You are in a car. Driving. You can't say that you're speeding because your head and eyes aren't exactly behaving at the moment; your gaze is focused on the alien landscape around you. The infinite flat of the American Desert... the only indication of your velocity is the wind pushing your hair back, washing over you like a garden hose after a hard day's work in the yard. You are aware of only three things. The car, the wind, and the sun. Today, these are your holy trinity. They are all you need. You are seeking salvation through coppertone 15 and regular unleaded fuel. The sun is your holy ghost; it is rubbing your back like a familiar lover. You feel the kind of warmth that you have not been aware of since you were five laying face up on a bed of freshly cut grass naming the clouds.
A new awareness. Red. Your head turns to the left of its own volition, as if your neck is at the end of the puppeteer's strings. There is a red convertible in the lane next to you, keeping pace quite nicely. You gaze at the curves of the automobile. You see a murky reflection in the shine of the silver doorhandle and realize you are driving a convertible of your own, a car you do not own.
Your eyes slowly leave the exterior of the red car racing alongside you. There are four inhabitants. Four of the most lovely females you have ever seen. They are blond all over--from their flowing, layered hair to their tanned, oiled bodies. They wear no makeup; they are not hindered by rouged cheeks and crimson lips. They are blond the way California created them. Lush and beautiful and wanton. You consciously remind yourself to blink. They are still there. The girl in the passenger seat looks over at you and notices your open stare. She turns her head, whispers something to the rest of the girls in the car. A giggle insues. You had thought 'a silver brook of laughter' made very little sense until this moment. The girl in the passenger seat looks back at you, removes her glasses, and returns your stare with an open mouth revealing a soft, red tongue. Her icicle blue eyes would have been enough to give Hitler a hard one. Behind her the other three girls remove their brown polarized uv protection sunglasses and stare into your soul. A set of stares so provacative you feel your lap begin to tingle the same way when that "special somebody" put their arm around you at the homecoming dance.
You remember that you're driving and tear your gaze back to the road. The highway goes on for days. The Rocky Mountains aren't even a suggestion on the horizon. The land is empty the way you think of paradise...
Blond. You return your gaze to the car. Red is all you see. The silver door handle returns the murky reflection of you flying in your mysterious convertible, hair being massaged by the fingertips of the wind. Music. Lady Marmalade is floating out of the convertible next to you. You look up. the girl in the passenger seat is on her knees now, waist above the level of the car door. She is wearing a simple white shirt with white buttons. The other girls are giggling, laughing, staring. One in the back tries to pull her back down into the passenger seat. The driver shoos her friend off. The girl in the passenger's seat has a firm belly, an opal jewel centered twelve inches away from your eyes. The girls in the back begin singing along to their radio. The girl in the passenger seat is returning your stare with icicle blue eyes that one would need a map to avoid becoming lost in. Her mouth is open open, revealing a soft, red tongue. She starts unbuttoning her shirt.
You feel you should check the road. Make sure it has not disappeared. Make sure you are still on planet earth. This time, you do not blink.
Blue. Red is all you see when you look up. The white coy smile seduces you. You haven't blinked in so long your eyelids would not know how to respond. The girl in the passenger seat is reaching the top of her shirt. Her body is tanned and oiled and firm and blond all over. The other girls are singing. You never knew what other people meant by 'silvery brook of laughter' until right now. Her simple white shirt is completely unbuttoned. She shrugs if off her shoulders and it flies away in the wind. The other girls are giggling. You are locked onto her gaze. Those blue eyes. Blue the way the sky looks blue in contrast with green tree leaves and white clouds. Blue the way sapphire looks on a mat of sand. Her white mouth is turned up in a knowing smile. Her tongue, red and soft and begging, is whispering to you without noise.
Blond. All you see is white. A row of perfect teeth framing a soft blond smile. Layered blond hair wisps across her body and she lifts her hair above her head. She is kneeling on the passenger seat topless now. The other girls are singing. The driver is looking at you with soft brown eyes the way a fawn looks at a winter hiker. The opal jewel in the topless girl's belly is twelve inches away from your face. You look at her eyes blue like virgin icicles from the north. Her simple white shirt is a memory. Hours behind you now, taken for journeys on the wings of the wind. You let your eyes drop and absorb her body. Her breasts are perfect the way a b-cup is perfect. Her abdomen is tight and firm. Her body is blond all over. Her nipples are small and made hard by the wind. The girl in the back seat is squealing, trying to make her sit down. The driver shoos her off. The girl in the passenger seat is dancing. The girls in the car are singing. Her body is firm and tight and seductive and she is blond all over, from her layered, blond hair to her tanned, oiled body.
You do not remember when last you let your eyes blink. They will not shut.
Silver. The red cuves of the convertible are no match for the curves of this girl in the passenger seat. She is topless and teasing you with an open mouth and blue eyes the way you think of heaven as blue and quiet. Her body is fit and tanned and blond all over. The girls in the car are singing. The girl in the passenger seat is returning your gaze with an open mouth, showing you her rows of white perfect teeth and her tongue. Soft and red and wanting to be kissed. The girl in the passenger seat leans over the door. Leans over the space inbetween the cars. Leans over your body. Her eyes are blue. Her body is tanned. The curves of her body hypnotize you the way you were hypnotized by the passing clouds when you were a child. Her breasts are young and firm and do not look bad as she leans across the gap between the cars with her hand extended. The girls in the car are singing. They are blond all over, from their layered, blond hair to their tanned, oiled bodies. The girl in the passenger seat is topless with her blue eyes and opal jewel. She opens her mouth.
"Look," she says as the car disappears to the left of your vision. Your eyes follow the car as it stops. Red. You are smiling. The girl in the passenger seat is topless and the girls in the backseat are singing.
You cannot make out the license plate, but the grill of the 16-wheeler is in tremendous focus at the moment of impact. The oncoming vehicle hits your convertible with tremendous force and you watch the intersection fly tremendously far over your head.
You are in a car. Driving. You are in your car on familiar roads. It is dark outside your car. The darkest night you can remember. It is the kind of dark that reminds you only of sleep, and the night wraps around your vehicle like a warm blanket, lulling you to slumber.
White. You blink to the incoming glare of headlights. There is a car coming up quickly behind you in the passing lane. You adjust your rear view mirror to lessen the harsh attack on your retinas. You are following a curve in the road and see that the one car is 4, 5, 6 cars. You come out of the curve. All is pitch about you. This too, is one of the dark places of the earth, and you have only the gentle illumination of your headlights to save you. The cars pass you, washing the road and surroundings with colour as they go. They are driving faster than you, but you cannot tell how fast you are going. Your head and eyes aren't exactly behaving.
The last car passes you and you glance into your rear view mirror to check if there are any more. The rear view mirror shows only black. No red glow of the taillights. No piercing white of following traffic. Black. You see the kind of black that astronauts speak of, when they turn their gaze in-between the stars. You never knew what was meant by 'infinity' until this moment. You are hypnotized by the darkness capsulated in that one tiny mirror.
Red. The girl in the passenger seat is topless. Her blue eyes are dancing in time with her tanned, oiled body; firm and blond all over. The girls are singing in the backseat. The highway intersection flies far over your head...
You shake off the flashes of your previous dream. You are awake now. You haven't been blinking again. The warm darkness capsuled in your rear view mirror has hypnotised you. You remember your previous dream now and look back to the road.
The road is no longer there.
In front of you all you see is black. The kind of black that astronauts see when they gaze between stars. You are no longer driving. You are floating. You never really understood what all those people meant by 'infinity' until this moment. You feel a great sleep coming on...
You are in a car. Driving. You do not recognize where you are, but it has a feeling of home in the deepest, most sedate meaning of the word. You are driving over hills, playing tag with the sun and the clouds. Shade cools the interior of your car while the tall trees extend their branches as if proper gentlemen offering an umbrella. You look off to the right of the road and see a glorious hillside. A rolling patch of green. The car is gone. You are on the hillside, strolling. The clouds are white and playful. They are putting on a show for you today. You continue sauntering. The farther you walk the more lost you become, the less you care about where you are going. After several minutes you spot a plume of white smoke. Walking further the chimney appears behind the hill, and then the full cottage is in view.
You have never been to this place before.
Home isn't the word to use, but it is the first one to come to your mind.
With head held high and light-hearted feet, you walk down the rolling green hill towards the small cottage.