Your therapist observes how peaceful you appear now that you’ve moved on from the intense arousal of your meditation and into the seemingly serene calm of your dream state.
He’s curious to know what you might be experiencing and hopes these dreams are of the variety where the details can be recalled by the subject when they’re conscious. Else he hopes they’re retrievable under the influence of guided meditation.
Your hands are on the wheel. The highway stretching out for miles. The FM radio’s playing a selection of classic rock, right now it’s Motorhead, and you’re loving the open road.
You scan the horizon for any sign of a State Trooper, but there’s been nothing to see on this road all day. You crest the hill and check the rearview, there’s still nothing. You press the gas pedal down to the floor and feel the wind whipping in through the open window as you push this old classic to find more speed.
On the backseat there’s a small overnight bag, filled with lingerie and the keys to buried pleasure. You catch sight of it in the rearview mirror and the anticipation excites you.
It’s been so long.
The Motel is a little way off, and you wonder who’ll arrive first.
“…And don’t forget the joker!”
Lemmy screaming, his thick gravel voice, cracked and broken, and that bad-ass driving bass, pounding as you push on, driving hard and attacking this ten-mile straight.
You pull down the sun visor, the sunlight flashing on the bug spattered windshield and bouncing up off the hood, causing you to squint. Suddenly wondering, is that someone waving?
~ XVI ~
I see the car slowing, knowing I’ve been seen. I lean up off the bike and with a genuine, warm and welcoming smile, I stick out my thumb and gesture for a lift.
The sunlight shimmers off the windshield, a golden mirror of bright light that I can’t see through or beyond.
The car slows to a halt beside me. Engine running. I peak my head down to look in through the passenger window and immediately I’m stunned by how much the driver reminds me of you.
Our eyes hold the full attention of each other. Time has been arrested. Strands of inner light twist and turn, threading their way between us, crisscrossing, combining, creating a crochet of channeled energies, countless calculations, all conspiring.
She rolls the passenger window down.
“Hey” She offers, skeptical, weary.
“Hey” I reply, courteous, curious, confident and calm.
“Are you broken down?” she asks, her green forest eyes shifting to the bike, then back to mine.
“Ran out of gas” I explain, innocent and sincere.
“Too bad” she offers, and I sense her tone, she’s shifting away.
My eyes glance into the backseat, catching a glimpse of her weekend suitcase, my mind wondering what the story is here.
“Can you give me a lift to the next gas station?” I ask hopefully, yet sensing this isn’t going to happen.