are so many alternate futures... do you think it's possible that you just picked one subconsciously that has a direct connection to us?"

"I am the subconscious... I'm not sure I have one."

"Humph." It was my turn to grunt. He had a point. "Well, I told you she was special."

"That she is... that she is," agreed my counterpart. We walked on in silence for a bit. Finally, my companion spoke, "Hey... did you notice anything about the guy she was holding?"

"Not really... I was concentrating on her. What about him?"

Giddeon was quiet for a moment, as if deciding something. Then,

"He sort of looked like you."

__________

We spent the rest of the afternoon exploring the planet. The beaches were indeed nude beaches. The only difference between nude beaches there and on Earth was that instead of old, out-of-shape men and the occasional, adventurous middle-aged woman, everyone on Eden was in their prime. It looked like the cast of some hip, young T.V. series was filming naked on the sands. They even surfed in the buff.

The cities were amazing. The architecture and designs were phenomenal... like Frank Lloyd Wright on steroids and acid. From what I could tell, the population centers were mostly laid out with a central plaza, and the streets radiated outwards from them like spokes of a wheel. No flying cars... at least, not any that I saw. I did see some spheres that may have contained people and products, but, they moved about more like dirigibles, sort of slow and deliberate. When they reached their destinations, they would shimmer and disappear.

Even Giddeon just shook his head and shrugged his shoulders at that.

There were bicycles, motorcycles and scooters, much like we have on Earth... except there was no sound from engines of any kind. Periodically, on the larger routes, a vehicle of sorts would glide by, inches off the ground as if held up by some type of magnetic repulsion. The cities had a definite perimeter, and at the edges there were no suburbs... just an immediate transition to green vegetation and flowers.

I wondered about the power sources for all of the inhabitants inside the bustling cities... not to mention all of the rural dwellings surrounded by gardenlike countryside.

"Solar, mostly," said Giddeon, reading my mind. "They have the conversion of energy up to about 98 percent efficiency. Graphene, carbon nano-sheets discovered during our time, plays a big part in the process. Also," he motioned in the atmosphere, "they've begun to harvest those pairs of 'virtual particles' I told you about... the ones that pop into and out of existence."

I noticed he had been using his hands even more often in conversation than he normally did... maybe he was spending too much time in Italy when he was gone.

He continued, "They quickly separate them before they can annihilate each other in a matter/antimatter type reaction, and somehow use the energy stored between them. I don't really understand the technicalities."

"Huh? You don't say? Now, you know what I feel like with my 5.9 percent."

"You're over 6, I just didn't want to listen to you crow about it."

I imitated the sound of a rooster, much to his delight. Then, I said, "Shouldn't we be getting back?"

"Not yet. There's a show tonight in the central plaza. I don't think you want to miss it."

"A concert?"

"Of sorts. Have you ever seen the _Cirque du Soleil_?"

"No. I've heard about it, though."

"Boy, are you in for a treat."

# Chapter 52

That night, a beautiful, blue-tinted moon rose into the heavens above us.

Thousands of people were gathered in and around the city's plaza, and the atmosphere of the place was quite festive. Music permeated the surroundings... however, I couldn't make out the source of the sounds. Restaurants and cafes were all along the periphery of the vast open expanse, and many people had choice seats at outdoor tables. We milled about for twenty minutes, or so, walking this way and that while taking in the foreign environment. Finally, the show began. It was preceded by a hush in the crowd. The lights of the entire city dimmed, all somehow coordinated with the event.

Music began to play. Soft at first, then, strong and powerful. It was all encompassing. The sounds were a mixture of recognizable and unfamiliar instruments, and was what I would label 'classical', although, I'm not sure that does it justice. The forceful tones and rhythms carried on for the better part of a minute, and then, something extraordinary happened.

A woman in a glowing red, skin-tight outfit ascended at least a hundred feet into the air. She somehow hung there, floating, silhouetted against the moon, and gracefully moved and rotated... almost like a dancer on a stage. She seemed to grow in size; at first I thought that she was descending... then, I realized the effect was caused by a projection from her suit.

The red light of the fabric had expanded outwards in a hologram. A hologram shaped exactly like her unsupported body.

Five more dancers leaped from the ground... three men and two women, all colored in blue. They rose quickly in unison. The group gracefully cart-wheeled in the sky and surrounded the first woman in a circle, each maybe thirty or forty yards from her center. The light from their suits, likewise, began to expand as it had done from the original woman's outfit; they were all then facing the ground, like skydivers that were dipped in acrylic, frozen in place.

I was awestruck by the beauty of the spectacle, and after a few seconds of their stillness against the heavens, the music stopped. The lights from the city and the suits all went out simultaneously, leaving an afterimage on my retinas. Suddenly, the music came back with a vengeance; at the same time, the dancers in the sky re-illuminated. There appeared a sheet of gold light which filled the inside of the circle... it connected the five on the periphery to the original performer. The fabric/hologram encasing the female in the center then became an even more brilliant shade of red.

She rose higher and higher into the sky, dragging the golden sheet with her as if it were a thin leaf of latex... almost like a trampoline pulled in an upwards direction. The whole scene took on the appearance of a beautiful, yellow cone; blue at the bottom and red at the apex.

' _Ooohs_ ' and ' _ahhs_ ' from the crowd, present since the first appearance of the artists, increased in frequency and depth. The cone then began to slowly change into a uniform color that can best be described as a deep, phosphorescent green. The woman at the top held her arms close to her body, and then quickly began to fall, gathering speed as she plummeted towards the 'earth', bringing her trampoline of light behind her. She came to an abrupt halt, maybe five feet from the ground, as people screamed in delight. The screams were also mingled with fear for their performer.

As if on a giant bungee cord, the woman was then pulled rapidly back in the other direction, all completely timed with the music.

She shot once again into the air, and as she passed through the center of the circle, the golden sheet detached and dissipated in a plethora of colors... reminding me of the aurora borealis as it dissolved into the magical night.

The artist continued her ascent, flipping and spinning; her suit, which was red, again, glowed brighter and brighter as she went. She came to a stop high above the others, who were quickly enveloped in an ethereal, pearlescent purple. A beam of white light came from each of the dancers below and connected with the ruby encased beauty above.

They began to spin, like children do around a Maypole, except that there was no pole... no visible means of support at all.

As we watched with complete fascination, the most complicated choreography and laser show imaginable ensued.

The members of the aerial ballet swooped and flew, rose and fell. They spun off and around each other in a kaleidoscope of interaction that's difficult to explain. The music was perfectly matched to the motions, and the colors were sometimes monochromatic, sometimes psychedelic, and always brilliant. Often, the dancers would come down close to the crowd, and people would reach up and touch their extended hands. A small child begged to be picked up, so, the woman in red took her and held her close. They levitated and spun with the music, but never more than five feet off the ground. Trails of scarlet circled out around them in a silken, luminous spiral.

The crowd cheered when the woman returned the child to her mother. I have never seen such an expression of pure joy as was on the little girl's face. The lead dancer then rejoined the troupe, and the show continued.

The finale was most unexpected. It was done to Pink Floyd... ' _Dark Side of the Moon_ '. Words would be an inadequate way to attempt a description, so, I won't even try.

At the end of the performance, somehow, the actual moon dimmed in the night sky above us, as if by an eclipse. Only an outline of the celestial body remained.

We were all left in blue-tinged darkness, with memories of dancing light just inside our heads.

I saw a shooting star arc its way across the sky. I made a wish that Melody could see all of this, someday.

# Chapter 53

Back on the boat, I sat on the deck, alone, under the stars. Well, I wasn't alone, exactly, because Boris was at my feet. However, he was asleep, so it felt like I was alone. I looked up into the heavens and contemplated fate.

If there were so many realities, how could there possibly be such a thing?

Was it fate that I met Melody that day? That our lives had intersected, briefly, at a quick nexus in time, before multitudes of worlds spun off again from that point? Were we only to have held hands that one time, and then been torn apart in that frame of reference? Or, in another reality, was I awake and not in a coma? Were she and I next to each other, still holding hands and finishing each other's sentences? Letting each other have bites of our desserts, or tastes from daily meals off of each other's forks? Was I teaching her to play golf, or, was she teaching me to paint?

Was she accomplishing something fantastic, with me at her side... something that would be remembered thousands of years into the future?

It was all so confusing.

Did every possibility exist like Giddeon said? If so, then it seemed like everything was fated. Each and every moment, each and every emotion... each and every particle in each and every place. It didn't seem quite right to me.

I considered that maybe fate was simply which of the realities were experienced, and which were left to spin off into infinity... real, yet, not so real, after all.

Still, it was perplexing. I looked into the heavens and wondered... ' _If everything's in the same place, then, why does she seem so far away_?'

I saw another shooting star streak across the night sky... once again, I heard the lines from Jack London that Giddeon had recited:

' _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.'

The irony was that with all of the things I had seen and done, and all of the places I had been and experienced over there... I didn't feel like a superb meteor at all. Is a meteor really magnificent if, after traveling for eons, it puts on a display in the upper atmosphere of a sleepy planet, and no one is there to see it burn? Is the flame wasted in the darkness if there is no one to see it glow?

If no one is looking up to make a wish, does the meteor at least get to make one before scattering forever into ash?

I went inside and fell asleep. Sometime during the night, Boris joined me.

# Chapter 54

The next day I went to play golf by myself since Giddeon was a no show. I presumed he was either back on his newfound planet or checking out the Italian girl from over 2000 years ago... or, I thought, maybe, he was somewhere else, entirely. I doubted very much that he was asleep, but I couldn't really have sworn to it. All batteries eventually lose their charge... he's definitely a Duracell, or an Eveready, or one of those long lasting ones, though.

The air was cool and I thought that maybe I should have brought a long-sleeved shirt. But, then, the sun came out and it became exceptionally nice... perhaps seventy-two degrees with just a hint of a breeze.

There were a few people on the course, so I just played right through them, literally. Sometimes, I would stop and listen to their conversations on the greens or tees, and when I did, it almost felt like I was part of the group.

Every now and then I would walk along with a foursome, tee it up right beside them, and say things like ' _Good shot!_ ' or ' _Bite!_ ' or ' _Nice putt!_ ' when it was warranted. All in all, if felt like a normal day in Paradise... except for the fact that no one could see me or hear me.

On the way home, though, Paradise changed.

__________

I had driven my Focus to the course, and when I was done with the round, deposited my clubs in the trunk. I got into the automobile, cranked the engine, and noticed that the fuel gauge, as always, was on 'Full'. I pulled out onto Glorietta and took a left towards the marina. I went slowly, because of the speed bumps, and played the radio on my way back, singing along with David Bowie... the song was ' _Changes_ '.

I was in a good mood. When I was almost home, however, I saw something that made my comatose heart grow cold. Very, very cold. There, in the street, was a cat.

It had obviously been hit by a car.

__________

The feline was close to the shoulder on the marina side of the thoroughfare, and the coloring of it was so familiar that my mind began to instantly rebel at the possibility. I thought, ' _No... no... no... certainly it can't be..._ '

I got closer, slowed and pulled sharply to the right, onto the curb. From across the pavement I could see blood was by the animal's mouth, pooling on the gray surface underneath it. In what felt like slow motion, I opened the door and made my way onto the road without looking, still hoping against hope that I was wrong. I could hear my heartbeat in my ears.

A car went right past me, unbelievably close, but I didn't pay it any attention.

I ran to the other side of the street and knelt down beside the cat. It was struggling to breathe... red liquid from its mouth was mixed with saliva, making foam bubbles on the cement. There was a large gash on its cheek, and I could see fascia and bone through the torn epidermis. I reached down and tried to gently pet it.

He looked up with big yellow eyes, and gave a pitiful attempt at a meow.

It was Boris.

I began to shake, and to cry. "No... no... no..." I repeated, out loud, that time. "No, Boris! You're gonna be alright, buddy!"

I reached out to him, but my hands just went right through his little body to the road below.

"Boris... Boris... I'm gonna help you... Boris!! You're gonna be okay!" I tried and tried to get my hands under him, so I could get him out of the boulevard and onto the grass, but, it wouldn't work. Tears began to flow copiously from my eyes, and my nose started running with mucus. I had never felt anything like what was going on inside of me at that moment. My constant companion for the last three years was laid out before me, blood leaking from his body, and I could do nothing... nothing, at all.

A car approached and slowed... I saw a teenage girl peer over with an anguished look at my animal on the side of the road. I screamed to her through her open passenger window.

"Help! Help!! Please stop! Pleasssse, stop!! He needs a vet! Pl-please... take him to a vet!!!"

My diaphragm began contracting in sobs. "H-he needs a vet! Please! Please... help him!!"

I continued to yell after her, but, she kept right on motoring. I could see her eyes in the rear view mirror as she got further and further away.

"Please... please... come back! Please... he-help him... please... oh, please..."

I begged until I could no longer see her eyes. Of course, she couldn't hear me. I reached up to wipe at my nose. Blood was on my hands and it smeared on my face. I hunkered down, still doing my very best to try and comfort my pet.

"Boris... Boris... Don't die on me, buddy! You c-can't die. Please... Boris... p-please, don't die!"

I attempted once again to get my hands under him. I saw a flicker, and felt the fur somewhat more solidly against my skin. Boris mewled in pain as I reached around him and began to gently move him onto the grass. I could feel broken ribs beneath my fingers, and I saw a sparkling path trailing behind him as I pulled on his damaged body.

He kept slipping from my 'grasp', but, finally, I succeeded in moving him out of the road. I could barely see him at that point, my eyes were so full of tears. I put my face down next to his neck and tried to get as close to him as I could, to let him know I was there. I could smell his familiar essence, and thought of all the time we had spent together, just that close. My tears spilled down, covering him with liquid sadness. I knew he was dying... and there was nothing I could do to help him. Nothing, at all. I raised my head up to the sky.

"Giddeon!" I screamed at the top of my lungs. "Giddeon!!'

My voice filled the street.

"Giddeon!!!"

I didn't think anything could be worse than the day I experienced that pain from the nuclear holocaust... I was wrong.

"Boris needs help!!" I shouted into the Coronado air.

"Giddeon!! Giddeon!!!" I closed my eyes, and I don't know if at that point if I was screaming or praying. I suppose I descended into hysterics. "Gi-dd-eon!! Oh, God... Giddeon!!!"

It felt as if I was falling down a dark well, all alone, the sound of my pleas echoing off the smooth, damp sides.

# Chapter 55

"Greg! Greg!! It's alright!! Look at me! Look at me!!" Giddeon was shaking me by my shoulders. I opened my eyes. My hands were covered in blood and there was a roaring in my ears.

We were on my boat.

"Listen... it's okay! It wasn't real!! You were in another frame of reference. Boris is right here!!"

I looked around at my blurry surroundings. Things slowly came into focus, and the noise in my head began to subside just a bit. I'm sure I looked like a mad man.

"Wha- what?" I wiped at my eyes and managed to smear more blood on my face. Boris was at the door, looking back with his tail all puffed out and acting like he very much wanted to bolt. He couldn't, because the door was closed.

"You somehow got into another timeline at the golf course... when you changed the weather!"

"I... I don't understand. B-Boris?" I looked at my cat and said his name, again. "Boris? Is that you?"

"He's okay," said Giddeon.

"Are you sure?" I looked to Gid, and then back to the cat.

"Positive."

I held a trembling hand down, and tried to calm the frightened animal. "Come here, Boris. Come here." After a few seconds of coaxing, Boris finally came over and sniffed at my unsteady fingers. He looked up and meowed, obviously wanting an explanation. I'm sure he could smell his own blood.

"It was so real... so awful," I said, quietly.

"I know."

Boris jumped up onto the couch. I sat there taking in his presence for the better part of a minute. Finally, I took in a deep breath and let out a laugh that was mixed with a sob. "I... don't think we can ever let him off the boat, again."

Giddeon smiled. "He'll get mighty hungry in here."

I wiped my eyes on my sleeves. "Yeah... you're probably right." I held my hand back out to the cat; he smelled my fingers, again, and tried to lick them. "You see that Boris...? Don't you ever go in the road, again. That's what can happen. Do you hear me?"

He looked at me with big, yellow eyes, and meowed.

I got up, went to take a shower, and watched his blood disappear counterclockwise down the drain.

# Chapter 56

I was reluctant to open the door, but, finally, late that afternoon, I did. Boris looked back in my direction like he was trying to reassure me that he would be a good cat and stay where it was safe. He then slowly sauntered outside, and went down towards The Boathouse in search of an evening meal. I watched him go, like a nervous parent on a child's first day of school. I took in a deep breath of the clear, Coronado air and went back inside. Giddeon popped into existence on the couch; there was some type of a drink with an umbrella in it in his hand.

"Want one?"

"What is it?

"A Blue Hawaiian. They're pretty good."

I nodded and one appeared on the table. I walked over and took a taste. "Kind of sweet, but, not bad." I set it back down.

"Wanna go watch the sunset off Maui? We can have some coconut shrimp and Banana's Foster."

I'm not sure where he got that combination, but it didn't sound half bad. I shook my head, though.

"No... I'm gonna stay here and wait for Boris. I don't really feel like going anywhere."

He nodded. "I understand. You'll feel better, tomorrow."

"Probably. It's just... it was so real."

"I know."

I took another sip of Blue Hawaiian. Some coconut shrimp appeared on a plate next to my drink and I had a bite. Delicious, naturally.

"The timeline outside... is it the 'real' one?"

"They're all real."

"So Boris is dead, somewhere else?"

"I'm afraid, so... most probably. But, he's very much alive, here. And, as far as your question goes, yeah, I think the one outside is the 'real' one."

"How do you know?"

"It just feels right."

I grunted, because I kind of knew what he meant.

He continued, "When you were playing golf, I felt the shift when you altered reality and changed the weather. When I do it, it's lighter... more of a localized phenomenon. When you did it, it was stronger. Like an entire shift from one world-line to another. Something felt wrong. It just felt... sad. I was here on your boat, and when Boris went to the door, I called him back and shut it. I could swear that I saw another Boris keep on going... I've never seen that, before. I don't know why I did it... shut the door, that is... it just felt... right."

"Thank God you did."

"I can't say for certain that this Boris would have met the same fate, but, I get the feeling that maybe he would have."

There was that word, again. _Fate_.

"So, you think this was meant to happen?"

Giddeon shrugged. "Maybe everything's meant to happen."

I took another bite of shrimp. It wasn't quite as good as the first, but it was still extraordinary. I shook my head. "The universe is a strange place."

Gid nodded. "Like someone once said: ' _It's not only stranger than you imagine, it's stranger than you can imagine._ "

I nodded, also, and finished my shrimp in silence. I decided I wasn't in the mood for Banana's Foster.

# Chapter 57

The next day, I woke up with Boris at my side. I realized that I did feel a little better. After a shower and a shave, I donned some shorts, and, also, a T-shirt that said ' _Life is Good_ '. It had a little stick figure and a surf board on the front. I'm not really sure why I picked that shirt.

It just felt right.

Giddeon appeared at the door, like a normal person, after having stepped on board from the dock. He had on a nearly identical outfit... only his stick figure was playing golf and the shirt was of a different color.

"Doing okay?" queried Gid.

"Yeah... I'm okay. Boris is still asleep."

"What do you want to do, today?"

I stuck my hands in my pockets, unsure if what I was about to ask was possible. I figured it couldn't hurt to try, so, I said, "I want to go see Mom and Dad."

Giddeon nodded. "Before they died?"

"No... I want to see how they would be, now. If they didn't have the car wreck."

He nodded, and a tunnel of light appeared.

__________

My mom was talking on the phone, there in her kitchen, in Alabama. She looked older; more grey was in her dark ponytail than I remembered. She was chatting about the talent on a reality show from the night before to someone on the other end. My dad was at the table, drinking a cup of coffee and perusing his morning paper. He had on reading glasses and was flipping through the sports section looking over scores... most likely baseball and golf. I went and stood beside my mother, and though I knew it would be futile, reached out to touch her. I could feel just the slightest bit of warmth from her arm as my hand went through it.

I then went over and sat down beside my dad, gazing at the man I hadn't seen in 8 years. It was so good to see him after all of that time. I could discern every pore in his skin, every crease in his clothing. His nails were neatly trimmed, and I watched him bring his coffee cup to his lips. He took a swallow of the cream-colored liquid... café-au-lait... and glanced over at Mom; an ordinary glance like a husband gives a wife every day after years and years of marriage. It gladdened me to see such a normal interaction, as if nothing had ever happened on that August afternoon. As if that eighteen-wheeler and their car had never met.

I sat there for a while just soaking in the scene and smelling the smells of home...the familiar scents of my mother and my father and their coffee. I stood up just as Mom was finishing her conversation. I heard her say, "Okay, Greg... I'll talk to you, later. I love you."

She had been talking to me.

I 'kissed' her on the cheek and said,

"I love you, too."

# Chapter 58

It took several weeks for me to totally shake the feeling that all of my waking life on that side was a dream, and that Giddeon was just implanting memories in my head in order to spare me from pain.

I was plagued by the thought that Boris was as dead as my parents, and, even if he wasn't, that there were no alternate realities. That I was living in a construct of my subconscious mind because I was too fragile to handle the truth.

I was afraid that the truth was this: that I was going to live out my final days in a coma, comforted by make-believe visions of make-believe worlds as I grew progressively weaker and weaker... until one day, having no other choice, my brother did indeed consent to finally have my feeding tube removed.

I would fade into oblivion with only three people, and, possibly, a cat, knowing I was gone.

Despite feeling that way, I still hung out with Giddeon and Boris. I still played golf at Coronado Municipal and North Island while drinking MangoMooManias. I even still went to visit Melody and eat at new restaurants. As the saying goes, ' _The show must go on_.'

I supposed that to be true... even if the show was all in my head.

__________

I found that Italian wasn't as difficult as I'd imagined... Giddeon and I practiced it while watching television broadcasts from the old country. Thanks to his help and my own extra 'horsepower', the words began to flow very quickly. I was amazed at how fast something like that could be learned, and, when I was fairly fluent, we moved on to German and French.

It was the languages that eventually brought me out of my melancholy.

As I was well on my way to mastering both French and German, I realized that there had to be truth in all that Giddeon had said about the nature of reality.

The sentence structures, syntax and inflections I was learning seemed too varied and too distinct to be part of a 'dream'. Fabricating memories was one thing, but fabricating entirely new knowledge and working vocabularies was something else. I decided that Boris was alive, and that when I was 'petting' him, it wasn't just a ghost petting a ghost... it was real. It was my little slice of pie cut from the never-ending cosmos. I began to feel that I had a chance of eventually coming out of my coma... and walking once again amongst the land of the living.

__________

I came to believe that I was over there because of fate, and that fate was that timeline that stretched like a silver strand from the past to the future. It shined brighter than all the rest of the fibers around it because that was the one meant especially for you.

I began to see destiny as a thin filament of glistening light.

A thin filament that contained all of the people and places and things you were meant to experience, and, when you were on it, it vibrated with your resonance.

I felt like if you listened closely enough, you could almost hear its song, radiating and filling space... the space between what was, and what was to come.

__________

I never did get around to calculus.

I just didn't ever seem to find the time. I think Giddeon secretly slipped in the fundamentals of it into our conversations, but, it never really seemed like mathematics when he did.

__________

I grew more and more curious about the nature of matter and energy, and joined Man's quest to understand his own existence.

__________

We took tours of atom smashers located around the globe, and watched as scientists attempted to peer into the subatomic world. I observed as they measured the results of energetic beams slamming into each other by the latticework of intricate particle pathways left behind.

Phosphorescent trails from pieces of reality scattered this way and that.

Giddeon explained, that by scientific consensus in our time, there were four fundamental forces... they were the strong and weak nuclear forces, the electromagnetic force, and gravity. The _Holy Grail_ was a theory unifying all four... a fundamental _Theory of Everything_ that explained how all of the forces exchanged information and interacted.

Gravity was the odd man out.

It didn't seem to fit with any of the proposed models in our era. On large scales, there was a beauty and symmetry to the universe. It was elegant and smooth. It was when you went deeper into the fabric of space and time that things began to get jumbled... that things became messy, and gravity presented more of a dilemma.

According to my subconscious, as far as the scientists knew, the constituents of matter seemed to be composed of 19 or 20 subunits, each with certain masses and 'spins' that didn't really seem to make much sense. Why those particular masses? Why those particular spins? No one had figured it out. And, to make matters worse, when energy is applied to those subunits, it gets absorbed and elicits changes in those particles, sometimes converting them into other players in a type of microscopic shell game.

I learned about quarks and neutrinos, electrons and muons. I listened to Giddeon lecture on about how, at very small scales, space was more discrete... that things seemed to be either 'here' or 'there'... and, there was no 'in between'. He related how we were limited by the wavelengths of the energy used to 'observe' the smallest aspects of the universe, and, also, how when one became more certain about the position of a piece of matter, the less sure one could be about its velocity. He called that the _Uncertainty Principle_ , and the quantum weirdness of it had been confounding scientists for decades.

My tutor relayed to me that the researchers' latest hope of finding the unifying theory behind all four forces is called _Superstring Theory_. It's a theory that postulates that the ultimate building blocks of the universe aren't really particles, but, tiny vibratory 'strings'... and, that nodes from the oscillations on these strings represent the different quarks and various other players in the quantum world.

I'm not sure I buy it, although the scientists sure seemed a lot smarter than me as they poured over plates and data... all the while scribbling down their findings on notepads and chalkboards.

The complexity and potential shapes and forms of all of the miniature constituents made my head spin. Giddeon just laughed and said not to worry about it... that it had the same effect on all of those guys in the white coats, too. He said that the scientists were perplexed because the complexity they perceived was really just a reflection.

As above, so below.

__________

Giddeon's theory is that everything is how it is simply because that's the way we think it is. He said that all explanations are just temporary, because when viewed from another angle, everything changes... and that scientists are actually more akin to lawyers, each arguing their case in the court of reality. He believes creation wasn't something that happened long ago, but, instead, is occurring each and every day, each and every second. And, _it's always_ _one step ahead of discovery_. Gid said that matter and energy are complicated, because we are complicated... also, he reiterated once again that _science just really allows for all of us to incrementally believe in magic_.

He then said something that stuck with me.

He said that most scientists didn't realize that what they were doing wasn't observing reality... they were creating it.

The more you look, the more you get...

' _Seek, and ye shall find_. _Knock, and it will be opened._ '

__________

Giddeon believes that as the framework of reality is being built out with each and every 'proof', that that's the way things become. At least, for a while. Then, along comes another point of view... and the world shifts to accommodate. Once it was flat, and now, it's round. Once, it orbited around the sun due to Newtonian rules of gravity, and, now, it's because of an Einsteinian warping of space-time.

According to Gid, things change, but there really is nothing to change. The only thing he feels is real is _the desire for reality_ , _itself_ ... and, that the unifying force underlying all of the observable universe is an emanation of that desire. He said that asking what gravity is... is pretty much like asking what holds your reflection inside of a mirror.

I still think of the dancers, flying in the night sky high above Eden.

It was easier to understand things when Giddeon spoke in normal sentences rather than with formulas, although I have to admit, I think a lot of what he said went in one ear and out the other. I tried to write it all down, but I'm afraid a lot of it was lost when I came back. I do remember that he had his own equation, of which he was quite proud... he took to wearing it on a T-shirt.

Instead of E=mc2, it was:

S = N2

I inquired about it, and he told me what it stood for.

Something = Nothing Squared.

__________

As usual, when I was intrigued by something, a song soon emerged.

I also noticed that Giddeon was becoming more and more a part of that process. I knew my depression had fully lifted when we came out with this novelty... a whimsical tune about a young kid trying to impress girls with an atom smasher:

I've got a cyclotron...

can't wait to turn it on,

Satisfaction guarantee...

what they all gonna say about me... now?

Saw it in a science magazine...

one used cyclotron, it's very clean,

It seemed too good to be this true...

and, it's painted baby, baby blue... oh, yeah!

Well, I know guys with chemistry sets, (that) think

they're cooler than red Corvettes,

Cruising down the autobahn...

they ain't got a cyclotron.

And, I know fellows with video-tapes...

remote control, is all it takes,

Big screen television, Wrath of Kahn...

ain't nothing like my cyclotron.

And, I know that I'm only thirteen...

and, I don't look like James Dean,

But, let me get one thing straight...

I accelerate!

So, baby, baby... won't you dance with me?

To the sub-atomic world... I've got the key.

And, even though... it's our very first date...

Ah, come on girl,

give it a whirl... let's accelerate!

My cyclotron, is up in my room...

ain't nobody coming home soon.

Don't see no reason that we should wait...

Ah, come on girl, give it a whirl...

Let's accelerate!

Top quarks, bottom quarks, color and charm...

They're all there on my animal farm.

Protons, neutrons, Pi Mesons, too...

They're all part of my particle zoo...

And, girl...

I really want to dance with you!

So, baby, baby... won't you dance with me?

To the sub-atomic world... I've got the key.

And, even though... it's our very first date...

Ah, come on girl, give it a whirl... let's accelerate!

Ah, come on girl, won't you give it a whirl?

Let's accelerate!

My cloud chamber's built for two...

We laughed and laughed at that song, and when we finally had the synthesizer parts, bongo drums and chopped cords the way we wanted, saved it using Pro Tools onto my Apple laptop.

# Chapter 59

It had been almost two years, and I began thinking about all of the songs that we had written. I pulled them up on my computer, and there must have been forty or so. I was amazed at the amount of material. Giddeon was looking over my shoulder at the lyrics as I went through them... page after page.

"We should have a concert," he said.

I looked back at him and replied, "I don't think we'll sell many tickets... we're invisible, and very quiet."

"If a tree falls in the forest, it still makes a sound... just no one bothered to ask the trees."

I rolled my eyes back to the computer. "You need to work on your philosophy a little more."

"It was still quick... 5 seconds or less."

"Thank God." I shut down the computer, toying with his idea. "Where would we play?"

"Humphry's?"

"I'm not crazy about outdoor acoustics... although, I do like the idea of night air," I said.

Giddeon thought for a moment. Then, his face lit up. "The Greek! It's kind of like being inside the way the backdrop comes halfway around you."

"L.A.?"

"San Diego's not the center of the universe, you know?"

"It is to me... but, I think the Greek might be cool. Let's do it!"

__________

The night was perfect for a concert. The air was brisk, and all of the stars were twinkling with maximum luminosity in the sky above because the moon had yet to make an appearance. Giddeon looked around, and several spotlights began to burn. A deck of synthesizers was behind us and our guitars were situated on holders next to two microphone stands. Everything was wireless; it was kind of odd not seeing the jumble of coaxial cables that used to be the norm at any live show. Floor mounted monitors faced us, angled up so that we would be able to hear the sound... Giddeon and I both disliked ear monitors, having noticed that so many singers came out just a shade flat or sharp when using such devices. I stepped up to the mike after strapping on my Ovation.

"Check... one, two... check!"

I strummed a couple of chords. The sound was perfect, as far as I could tell. Giddeon went up to his mike.

"Helllllooo, Los Angeles! Are you ready to rock, tonight?" He stepped on a pedal, and the synthesized sound of crowd response filled the air, almost deafening us. He grinned, and said to me, "Got to get the whole experience."

Then, I hit a sustained 'D' and started a count.

"One, two... one, two, three, four!"

I've been thinking about this universe,

Ev'ry time I've got some time.

Why does it just confuse me worse,

like a poem without a rhyme?

All those quantum theories,

psychedelic Timothy Learys

on Icarus wings.

And, even Uncle Albert,

is all broken-up about those

super-strings.

And, all of the King's horses and men...

couldn't put him back together again,

together again, together again...

Here, an instrumental chorus ensued. Giddeon, the synthesizer and the drum machine did an unbelievable job. Then, the vocals continued:

Always I try to unify, forces in my mind,

They don't seem to gel, I say what the hell,

I had good intentions, 26 dimensions

All I see is blue, when I think of you...

I hear Superstrings!

Again, an instrumental. Afterwards, the song carried on with speed and force:

And, I've been thinking about this universe,

every time I've got some time.

Why does it just confuse me worse?

It's almost like a crime.

All those quantum theories,

psychedelic Timothy Learys

on Icarus wings.

And even Uncle Albert,

is all broken-up about those

super-strings.

And, all of the King's horses and men...

couldn't put him back together again,

together again, together again

Another instrumental took over for the better part of 30 seconds. Finally, the music slowed to its conclusion, just vocals and acoustic guitar:

And, I've been thinking about this universe,

every time I've got some time.

Every time I've got... some time.

Gid stepped on the pedal and applause grew. I knew it wasn't real, but, still, it made me smile. After an appropriate amount of time, Giddeon ripped into a song I had never heard, yet was still able to play... thanks to a teleprompter that appeared with chords and lyrics scrolling past. It was fast paced and full of chopped strumming. Very cool:

I know a little club,

sometimes I go there late at night.

I like the atmosphere...

it's kind of strange, but, so right.

Once upon a time,

it might have been called groovy.

Once upon a time, the cat's meow.

Once upon a time's anachronistic movie.

Once upon a time, is now.

That's why I go there...

That's why I go there...

That's why I go there...

Late at night.

And, how many times have you said to yourself,

'My life's so ordinary...

my life's so on the shelf.'?

How many times have you tried to run away...

but, you just stay at home,

day after day, after day, after day?

That's why I go there...

That's why I go there...

Late at night.

You wanna know what that place is like? Yeah?

It's like George Jetson, moved to Casablanca,

to smoke a water-pipe and have some fun.

It's like Elvis Presley, sequencing the genome,

of a brand-new vampire for the sun.

That's why I go there...

That's why I go there!

And, how many times have you said to yourself,

'My life's so ordinary... my life's a living hell.'?

How many times have you tried to run away...

but, this world just catches up, day after day,

after day, after day, after day?

That's why I go there...

That's why I go there...

That's why I go there...,

That's why I go there...

Late at night... Oh, yeah!

__________

We played for the better part of three hours. One nice thing about being in a coma was that we didn't have to break down the equiment after the show. A flash of light, and I was back home in my boat. Boris looked up from the bed with sleepy eyes, and then put his head back down on my pillow. I drank a beer and watched him sleep for a very long time.

__________

That night, I dreamed of Melody, again.

We were on the stage of The Greek Amphitheatre, alone, underneath a spotlight. She had on a white dress, white stockings and ballet shoes; a sheer veil covered her face. Music began to play. I walked up to her, and I was also wearing white. Upon my body was a form-fitting suit much like the dancers had worn that night on Eden. I pulled the veil back over her head and let it gently drape down around her shoulders.

We kissed, and it was the most sensual meeting of flesh I had ever experienced.

I felt somehow different, more muscular and graceful. I held out my arm, and she reached over with the most fluid motion imaginable and grasped my hand. We began to dance, smooth and refined, flowing with the transcendent composition of sounds and joined with the music. She was grace personified, revolving and moving to the rhythm like liquid silk; spinning slowly away from me and then back in so very close. Bending low, and extending one leg to the sky in that impossible pose of expert ballerinas. Her eyes were locked on mine, and I moved like Nureyev beside her.

It was at the same time, both effortless and exciting. I leaped high into the air, landed softly, and then pirouetted with ease... even though I had never done anything like that before.

We followed an instinctual choreography, knowing exactly what to do in each and every second, almost reading each other's minds as we danced a stunning, beautiful, dance. Her trust in me was complete, and I caught her perfectly each time when she leaped or fell or spun into my embrace. It was so romantic, so complete, that we both were crying as we danced... tears of joy, tears of gratitude.

When it was over, I lay on the stage under the spotlight. She was kneeling over me, cradling my head in her hands. I closed my eyes, wanting the moment to go on forever, and felt deep in my soul, that somehow, it would.

__________

I woke up next to her. She was weeping in her sleep. I kissed her lips, and made my way back home.

That time, without Giddeon's help.

# Chapter 60

Dreams are no substitute for real life, and finally, there came a day that I always knew would come if I stayed unconscious long enough.

Melody met someone.

He was a nice enough fellow. An ecologist that had been out of school and working with the state for a few years. I think his job involved monitoring the habitats of endangered birds, small mammals and reptiles for the Department of Parks and Recreation. He was 33 years old, wore little John Lennon wire-rimmed glasses, and had an affinity for Starbucks coffee. They met when she was doing an internship at one of the parks.

The first time I saw them holding hands, I felt like I had been kicked in the stomach. I didn't think I was the jealous type, but, apparently, I was wrong. It was like he was intruding on our territory, trespassing on sacred ground that belonged to us. I had to fight the tendency to dislike the guy, because he had done nothing wrong.

Still, I wasn't fond of him... plus, I thought he was too old for her, even though he was only 7 years her senior. I had trouble adjusting to this new reality and became more focused on somehow returning to the other side. It wasn't that he was wrong for her... it's that I was so right for her. How did I know, you might ask? With the help of Giddeon, I had seen it with my own eyes.

__________

We were one of those couples that made you think that they were in the first week or so of their relationship. Holding hands, looking tenderly at each other, nuzzling close when seated. Except, it had been almost four years. I had never been hit by the golf ball; I had even returned to school and finished my degree... turf management.

We lived in Arizona for a while during my studies, but had recently returned to San Diego. She and I had just gotten engaged and were planning a June wedding. Melody was as beautiful as ever, and I seemed to have changed into another person... responsible and happy. I still had the boat, however, we only stayed there on weekends. We were both gainfully employed and actually had enough money to start thinking about purchasing a small house in a weak real estate market. We shopped at farmer's markets, and both took turns learning to cook new dishes in her condo. I would still sit and watch her paint; oftentimes, I would come up behind her and place my hands on her shoulders at the neckline as she worked. Sometimes, she would turn, give me a brilliant smile and tilt her head up for a kiss. Then, she would go back to her art. Boris and Samantha would sit on the couch, close to each other, waiting for treats or attention.

In another scenario, we were in Oregon... just temporarily for the summer. I was a journalist, and Melody was teaching summer school at the university. We were in our late thirties with two children... an eight year old boy, and a five year old girl. Thankfully, both of them looked like their mother. We spent our free time exploring the beauty of the region. Crater Lake and the coast. The mountains and the small towns. We had a small SUV with all of the amenities, including fold-down computer screens in the back to keep the kids entertained as we traveled.

She was a great mother; she looked at the children, and, also at me, with the same look of fascination and love that I recognized from our earlier 'life' in San Diego. Melody pretty much always had that reflection on her face... as if she appreciated each and every sight and each and every sound that came her way. It seemed like she just couldn't wait to see what else the future had in store.

In yet another timeline, Melody was an artist and a part-time model. She was pregnant for the first time, and doing a maternity spread for a woman's magazine. I would carry her to the shoots, taking time off from my job as an account manager at Charles Schwab. She looked lovely... I could see why they wanted her as their model. She was the perfect picture of a first-time mother-to-be. She would smile at me between shots, then wink playfully and blow kisses.

It was ridiculous. Every reality we sampled. Even the ones that had some type of hardship or tragedy involved... they were always the same. Together. Two people perfectly matched, fitting next to each other like two peas in whatever pod they found themselves. We hardly ever argued, and when we did, it was actually playful... we would always end up laughing and hugging as we came to some kind of amicable resolution.

Gid and I went through dozens of potentialities... time and time again they came out unbelievably positive. It occurred to me that maybe no matter who Melody was with, it would be a perfect union; so, I had him check. I didn't have the heart to look.

He saw quite a few of her futures with her new boyfriend. It wasn't the same. Some were good, but, nothing exceptional. Some were bad, ending in divorce and tears. It appeared pretty much to be a reflection of everyday statistics on marriage... about a 50/50 proposition. And, what percentage of the ones that do stay together can be considered happy? I don't know the answer to that.

I became more and more convinced that we were not only a match made in heaven, but that our match _was_ heaven. I had to get back... not only for me, but for her. It was simply the way things were meant to be.

It was destiny, but, destiny can be a hard road to find.

# Chapter 61

I explored transcendental meditation, thinking that if I could alter my state of consciousness, I might kick start my brain on the other side. I took psychotropic drugs, trying to affect my alpha waves and alternate worlds... all in a search for the door to 'reality'. I immersed myself in sensory deprivation tanks, and would spend hours concentrating on nothing but the rehabilitation room and my inert body as it atrophied in a white-sheeted bed.

Giddeon hypnotized me. I hypnotized myself. I would run to a state of exhaustion, looking for that jogger's high. I thought maybe that that would effect a change and somehow help tip me over into my old world. It didn't.

Nothing worked. Giddeon would check my vitals in the facility when our experiments were underway. My heart rate never changed, my breathing never quickened.

We went back into the recent past and looked over my records at the institution. We did find a few instances where my vitals had been altered, just the slightest amount, along with my brain waves. Giddeon and I correlated them to the times of strong emotional periods. Mainly, the changes had happened when I had dreamed of Melody... also, the alterations occurred when I found Boris that day on the side of the road.

It wasn't much, but, at least it was something.

__________

As time went on, over there, I became desperate to get back to her because I found I was feeling more and more disconnected.

Almost a year went by where we shared no dreams.

__________

Giddeon fabricated memories for me, some sweet and tender, some horrific and jolting.

He tried to replicate and expound upon emotional states that had seemed to have had some effect on my comatose body in the past. Even when he did it without telling me, it only had minimal results... I think perhaps that was because he and I were becoming more and more united on a neuronal level. I could always tell, after the initial surprise, that it wasn't the 'real' timeline... that it wasn't the silver strand that shone so brightly amongst all of the others. I don't really have any other way to describe it.

I just knew.

__________

This went on for months. Of course, we would take time to recharge... golfing and surfing, along with the occasional trips into time. However, other than the times after the coma began, I avoided the past... particularly anything to do with religion. I didn't really want to know such history, especially after my experience with Daniel. I think there are some things that should remain a mystery.

That's what faith is all about.

Also, I think I was afraid of changing things... upsetting some type of balance that would affect me meeting Melody on that sun-drenched afternoon. I just couldn't take the chance, no matter how remote.

The future, however, was fair game.

# Chapter 62

Giddeon came to me one day with an excited look on his face. I knew he had been somewhere, because it had been a day and a half since I had seen him. He plopped down beside me on the couch, and ran his fingers through his light brown locks.

"I found it!" he exclaimed.

I had been reading a medical journal about brain waves. Not just the action potentials generated by neurons, but the calcium flux in the glial cells supporting them. For decades, scientists had considered glial cells as just a matrix of building blocks whose job it was to insulate, nourish and defend the main players... but, it was looking more and more like they were involved in thought, creativity and memory. A lot of the research was being done here at UCSD. I looked up from the glossy pages in my hands.

"Found what?"

"The movie theatre of the future." He looked very satisfied with himself.

"What do you mean?" I put the magazine down through Boris, who was on the couch beside me. My cat looked at me with a bit of annoyance, so I pushed the journal onto the floor at my feet. He seemed okay with that and put his head back down on his paws.

"The interface... ' _There's a revolution in my head'_." He sang the first part of that song we had written quite some time ago.

"Oh... are you sure?"

"Pretty sure... it's waaaaay in the future. Further than I've ever been. Two galaxies over." He pointed a thumb in the general direction, and I thought about that old book, ' _The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy_ '.

"Giddeon... are you sure it's real? We've been through this before. Everything is amorphous, especially the further you get from _the_ _here and now_. Do you think maybe you're just finding what you want to find? You know... creating your own memories?"

"You tell me."

There was a flash, and the longest tunnel of light, yet, surrounded us.

__________

We were in a room. I'm not sure if it was a house or a clinic of some type. The walls were made of metal or composite, I couldn't really tell since the surfaces were so uniform; no angles were anywhere at the junctions of the floor, walls and ceiling. In the periphery around us there were no doors or windows, and four 'people' were on separate, silver, chair-like beds that were off to one side. The beings were small, between four and five feet in length, and naked, from what I could tell... there was nothing to help differentiate male from female in the pelvic regions. Their skin was smooth and pale, and they had no hair anywhere on their bodies... except for eyelashes, which, oddly, were long and luxurious. Their lower jaws were quite diminutive, and their lips had just the slightest blush of pink to them.

They appeared to be asleep.

On the creatures' heads was a scattering of patches, sort of like those used for an EEG; three on each side for a total of six per cranium. I could see that the 'people' were breathing by the rise and fall of their level, nipple-less chests. I turned and whispered to Giddeon, using a low voice out of habit because they looked so peaceful,

"Are you sure they're human?"

"Oh, yes... just very, very, many years from 'now'."

I had endured over three years of 'air quotes'. That alone should have gotten me a ticket back.

"Wow. They sure look different."

"Selection and genetic manipulation will do that."

I shook my head back and forth. "I suppose so."

We stood there for some time, taking in the group before us. It all was like something out of a movie.

__________

Suddenly, the room filled with brilliant color. It quickly condensed into shapes and forms, becoming a hologram of sorts. I looked around in absolute amazement as images came into view.

Behind us, I recognized the interior of my boat. Giddeon was on the couch next to me, and I was putting the magazine down through Boris. I then saw myself push the magazine onto the floor. I could see we were talking, but heard no sound. There was a flash, and the interior of the room in the future momentarily resembled the radiant tunnel of light.

I looked over at Giddeon, and even he appeared shocked.

__________

One of the creatures opened her eyes. I say her, because I could somehow sense a feminine aura emanating off of her skin. Plus, there was a sweet, familiar smell that I had come to associate with estrogen. The eyes looking at me had enormous pupils surrounded by coronas of blue.

She smiled.

I'm sure she couldn't see us, but, the hologram changed. She was seeing herself... through _my_ eyes. There was such tenderness in the look that I almost felt weak.

In a few moments, the strangest thing happened.

A cat walked through the wall, from our right, and into the room. It was a carbon copy of Samantha. She went to Giddeon, twined through his legs, and then, over to me, where she attempted to rub her face on my jeans.

I reached down and let her smell my hand and run her whiskers through my fingers.

I looked back up and all of the eyes on the semi-supine people were open. The hologram around us had taken on four different perspectives, like slightly offset mirrors. The female that had opened her eyes first, slowly lifted a hand to her lips. I noticed there were only three fingers and a long, elegant thumb.

She winked and blew me a kiss.

__________

With a flash of light, we were back.

"Holy Toledo! That was bizarre!" Giddeon exclaimed. "They couldn't see through my eyes... only yours! When I went there before, they all just laid there, like they were asleep!"

I was somewhat unsteady on my feet, so I sat down next to Boris. He leaned over, smelled my hand, and then tried to rub against it. I 'scratched' behind his ears.

"I... I don't even know what to say. If it wasn't real, you have the best imagination, ever."

"I'm good at fabricating things, but not that good. The emotion was almost palpable," said Gid.

I nodded my head in agreement. "I felt it, too. How in the world did you know?"

"Know what?"

"That they were remote viewing me."

"Easy... oh, you didn't see it."

"See what?"

"The outside of the building," he said.

"What about it?"

Giddeon smiled.

"It had that portrait of you and Melody on it."

__________

We tried to go back to that room in the distant future, but, oddly, Giddeon couldn't access it, again. As a matter of a fact, he couldn't get past that time and place... almost like he had hit some type of barrier.

I didn't think much of it; however, it perplexed him, greatly.

__________

Days passed, as they have a tendency to do, and Melody got engaged. They were planning a June wedding, which was only six months away.

Over that past year or so, I had quit going over to her condo because her fiancé was so often there... and, when he wasn't, there were always pictures of him scattered around different places that constantly reminded me that there were upcoming nuptials. She even had him in his eco-outfit... khaki shorts, T-shirt, a floppy hat and old Berkshire sandals... on her screen saver. The picture looked to have been taken somewhere in the California desert.

I didn't love her any less. If anything, I loved her more. After seeing so many permutations of her future, I felt a knife in my heart when I saw them together... knowing that she had at best an even chance of moderate happiness with him.

She was meant to be with me.

I felt it as strongly as I had ever felt anything in my life. And, to make matters worse, my health on the other side had begun to deteriorate. I had had pneumonia twice, and my bone marrow was becoming suppressed. Also, my kidneys and liver were performing not so well. Jeremy came out each time there was a crisis, but I could tell that even he was losing hope. I begged him to not give up on me... that I was fine. That I was coming back.

I'm not really sure I believed it, any longer.

Giddeon, however, was a rock. He never lost faith. Even when two weeks before the wedding he informed me of some terrible news.

# Chapter 63

"She has cancer."

I knew by the expression on his face that he was talking about Melody. At that point, I could practically read his mind, anyway, if I concentrated.

"How do you know?" I asked.

"I can smell it. I wasn't sure, at first, but, now, I'm certain."

"What kind?" My heart felt like it had stopped beating in my chest.

"Lymphoma... I think. Or, maybe, leukemia. They both have a similar odor. I've been to a few hospitals, sniffing out the oncology wards. That's what I have it narrowed down to. It seems to be getting worse rather quickly. She doesn't know it, yet... she just thinks she's tired and stressed about the wedding."

I began to panic. "We've got to help her... we... we've got to do something!"

Giddeon was quiet for a few endless seconds. Then, he said, "I've been racking my brain... I don't know if it'll work, but, I have a plan."

At that point, any shred of hope was better than none at all.

"Tell me."

__________

"We've got to get some of her DNA over here."

I shook my head, not following. "How... I mean, how can we do that? And, why? What good will it do?"

"Do you remember when you pulled Boris from the road?"

"Yeah..."

"You shouldn't have been able to do it. I've never been able to physically interact with a conscious, living field even though I've got 92.3 % of the brain power."

Ordinarily, I would have been thrilled to know I was up to 7.7 percent, but, that didn't really register at the time.

"Plus, you had his blood all over you. Actual living blood. And, it didn't go away when you shifted out of the alternate time line. You had to take a shower, remember?"

I nodded.

"Somehow, when you're in a really emotional state, you bridge the gap. I think you did it before, with her."

"When?" I asked.

"When you two were on the couch that day... the first time you went over to her place, alone."

I thought back. "When I tasted her tears?"

"Yes. I didn't think much about it at the time, but, the more I do, the more I realize how odd that was. We have to go back to that afternoon and collect some DNA... hopefully, there'll be enough from epithelial cells sloughed off in the fluid."

"Why... I mean, what will we do with her DNA?"

"Sequence it... at least the parts that matter."

I was attentive, trying to figure out where he was going. "What parts?"

"Her MHC molecules."

"MHC... what're those?"

"Major Histo-compatability Complexes. They're two different types of proteins, one of which is expressed on the surfaces of most cells. A lot of alternate sub-type combinations can exist, and those differences are why it's so difficult for one person to donate tissue to another person... if they don't match, the recipient's immune system just destroys the donated organ. Anti-rejection drugs keep that from happening, but they bring on a whole host of other problems. The odds of a perfect match are astronomical, by the way."

"Okay... so how is that gonna help her?"

He blew air out of his lungs, as if uncertain what he was about to say would actually work. "We're gonna change your MHC's to match hers. You'll be a perfect bone marrow donor."

I looked at him, hoping he knew of a way for us to accomplish that. However, even if we did, there was still a major hurdle. He obviously knew what it was without me asking.

"Then, all we have to do is get you back over there."

# Chapter 64

One bridge at a time. That's what I told myself. First we had to get the DNA.

A pipette with a tip, sterile Eppendorf tube, and a small container of ice appeared in Giddeon's hands. Boris knew something was up and meowed. I don't think he liked it when we flashed away, and he somehow knew that the luminous tunnel was coming. In an instant, we were back in Melody's condo; it was exactly as I remembered it from that day. She and I were on the sofa, watching ' _Ghost_ '.

I looked to the television and once again saw Patrick Swayze behind Demi Moore at the pottery wheel, shaping that wet clay while music played in the background. Giddeon and I walked over close... both Melody and 'myself' were unaware of our presence. However, Samantha was not. I saw her looking back and forth between us, as if confused.

A tear began to roll down Melody's cheek and Giddeon quickly prepared to collect some of the fluid as my old self reached out to touch the wetness. There was a sparkling flicker as Giddeon sucked up some of the tear into the pipette. I remembered that golden flicker happened when I was over there the original time... I saw it when I reached out to her beautiful, wet face. Samantha looked at us and let out meows and trills; then, Melody held the cat close, just like before. Giddeon squirted the fluid into the Eppendorf tube, snapped the lid shut, and placed it, there, on the ice.

__________

We transported back to my boat. Boris had his ears down and a pained look upon his face as we returned... I suppose it was a bit bright for him. He quickly got over it, though.

"First, we need some blood from you," said Giddeon.

I sat at the table and he drew a tube, using a syringe and rubber tourniquet that had just popped into existence. When he was finished, he put that tube on ice, right next to the sample from Melody.

"I'll be gone awhile. No sense in you tagging along."

"Where are you going?"

"UCSD... gotta make some primers and see if we have anything."

I didn't really know what primers were, but I was glad that Giddeon did. I promised myself to be more studious if I ever made it back. A lobster dinner with a steaming baked potato appeared on the table.

"Why don't you have a nice meal and get some rest. We'll have a long day, tomorrow... with any luck."

And, then, he was gone. Not knowing what else to do, I followed his advice and sat down to eat. Boris jumped up on the table and sniffed at my plate. He gave a plaintive meow, settled down across from me, and just lay there watching me pick at my food.

__________

Giddeon arrived bright and early the next morning. I was already up and dressed.

"Got it. It took most of the night, but I have the sequences we need."

I nodded. "Good... what do we do, next?"

"Now, we educate you."

__________

We flashed into a lecture room at one of the local colleges. I'm not sure which school we were at, but the room appeared new. Giddeon and I were on a stage in front of an amphitheatre of seats; a projection screen was behind us.

"The first problem we have," he said, "is that your blood is type 'A' positive, and Melody's is 'B' negative."

"Okay..."

Giddeon turned to the screen, with a clicker/laser pointer in his hands. A PowerPoint presentation appeared on the large, white rectangle behind him.

"You two have different surface antigens on your red blood cells... actually, this part doesn't matter so much if you're replacing all of her bone marrow with yours, but, it'll be good practice. Plus, there are new therapies coming down the pipe where you don't have to totally wipe out the recipient's stem cells with radiation... so, you having 'B' negative could come in handy."

He then went through an explanation of antigens, and how antibodies could stick to them using the ends of their variable regions (Y-shaped ends that were different from antibody to antibody) in order to tag something considered 'foreign' by the body. Such tagging would cause a clumping, in certain cases, if one type of blood was introduced into a pool of another type of blood. We then watched an eight minute video produced by graphic artists from Harvard, called ' _The Inner Life of the Cell_ '.

It was a well done piece of work, and Giddeon explained, like a narrator, what was going on in each of the scenes.

Then, for the next forty-five minutes, my teacher related to me the basics of Cell and Molecular Biology. I took it in quickly... there was more communication going on between us at that point than vocals and projector slides conveyed.

Over the past few months of my coma, it seemed as if Gid and I were more and more on the same page with all of our thoughts and emotions... like we were merging, somehow. Becoming more interconnected. So, when he was done with his lecture, I felt pretty much like I had completed a graduate course in the science he had presented.

Next, something amazing transpired.

Giddeon produced the tube of blood he had drawn from me, and set it in a rack on the podium. I then felt a quivering type sensation, and, in a few seconds, we began to _shrink_ ... all the while being drawn down towards the tube. The process began to go faster and faster; it was almost like the tunnel of light, again, but just slightly different. In a few seconds we were floating in fluid, which was thick and viscous, with enormous biconcave discs all around us. I presumed they were red blood cells.

We continued our miniaturization process, and the exterior of a red blood cell's phospholipid bilayer came into greater focus. Giddeon pointed out one of the 'A' antigens protruding from its surface; the structure resembled a bizarre type of tree, branched and even slightly green in color. No spoken words were necessary. At that point we were simply communicating telepathically.

"Now, I want you to see a lymphocyte," I heard inside my head.

We jetted off to a nearby cell that appeared somewhat larger than the RBC... it also had a different surface appearance, from what I could tell. It was more rounded and the proteins scattered here and there in the fluid mosaic of its membrane were more numerable and varied.

Giddeon showed me the MHC molecules and I took note of their shapes and orientations. The Type I molecules were decidedly different from the Type II molecules, and my instructor relayed to me that they both had different purposes as far as the immune system was concerned.

After looking them over, we went inside, through some type of channel, and began to shrink even more. Deep within the interior, we made our way through a pore and were presented with all of the genetic machinery housed by the nucleus.

Things were looking less and less like the artists in the video had envisioned them... I suppose that was a function of how light interacted with structures on such a small scale. I actually saw DNA wrapped around a long line of histones, which are proteins shaped like spools. Gid explained to me that that was the way the genetic blueprint was stored when not in use... it was circled around histones like rope around boat cleats.

We then went over to an unraveled section, which was waiting for an RNA polymerase to come by and do its thing. 'Its thing' was to read the genetic code while zipping along one strand of the DNA... and, while it zipped, it would simultaneously produce a transcript of messenger RNA. That transcript would then be used by other machinery in the cytoplasm in order to make a protein. Before my lecture, that was about all I knew of Cell and Molecular Biology... thanks to a couple of documentaries on NOVA that I had seen, years, before.

I still remember sitting at the restaurant in Seaport Village and contemplating the transcripts inside of Melody... the transcripts and all of the proteins that were produced.

__________

Before long, we went down almost to an atomic level, and I felt, more than saw, the nucleic acids that were bound together in a double helix. It's hard to explain how they looked, because the atoms themselves can't really be viewed. They're fuzzy... more like fields than things. I sensed motion within them. I suppose it was from the peripheral electrons and, also, from _Brownian movement_ inside of the nuclei.

After a few moments, we buzzed along a section that coded for an MHC molecule. The constituents in that section... adenosine, guanosine, cytidine and thymidine... were linked to each other in seemingly random order on one side of the strand, and also, to their counterparts on the other side of the strand. The _purines_ and _pyrimidines_ were 'holding hands' by hydrogen bonding with each other across the way... rungs in the ladder of life.

As we went, Giddeon pointed out where the differences were between my nucleoside sequences and Melody's. Here and there, a base pair glowed, or sometimes, a stretch of them, which helped me see the ones that were 'incorrect'. Somehow, all of this knowledge went easily into my brain, and, I realized, on an instinctual level, where the differences were and catalogued them.

We went over to where my 'A' antigens were coded. I saw what should have been there in order to have 'B' antigens, instead. Also, we scooted along the coding regions for the different 'Rh' factors, and Gid showed me the 'D' factor... that's the one that gives you the + or – in your blood type depending on if it is present or not. It was all truly mind boggling, and I was just glad to have enough of a mind to be boggled. I was very eager to be learning... because, finally, it mattered. It mattered tremendously.

Knowledge took on a whole new aspect for me... it was no longer just useless factoids to be stored in my brain.

It was a way to save the one I loved.

__________

When we were back I could see Giddeon's eyes shining with delight.

"How cool was that?" he asked.

"Unbelievable!"

"Did you get it? Did you see the differences?"

"Yes. It's hard to believe that it all works that way."

"I know... it is, isn't it?" he replied.

We left the lecture room and walked down the hall to a lab. Giddeon sat me down.

"We'll start with the easy one. I want you to concentrate on your 'A' antigens. Think of the coding regions and try to make them into 'B' configurations. You know the way you've kind of got the hang of making pizza and beer appear? It's basically the same. Except you're changing things on the inside."

"I think this is a little more complicated than pizza and beer."

Giddeon smiled. "I have faith in you."

He lowered the lights, setting the mood in the room for magic, I supposed.

__________

I closed my eyes and concentrated, thinking about the regions I had seen. My breathing slowed; I saw the all of the 'incorrect' molecules in the stretches of my DNA and tried to interchange them with her 'correct' sequences. As I relaxed, I could feel something happening, but I wasn't sure of exactly what it was. After a few minutes, Giddeon drew some blood and quickly set the tube on ice.

"I'm gonna run this, and then go have a look for myself to verify any changes."

He quickly set up a PCR (Polymerase Chain Reaction) and popped it into a machine. It took an hour and a half to run, and then, another couple of hours to sequence. We went and had some Bronx Pizza while we waited on the sequencing, which, while we were gone, was being done by the fastest state of the art machine in existence... it hadn't even been patented, yet. Giddeon took that opportunity to go through more lecture material. By time we were done, I almost felt like I had a Ph.D.

We flashed back into the lab and Giddeon read part of the results. He grunted, and then disappeared into the tube of blood. Within seconds, he was back.

"I have good news and bad news."

"Give me the bad news, first."

"You still have type 'A' blood."

"What's the good news?"

Giddeon picked up the report and looked at the other page. He grunted, again, and smiled.

"Actually, two pieces of good news. First, you induced several mutations in the region, some of them correct. Secondly, the sequencing totally corresponds to what I saw. I wanted to make sure I wouldn't just see what it was I wanted to see, so I only read half of the results before I went to check for myself. The second half is exactly spot on with my observations, too."

"Okay, so what do we do, now?"

"We try again. Only this time we don't have to kill time waiting for the machine to run."

"Couldn't we have just gone into the future and read the results?"

He grinned. "Yep, we could have... but, I don't always trust the future... too many of them."

He dimmed the lights, again, and 'showed' me the sequence we were shooting for by somehow projecting it into my head.

I sat on the floor in a Buddha-type pose, and again closed my eyes. I don't know why I did that...

It just felt right.

# Chapter 65

I can't tell you how many times I got stuck with a needle over the next two days. Actually, they were just pin pricks, but still there was the little flinch associated with it. Nothing like being burned alive in a nuclear holocaust, mind you, but nevertheless, a little unpleasant.

Finally, we got it right.

I was 'B' negative... at least on that side of reality. My blood stayed the same in the rehabilitation facility. Giddeon held my hand up to my face.

"Smell that."

I inhaled. I did notice a slight difference, almost like cinnamon and clover. "Nice," I said.

"Hopefully, that'll carry over with you when you get back. Now, all we have to do is change 6 MHC molecules... the ones that don't match."

I hung my head. I couldn't imagine how many more attempts that would take.

Giddeon patted me on the shoulder. "Not tonight, though. You need some rest. We'll go have a burger on the deck at The Del and watch the sunset. Rome wasn't built in a day."

"I think I'd rather get my tools and start on that."

He laughed, and the two of us jumped over to Coronado.

__________

We were seated at a low table there on the deck overlooking the Pacific. Two huge cheeseburgers, along with Cokes and fries, appeared before us.

He and I ate in silence, watching the sun as it slowly made its way into the blue-grey ocean.

When the last remnant of it dipped below the horizon, the most beautiful, brilliant green flash colored the horizon... it even reflected off of the small clouds high above us. It was indescribable. I had heard about it, but never experienced it.

"The green flash!" exclaimed Giddeon. "Cool. You know... I've heard you have to be in love to see it?"

I thought back over the past four years, and, finally, said,

"Yes... that's what they say."

# Chapter 66

The next 10 days were brutal. I tried again, and again, and again, to get my MHC molecules to change into the proper configurations. Sometimes, I would get one, and then, on a subsequent attempt, find that the one I had gotten to match had mutated. It was like trying to herd cats, only not nearly so entertaining. Have you ever played with a Rubik's Cube? It was similar to that, except, imagine you're colorblind and have to randomly turn the 3D square this way and that... then, when you're done, you have to have someone tell you what the results are.

For Giddeon, it was easy. He would try to talk me through what it was he saw and felt when he changed his blood into the proper configurations... however, it just didn't translate into my inadequate brain. He never lost patience as we would try, and then, try, again. This went on for what seemed like an eternity with no real progress being made. The thing that finally did the trick was accidental, as many discoveries are.

Giddeon broke a capillary tube full of blood, and it splattered onto my lip. I reached up with my knuckle to wipe it away and somehow got a little on my tongue in the process.

My sense of taste had become quite enhanced during the past four years; I hadn't really paid it much attention other than just enjoying it at all of the restaurants we frequented. I knew the taste of my own blood, because sometimes I would floss too vigorously in the mornings out of habit. The fluid that had splashed on my lip... it was different. Giddeon knew something was up by the expression on my face.

"Giddeon... poke yourself. I need a little blood. I want to try something."

He took the lancet and popped the end of his index finger. I reached out and collected a bit of his blood on my own finger. I brought it to my mouth and tasted it. I closed my eyes and concentrated on it like a wine taster at one of those contests. Finally, I swallowed and held out my hand.

"Try it, now."

He punctured my skin and sucked up a drop. After setting the capillary tube in a tray, he went 'scuba diving', as he liked to call it. When he returned, there were smile lines crinkling from the corners of his eyes.

"Progress! We're making progress!"

He 'showed' me the sequences and how close they were. He drew a tube of 'B' negative from himself and set it down in a rack near my chair. Over the next 24 hours, I think I must have drunk a gallon of his blood. I could never be a vampire.

But, it worked. I finally was a perfect match for Melody, in more ways than one.

__________

I slept for at least 12 hours. When I woke up, I looked at the clock and noted that there were only 36 hours until the wedding. At that point, I wasn't concerned so much with the fact that she was marrying the wrong guy as I was with the reality that she could possibly die if I didn't make it back over to her side. I showered, shaved and put on my regular outfit... Levi's 560 jeans, a golf shirt and tennis shoes. Boris didn't seem inclined to get up from the bed.

I had nicked myself shaving, and tasted the blood to make sure it hadn't transmuted back while I was asleep. It still had the same coppery, walnut taste that I had become so familiar with, thanks to Giddeon.

He appeared on board, in his usual silent manner.

"I've been thinking," he said.

"Should I alert the media?"

Gid smiled. "Not yet. Maybe later. I think it may be possible to have a plan 'B'."

"Plan 'B'?"

"For Melody. I have a feeling our movie-going friends from the future can help us."

I looked at him with a curious expression on my visage. "What makes you believe that?"

"I had a dream about them last night," he said.

"I didn't dream anything. I slept like a stone."

"Maybe that's what helped me see them... I don't normally dream on my own. I think they want to help."

I tilted my head to the side in a questioning way. "We can't even get back there, remember? We tried."

"I think they were blocking us."

"Why?"

He shook his head in the negative. "I don't know... I believe they might let us come back, now, though. I got that feeling in the dream." He thought for a moment, and then said, "They obviously know about Melody... that was basically her cat that came traipsing through the wall. Maybe they know of alternate cures for her condition. If they've been watching us the past two weeks, they certainly know what we've been up to... who knows, perhaps they can even help you cross back over."

"I'll try anything, but, if they did all of that, wouldn't they be tampering with their own timeline? Would they do it? Could they?"

He shook his head, again. "I don't know. It's kind of like they have, already. When you get back, you'll have knowledge of their existence, and that alone could change things... unless they aren't worried about it. Kind of like us with Daniel. Nothing happened here, or, it was meant to happen."

I shrugged my shoulders. "Or, maybe they know I'm not coming out of the coma and there's no way I can affect their reality."

"I was hoping you wouldn't pick up on that," he said.

I pointed to my head. "7.7 percent, remember?"

"I've got to get you back before there's no room for your ego over here."

We both laughed at that one.

"Well," I said, "there's only one way to find out."

With a flash, we were gone. I don't think Boris even noticed we had disappeared.

__________

We were back in the room with the same 4 people. I took that as a good sign.

I looked them over as they lay there, and found myself wondering if they viewed life in real time. If so, maybe they had nothing better to do, and really got into the mundane aspects of human existence in the distant past... not that my time in the coma had been mundane, mind you. However, I would hate to think that they spent days and days hooked up viewing the first 24 years of my existence.

They must have been bored out of their gourds if they had had to tap into that. I hoped for their sake that it was like a download, and they got the whole timeline in just a few hours.

After our first trip there, it had occurred to me, ' _Why only four_?'

Giddeon thought that maybe they were among the first to use such technology, and it wasn't in widespread use, yet. I was partial to the hypothesis that the group was related and they were experiencing it together... like watching a television show on family night. It didn't really matter. What mattered was if they had information that could help Melody.

This time, they all opened their eyes at once.

__________

Immediately, I got that same feeling of warmth and compassion as before. No holograms appeared as they did, the first time, and it occurred to me that most likely that had been for our benefit... so we would know what it was that they had been seeing. The original female on the end smiled. Just the slightest upward curvatures marked the corners of her mouth, and several seconds passed.

As time dragged out, I began to think that they weren't going to help us, or maybe, that they couldn't.

I feared that they were constrained by laws, or physics, or some futuristic morality.

__________

Then, through the wall came a tray, for lack of a better word. It hovered silently in the middle of the room, so Giddeon and I stepped up to it. There, on a piece of paper... plain ordinary paper... was writing.

In English.

I beheld a list of ingredients... some I recognized and some I didn't... thirteen in all. There was a paragraph concerning the proper amounts, and how to prepare and administer them as an elixir. I could tell Giddeon was memorizing what was before him, and I did my best to do the same. He was done almost instantaneously... it took me the better part of five minutes, mainly because I kept repeating it to myself over and over to make sure I had it right. The tray then made an exit just as something else made an entrance through the smooth surface of the silver wall.

Boris.

Or, at least the closest copy of him possible. He sauntered to the middle of the room and sat there looking at us with big, yellow eyes... oddly, there was a small scar on his face. He meowed, and then turned his attention to licking a paw and rubbing at the old wound.

# Chapter 67

My heart was hammering when we returned. Our Boris had moved to the couch, and, I could have sworn he was smiling. He licked a paw and rubbed at his face, also. I shook my head and turned to Giddeon.

"Did you get it? I'm not sure I remember it all!" I asked and exclaimed.

"Got it... don't worry." Giddeon walked over, sat down at the table and produced a pen and paper. He recorded what we had seen. I was very quiet while he did that, not wanting to disrupt his train of thought. When he finished, I had him check it against my version while I recited what was in my head. I was pleased that I had remembered it verbatim, too.

"Plan B sounds kind of nasty," said Gid. "Plus, she has to drink it every day for a year."

"I can't believe it... they actually communicated with us, again. They're trying to help. Why would they do that?"

"Don't look a gift horse in the mouth."

I sat down on the couch next to Boris. "That's not even original."

"Best I could do on short notice."

I accepted his explanation. "It just seems like they could be jeopardizing their own existence."

Boris meowed and rolled over onto his side, wanting to be petted. I reached over and 'scratched' him on his belly.

"I've been thinking about that," said Giddeon. "Maybe you can't jeopardize your own existence when new worlds are created with each and every decision... new timelines and new probabilities, you know?"

"It's all so confusing," I said.

He shrugged. "Or, maybe we've been thinking about time all wrong, in our frame of reference. You remember the way some say space is curved?"

I nodded.

He continued, "That would include time. It may not really be a straight line... because reality could be more like a sphere. Maybe we went so far in the future..."

I finished for him. "... that we were in the past."

__________

I decided not to worry about it too much. I don't know why they gave us the recipe, I'm just glad that they did. I was concerned that there were no directions for getting back, but I hoped they knew that, somehow, we would accomplish it. If that was the case, either they were so altruistic that they risked giving up their own existence, or they knew what they were doing. Or maybe, they just didn't care. Maybe they were at the end of time and wanted to do one final act of kindness before they collapsed into a singularity, or, came back around the other side of the sphere, or, flew outwards in a big bang... or, something akin to one of those things.

__________

I contemplated the possibility that, perhaps, we are all caught in an endless loop and will forever play out this scenario, over and over, again.

Maybe all of time is an endless loop. The universe expands from a single point, rushes outwards and forms planets, stars and galaxies; it then exists for billions of years, until finally gravity, or the curvature of space/time, or something else, entirely, brings it back down into infinite smallness, once more.

Into a single, lonely point.

Then... it does the exact same thing, again. Over and over and over.

Could it be that all of the complicated patterns of matter and energy caught within our matrix are not random, but are part of a ridiculously convoluted equation that will always be the same... always repeating? Maybe that's what eternity is. It's the reality that we're all destined to endlessly duplicate what happens. Every moment. Every smile. Every tear. Every bite of food, every touch of skin... every emotion. Every day, every night, and every hour. Maybe, eternity is the fact that we're all embedded in this cycle, together... forever.

But, one thing concerned me... what if this is the first time?

The first time that the pattern is set. The first time the universe has rushed outwards in a glorious, tumultuous jumble. And, this is the only time that free will can ever come into play. What if what is done now is the way things are going to be? For all time. The first of a series of never ending cycles.

Over, and over, and over.

More than ever, I wanted to get back to the other side. I wanted at least the chance to tell her once, so that time and time, again, I could repeat it. My words could endlessly radiate into the ether, coloring the cosmos with their message for all of forever.

I wanted to tell her that I loved her.

# Chapter 68

Giddeon and I watched her prepare for the wedding. Her mother, her sister and bridesmaids were all fussing over her hair and dress and make-up. Yet, she had a look on her face that was far away. Almost distracted. Almost sad. I knew what she was thinking, because, I was thinking it, too.

We had shared another dream... the night, before.

__________

We were back on Eden, walking hand in hand towards the city. It was almost dusk. The sunset was amazing, and the red discs could be readily seen as they lost their brilliance and faded into the horizon. The greens were deep and emerald all around us, and the combined fragrance from the flowers and the trees was amazing... sweet and pure.

We crossed the threshold of the metropolis and were surrounded by that futuristic architecture. Melody looked all around in wonder and held tightly to my hand. We kissed as we walked; passersby made room for us, and they smiled at the couple in love. She put her arm around my waist, and I put my arm around her shoulders. We were in step, together, and it was a perfect fit... me against her side, and she against mine.

Sometimes, she would lean her head on my shoulder as we walked, and then, would straighten back up and smile at some new sight or sound. Her hair was flowing over my arm and down her back; each and every strand made feathery sensations on my skin, and, also, on my soul.

Finally, we arrived at the Plaza. We were early, so I ordered us two cups of chocolate from an outdoor café. I tried to pay, but the server wouldn't take my money. I'm not sure they even used money. We ate our delicious treats, and the effect it had on my vision only made Melody seem more beautiful and more perfect, if that is even possible. We gave our containers back to the waiter and he said for us to enjoy the show... although none of the words he used was familiar, we both understood him. We walked to the edge of the plaza and gazed up at the blue moon making a grand appearance in the sky.

She was in front of me, and I had my arms around her waist. Her hands were on mine, and I periodically would bury my face in the crook of her neck and take in her sweet, sweet smell. She leaned back into me and offered me her cheek. I kissed the smooth surface, and then, the soft lobe of her ear. She sighed and gently turned back to give me a full kiss upon the lips.

The lights went out, and then, the show began.

I watched her watch in amazement. It was the same. Exactly the same show that Giddeon and I had witnessed. The music was identical. The colors and acrobatics were a perfect rendition of what we had seen, and, it was no less phenomenal. If anything, it was more so. Melody would look from the sky to me, and then, back to the sky in abject wonder. Sometimes she would grab my hand and do little hops up and down, as if so excited she couldn't contain herself. We swayed with the music, and ' _ooohed_ ' and ' _aaahed_ ' with the crowd. The little girl was picked up and spun around, again, just like before.

The finale, was equally indescribable.

When it was over, Melody was crying at the beauty of the spectacle. She turned to me and threw herself in my arms, sobbing with joy. Finally, we broke apart and gazed into each other's eyes.

Then, I said...

"I wanted you to see this... because, other than you, it's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. And, I want you to know... I love you."

She covered me with kisses and tears, and murmured over and over...

"I love you, too... I love you, too... I love you, too..."

# Chapter 69

The prelude to the wedding music began to play. I went back to the boat with Giddeon because I wasn't feeling very well. I sat there on the couch and tried to collect myself... it was the first time I had actually felt ill since I had been in the coma. After a while, I began to sweat and to tremble; Giddeon gave me some water, but it didn't seem to help. My stomach was in knots, and I felt slightly nauseated. I could see concern on my subconscious' face, and then, his eyes grew wide. He grabbed my hand and put it to my nose.

"What do you smell?"

I inhaled and took in the odor of my transformed blood, along with the hint of something else. Giddeon disappeared in a flash, then, returned after a few seconds.

"They're giving you a transfusion... with Type 'A' positive! You're 'B' on that side!! You're 'B', now!!!"

My blood had somehow made the jump. I smelled, again, and I could definitely pick up my old odor. Cramps hit me hard, in my abdomen and middle torso.

"You've got to get back... you've got to stop them!!" he almost screamed. It was the first time I had ever really seen him lose his composure.

Another wave of cramps hit even worse than the first. I closed my eyes and then opened them, unsure of my whereabouts. I saw a mixture of flashes from the interior of my boat, and, also, from the Spartan rehabilitation room.

A bag of blood was on an I.V. pole, slowly dripping down a tube and into my vein.

"No...no! I don't want to go there..." I said more to myself than to Giddeon. "I've got to get to Melody. I've got to..."

Spasms and contractions struck like a sledgehammer. I fell onto the floor. Aseptic white tiles were suddenly below my face.

"Noooo!" I screamed. "Not here!! Not here!!!"

There was darkness, and then, I saw scenes of the exterior of the church. Suddenly, there was the rehabilitation room, again. Then, the church. Images of the two began scrolling past like black and red on a Roulette Wheel... faster, and faster, and faster. I could feel Giddeon's hand on my back; my sweat created a wet interface between us. The pain intensified and became almost unbearable.

Then, from out of my misery, there came a deafening sound... exactly like a sonic boom in my ears.

That's when everything changed.

# Chapter 70

I could no longer feel Giddeon's hand on my dorsal surface. The pain within my midsection was extreme, and the area below my arms and knees was no longer smooth, but, quite rough... as if I was on a plane of pebbles. I opened my eyes and was blinded by daylight. Everything was washed out in the brilliance, and unable to support my weight, I collapsed and fell the short distance to the ground.

Slowly, my eyes began to focus. I looked up to see the double doors of the Catholic Church closed before me.

I inhaled, and had a coughing fit. When it was finally over, I looked back to the doors. As they once again came into focus, I saw the blurred image of a metal plate above me. It was to one side of the recessed entrance... I slowly realized that it was a switch that made it easier for the disabled to go inside by automatically controlling the opening. I tried to reach out, but it was impossible with my muscles in their weakened state from 48 months of disuse. Had it not been for the electric stimulation during that time, I don't think I would have been able to move at all.

"Giddeon!" I shouted... well, it felt like I was shouting. It came out more like a croak mixed with a whisper. "Giddeon... I need help!"

I tried once again to reach up for the plate. The only motion I seemed to be able to make was to sort of roll over using my larger torso muscles. I felt pebbles embedded in the concrete on my bare backside during that maneuver... I was in a hospital gown provided by the rehab facility. My arm was bleeding a bit from where the I.V. had been yanked out by my sudden disappearance... we won't talk about the state of my urethra due to where the catheter had been.

"Giddeon... you've got to crash the door! Can you hear me? You've got to crash the door!!"

I waited, in excruciating pain, as nothing happened.

"Giddeon!" I pleaded in a barely audible voice. "I've already moved so much inertia over here, a little more won't matter. Please... concentrate. Please! I did it... so can you!!"

The wind kicked up a small breeze, which actually felt kind of cool and nice in the midst of my suffering. I tried to concentrate on that instead of the spasms wracking my body. I looked back up to the metal square and attempted to help give Giddeon some extra horsepower. In the end, I don't know if it was him, or me, or both of us together, but I saw the switch _flicker_ and depress.

The doors began to swing open.

# Chapter 71

Of course, I was too close and one of the heavy wooden planes banged me in the head as it passed. I didn't care. The pain I was already experiencing left little room for more. I heard the music from inside the church stop, and then, a soft, familiar intonation of words:

"Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to celebrate the union..."

I began to roll. It was all I could do. In fits and starts, I made my way into the vestibule. There was another set of double doors separating that area from the church interior, but, thankfully, those were set on hinges and swung loose like a full length saloon entryway. They totally covered the opening, and the doors had little windows about five feet up... presumably so that people could see through to the other side before opening them. I heard the master of ceremonies going on and on about the virtues of marriage and the importance of family as I tried to guide my pain-wracked body with my new mode of locomotion.

I turned, and turned, again.

Finally, I was at the dual barrier... I could hear the monotone of the minister coming from the other side more clearly. I rested for a few brief moments. Then, from beyond the mahogany came this invitation:

"If there is anyone here that knows of any reason why these two should not be joined together, let them speak, now, or forever hold their peace."

# Chapter 72

That was my cue.

I closed my eyes, barreled through the doors, and rolled down the center aisle at the back of the church. I'm sure every eye was upon me as I completed three circuits, exposing my butt to the crowd in triplicate. Exhausted, I lay on my back, kind of sideways on the thick, red carpet.

I was too weak to speak just then; however, I think I had made my point.

An excited murmur rustled through the guests. I could hear people getting to their feet. I was afraid I was going to vomit, but, somehow, kept it down; I sprawled there panting and sweating, like a dying dog.

I'm unsure of how much time passed as I lay there on the floor, semi-conscious and in horrible pain. Had I not been able to compare it to the time when I experienced the misery of a nuclear holocaust, I don't think I would have been able to bear it. Relativity, you know.

Then, I smelled her.

She was kneeling down beside me, cradling my head in her hands. I saw the flash of a camera, and, as if from inside of a tunnel, heard someone calling for an ambulance. I looked up and saw her lovely countenance above me, all in white. A man was standing behind her.

Oddly, I recognized him, even without his Scottish-styled hat.

Father McCreely.

__________

I watched him disappear from my view as he fainted dead away. I suppose there's more than one way to stop a wedding. Like Giddeon said... it's always good to have a Plan 'B'. Melody leaned her head in close when she saw I was trying to communicate. I whispered to her as best I could,

"Hi."

A tear spilled down her cheek. I watched it make its way in beautiful slow motion over her perfect skin, and, then, drop into the abyss past my peripheral vision.

"Hi," she answered back.

"I'm sorry I didn't call... I've been... in a coma."

At that point, I had what felt like a small convulsion. Diffuse epicenters of pain wheeled through my being. When it had passed, I looked back up.

"I'm having a transfusion reaction," I rasped. "They gave me 'A' positive blood... I'm 'B' negative, just like you. We're a perfect match." I then muttered something about our MHC molecules and how she was sick, but I don't think she heard me.

She looked up at the crowd gathered around us. "Is the ambulance on its way? Make sure it's on the way! Tell them it's a transfusion reaction... he has 'B' negative and they gave him 'A' positive!"

I told you she was smart.

I struggled to find my voice. "You... you have to go to a doctor... you have lymphoma... or, maybe it's leukemia. It's gonna be okay. I know what to do..."

I felt my world going black. I was trying desperately to stay awake. I had to tell her about the cure. I had to write it down. However, the last thing I remember from that day were two words. I didn't quite get to complete the sentence I had waited so long to say.

"I love...."

# Chapter 73

I was out for three days. I don't remember any of it. No Giddeon, no Boris, no golf or MangoMooManias. When I finally did open my eyes, she was there. She had never left my side. That was against all kind of hospital rules, but my physician was apparently a big-wig at the institution and allowed it.

Outside of my hospital room was a small circus, of sorts. Reporters and media waited in the hallway when they could get away with it, or, if not, in the lobby, for news. My brother apparently was accosted with questions each time he came and went; everyone wanted to know more about the guy that had come out of a coma to stop a wedding.

__________

We were a national story, and, a smash on YouTube. The Videographer for the wedding pretty much caught everything on camera. I have to give it to him, he was cool under pressure. From the high definition close up of '... _let them speak now or forever hold their peace_.', to my butt-cheeks crashing through the door and rolling down the aisle, he never shook. Steady as a rock. It was some mighty fine camera work. Father McCreely going pale and falling backwards into the congregation's arms... Melody leaning in close with tears streaming down her face. It was awesome.

The number of hits far exceeded anything ever posted.

__________

Her wonderful aroma invaded my world, once again. I swam through the darkness around me, struggled to consciousness and opened my eyes.

"Hi," I said, again.

"Hi," she replied. She was sitting beside my bed, holding my hand. Her eyes were glistening with tears as she gazed down at me. "I... dreamed of you." Her voice was almost a whisper. A beautiful, melodious whisper.

"I know."

Melody seemed like she could hardly believe the reality in the room around her... as if it was all still only part of a dream. Then, she said, "You were really in a coma... for all of that time?"

"I've been trying so hard to get back to you," I replied, softly.

She looked at me with those smoke grey eyes... all of creation was distilled down into two beautiful orbs.

"How did you get to the church? They almost arrested your brother... they thought he brought you there."

"You won't believe it right now, if I told you. We have... a lot to talk about."

I tried to sit up a bit, but couldn't do it. She hit a button on the side of my bed and tilted the back forward. "Could you get me a pencil and paper?" I asked. My voice was ragged, already going out.

There must have been something in the way I made the request that relayed urgency to her. Melody got quickly up, went through the door and then down to the lobby. I could hear a commotion along with shouted questions. After a few moments, she came back to my room with a notebook and a pen, evidently requisitioned from one of the reporters. She sat down and handed them to me. I tried to form my fingers around the instrument and write 'Turmeric' on the pad, but my muscles wouldn't cooperate... that spice was the first ingredient on the list I had memorized. Melody took the writing utensil and notebook from me, and I dictated the list in my faltering voice. Then, I relayed the instructions. When I was done, I was exhausted. She leaned me back, questions in her eyes.

"You have cancer," I said. "That will cure you. You have to drink it every day for a year."

She nodded, as if humoring me.

"I feel fine. I'm just a little run down... that's all."

At that point, a male doctor and a female nurse came rushing into the room. I was surprised it had taken them so long to arrive; most likely the monitors and devices I was connected to had relayed my activity to the nurse's station. I was just thankful for the few minutes that Melody and I had been able to share up until that point... it had at least given me the time to recite the formula to her before I forgot it.

The physician started examining me, shining a light in my eyes and probing here and there. Eventually, Jeremy and his wife also arrived; they were allowed brief access to me.

My brother hugged me gently, as if he was afraid I would break. Janice did the same.

The doctor, a nurse, and then another doctor... a specialist, I presume... all went over my reflexes, responses and chart for the better part of two hours. Melody, my brother and his wife all huddled out of the way, in the corner near a table, while they did.

When the experts were finally done, they pronounced that I needed to rest. I disagreed, since I had been asleep for 1472 days, counting the recent three. However, they won out, and everyone was ushered from the room. I wasn't sure I should close my eyes because I wanted to make sure that I stayed on this side of reality. Eventually, however, I fell into a deep, sound slumber.

__________

When I awoke, she was there, again. Right by my side. I noticed a bandage was over her cubital fossa... the area from where blood is usually drawn. She reached out and took my hand.

"Hi, again." This time, she said it with only a smile. No tears.

"Could I have some water?" Melody reached over and got a cup from the bedside table and positioned the straw, that was there in the liquid, near my lips. God, it tasted good. She tilted my bed up and gave me some more.

"Thanks." I looked into those mesmerizing eyes, again, and asked, "Do you remember the dream? The night before you were supposed to get married?" A terrible thought then occurred to me. "You didn't still get married, did you?"

I glanced down at her left hand. There was no ring there.

She shook her head gently back and forth. "No... I didn't. And, I do remember the dream. It was beautiful... the city, the people flying through the air... the music."

"Don't forget the chocolate." My voice was a little stronger.

"Oh, my God... the chocolate."

I smiled and nodded. "It was real. The show, I mean. It was on a planet far away... thousands of years in the future."

I saw a little crinkle between her eyebrows. I'm sure she was confused, and maybe wondering if she should call the doctor.

"I don't understand..."

I nodded, again. "I was there. When I was in my coma. I saw it all. I saw so many things... so many places," I half whispered.

She looked perplexed, and rubbed the back of my hand with her thumb as if trying to comfort me. "It was a beautiful dream... they all were..."

"I saw you. At your condo. With your cat, Samantha. You painted a picture of us at the table where we met. It's perfect... almost like we never left."

Melody held her other hand to her mouth; I could see her eyes glisten, once more, as they began to well up.

"It's okay... I know it's hard to take in. But, I was there... with you... when you were painting. I also saw you at the golf course, taking pictures of the water and the dolphin." I asked for another sip of water to soothe my throat; once again, it tasted wonderfully. "You went there after a dream, to see for yourself. Boris came up to you, and..."

"Boris?"

"My cat. You petted him. He was in the dream... with me, and you, and Samantha... on the boat. I really like that painting, too, by the way."

She removed her hand from mine and reached for some tissues beside the bed. She wiped her eyes, and looked at me with a mix of apprehension and wonder.

"How... is this possible? How do you know all of this?"

Another doctor barged into the room. Then, a nurse. Another examination ensued, and blood was drawn. Finally, after about twenty-five minutes, we were alone, again.

"I hardly know where to start." I looked away for a few moments, and then back. "Let me start with this. I've been waiting to tell you this for four years." My voice was leaving me, again.

She reached out to my hand. It felt so good to have it there, once more. I squeezed it with what little strength I had at my disposal.

"I love you," I whispered.

# Chapter 74

That morning, I went through what had occurred on the other side. It took me the better part of the day because my vocal chords were so weak. She sat quietly, as in bits and pieces I relayed my experiences to her.

I told her of Giddeon, and how we could sample realities without being a part of those realities. How he was the subconscious component of my brain that I had somehow had access to due to my injury.

I explained that, as time went on, I mastered many different things with him mentoring me. I related how I had learned to play several musical instruments with skills I had never possessed, before; how I learned languages that I had had no prior exposure to; how my golf score went to scratch, and I had even learned to sail, and, to surf.

Those things didn't totally seem out of the realm of possibility to her, I could tell. It was the rest of it that she had trouble with...

How Giddeon and I had traveled into the past and into the future... not once or twice, but, many, many times. How it was in one of those futures where we met four distant humans viewing my life... and, that they were the ones who had given us the cure she had written down.

Finally, I told her how Gid and I had struggled, and had made my blood and tissue a perfect match for hers.

I'm sure she went to sleep that night thinking that I was brain damaged from the trauma. The nurses had wheeled a trundle bed into the room for her, and I lay awake for a long time, just listening to her breathe.

__________

I could sense that she wanted to believe me, but it was all so ridiculously impossible that she found it hard to make the leap. I spoke to her in Italian... telling her how she meant everything to me. Then, in German. And then, again, in French. I knew that didn't really prove anything... I could have just listened to language tapes as a hobby. However, she had no reason to believe that I would lie to her.

Jeremy assured her that I had never been able to speak anything but English, and that that was often questionable. She was so confused and conflicted. I was too weak to play any instruments for them at the time.

I made her photocopy the recipe from the other side, and give copies to my brother.

__________

Only when her blood report came back and confirmed what I had said, CML... Chronic Myelogenous Leukemia... did she begin to accept what I had been telling her. I tried to comfort her, and explained that we had three options:

Plan 'A', plan 'B', and, plan 'C'.

Plan 'A', in my mind, was the formula. I felt certain that it would work; but, in case it didn't, there was Plan 'B', which was conventional chemotherapy. If those two were to fail, then Plan 'C' was a bone marrow transplant using my tissue for a match.

I had the doctors take a blood sample from me and run it against hers. Two days later, my main physician came in with a thunderstruck expression upon his face and informed us of the results. He said the odds against it were millions to one.

We were a perfect match.

# Chapter 75

Of course, the doctors wanted to aggressively treat her from the get-go. It was normally a slow growing type of cancer, but several markers gave them concern. She listened to their rationales and assured them she would think it over.

__________

Three days had passed when she came into my room with a copy of _Time Magazine_ in her hands. Our photo was on the cover... it was eerily familiar. Melody was visibly shaken, and took out her I-Phone. She turned the lights down low in my room so that I could get the full effect, and then, showed me a picture. It was of a painting sitting on the easel in her condo. She had painted it following the dream she had had of us... the one where we had danced the ballet at The Greek.

The painting was identical to the Time Magazine photo, except for the slight impressionistic flavor around the edges.

The same angles, the same colors and tones.

She was looking down, with a veil thrown back over her head. I was turned away, and you could only partially see my face. A tear traced its way down her cheek. I looked at her and nodded.

"That's the one. That's the one from the ship."

She took the phone from my hand and looked at the image, comparing it to the photo. Then, she crawled in beside me on the hospital bed, and snuggled close.

# Chapter 76

The next morning, when I asked about him for the umpteenth time, Jeremy assured me that Boris was as fat and fine as ever. My sibling was keeping the boat door open and a feeder and a water bowl full for the times when he and Janice weren't there.

As I gained in vigor over the next few days, I progressed from a wheelchair to a walker. It was frightening how thin and weak my limbs were; like sticks protruding from my torso. At first, I could only manage a few steps at a time, but, as the days went by, I was soon ambulatory with a cane... albeit, unsteady on my feet.

Jeremy rented a house on Coronado, and we slipped away one evening without what was left of the paparazzi catching on. For the better part of a week we lived in obscurity... me, Jeremy, Janice, Melody, Samantha and Boris. A couple of reporters found us out, eventually, but by then other news stories had taken precedence.

__________

We kept the cats separated at first.

Boris was very glad to see me and spent quite a bit of time in my lap. I think, after four years, he relished having my real fingers scratching his neck and under his chin. Melody and Samantha had their own room... it was a fairly large house, at least compared to my boat... and when Boris and Samantha seemed comfortable, the two animals were introduced.

Neither seemed to mind being around the other, and, to our surprise, immediately took to eating from the same bowl... almost like they knew each other.

__________

I felt badly for Melody's ex-fiancée. The press had been relentless early on, and the poor guy was hounded for interviews. She kept in touch with him, and even met with him a couple of times... but, he knew it was over. I made a promise to myself to do what I could to make it up to him, although I don't really know how you can make up for losing someone like Melody.

__________

One day that first week in the rental house, I was lying in the bed with Boris at my feet. He looked towards the door and meowed. I watched with interest as he stood and stretched, and then, jumped on the floor and began to rub against a chair leg situated near the wall.

I smiled, because I knew who he was seeing.

Giddeon.

__________

I couldn't help but feel for him. All alone, over there. From time to time, I almost detected his presence, especially when I held Boris in my lap or drank a MangoMooMania.

__________

One night, I had a dream and I saw him there, on the boat. He was sitting on the couch with his guitar, playing the same tune that Jeremy and I had played that day... that day that seemed so long ago.

' _Wish You Were Here_ '.

Giddeon didn't sing... he just played a slow, slow, instrumental version of the song, picking out the lead on his Martin and strumming with perfection during the rest of the piece. I could see him from above... as if the boat had no top deck. The music filled the space around him with its melancholy beauty, and, when he was done, he gently put the guitar down next to him; its neck rested on the cushioned seat of the couch where I normally sit.

A Corona with lime appeared in his hands.

He pushed the wedge down, took a sip, and just sat there looking at a photograph of me and Jeremy hanging on the wall. It was taken on one of his trips out here... before the coma. We were standing on the putting green at the golf course, our arms around each other's shoulders. We had given a camera to one of the girls that worked in the pro-shop; she had taken the picture for us.

The bridge was curving in the background, and sailboats were in the bay.

# Chapter 77

Although the furor around us subsided, there were constant invitations to appear on newscasts and talk-shows.

Jeremy had rented the house for the summer, and he and his wife came back and forth from Alabama... mostly staying for long weekends to check on my progress.

I met Melody's mother and her sister, and found them extremely likable. They had to be freaked out about the whole situation, but seemed to adapt pretty well... they even respected Melody's refusal to start conventional cancer treatment, as long as she had her condition monitored closely for any signs of progression. Ironically, both sisters had watched their father suffer horribly while taking chemotherapy in an attempt to fend off the exact same disease... unsuccessfully, I might add. There's a genetic component to it.

Melody and I had a place to stay until the end of August, and her mother offered to have us to move in with her up in northern California after that, if we wanted. We said we would consider it, if we needed to. Each time Jeremy visited I promised to pay him back for the house rent, although I had no idea of how I would possibly generate fifteen thousand dollars... vacation homes aren't cheap on Coronado that time of year. He just laughed and said not to worry about it. He left me his Platinum Visa card to use during the times when he was gone. It's a darned good thing he made a lot of money.

Melody was in charge of my rehabilitation; Samantha and Boris took it upon themselves to help supervise.

__________

I look back on that time as the most magical summer of my life... and, I had seen a lot of magic, mind you.

The most beautiful woman in the world had taken a leave of absence from her job to be with me. Even though she had only been working at her place of employment for just over a year, under the circumstances, they understood.

__________

I would wake up in the mornings, invariably with two cats next to me on the bed, and would just lay there for a while appreciating my new reality. Then, I would reach out to Boris or Samantha, whichever one was handy, simply to make sure my hand didn't go through them. When I had totally reassured myself that I was on the same plane as the animals, I would take a deep breath and smell for the woman I loved... my improved olfaction had somehow made the trip back over here with me.

Her fragrance from down the hall was, at the same time, both soothing and exhilarating.

Melody slept in one of the other bedrooms, which actually was fine with me. I didn't really want her to see the full effects that the ravages of the coma had had upon my body... although, I guess she could have always pulled it up on YouTube if she was curious. It didn't leave much to the imagination.

Every day, about 8 o'clock A.M., she would waltz into my room wearing something like her SDSU shorts and a T-shirt, and my heart would almost stop. In her hands would be a rectangular tray with my breakfast... scrambled eggs, or pancakes, or cereal and milk.

After I had eaten, she would practically force-feed me Ensure in order to get my weight back up. That was when she would consume her elixir. If I complained about my drink, she always said she would be glad to trade. I tried hers, once... it tasted horrible. I only weighed a hundred and thirty pounds at the time, which was quite a drop from my normal 190... if I had to live on that elixir, I would have definitely dropped a few more.

When we were done, she would cuddle next to me for a few minutes, and then, it was time for exercise.

I would walk on a treadmill that Jeremy had rented, and after that, do rowing type motions on another machine. Slowly, I regained part of my strength and some of my weight. The most frustrating thing, though, was my manual dexterity. It was so difficult to play the guitar and the keyboard. The extensors of my fingers and forearms had really deteriorated compared to the flexors, and it was hard to lift my digits from the strings or the keys. Melody kept at me to practice, however, until after a month, or so, my muscles were working pretty well, again.

__________

One evening, she came into the den as I was sitting at her keyboard. She had a seat on the couch and tucked her legs to one side in that cute way that flexible females find so easy to do. Melody patted the couch, and both Boris and Samantha jumped up with her. She was drinking her Arizona Iced Tea in a glass, and the cats, as always, wanted to sniff at the contents. She held it out of their reach, and then put it on a coaster on the end table next to her.

"I'm here for my concert. You've had enough practice," my girl teased.

I nodded, and smiled. I had for some reason only run through scales when anyone was around... I was self-conscious about not being able to perform music up to the standards of which I knew I was then capable. I know it was stupid to be shy about that... especially around her, but, in the same way that I was with my emaciated body, I only wanted her to see me at my best. However, even though my hands were weak, I knew they could handle one song.

So, I began a piece that I had been working on in secret... only when she was away at the store or on some other errand.

__________

It started slowly, but then quickly built. The classical sounds rose from the keyboard and completely filled the den with complicated melodies... melodies that were overlaid and intertwined with each other.

I looked down, and it was as if each of my hands was an entity unto itself... I watched them with wonder. It was almost as if they belonged to someone else. They were virtually independent organisms, and it seemed like they were playing two separate songs that were similar, yet, fundamentally different. The music rose to a long, soft note, and then stopped for maybe five full seconds, letting the void fill with anticipation. Soon, it returned with a vengeance... just like it had on Eden.

Strong and quick and forceful... as closely as I could remember it.

I closed my eyes as I played, and my fingers simply knew where to go. I could almost see the woman in red high up in the sky... the colors and dancers in flight all around her. It went on, and on, and on... until finally, with a flourish, it was over. I felt sweat rolling down from my hair at the temples.

I turned and saw Melody with a palm over her mouth, and tears in her eyes.

__________

"That's from the dream."

"Yes..." I said, "...but, it was more than a dream. I was there, before... with Giddeon."

I got up from my stool and made my way over to the couch. She scooted cats around until we all had room. For the first time, I think Melody really believed me about everything. Even though she always said she did, and had been drinking the formula instead of following the advice of her doctors, I don't think she fully accepted it all until that night.

We sat there holding each other for quite some time, and then, she lay down with her head in my lap. I looked through my eyes at her flawless features and loving expression, and couldn't believe how fortunate I was... even though I had no money, or job, for that matter. She must have read my mind, because she said,

"You can always be a concert pianist. That was phenomenal... and, you'll only get better when you're stronger."

I ran my fingers through her hair. At the end of the couch, Boris groomed Samantha.

__________

Before the end of August, I changed my mind and agreed to go onto a television show for an interview. Melody, Jeremy and Janice were totally against it, not wanting to start the media circus all over, again.

I think one of the things helping me decide to do it was the fact that the network was willing to pay for my appearance. Fifty thousand dollars. I knew that with that money, I could partially pay Jeremy back and buy Melody and I a little time until we figured out what to do.

There was also another reason that I wanted to do it, and, thanks to Giddeon, I had learned to trust my instincts...

It just felt right.

# Chapter 78

The interview actually went pretty well.

They had agreed not to get too personal with questions about Melody, her family, or her jilted fiancée; also, I was adamant about them not being too specific regarding our living conditions or location. For the most part, they kept their promises. It was live T.V., and I understand the Nielsen ratings were through the roof.

__________

I told the host about having access to my subconscious while I was in a coma, and, also, how I had dreamed over and over, again, about Melody... and, how she had dreamed over and over, again, about me. I told him of Giddeon, saying that it helped when I pictured that part of my brain as a person. He had me describe him, which I did in great detail. I then told the interviewer about how much information each and every one of us has on the inside, and explained that most people just can't get to it. How most people don't realize their own potential. Next, I went on a little bit as to how I had learned so much more about music and golf and physics than I had ever known, before.

The only surprise they sprang on me was asking me about my foreign language ability, which I had not mentioned in our pre-show discussions. Somehow, that information must have been ferreted out by an investigative reporter. When specifically asked about Italian, I said that, yes, I could speak it pretty well... and, that it must have been from television shows that I had been exposed to over the years.

They brought out a pretty linguist from Switzerland and she questioned me in Italian. I answered her, and we went back and forth in a light conversation. She switched to French with no warning, and I answered her in kind before I realized what she had done.

The host's look of skepticism melted slightly when that happened. Having already been found out, I went ahead into the slightly guttural language of Deutschland. She nodded, and answered in German. The exhibition went on for a couple of minutes, us switching back and forth, until the woman smiled. She said I was quite fluent in all three tongues, shook my hand, and left the set.

I didn't mention anything about time travel, alternate realities, or Melody's sickness.

The interviewer kept pressing me to explain how I had gotten to the church.

I told him that I had no idea as to how that happened.

He stated how many people had been convinced that it was all a hoax... and how many believed that, somehow, my brother was involved. I adamantly denied those accusations. A doctor from the rehabilitation center was then interviewed by way of a television feed; he backed me up and verified that I had indeed been comatose for four years. He also said that I had been receiving a blood transfusion at the time of my disappearance from the facility. The host knew about my change in blood type, and was also very curious about that. He asked me to explain what I thought had happened to cause such a thing.

Once, again, I pleaded ignorance... so did the doctor.

__________

To close the show, they brought out a baby grand piano. I had agreed to play for them in our contract. I made my way over to the instrument, and was impressed with the quality there before me. I sat down and hit middle C to test the sound, which was rich and smooth... then, I went into ' _Chopsticks_ ', simple and childlike.

I looked up, smiling, and the crew realized I was having a little joke on them; they all busted up laughing.

After they had quieted down, I expanded into a full blown classical piece, all developed around the same tune of ' _Chopsticks_ '; it lasted for about 30 seconds. When I finished, everyone in the studio was clapping, whistling and cheering. Finally, their noise receded, and I adjusted the microphone and said that I would like to do a song for Melody. The lights in the studio softly dimmed.

I held my hands for a moment above the keys, and then brought them slowly down in order to make the music flow into a gentle introduction. After a few measures, I leaned into the microphone:

Every time I look at you I melt.

Every time I hold your hand,

It's like I've never felt

Your skin... before,

And, every time you walk through that door...

I melt,

I dissolve,

I simply fade away,

Then, I just revolve,

around you...

That's what I do...

I simply melt... I melt for you.

Every time I think of you, I melt.

Every time I hold you close,

It's like I've finally been dealt,

Into the game. And, every time

I hear your voice, and, when I say your name...

I melt,

I dissolve,

I simply fade away,

Then, I just revolve,

around you...

That's what I do...

I simply melt... I melt...

I simply melt for you.

I always have... I always will,

It's just the way I feel,

For you.

I always have... I always will,

You're the only thing that's real

To me, and,

Every time I dream of you, I melt.

Every time I close my eyes,

I see a knight that's knelt,

Before his queen, before his one true love

Before his everything...

I melt,

I dissolve,

I simply fade away,

Then, I just revolve,

around you...

That's what I do...

I simply melt... I melt...

I simply melt for you.

I had no way of knowing the song would go to number one and stay there for four weeks.

# Chapter 79

Thanks to the music sales, I had enough money to totally reimburse Jeremy for the hospital bills and rent. Melody and I also had enough left over to put down on the house we had been renting. I kept the boat, and on weekends, we would take it out into the bay. Sometimes, I would find the cabin door open when I had closed and locked it, and I knew that it was Giddeon telling me that he was still around. Most likely he was living there when he wasn't over at The Del. I wondered if his wings had been clipped, or if he was still flying around the universe sampling various futures and pasts.

At the end of one year, Melody had no signs of cancer. We still continue to have her tested at regular intervals, just to be safe, but I think we can quit worrying about that particular problem.

__________

The second summer of my new existence, I decided to surprise Melody with a bit of a show. I had pretty much physically returned to normal parameters, and was feeling better than I had in my entire conscious life. So, I coordinated an unadvertised set at The Casbah... that's a little club that I used to frequent in my college days. It's a good place for live music, and has been known to have bands like ' _Fountains of Wayne_ ' and ' _Social Distortion_ '.

Jeremy and Janice were with us. We paid our money (so that Melody wouldn't suspect what was up) and went inside. We listened to a succession of three bands; each one played about 45 minutes. At around 11:30 P.M., the stage was cleared and the club manager announced my name and explained who I was. The employees made sure that Melody had a spot at the front of the little crowd. I could see people looking over in her direction, recognizing her famous face.

I had a little help setting up my guitar and keyboard... they had been delivered there, without Melody knowing, that afternoon. I thought to myself how easily things like that were accomplished with Giddeon in charge... however, the extra hassle actually felt kind of nice.

After we had everything in place, I checked the sound, and then sang three songs behind my guitar. They were from mine and Giddeon's collaborations on the other side, and the music seemed to delight both Melody and the audience. I could see several cell phones being held in extended hands; their soft glows recorded the performances from beyond the stage lights. Enthusiastic applause followed each of the tunes.

For the final song, I positioned myself behind a Yamaha keyboard that I had treated myself to a few months before. Jeremy came up, took my Ovation guitar and sat down on a stool to accompany me. I checked the levels, again, looked at Melody and smiled. "I wrote this song a couple of years ago," I said. "I wasn't sure I'd ever get the chance to sing it to the person I loved. Back then, all we had were dreams, and now, every day is a dream." She blew me a kiss.

I

Feel

Time

Really isn't all that real.

And, you

Should know

That we'll

Simply go,

On and on, on and on, on and on...

That's the deal... that's the deal,

That's just the way it is,

Some things are really real,

Like you,

And me,

Always and forever.

We were meant to be, meant to be...

Together...

For life.

Would you consider this...

Would you be my wife?

Would you be my wife?

My love,

My everything

I'm dreaming of?

I'm dreaming of you...

Dreaming of me.

Wherever you may go...

That's where I want to be.

Would you be my wife?

Would you be my wife?

Would you be my wife?

When I had finished, Melody climbed straight up onto the stage, not bothering with the steps that were over to one side. I stood up and she threw her arms around me. We kissed, long and passionately, and I was carried away into my own private heaven. I could smell lemons and mango. I remembered a similar kiss, high above the world, with stars twinkling all around.

We went to the top of YouTube, again.

# Chapter 80

Although my subconscious had suggested it many times, Melody was the one that finally convinced me to do it.

Write all of this down, that is.

I've left quite a bit out, because so much happened on the other side that I feel like it would fill a volume of encyclopedias. However, even though I'm not that good with grammar and punctuation, I think I've captured the essence of it.

At first, I was reluctant to consider disclosing my adventures from over there, because it was all so unreal that sometimes I don't even believe it myself. Melody said that it simply had to be done, because it's such a beautiful story. She believes that the money it can potentially bring in can be used to fund a number of good causes... that it can help to alleviate so much suffering.

It was her idea to link the songs with the book, so that people can hear as well as see the words on their computers and e-readers. She's so smart and compassionate that I'll just let her decide where the money goes... assuming it does come in the way she says it will. The only request I've made of her is to make sure that some of it goes to a charity of her ex-fiancée's choice... so that he can have some say in saving the world he cares about so deeply. I'm not really concerned with the finances. I feel like I've won _The Lotto_ now that I have her by my side.

I'm sure she'll do a good job... and people will remember her for generations to come.

__________

Finally, you might find it strange that for that first year out of my coma, Melody and I had separate bedrooms. We both wanted it that way. After we were married (by Father McCreely), I can assure you, that that wasn't the case. We have a bouncing baby boy to prove it. He looks like a little angel, with a thick head of honey-blonde hair. He's learning to walk, and the cats seem terribly fascinated with him.

We had no trouble at all deciding on a name...

Giddeon.

THE END

# EPILOGUE

Melody and I sometimes still share dreams. It happened again just the other day.

It was the middle of the morning, and her mother and sister were in town for the weekend to see the baby. Exhausted from our parenting duties, Melody and I took a little nap. I 'awoke' to her taking me by the arm. She guided me out of the front door of the house, and we walked hand in hand towards the golf course, the morning air cool and crisp on our skin. When we got close, she held a finger up to her lips and squeezed my palm tightly, signaling for me to be quiet. We dissolved until we were invisible, but I could still feel her by my side. We continued on, stepping carefully so as to not make any noise.

Giddeon was on the first tee. It was so good to see him, again. He hadn't changed a bit. We stood near to him and I took in his presence like a long drink of refreshing liquid. Melody squeezed my palm, again, as if to let me know that she was glad to finally see him after all that she had heard. He teed up his ball and took a couple of practice swings. Then, he hit one right down the middle, maybe 350 yards.

Giddeon had bent down to pick up his tee, when something totally unexpected happened.

"Mind if I play along?"

A beautiful brunette with curly cascading locks walked up to the tee with a bag over her shoulder. She had on white golf shorts, a white, collared shirt and new, white shoes. Around her neck was a simple gold necklace, and on her right wrist was a matching bracelet. She was the spitting image of the Italian girl from the market place.

It was a rare thing to see him shocked, and I quite enjoyed it. He stood up and quickly recovered. "Not at all. I'm Giddeon."

She held out her hand, and he took it in his. Giddeon held onto it much longer than is customary for a handshake, and looked down as if he couldn't believe that there was actual contact. She crinkled her eyes and nose in a cute little smile, as if she couldn't believe it, either.

"I'm Mia," she said.

I thought back to Gid's ' _Mama Mia_ ' remark 2000 plus years ago. Finally, they let go of each other.

"Have you ever played here, before?" Giddeon asked.

"I've never even played golf before, so, you'll have to be patient with me," she replied.

"No problem... I'm a good teacher."

She set down her bag and teed up a ball from the blue tees... at the time, I figured she just didn't know any better. After going through some adjustments, Mia finally found the stance she wanted, and then, took a decidedly amateurish swing.

The little dimpled sphere flew down the left side with a strong power fade, which brought it back to the middle.

It finally landed in the Bermuda grass and bounded forward. We watched as it scooted along the manicured fairway and lost its speed... at the end of its journey, it looked like it actually rolled over Giddeon's ball and popped up into the air about a foot, or, so, after it did. I realized, then, that we were seeing Melody's subconscious.

I suppose soul mates are connected all the way down : )

Giddeon burst out laughing and threw his club in the air. It glistened in the Coronado sun and disappeared. He picked up her bag and put it over his shoulder.

"Not bad! Not bad at all!"

They walked down the fairway, holding hands.

*****

#

Boris, hard at work.

#

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

G.B. Brulte lives in Southern California and plays golf on Coronado every chance he gets.

He has recently completed Book 2 in The Silver Strand Series, entitled 'Giddeon'
