Coronado Dreaming (The Silver Strand Series) (26 page)

It had been almost two years, and I began thinking about all of the songs that we had written. I pulled them up on my computer, and there must have been forty or so. I was amazed at the amount of material. Giddeon was looking over my shoulder at the lyrics as I went through them… page after page.

“We should have a concert,” he said.

I looked back at him and replied, “I don’t think we’ll sell many tickets… we’re invisible, and very quiet.”

“If a tree falls in the forest, it still makes a sound… just no one bothered to ask the trees.”

I rolled my eyes back to the computer. “You need to work on your philosophy a little more.”

“It was still quick… 5 seconds or less.”

“Thank God.” I shut down the computer, toying with his idea. “Where would we play?”

“
Humphry’s
?”

“I’m not crazy about outdoor acoustics… although, I do like the idea of night air,” I said.

Giddeon thought for a moment. Then, his face lit up. “The Greek! It’s kind of like being inside the way the backdrop comes halfway around you.”

“
L.A.
?”

“
San Diego
’s not the center of the universe, you know?”

“It is to me… but, I think the Greek might be cool. Let’s do it!”

__________

The night was perfect for a concert. The air was brisk, and all of the stars were twinkling with maximum luminosity in the sky above because the moon had yet to make an appearance. Giddeon looked around, and several spotlights began to burn. A deck of synthesizers was behind us and our guitars were situated on holders next to two microphone stands. Everything was wireless; it was kind of odd not seeing the jumble of coaxial cables that used to be the norm at any live show. Floor mounted monitors faced us, angled up so that we would be able to hear the sound… Giddeon and I both disliked ear monitors, having noticed that so many singers came out just a shade flat or sharp when using such devices. I stepped up to the mike after strapping on my Ovation.

“Check… one, two… check!”

I strummed a couple of chords. The sound was perfect, as far as I could tell. Giddeon went up to his mike.

“Helllllooo,
Los Angeles
! Are you ready to rock, tonight?” He stepped on a pedal, and the synthesized sound of crowd response filled the air, almost deafening us. He grinned, and said to me, “Got to get the whole experience.”

Then, I hit a sustained ‘D’ and started a count.

“One, two… one, two, three, four!”

I've been thinking about this universe,

Ev’ry time I've got some time.

Why does it just confuse me worse,

like a poem without a rhyme?

All those quantum theories,

psychedelic Timothy Learys

on Icarus wings.

 
And, even Uncle Albert,

is all broken-up about those

super-strings.

And, all of the King's horses and men…

couldn't put him back together again,

together again, together again…

Here, an instrumental chorus ensued. Giddeon, the synthesizer and the drum machine did an unbelievable job. Then, the vocals continued:

Always I try to unify, forces in my mind,

They don’t seem to gel, I say what the hell,

I had good intentions, 26 dimensions

All I see is blue, when I think of you…

I hear Superstrings!

Again, an instrumental. Afterwards, the song carried on with speed and force:

And, I’ve been thinking about this universe,

every time I’ve got some time.

Why does it just confuse me worse?

It’s almost like a crime.

All those quantum theories,

psychedelic Timothy Learys

on Icarus wings.

And even Uncle Albert,

is all broken-up about those

super-strings.

And, all of the King's horses and men…

couldn't put him back together again,

together again, together again

Another instrumental took over for the better part of 30 seconds. Finally, the music slowed to its conclusion, just vocals and acoustic guitar:

And, I’ve been thinking about this universe,

every time I’ve got some time.

Every time I’ve got… some time.

Gid
stepped on the pedal and applause grew. I knew it wasn’t real, but, still, it made me smile. After an appropriate amount of time, Giddeon ripped into a song I had never heard, yet was still able to play… thanks to a teleprompter that appeared with chords and lyrics scrolling past. It was fast paced and full of chopped strumming. Very cool:

I know a little club,

sometimes I go there late at night.

I like the atmosphere…

it’s kind of strange, but, so right.

Once upon a time,

it might have been called groovy.

Once upon a time, the cat’s meow.

Once upon a time’s anachronistic movie.

Once upon a time, is now.

That’s why I go there…

That’s why I go there…

That’s why I go there…

Late at night.

And, how many times have you said to yourself,

‘My life’s so ordinary…

my life’s so on the shelf.’?

How many times have you tried to run away…

but, you just stay at home,

day after day, after day, after day?

That’s why I go there…

That’s why I go there…

Late at night.

You
wanna
know what that place is like? Yeah?

It’s like George Jetson, moved to
Casablanca
,

to smoke a water-pipe and have some fun.

It’s like Elvis Presley, sequencing the genome,

of a brand-new vampire for the sun.

That’s why I go there…

That’s why I go there!

And, how many times have you said to yourself,

‘My life’s so ordinary… my life’s a living hell.’?

How many times have you tried to run away…

but, this world just catches up, day after day,

after day, after day, after day?

That’s why I go there…

That’s why I go there…

That’s why I go there…,

That’s why I go there…

Late at night… Oh, yeah!

__________

We played for the better part of three hours. One nice thing about being in a coma was that we didn’t have to break down the equiment after the show. A flash of light, and I was back home in my boat. Boris looked up from the bed with sleepy eyes, and then put his head back down on my pillow. I drank a beer and watched him sleep for a very long time.

__________

That night, I dreamed of Melody, again.

We were on the stage of The Greek Amphitheatre, alone, underneath a spotlight. She had on a white dress, white stockings and ballet shoes; a sheer veil covered her face. Music began to play. I walked up to her, and I was also wearing white. Upon my body was a form-fitting suit much like the dancers had worn that night on
Eden
. I pulled the veil back over her head and let it gently drape down around her shoulders.

We kissed, and it was the most sensual meeting of flesh I had ever experienced.

I felt somehow different, more muscular and graceful. I held out my arm, and she reached over with the most fluid motion imaginable and grasped my hand. We began to dance, smooth and refined, flowing with the transcendent composition of sounds and joined with the music. She was grace personified, revolving and moving to the rhythm like liquid silk; spinning slowly away from me and then back in so very close. Bending low, and extending one leg to the sky in that impossible pose of expert ballerinas. Her eyes were locked on mine, and I moved like Nureyev beside her.

It was at the same time, both effortless and exciting. I leaped high into the air, landed softly, and then pirouetted with ease… even though I had never done anything like that before.

We followed an instinctual choreography, knowing exactly what to do in each and every second, almost reading each other’s minds as we danced a stunning, beautiful, dance. Her trust in me was complete, and I caught her perfectly each time when she leaped or fell or spun into my embrace. It was so romantic, so complete, that we both were crying as we danced… tears of joy, tears of gratitude.

When it was over, I lay on the stage under the spotlight. She was kneeling over me, cradling my head in her hands. I closed my eyes, wanting the moment to go on forever, and felt deep in my soul, that somehow, it would.

__________

I woke up next to her. She was weeping in her sleep. I kissed her lips, and made my way back home.

Dreams are no substitute for real life, and finally, there came a day that I always knew would come if I stayed unconscious long enough.

Melody met someone.

He was a nice enough fellow. An ecologist that had been out of school and working with the state for a few years. I think his job involved monitoring the habitats of endangered birds, small mammals and reptiles for the Department of Parks and Recreation. He was 33 years old, wore little John Lennon wire-rimmed glasses, and had an affinity for Starbucks coffee. They met when she was doing an internship at one of the parks.

The first time I saw them holding hands, I felt like I had been kicked in the stomach. I didn’t think I was the jealous type, but, apparently, I was wrong. It was like he was intruding on our territory, trespassing on sacred ground that belonged to us. I had to fight the tendency to dislike the guy, because he had done nothing wrong.

Still, I wasn’t fond of him… plus, I thought he was too old for her, even though he was only 7 years her senior. I had trouble adjusting to this new reality and became more focused on somehow returning to the other side. It wasn’t that he was wrong for her… it’s that I was so right for her. How did I know, you might ask? With the help of Giddeon, I had seen it with my own eyes.

__________

We were one of those couples that made you think that they were in the first week or so of their relationship. Holding hands, looking tenderly at each other, nuzzling close when seated. Except, it had been almost four years. I had never been hit by the golf ball; I had even returned to school and finished my degree… turf management.

We lived in
Arizona
for a while during my studies, but had recently returned to
San Diego
. She and I had just gotten engaged and were planning a June wedding. Melody was as beautiful as ever, and I seemed to have changed into another person… responsible and happy. I still had the boat, however, we only stayed there on weekends. We were both gainfully employed and actually had enough money to start thinking about purchasing a small house in a weak real estate market. We shopped at farmer’s markets, and both took turns learning to cook new dishes in her condo. I would still sit and watch her paint; oftentimes, I would come up behind her and place my hands on her shoulders at the neckline as she worked. Sometimes, she would turn, give me a brilliant smile and tilt her head up for a kiss. Then, she would go back to her art. Boris and Samantha would sit on the couch, close to each other, waiting for treats or attention.

In another scenario, we were in
Oregon
… just temporarily for the summer. I was a journalist, and Melody was teaching summer school at the university. We were in our late thirties with two children… an eight year old boy, and a five year old girl. Thankfully, both of them looked like their mother. We spent our free time exploring the beauty of the region.
Crater Lake
and the coast. The mountains and the small towns. We had a small SUV with all of the amenities, including fold-down computer screens in the back to keep the kids entertained as we traveled.

She was a great mother; she looked at the children, and, also at me, with the same look of fascination and love that I recognized from our earlier ‘life’ in
San Diego
. Melody pretty much always had that reflection on her face… as if she appreciated each and every sight and each and every sound that came her way. It seemed like she just couldn’t wait to see what else the future had in store.

In yet another timeline, Melody was an artist and a part-time model. She was pregnant for the first time, and doing a maternity spread for a woman’s magazine. I would carry her to the shoots, taking time off from my job as an account manager at Charles Schwab. She looked lovely… I could see why they wanted her as their model. She was the perfect picture of a first-time mother-to-be. She would smile at me between shots, then wink playfully and blow kisses.

It was ridiculous. Every reality we sampled. Even the ones that had some type of hardship or tragedy involved… they were always the same. Together. Two people perfectly matched, fitting next to each other like two peas in whatever pod they found themselves. We hardly ever argued, and when we did, it was actually playful… we would always end up laughing and hugging as we came to some kind of amicable resolution.

Gid and I went through dozens of potentialities… time and time again they came out unbelievably positive. It occurred to me that maybe no matter who Melody was with, it would be a perfect union; so, I had him check. I didn’t have the heart to look.

He saw quite a few of her futures with her new boyfriend. It wasn’t the same. Some were good, but, nothing exceptional. Some were bad, ending in divorce and tears. It appeared pretty much to be a reflection of everyday statistics on marriage… about a 50/50 proposition. And, what percentage of the ones that do stay together can be considered happy? I don’t know the answer to that.

I became more and more convinced that we were not only a match made in heaven, but that our match
was
heaven. I had to get back… not only for me, but for her. It was simply the way things were meant to be.

It was destiny, but, destiny can be a hard road to find.