Coronado Dreaming

  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 gl
impses 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.”