A boy and his dog sit on a bench overlooking a busy span of highway. Their skin and fur, respectively, is covered and matted with a grey-yellow dust. The boys lips are red and cracked. The dog’s nose is a sore pink. Dirt fills the cracked seams, where the flesh was once moist and healthy.
For hours they have sat, and before that, whole days on end. Memories of better days are driven back into the subconscious by yearnings of bread, and meat, and respite.
Trucks thunder past, their trailers skipping over the unkempt road. Bits of ashfault fly off and strike the bench. Neither move, for there is no reprieve. Car after car, bus after bus, truck after truck after truck; the road is shaken in constant turbulence.
The boy’s once red hat, now browned by the unwarranted collusion between time and circumstance, slips off his head. First slowly, it inches up his brow. As if the hat were dispatched to an itch, he closes his dry eyes and enjoys the crawl of the hat across his sand covered skin. The hat drops. The boy looks to recover it from the ground beside the bench. He falls over, and with the striking of the ground with his head, he rolls through the blankets and finds himself falling asleep. To sleep, he rests.
Weeks pass. Months pass. Years pass. A thousand such years pass. The boy awakens to a feeling of wonder, of curiosity. Before his eyes he sees a figure elude his mind. It slips around a corner. A milk-white, murky hallway is before him, and it bends to the right. He follows this path, he turns right and is met with a worrying feeling. A queer worry in his stomach. He reaches down to his tummy, to hold himself in this uncertain place of feelings. His hands pass through where his belly ought to be. Either that or his belly does not touch his hands, for it is they which are not there. Very quickly, and all at once, he doubles over forward. He does so with a terrible spin. His body had not fallen as it should. The earth had not pulled on him as he has always known it to. These thoughts sent his spin spinning like a top, at first, but then at the realization of no syntrifical force to slow Jim, no teeth to gnash in terror, he began spinning as fast as a single point of light exuding all the energy of existence. Here he met the spin with a realization which elluded his mind as a boy… it resonated within him, and although he could not explain it, it resonated everywhere, all at once, and forever. Here, and all time, his soul, or The soul, burst with a single, unified understanding.
The boy opened his eyes. He did not do so as he had tried earlier , nor in the manner in which he remembers in the bad days long ago. He opened himself.
For miles around him he saw the lime-green carpet which he knew well. Beside him sat his father, in his brown leather chair, smoking his pipe. On the other side of this chair stood his mother, smiling with her white rose print dress. Between his legs, which were crossed on the floor, as he would as a young child, he saw his puppy. A wide smile with a red tongue hanging out. The pup’s white nose and auburn coat sent a feeling fluttering within him. He looked up and saw not walls, but great expanses. Beneath him he saw the carpet, now far below, moving on by. Between his legs sat his pup, flying through the ether. For a moment, he could see himself, the pup, his parents, and the great expanse all at once. For a moment he could see this in a reflection from his glass. He looked up and saw a beautiful woman sitting across from him. He noted his fancy cuff link, as his father had worn. He saw his pup beneath the Christmas tree. He saw his red cap upon the mantle, over a crackling fire.
He raised his hand to the light and saw sand. Yellow grey sand. He touched his tongue and it was sweet. He stayed there for a while. And a while, he never left.