Coronado Dreaming

  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 hassl
e,” 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 co
rrect 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.”