Day (again)
Two Cities Underwater Dream
Two cities had been built underwater. No, not in a dome. They were undersea but in the open.
No one yet lived in them. Shiny and new, rich with skyscrapers, monorails, and modern architecture, multiple parks and roller-coasters were also visible. Finished as mirror images, only one would exist when it was all completed. The final stage of completion was set to begin.
I was excited. I wanted to live in those cities. I marveled at the water. Amazingly pristine, I could see forever. To live in one of those cities, whichever one was chosen, seemed special. Come on, I urged, finish the city. Open it.
Enrico Colantoni, an actor, was sent out to finish the process. He was to match pieces, like a giant jigsaw, to one of the cities. That would bring it to life and banish the other one. Then people would be allowed to enter it. Fingers crossed that I could enter.
As Colantoni picked up the first huge piece and studied it (a red roller-coaster on tracks at an amusement part), talking to himself, everyone (including me) was pounding on glass windows and yelling advice at him, telling him where to put the piece, something that we were able to clearly see out there, from a distance.
A heavy, repetitive thud interrupted the proceedings. As all paused to wonder what that was, a muffled voice said, “What?”
Much more sharply, a second voice said, “It’s over. He’s called it off.”
“What? muffled voice answered.
“He changed his mind. Stop.”
Disappointment swept me. Who changed their mind? What was going on?
The dream ended.
Tale From Another
Have a friend who has tested positive for COVID-19.
She the first friend that has confirmed she’s tested positive. I have third hand tales that a group of friends I sometimes hang out with had two people test positive.
My friend is traveler, visiting Africa, Europe, Japan, and other parts of the U.S. this year. Retired, she enjoys being active and seeing the world. After returning from her latest trip (to Arizona), she experienced symptoms that were listed as possible signs of COVID-19; besides that, she’d been with someone else before that exhibiting the signs.
So, she decided to go into isolation and get tested.
Deciding to get tested was one thing; actually getting tested required days of telephone calls and insistence that she be tested. After being tested at a drive through testing center, she remained in isolation while awaiting the results. Receiving the results took more days of telephone calls and emails. Ten days later, they confirmed what she suspected.
Although she’s over seventy, her symptoms weren’t too severe. The worse part was the dry cough, she said. It felt like her ribs were being torn apart on some days. Mended now, eight weeks later, she considers herself lucky.
Meanwhile, as nobody else seemed interested, she conducted her own tracing program and notified others she’d been with. Of the seven that she notified, six tested positive for COVID-19. The seventh didn’t want to be tested. He was showing numerous symptoms but refused to be tested. Coincidentally — and it must only be a coincidence — he’s a Republican and Trump supporter.
And that first person? Yes, he tested positive for COVID-19. Like her, the worse that he experienced was the dry, hard cough.
That is all.
What A Dream
To begin, I’ve parked my car on a road by a small, rocky but sandy beach. Others are there. Someone says, “Look.” They’re pointing.
I turn and look. A large whale is being washed up onto the shore. A man is down there trying to wrestle it into place, an impossible idea. But past that, huge waves are rising and rushing toward us.
I say, “Oh my god, look at those waves.”
The first guy says, “That’s what I was talking about.”
I reply, “Run,” and start running along the beach.
Enormous waves crash behind us. Water is swirling back there. We’ve escaped. We’re on the move and still in danger. I’m with two others, males. They’re friends and younger. “We gotta go,” I say. “We need to get away from here.”
We find a rusted and repainted (gray and white) panel van. I start it and drive away. We drive and drive through the night. The van has a bench seat and no rear seats. It’s empty. The gas gauge is broken. We’re driving parallel to the ocean. Huge waves are crashing. The sea is rising. We need to go until we can turn inland.
I feel like we need gas. Finding a station open, we stop. I have forty dollars. That’s all the money between us. We’re hungry. But — I have a credit card. I talk to the attendant. I’m surprised but relieved he was open. Yes, but not for much longer, he tells me. We’re probably his last customers. I ask if I can pay with a credit card. Yes, he replies, leading me to another man. He’ll take care of us.
We eat and buy supplies, paying with gas. We’re exhausted. We talk about sleeping in the back of the van. Then, I have an idea: let’s go back in time so we can warn people. My friends like that, so that’s what we do.
We arrive at an air force base. I’m in uniform. One of the guys wants to attend a service. He’d died before; this service was for him. He wanted a chance to say good-bye to himself.
So we agree to wait for him while this happens. As I’m standing there, a U.S. flag is ceremoniously folded and handed it to me. I accept it with proper protocol and then give it to another. That was my part.
We go into a briefing room. It’s more like a theater. An officer friend is briefing about a weapon failure. I know what happened because it’d already happened. I push to the front and tell them what happened and convince them that I know the future because I came back from them. I warn them about the growing storm and the need to take action.
The dream ends.
Michael Seidel, writer 