Monday
Tuesday
Table of Contents
As you are reading the text of Imagine Nation on line, you will see highlighted words within the text. For your reading expansion into a more non-fictional reality, as you come upon one of these words, use your mouse to move the curser over the highlighted word or words and right mouse-click. Here you will to find depth as to what those highlighted words mean or refer to
Clicking on the highlighted word will take you to the companion reader called Time Season Mind Reason where you can read about that particular subject. To return to Imagine Nation, simply click the "back " arrow-button.
Clicking on the highlighted word will take you to the companion reader called Time Season Mind Reason where you can read about that particular subject. To return to Imagine Nation, simply click the "back " arrow-button.
CONTENTS
Introduction
1. The Awakening
2. Beginnings
3. Day Dreams
4. The Beauty of Light and Sound
5. Alien Nation
6. Golden Visions
7. Culture Shock
8. Requiem for a Planet
9. Good News
10 The Cure
11. A Blast From The Past
12. Something Beautiful
13. Peace of Mind
14. Ready or Not
15. Children of God
16. Gong Song
17. Current Issues
18. Clanging Cymbals
19. The Promised Land
A Prologue
Wisdom was working.
In the twinkling of an eye, ten thousand sparks of brilliant light filled the once empty vast of sky. Each fiery ball that burst then took it's place in the heavens and began to spin in place; their colors dancing in perfect pirouettes.
Sparks.... twinkling brightly across the vast and empty velvet blackness of the deep, tiny twinkles who, now like diamonds, effortlessly continue spinning and sparkling, whispering their timeless shiny diamond secrets into the continuum of time and space. They are stars. Each a magnificent giant in its own right, each is solemn and strong, yet not standing at all.... stationary on nothingness... spinning, they are suspended, anchored, held in place by some strange, unknowable and unseen force, and this while everything about the universe is also in motion. Stars are beacons of luminous power, dazzling spectacles, radiators, bearing the message of God himself, a message that can be heard even now, "Let there be light!" Their silent words are far beyond compare.
Their heavenly speech is quite profound, for with each magnificent sparkle their voice is heard... to the ends of the earth and beyond! Light, beautiful, light, lights our eyes and this haunts our human ears, unravels something deep inside the human mind.
We marvel. For centuries man has marveled, wondered and sought answers to the things that have been seen and heard, all the while, hearing the rumors shimmering in the silent black of night. Some believed, and others scoffed, and all the while, wisdom labored. Day after day, night after night, wisdom continuously has been diligently working.
Even now as starlight twinkled, the last of her rainbow threads fell graciously at her feet. They too were spinning round and round in tiny but fabulous circles as she weaved her single scarlet colored strand across the frame. Stooping, she studied tapestry in her hands...It was nearly complete.
Sweeping first one, and then another hand across the vast expanse of golden sparkling thread, she had intertwined thread upon a thread, thread upon the threads unto a magnificent interlocking weave. Pushing her treadle ever so softly and with great care, wisdom filled her quill and passed it between the warp and weft once more, hoping as she always did, that there would be not only eyes to see, but ears to hear. Wisdom was working.
One day soon, in but a twinkling of an eye, at that very moment when all of her work was completed, the tapestry in her hands would change and forever shine brighter that even the starlight that now only twinkled in the night.
Selah.
In the twinkling of an eye, ten thousand sparks of brilliant light filled the once empty vast of sky. Each fiery ball that burst then took it's place in the heavens and began to spin in place; their colors dancing in perfect pirouettes.
Sparks.... twinkling brightly across the vast and empty velvet blackness of the deep, tiny twinkles who, now like diamonds, effortlessly continue spinning and sparkling, whispering their timeless shiny diamond secrets into the continuum of time and space. They are stars. Each a magnificent giant in its own right, each is solemn and strong, yet not standing at all.... stationary on nothingness... spinning, they are suspended, anchored, held in place by some strange, unknowable and unseen force, and this while everything about the universe is also in motion. Stars are beacons of luminous power, dazzling spectacles, radiators, bearing the message of God himself, a message that can be heard even now, "Let there be light!" Their silent words are far beyond compare.
Their heavenly speech is quite profound, for with each magnificent sparkle their voice is heard... to the ends of the earth and beyond! Light, beautiful, light, lights our eyes and this haunts our human ears, unravels something deep inside the human mind.
We marvel. For centuries man has marveled, wondered and sought answers to the things that have been seen and heard, all the while, hearing the rumors shimmering in the silent black of night. Some believed, and others scoffed, and all the while, wisdom labored. Day after day, night after night, wisdom continuously has been diligently working.
Even now as starlight twinkled, the last of her rainbow threads fell graciously at her feet. They too were spinning round and round in tiny but fabulous circles as she weaved her single scarlet colored strand across the frame. Stooping, she studied tapestry in her hands...It was nearly complete.
Sweeping first one, and then another hand across the vast expanse of golden sparkling thread, she had intertwined thread upon a thread, thread upon the threads unto a magnificent interlocking weave. Pushing her treadle ever so softly and with great care, wisdom filled her quill and passed it between the warp and weft once more, hoping as she always did, that there would be not only eyes to see, but ears to hear. Wisdom was working.
One day soon, in but a twinkling of an eye, at that very moment when all of her work was completed, the tapestry in her hands would change and forever shine brighter that even the starlight that now only twinkled in the night.
Selah.
Chapter 1 -The Awakening-
Enslaved to the spell of darkness, lulled into a strange and silent submission, a million flotsam dreamers dreamed enormous, cosmic dreams as the earth experienced that thing known as night; but not Evan. The hardworking, conscientious, and very independent thinker was still awake. In the upstairs room of his suburbia world he was sitting on his bed, hunched over, and by the light of a little incandescent lamp that stood on his nightstand, he was busy, working.
It seemed he was always working, especially late at night. There were always last minute things to be done before he could rise and greet the day, and tomorrow, he most definitely wanted to be ready. He wanted to be certain he had everything under control, at least to the best of his abilities. It was a big meeting he was looking forward to... and then a trip, which would be to him, like a vacation..
Like most freemen, (and Even was a free man, ) Evan was the type of man that would be quite proud to think that that he was captive to none; and generally speaking, this was the case, for he not only lived in America, but he was never too quick to let others "rent space" in his brain. Little did he know however, he was captive… captive to a little handheld device that emitted light, deep into his eyes. Like a cobra in a basket at the beckoning of the pungi, so was Evan to his electronic world. Even at this very moment he was mesmerized by the man-made technological creation he held in his palm, the one from which he carefully orchestrated and organized his life, his world. (Did I mention, Even was working?)
He paused, lay back on his pillow, and was thinking. He was just laying there, listening to the ideas in his own mind, trying to sort them. He was making every attempt to get them, or at least one, to come forth so he could turn it into signs and symbols, place it on the organizer exactly where it belonged... on his desktop.. in a file, somewhere inside his handheld computer, but at this moment, it wasn’t easy. His mind was dragging.
It was late.
All he could do was stare into his bite-sized computer screen thinking that he was sleepy. No doubt, his mind was fading fast.
The sleep rolled in like waves of fog over him. The fog swirled around the ideas in his mind. It seemed to him, (maybe it was his imagination, ) that the fog grew arms, wrapped around his body like an easy chair and offered to carry him away, magically off into the blue... but he didn't let it. He managed to fight of the foggy sleep that encased him in it's warm, billowing silence. Evan could never sleep when there was important work undone.
Evan faithfully resisted. This was his job and he had to get it done.
I can’t sleep now. I have memos to write; letters to send; things need to be on other people’s desks in the morning… I have deadlines.
There’s nothing worse than a line going dead.
Now, where was I?
The foggy mist of sleepiness disappeared as he focused hard tapping out a word or two with his thumbs, but it wasn't long before the relentless nemesis brought-on a new method of attack. Now, the sleep loomed over Evan like little white clouds... or were they pillows? Evan ignored them and kept working, He didn't realize it, but the sleep, like autumn snow, now fell softly around him and while he didn't realize this, he did notice that he was feeling cold. Some of the cold, silent sleep even took up residence on his eyelids, the weight of which made them feel heavy. Even tapped his thumbs a little slower now...
Evan yawned. His eyelids grew heavier by the minute as the snowy sleep fell softly on his eyelids. The cool caressing made them flutter. It was all he could do to stay awake.
Alarmed at the realization he was about to be conquered with such a sneak attack, he promptly rubbed the piled high sleep from his droopy eyelids, gathered his wits about him, and picked up his bamboo stylus. He clicked, then dragged his idea around the screen for a bit and happily tap-typed one more line of text. The next thing he knew however, he was resting comfortably with his mouth wide open and his eyes nearly closed. Well, one eye, nearly. With one eye still nearly and narrowly open, he regained his senses and escaped the throngs of sleep once again.
Evan quickly pressed the save button on the document, named it, filed it, and clicked it all away.
One down!
Two to go…
Sleep loitered alluringly around him as he opened another document. He knew she was there, waiting but he refused to give into her tricks. Ignoring her as best he could, he buckled his mind to the task at hand and kept on working, but sleep, she was annoyingly persistent.
Sleep, dressed up as a like a temptress, made herself comfortably at home around him and now she lay pleasantly on his eyelids, attempting to make the boy relax, hoping his thoughts would want to wander, but Evan... he simply ignored her.... just kept right on working.
Well, at least he was trying.
Schedule this thing Evan, focus on scheduling. You have to have this thing posted by morning.
He was proud of his will-power technique...
I am not sleepy yet. I am not sleepy yet.
See… I am scheduling now.
.. but he had not quite won the battle. He merely had convinced himself he was winning at the moment.
Evan was a bit of a pro, nearly an expert at staying up later than he should. He knew how to drum up will power when he needed it. Not only that. as a single person, a man without a family to tend to or a roommate to contend with, he was at liberty to spend his time as he so desired... and he did, often working long hours into the night. He was dedicated to his job, a reliable person and he knew how to get a job done. As manager of the museum he was used to working with deadlines. He had no time for women in his busy life.
The sleep disappeared again, as does the fog.
Evan did his best work at night, or so he thought, and he was often writing scripts for docents, choreographing music to match a a visitors experience in a museum display. Other times, when he wasn't writing memos or schedules, he was simply doing research, reading about and creating personal portfolios of little known artists. It worked out well for him to do this, since the days were busy and buisness at the museum was booming. People loved it.
evenings? they were a time for him to do shopping or get some yard-work done. Sometimes he would watch a little evening television. He liked working on things for work, like this, later in the night because the world was more subdued, almost silent and he felt it was a good time to catch the creative juices that were always flowing, since all the business of day was swept aside.
Tonight, his creative juices must have been really flowing. He was just getting over that "sleep thing" and now his mind kept straying to the window of the room. He would have hated to admit it, but he actually found himself hallucinating that aliens from another planet were spying on him.
Evan, stop imagining things!
He even found himself wondering if they were planning his capture, through the window.
The thought of it all was a little thrilling.
Evan who still liked to read the comics liked to imagine things like that. (Note: Imagine, is a highlighted word. Move your mouse over it and right-click.)It went against his better judgment at the moment, but he entertained the notion just the same, and before he knew it, they had captured him all right. They had knocked him near unconscious, taken him prisoner an beamed him up into their little spacecraft and carried him away.
When he regained consciousness, he had to shake the crazy notion of being abducted by aliens out of his head. This while attempting to remember who this letter he was writing was addressed to. He Evan actually thought himself quite lucky to be able to regain consciousness of his surroundings. The occurrence left him spooked.
Something didn't feel right.
Half asleep, half awake, Evan looked across the room at the curtains.
There was nothing there. Things were as they had always had been. Still in a bit of a swoon he reasoned with himself that there were not any aliens, except somewhere in the wondrous turning wheels of his very creative mind.
Sheesh. I must need to sleep. It's not even that late!
I bet it was that movie segment...
Called Alien Abductions from Planet Ork, the movie ne of those thought-provoking short foreign films on the public television network. He had simply run across it while he was randomly flipping through the channels on his new HTV. Apparently fifteen minutes was all it took to provoke his mind into having these alien abduction
hallucinations.
He mused a bit about how exciting it would be to get taken to another planet by real alien beings.
If I was abducted, the aliens would simply dip me in ethanol, poke me with pins and label me a middle-aged nerd with an antique technological device.
It was 23:42, almost Monday.
Okay, focus Evan, focus; you really need to get this done so you can get some sleep.
Evan liked his new HTV.
He chided himself fort not checking his communication device earlier that day, then he yawned. He scrolled. He clicked the delivery schedule, he checked to see who would be available for receiving, almost wishing that he would be here to at least supervise the set up.
He wasn't going to be here. Someone had to go to Rio and he was glad it would be him.
Let’s see, the concrete columns for the Roman Room will arrive Friday, so…who can I put on task to receive and unload?
He chose David for the task.
While feeling the e could feel the warmth of the bedside lamp on his skin he worked, composing a memo with detailed instructions for the set-up of the room in his absence. Hoping that upon his return he would have but a few minor things to do before opening day, he clicked on some addressees to carbon copy the memo to. evan felt a bit of an affinity with his little lamp as it warmed him.
Like his lamp, Evan was a bit of an anomaly, a rare vestige of a world gone by. This is because, in Evan's world, incandescent lighting was a thing of the past... a rarity. Most people had already converted to using light that was only "green," but Evan still had use of it thanks to the Right To Light Act. Evan at the ripe old age of 42, like lamps and light bulbs, knew he was replaceable. Both Things... just had to be operating at peak performance level at all times or they would risk becoming, like dinosaurs, "extinct."
You and me lamp... we're dinosaurs.
Feeling the warm glow on his arm time, and unadmittedly sleepy, Evan now imagined himself a dinosaur, basking in the warm electric rays of his little incandescent light. He felt old and gray, not green like dinosaurs were often thought to be. It was okay with him. He didn't mind being a gray dinosaur.
Truth was, he was simply not convinced that being "green" was so great anyhow. Evan just didn't buy into the whole "Green" theory. He still believed that “green" meant, something 'young and inexperienced," "untrained," even, " foolish." He could never really figure out why the media tried to sell the notion that being "Green" meant being "sophisticated" and "wise."
Evan had bought a huge supply of incandescent bulbs ten years ago when they went on sale. He like them better than the new "green" bulbs and besides, he knew they lasted longer, even though the packaging on the "green" products promised to outlive the older bulbs. It simply wasn't true. They burnt out just like the others and they gave him a headache; the old ones never did. .
The heat of the lamp with it's incandescent glow was soothing, it was a bit of a comfort to him ting as it warmed his skin. Evan looked at his arm, saw his scaly old gray skin, and in his imagination dreamily carried him away to a land where time passed very slowly. He was not Evan any longer, but rather a dinosaur basking in the sunshine, bathing in it's warmth.
The hot desert sun beat down heavily upon him and his hand-held device. With his stylus, gripped firmly by his gnarled claw, he moved methodically slow, over and about the keypad. He could barely see the symbols... they were faint as if they were a million light years away. As the symbols faded, the enormous green and scaly creature snarled at the stylus and dropped the device he was holding. As it fell into the scorching desert sand, the creature then set out across the dunes in search of shade.
Evan awoke out of his slumbering stupor, scooped the computer off the floor and yawned as if nothing had happened.
Where was I? Oh yeah, checking reservations and making an email for Manuel with new arrival times.
He reconnected to the airline’s webpage.
Let’s see…my plane doesn’t leave for Brazil until 6:30… so… Manuel will need to meet me at the airport a little later than previously planned. Will that change the time for meeting at the excavation? Hmmm. I wonder how long of a drive that will be?
Mulling over the details for the trip. he studied the map page, and in another window he began the next letter.
“DEAR MANUEL,” he transcribed,
“IT HAS BEEN A LONG TIME MY FRIEND, AND I AM CERTAINLY LOOKING FORWARD TO SEEING YOU AGAIN! I AM WRITING TO INFORM YOU THAT MY FLIGHT SCHEDULE HAS CHANGED. I AM SO SORRY FOR THE INCONVENIENCE OF THIS LATE NOTICE, BUT I JUST FOUND OUT ABOUT THE CHANGES MYSELF. I HOPE YOU WILL STILL BE ABLE TO PICK ME UP AT THE AIRSTRIP.
MY PLANE IS SCHEDULED TO ARRIVE AT…”
He paused, revisited the airlines' webpage to be sure he had the correct time and recomposed his letter.
Evan loved visiting Rio de Janeiro. It was breathtakingly beautiful. He loved the sights, the smells, the food, and he loved the coffee! He found Manuel to be quite an interesting person too. The wildness of the jungle he found quite captivating. Truth was, he loved everything about Rio.
Well, he loved almost everything. The last time he was there he had been robbed, threatened with a knife, by a band of young and temperamental favelados. Evan felt lucky to have escaped with his life. The robbers escaped too, with his money and his cellphone, but he had to admit, it was a great “true” story to tell, one that had gotten a lot of mileage at the tavern. It was a break from his own somewhat monotonously boring life.
This trip would be his first time to visit Pedra da Gávea…
The plan was that he would travel with Manuel to the newly discovered Phoenician excavation, assess it first hand, and take the necessary photographs to help him create the details for the new display. The next day, the two of them would meet with the acquisition specialist, and if all went as planned, he would be free to spend the next two days “on the town” with Manuel and Manuel’s wife, Inez. He could hardly wait.
After proofreading the letter, he gave the email his signature, marked it for a read receipt and sent it on its way.
“Boa noite, amigo!” He spoke the words aloud to his faraway friend as he depressed the send- button, hoping that the letter would carry with it the spirit of friendship and anticipation that he had written into it.
Only one more note and I am done.
He was barely into the first paragraph when his eyes began to droop. At first it was only a casual blink… then it was a wink. Then it was his left eye, then it was his left and his right. Before he knew it, he could stay awake no longer.
Reluctantly, he resigned.
I will have to send the memo in the morning…
He secured his stylus, laid his handheld computer on the little table beside his bed, turned off his lamp and then, with a sigh of relief, he closed his tired eyes and lay there, listening to the silence.
The light on the handheld device flickered. Off and on, off and on, sending it’s lightening-like strobe out in blinks across the pitch-black room.
That’s annoying.
Frustrated, Evan sat up, scooped up the little computer, and dropped it inside the half-open nightstand drawer. Then he lay back upon his bed, pulled the blanket over his head and closed his eyes.
He thought he was relaxed. He even thought he was on the verge of sleep, once or twice, but something wasn’t co-operating. He was still awake.
He lay there, listening to himself breathing... thinking that now there was no way he could ever fall asleep. His mind was now churning, tumbling around like clothes in a clothes dryer and he found himself hanging up all the events of the day.
He felt hot all over. He threw off the heavy blanket but it was no use. His mind still tumbled and the stupid machine just kept turning. House repairs, packing invoices, files, meetings.. and that lost memo. There were wrongs to be righted, choices to be made, planes to catch... sleep to be had.... and so little time.
Maybe I am just out of rhythm.
Yep. That must be me, “Mr. Out-of-Rhythm.” I am so tired of juggling between up and down, work and play, left and right, right and wrong, health and death, republican and democrat, manager and employee. He was constantly, consistently being pulled in two directions…and going nowhere.
He rolled over... thinking of all the laundry he had done.
Permanent press.
I am stuck, stuck, in the clothes dryer of life and it is set on permanent press!
The thoughts tumbled around and around, one after another.
Enough!
At last, Evan took command of it all and all was subdued. finally he felt a wisp of sleep carress his face and calm his mind. He welcomed this moment.
In the stillness of the night he could hear the rhythmic beating of his heart’s blood flowing through his veins, and for a moment, he lay there like a listless leaf on water, pulsating in the ripples of it's rythm. Buoyantly moving in the flowing river of sleep that surrounded him, he began relaxing.
He wondered why he let the snafus of the day hold on to him like that.
Aahhhhhhhh! Sleep…I love to sleep.
Wrapped in the effervescent mantle of rhythmic content, he began drinking-in the misty air around him. It filled his nostrils and he let it carry him away. He pulled the covers over himself and the little leaf on the edge of the eddy was well on it's way, into the flow of the mighty river. Soon he would find himself in another world, a place unhampered by time. He would now immerse himself in the enchantment of it all and roam the boundless realms unfettered... at least until the dawn.
His body stirred beneath the sheets.
As he relaxed he began his journey on the meandering bends of the river called sleep in his mind. The fragrant wisps of dream passed through his mind. He lazily floated past a few rocks and made his way over a few small white rapids. He was almost there. It was a most enjoyable ride.
Merrily, merrily, he rode along. Left and right, back and forth he was gently rocking. Then it happened; he fell deep into a passing dream.
Evan was a tree. Strong, full of vitality, lush and green; with only a hint of autumn in his leaves he stood, a towering giant, a mighty tree among the others that also grew strong and tall around him. From his vantage point he now observed the winds blowing to and fro and he saw the seasons changing and watched s colors turned from green to red and autumn gold. As he looked down to his feet he saw that they were no longer feet, but tree roots, and around his roots were red and amber hues of color, autumn leaves, his precious leaves, spilled out, strewn like blood upon the ground.
Leaves, leaves that once danced upon the blue translucent sky, were dying, dead and falling. One by one they fell into the cold of winter’s wind and journeyed down.
Down....
Down.....
Down.
There was nothing he could do, but watch and feel the cold as it settled in. With branches nearly bare, he stood there, naked, cold and thirsty, longing for water, longing for covering, longing for the vitality of life that now seemingly was being stripped away.
He watched as one lone leaf succumbed. It soared far and freely upon the wind and disappeared into the wash of colors far below and the world around him slowly faded into gray.
The tree, arms outstretched to the sky tipped headlong and the dreaming Evan felt the rush of frigid waters rolling down his back and thighs. He was the tree.... falling down....
Down...
down...
down…
Back on his bed, Evan’s body quaked between the sheets, and then it lay perfectly still and silent. Evan was sleeping.
A myriad of colors danced and played behind his closed eyes. A completely new landscape emerged as one after another fell away. All was dark, yet, it was light. White was black, and black was white, and the rest... simply an illusion Faces and forms emerged, and then receded. Voices murmured, soft and their whispers became substances. Evan was but a casual observer... a dreamer in the land of dreams.
Excitement filled him as he witnessed an avalanche of ice, and as he observed it crashing into the roaring, rolling waters of the night; the surge of which sent mountainous waves of sparkling water high into the air. Clouds of pure white cotton horses ran across a deep blue marbled sky and Evan dreamed he was a pony, a wild stallion riding high upon the wind.
Galloping....
Galloping
Galloping....
free and wild, his tail painted watercolor pictures behind him, and visions of an Arizona sunset crossed his mind. He was a wild pony, and the wild pony galloped off... into the sunset, leaving only billows of hot brown desert dust behind.
Browns turned to blues, and the next thing Evan knew, he was in a boat looking out from the helm of it at a sandy shoreline. Gulls were overhead, diving and gliding, riding the sky like kites in the wind. The open sea was all around him as he checked a compass and turned the boom to catch the breeze and sail off westward.... into the wind.
Wave after wave buffeted the tiny ship as he peered with one eye through his scope far across the swells of wavy sea. shoreward. Far away in the sea-swept distance, he watched a lone sandpiper foraging for morsels on the sand where the breakers hit the shore.
He trimmed the sail, tied the lines, and like the gulls with their wings open to the wind, he let the salty breeze blow where it willed and carry his tiny craft away. The captain was sleepy.
Back in his room, all was quiet. There were only shadows dancing on the wall. One particular shadow loomed above his head like a tombstone while his body lay motionless as a cadaver beneath his sheets.. The only sound was the sound of Evan breathing and the floors and windows creaking, each logging their complaints, no doubt, that time was surely passing or maybe it was that Evan had slipped the surely bonds of night and had left them for another world. Little did Evan know that outside his room, outside his little house, somewhere in the world, a real storm was brewing.
The lawn outside of Evan's house was draped with the spidery arms of naked windblown trees, and their shadows were dancing like black flames in the night. Cold clouds obscured the moon, but inside in his own little room, in his own little bed, Evan was securely anchored. He was safely tethered to life as he slept, just like he had slept a thousand times before.
It was a deep peaceful, rhythmic breathing that came from Evan now, one that rolled like thunder across Evan’s inner universe. It bellowed low and high as it traversed across the vast valley inside his dreamy head. Echoing far and wide, the sound soared high and higher, and higher still, then like the seat on a backyard swing it came rushing back again down, down, down… In one moment it was an aria the next it was a dirge. The wheezy melodic breathing surged, peaked, lingered, lumbered and retreated, then repeated.
Evan snored.
Then it happened. The alarm went off.
One minute his mind was wet with fantastic colorful dreams, and the next, a horrible, terrible sound, erupted.…
Waaaaaank.
(to continue reading contact me via comments. thank you!)
It seemed he was always working, especially late at night. There were always last minute things to be done before he could rise and greet the day, and tomorrow, he most definitely wanted to be ready. He wanted to be certain he had everything under control, at least to the best of his abilities. It was a big meeting he was looking forward to... and then a trip, which would be to him, like a vacation..
Like most freemen, (and Even was a free man, ) Evan was the type of man that would be quite proud to think that that he was captive to none; and generally speaking, this was the case, for he not only lived in America, but he was never too quick to let others "rent space" in his brain. Little did he know however, he was captive… captive to a little handheld device that emitted light, deep into his eyes. Like a cobra in a basket at the beckoning of the pungi, so was Evan to his electronic world. Even at this very moment he was mesmerized by the man-made technological creation he held in his palm, the one from which he carefully orchestrated and organized his life, his world. (Did I mention, Even was working?)
He paused, lay back on his pillow, and was thinking. He was just laying there, listening to the ideas in his own mind, trying to sort them. He was making every attempt to get them, or at least one, to come forth so he could turn it into signs and symbols, place it on the organizer exactly where it belonged... on his desktop.. in a file, somewhere inside his handheld computer, but at this moment, it wasn’t easy. His mind was dragging.
It was late.
All he could do was stare into his bite-sized computer screen thinking that he was sleepy. No doubt, his mind was fading fast.
It's no use.
The sleep rolled in like waves of fog over him. The fog swirled around the ideas in his mind. It seemed to him, (maybe it was his imagination, ) that the fog grew arms, wrapped around his body like an easy chair and offered to carry him away, magically off into the blue... but he didn't let it. He managed to fight of the foggy sleep that encased him in it's warm, billowing silence. Evan could never sleep when there was important work undone.
Evan faithfully resisted. This was his job and he had to get it done.
I can’t sleep now. I have memos to write; letters to send; things need to be on other people’s desks in the morning… I have deadlines.
There’s nothing worse than a line going dead.
Now, where was I?
The foggy mist of sleepiness disappeared as he focused hard tapping out a word or two with his thumbs, but it wasn't long before the relentless nemesis brought-on a new method of attack. Now, the sleep loomed over Evan like little white clouds... or were they pillows? Evan ignored them and kept working, He didn't realize it, but the sleep, like autumn snow, now fell softly around him and while he didn't realize this, he did notice that he was feeling cold. Some of the cold, silent sleep even took up residence on his eyelids, the weight of which made them feel heavy. Even tapped his thumbs a little slower now...
Evan yawned. His eyelids grew heavier by the minute as the snowy sleep fell softly on his eyelids. The cool caressing made them flutter. It was all he could do to stay awake.
Alarmed at the realization he was about to be conquered with such a sneak attack, he promptly rubbed the piled high sleep from his droopy eyelids, gathered his wits about him, and picked up his bamboo stylus. He clicked, then dragged his idea around the screen for a bit and happily tap-typed one more line of text. The next thing he knew however, he was resting comfortably with his mouth wide open and his eyes nearly closed. Well, one eye, nearly. With one eye still nearly and narrowly open, he regained his senses and escaped the throngs of sleep once again.
Evan quickly pressed the save button on the document, named it, filed it, and clicked it all away.
One down!
Two to go…
Sleep loitered alluringly around him as he opened another document. He knew she was there, waiting but he refused to give into her tricks. Ignoring her as best he could, he buckled his mind to the task at hand and kept on working, but sleep, she was annoyingly persistent.
Sleep, dressed up as a like a temptress, made herself comfortably at home around him and now she lay pleasantly on his eyelids, attempting to make the boy relax, hoping his thoughts would want to wander, but Evan... he simply ignored her.... just kept right on working.
Well, at least he was trying.
Schedule this thing Evan, focus on scheduling. You have to have this thing posted by morning.
He was proud of his will-power technique...
I am not sleepy yet. I am not sleepy yet.
See… I am scheduling now.
.. but he had not quite won the battle. He merely had convinced himself he was winning at the moment.
Evan was a bit of a pro, nearly an expert at staying up later than he should. He knew how to drum up will power when he needed it. Not only that. as a single person, a man without a family to tend to or a roommate to contend with, he was at liberty to spend his time as he so desired... and he did, often working long hours into the night. He was dedicated to his job, a reliable person and he knew how to get a job done. As manager of the museum he was used to working with deadlines. He had no time for women in his busy life.
The sleep disappeared again, as does the fog.
Evan did his best work at night, or so he thought, and he was often writing scripts for docents, choreographing music to match a a visitors experience in a museum display. Other times, when he wasn't writing memos or schedules, he was simply doing research, reading about and creating personal portfolios of little known artists. It worked out well for him to do this, since the days were busy and buisness at the museum was booming. People loved it.
evenings? they were a time for him to do shopping or get some yard-work done. Sometimes he would watch a little evening television. He liked working on things for work, like this, later in the night because the world was more subdued, almost silent and he felt it was a good time to catch the creative juices that were always flowing, since all the business of day was swept aside.
Tonight, his creative juices must have been really flowing. He was just getting over that "sleep thing" and now his mind kept straying to the window of the room. He would have hated to admit it, but he actually found himself hallucinating that aliens from another planet were spying on him.
Evan, stop imagining things!
He even found himself wondering if they were planning his capture, through the window.
The thought of it all was a little thrilling.
Evan who still liked to read the comics liked to imagine things like that. (Note: Imagine, is a highlighted word. Move your mouse over it and right-click.)It went against his better judgment at the moment, but he entertained the notion just the same, and before he knew it, they had captured him all right. They had knocked him near unconscious, taken him prisoner an beamed him up into their little spacecraft and carried him away.
When he regained consciousness, he had to shake the crazy notion of being abducted by aliens out of his head. This while attempting to remember who this letter he was writing was addressed to. He Evan actually thought himself quite lucky to be able to regain consciousness of his surroundings. The occurrence left him spooked.
Something didn't feel right.
Half asleep, half awake, Evan looked across the room at the curtains.
Nothing's there!
There was nothing there. Things were as they had always had been. Still in a bit of a swoon he reasoned with himself that there were not any aliens, except somewhere in the wondrous turning wheels of his very creative mind.
Sheesh. I must need to sleep. It's not even that late!
I bet it was that movie segment...
Called Alien Abductions from Planet Ork, the movie ne of those thought-provoking short foreign films on the public television network. He had simply run across it while he was randomly flipping through the channels on his new HTV. Apparently fifteen minutes was all it took to provoke his mind into having these alien abduction
hallucinations.
He mused a bit about how exciting it would be to get taken to another planet by real alien beings.
If I was abducted, the aliens would simply dip me in ethanol, poke me with pins and label me a middle-aged nerd with an antique technological device.
It was 23:42, almost Monday.
Okay, focus Evan, focus; you really need to get this done so you can get some sleep.
Evan liked his new HTV.
I waited a whole week for that HTV because it was back ordered. Besides, I do have everything packed. Better late than never.
He rationalized.
I did get a lot done today.
Yes, the lawn mower was winterized, the garage was organized, a little. He did have his laundry washed, dried, folded and somewhat put away as well as his suitcase packed. He had even unboxed and set up his new holographic television and watched a movie too. He had gotten a lot done for a Sunday afternoon, but really, the last thing he wanted to be doing, especially when he needed to get up early, was re-scheduling everything he had worked out last week.He rationalized.
I did get a lot done today.
He chided himself fort not checking his communication device earlier that day, then he yawned. He scrolled. He clicked the delivery schedule, he checked to see who would be available for receiving, almost wishing that he would be here to at least supervise the set up.
He wasn't going to be here. Someone had to go to Rio and he was glad it would be him.
Let’s see, the concrete columns for the Roman Room will arrive Friday, so…who can I put on task to receive and unload?
He chose David for the task.
While feeling the e could feel the warmth of the bedside lamp on his skin he worked, composing a memo with detailed instructions for the set-up of the room in his absence. Hoping that upon his return he would have but a few minor things to do before opening day, he clicked on some addressees to carbon copy the memo to. evan felt a bit of an affinity with his little lamp as it warmed him.
Like his lamp, Evan was a bit of an anomaly, a rare vestige of a world gone by. This is because, in Evan's world, incandescent lighting was a thing of the past... a rarity. Most people had already converted to using light that was only "green," but Evan still had use of it thanks to the Right To Light Act. Evan at the ripe old age of 42, like lamps and light bulbs, knew he was replaceable. Both Things... just had to be operating at peak performance level at all times or they would risk becoming, like dinosaurs, "extinct."
You and me lamp... we're dinosaurs.
Feeling the warm glow on his arm time, and unadmittedly sleepy, Evan now imagined himself a dinosaur, basking in the warm electric rays of his little incandescent light. He felt old and gray, not green like dinosaurs were often thought to be. It was okay with him. He didn't mind being a gray dinosaur.
Truth was, he was simply not convinced that being "green" was so great anyhow. Evan just didn't buy into the whole "Green" theory. He still believed that “green" meant, something 'young and inexperienced," "untrained," even, " foolish." He could never really figure out why the media tried to sell the notion that being "Green" meant being "sophisticated" and "wise."
Evan had bought a huge supply of incandescent bulbs ten years ago when they went on sale. He like them better than the new "green" bulbs and besides, he knew they lasted longer, even though the packaging on the "green" products promised to outlive the older bulbs. It simply wasn't true. They burnt out just like the others and they gave him a headache; the old ones never did. .
The heat of the lamp with it's incandescent glow was soothing, it was a bit of a comfort to him ting as it warmed his skin. Evan looked at his arm, saw his scaly old gray skin, and in his imagination dreamily carried him away to a land where time passed very slowly. He was not Evan any longer, but rather a dinosaur basking in the sunshine, bathing in it's warmth.
The hot desert sun beat down heavily upon him and his hand-held device. With his stylus, gripped firmly by his gnarled claw, he moved methodically slow, over and about the keypad. He could barely see the symbols... they were faint as if they were a million light years away. As the symbols faded, the enormous green and scaly creature snarled at the stylus and dropped the device he was holding. As it fell into the scorching desert sand, the creature then set out across the dunes in search of shade.
Evan awoke out of his slumbering stupor, scooped the computer off the floor and yawned as if nothing had happened.
Where was I? Oh yeah, checking reservations and making an email for Manuel with new arrival times.
He reconnected to the airline’s webpage.
Let’s see…my plane doesn’t leave for Brazil until 6:30… so… Manuel will need to meet me at the airport a little later than previously planned. Will that change the time for meeting at the excavation? Hmmm. I wonder how long of a drive that will be?
Mulling over the details for the trip. he studied the map page, and in another window he began the next letter.
“DEAR MANUEL,” he transcribed,
“IT HAS BEEN A LONG TIME MY FRIEND, AND I AM CERTAINLY LOOKING FORWARD TO SEEING YOU AGAIN! I AM WRITING TO INFORM YOU THAT MY FLIGHT SCHEDULE HAS CHANGED. I AM SO SORRY FOR THE INCONVENIENCE OF THIS LATE NOTICE, BUT I JUST FOUND OUT ABOUT THE CHANGES MYSELF. I HOPE YOU WILL STILL BE ABLE TO PICK ME UP AT THE AIRSTRIP.
MY PLANE IS SCHEDULED TO ARRIVE AT…”
He paused, revisited the airlines' webpage to be sure he had the correct time and recomposed his letter.
Evan loved visiting Rio de Janeiro. It was breathtakingly beautiful. He loved the sights, the smells, the food, and he loved the coffee! He found Manuel to be quite an interesting person too. The wildness of the jungle he found quite captivating. Truth was, he loved everything about Rio.
Well, he loved almost everything. The last time he was there he had been robbed, threatened with a knife, by a band of young and temperamental favelados. Evan felt lucky to have escaped with his life. The robbers escaped too, with his money and his cellphone, but he had to admit, it was a great “true” story to tell, one that had gotten a lot of mileage at the tavern. It was a break from his own somewhat monotonously boring life.
This trip would be his first time to visit Pedra da Gávea…
The plan was that he would travel with Manuel to the newly discovered Phoenician excavation, assess it first hand, and take the necessary photographs to help him create the details for the new display. The next day, the two of them would meet with the acquisition specialist, and if all went as planned, he would be free to spend the next two days “on the town” with Manuel and Manuel’s wife, Inez. He could hardly wait.
After proofreading the letter, he gave the email his signature, marked it for a read receipt and sent it on its way.
“Boa noite, amigo!” He spoke the words aloud to his faraway friend as he depressed the send- button, hoping that the letter would carry with it the spirit of friendship and anticipation that he had written into it.
Only one more note and I am done.
This one was to the acquisition specialist.
He was barely into the first paragraph when his eyes began to droop. At first it was only a casual blink… then it was a wink. Then it was his left eye, then it was his left and his right. Before he knew it, he could stay awake no longer.
Reluctantly, he resigned.
I will have to send the memo in the morning…
He secured his stylus, laid his handheld computer on the little table beside his bed, turned off his lamp and then, with a sigh of relief, he closed his tired eyes and lay there, listening to the silence.
That’s annoying.
Frustrated, Evan sat up, scooped up the little computer, and dropped it inside the half-open nightstand drawer. Then he lay back upon his bed, pulled the blanket over his head and closed his eyes.
He thought he was relaxed. He even thought he was on the verge of sleep, once or twice, but something wasn’t co-operating. He was still awake.
He lay there, listening to himself breathing... thinking that now there was no way he could ever fall asleep. His mind was now churning, tumbling around like clothes in a clothes dryer and he found himself hanging up all the events of the day.
He felt hot all over. He threw off the heavy blanket but it was no use. His mind still tumbled and the stupid machine just kept turning. House repairs, packing invoices, files, meetings.. and that lost memo. There were wrongs to be righted, choices to be made, planes to catch... sleep to be had.... and so little time.
Maybe I am just out of rhythm.
Yep. That must be me, “Mr. Out-of-Rhythm.” I am so tired of juggling between up and down, work and play, left and right, right and wrong, health and death, republican and democrat, manager and employee. He was constantly, consistently being pulled in two directions…and going nowhere.
He rolled over... thinking of all the laundry he had done.
Permanent press.
I am stuck, stuck, in the clothes dryer of life and it is set on permanent press!
The thoughts tumbled around and around, one after another.
Enough!
At last, Evan took command of it all and all was subdued. finally he felt a wisp of sleep carress his face and calm his mind. He welcomed this moment.
In the stillness of the night he could hear the rhythmic beating of his heart’s blood flowing through his veins, and for a moment, he lay there like a listless leaf on water, pulsating in the ripples of it's rythm. Buoyantly moving in the flowing river of sleep that surrounded him, he began relaxing.
He wondered why he let the snafus of the day hold on to him like that.
Aahhhhhhhh! Sleep…I love to sleep.
Wrapped in the effervescent mantle of rhythmic content, he began drinking-in the misty air around him. It filled his nostrils and he let it carry him away. He pulled the covers over himself and the little leaf on the edge of the eddy was well on it's way, into the flow of the mighty river. Soon he would find himself in another world, a place unhampered by time. He would now immerse himself in the enchantment of it all and roam the boundless realms unfettered... at least until the dawn.
His body stirred beneath the sheets.
As he relaxed he began his journey on the meandering bends of the river called sleep in his mind. The fragrant wisps of dream passed through his mind. He lazily floated past a few rocks and made his way over a few small white rapids. He was almost there. It was a most enjoyable ride.
Merrily, merrily, he rode along. Left and right, back and forth he was gently rocking. Then it happened; he fell deep into a passing dream.
Evan was a tree. Strong, full of vitality, lush and green; with only a hint of autumn in his leaves he stood, a towering giant, a mighty tree among the others that also grew strong and tall around him. From his vantage point he now observed the winds blowing to and fro and he saw the seasons changing and watched s colors turned from green to red and autumn gold. As he looked down to his feet he saw that they were no longer feet, but tree roots, and around his roots were red and amber hues of color, autumn leaves, his precious leaves, spilled out, strewn like blood upon the ground.
Leaves, leaves that once danced upon the blue translucent sky, were dying, dead and falling. One by one they fell into the cold of winter’s wind and journeyed down.
Down....
Down.....
Down.
There was nothing he could do, but watch and feel the cold as it settled in. With branches nearly bare, he stood there, naked, cold and thirsty, longing for water, longing for covering, longing for the vitality of life that now seemingly was being stripped away.
He watched as one lone leaf succumbed. It soared far and freely upon the wind and disappeared into the wash of colors far below and the world around him slowly faded into gray.
The tree, arms outstretched to the sky tipped headlong and the dreaming Evan felt the rush of frigid waters rolling down his back and thighs. He was the tree.... falling down....
Down...
down...
down…
Back on his bed, Evan’s body quaked between the sheets, and then it lay perfectly still and silent. Evan was sleeping.
A myriad of colors danced and played behind his closed eyes. A completely new landscape emerged as one after another fell away. All was dark, yet, it was light. White was black, and black was white, and the rest... simply an illusion Faces and forms emerged, and then receded. Voices murmured, soft and their whispers became substances. Evan was but a casual observer... a dreamer in the land of dreams.
Excitement filled him as he witnessed an avalanche of ice, and as he observed it crashing into the roaring, rolling waters of the night; the surge of which sent mountainous waves of sparkling water high into the air. Clouds of pure white cotton horses ran across a deep blue marbled sky and Evan dreamed he was a pony, a wild stallion riding high upon the wind.
Galloping....
Galloping
Galloping....
free and wild, his tail painted watercolor pictures behind him, and visions of an Arizona sunset crossed his mind. He was a wild pony, and the wild pony galloped off... into the sunset, leaving only billows of hot brown desert dust behind.
Browns turned to blues, and the next thing Evan knew, he was in a boat looking out from the helm of it at a sandy shoreline. Gulls were overhead, diving and gliding, riding the sky like kites in the wind. The open sea was all around him as he checked a compass and turned the boom to catch the breeze and sail off westward.... into the wind.
Wave after wave buffeted the tiny ship as he peered with one eye through his scope far across the swells of wavy sea. shoreward. Far away in the sea-swept distance, he watched a lone sandpiper foraging for morsels on the sand where the breakers hit the shore.
He trimmed the sail, tied the lines, and like the gulls with their wings open to the wind, he let the salty breeze blow where it willed and carry his tiny craft away. The captain was sleepy.
Back in his room, all was quiet. There were only shadows dancing on the wall. One particular shadow loomed above his head like a tombstone while his body lay motionless as a cadaver beneath his sheets.. The only sound was the sound of Evan breathing and the floors and windows creaking, each logging their complaints, no doubt, that time was surely passing or maybe it was that Evan had slipped the surely bonds of night and had left them for another world. Little did Evan know that outside his room, outside his little house, somewhere in the world, a real storm was brewing.
The lawn outside of Evan's house was draped with the spidery arms of naked windblown trees, and their shadows were dancing like black flames in the night. Cold clouds obscured the moon, but inside in his own little room, in his own little bed, Evan was securely anchored. He was safely tethered to life as he slept, just like he had slept a thousand times before.
It was a deep peaceful, rhythmic breathing that came from Evan now, one that rolled like thunder across Evan’s inner universe. It bellowed low and high as it traversed across the vast valley inside his dreamy head. Echoing far and wide, the sound soared high and higher, and higher still, then like the seat on a backyard swing it came rushing back again down, down, down… In one moment it was an aria the next it was a dirge. The wheezy melodic breathing surged, peaked, lingered, lumbered and retreated, then repeated.
Evan snored.
Then it happened. The alarm went off.
One minute his mind was wet with fantastic colorful dreams, and the next, a horrible, terrible sound, erupted.…
Waaaaaank.
(to continue reading contact me via comments. thank you!)
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