Coronado Dreaming

  “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, a
nd 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. r />
  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.