Wednesday, May 12, 2010

Riders of the Sage

My son and I are in my mother’s old boat of a Lincoln. I’m driving. The road is straight and wide, and its only purpose, it seems, is to part the flat expanse of dust and sage as we approach a snowy mountain range. Then, after what feels like a mile or so, the car surges and the gas pedal goes to the floor. And instead of mountains ahead, we’re presented with a series of square brown doors, framed by rough timbers, with old-style photo album corners. The doors are open, and I have to drive through them at an ever increasing speed — and then, after we clear the last, all is as before.... Until the second time, when it happens again, with even more doors, and I think the windshield might be a computer screen, and that even the mountains are simulated — but not us, no, not my son, and not these hands on the wheel. We are real.

In the Forum: blurfy spuffle spuffle.


Janice said...

William I get the idea that you were doing a bit of time travel in that "boat" of a car...the here and now...the past...then back home again...then the future, a techy world, with mountains simulated instead of real...but then you return once again to the here and now. Your hands on that steering wheel, driving you home again with your son beside you, bringing you back to the present day world~~~

Wine and Words said...

Quite a ride William. I loved the imagery, and I got one of those "oh how cool" zingers at the ending...we are real.

William Michaelian said...

Could be, Janice. There was that feeling about it, and it’s slow to die away.

“We are real,” Annie — and yet there was the need to convince myself of it.

Silvie Martin said...

I have had similar dreams--rushing toward something with flashes of my history and visions of what lies ahead. Your dream made me ask myself, "hasn't my life been this way? Speeding through its moments, confused by all the doors, all the mountains that await me?"

But we are lucky, William. We know who in our ride of life is real, and we know that this knowledge is the map--the hands--that drive the wheel of our lives.

William Michaelian said...

Yes — although for me there remains uncertainty, and times when the two worlds overlap, or when I’m able to allow them to. Then again, my wiring is such that I still think about characters in stories I’ve written, and, years later, wonder how they’re getting on.... Thanks, Silvie.

Woman in a Window said...

Simple, short, and leading to endless possibility. But exhausting, too.

To go back, like this, into one's history, both gives and takes. Pasts rise up, animated ghosts, and fall back to ash.

You inspire me, and perhaps scare me just a little.


William Michaelian said...

Well, sometimes I scare myself. But usually, a mirror is involved.

But, really I doubt that I scare you. Maybe you scare yourself? Maybe that’s at least part of what inspiration is?