Coronado Dreaming (The Silver Strand Series) (18 page)

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.

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!”

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.