Malibu Dreaming
I remember intense heat. That’s how it begins or at least that is how I remember it beginning, any certainty that I had previously has slowly faded leaving only residual visuals and sensations. Not just summertime hot, but a true scorcher of a day. There is not a single cloud in the sky. By all likelihood, it may be the hottest day of the year and yet there I am walking on dark, hot pavement toward a place I believe still exists; an oasis safe from my troubles with cool water and a nice breeze to cut the heat.
I'm not sure why I feel so compelled, but the feeling is strong. It is as if an invisible hand is pulling me forward, though its presence is not enough to dissuade my worries. Nagging thoughts painfully jab at my grey matter. Will it really be there? Doubt settles in like a parasite onto supple skin. I pick up my pace fearing now that I will be too late. Will I even know it when I see it? I am still not quite sure. A color flashes before my eyes; bright and brilliant, though I still can't visualize my destination, I recognize this as my oasis. It must exist or why else why continue to struggle? The feeling remains strong.
I run. Somehow, I've lost my shoes. My feet now slam hard against the burning pavement, pain and discomfort growing with each step. It shreds the soles of my feet, but I feel there is no option left but to continue. The heat rises like a stove burner dial turned up to the highest level. I’m melting in it. I can feel the weight of my body shifting downward, dragging me down as globs of skin slide and clump before falling off and splattering onto the roadside. My hands are quickly nothing but bone, the color of which sparks a deep embarrassment. It is the color of my oasis.
That is when I finally wake. Relief comes and then fades. Fear has remained, breaking through the barrier between realities and lingering, lying in wait to reappear once forgotten. Is a fabrication that mirrors reality any less frightful just because you recognize its not so fantastical origins?
