We sit on the bed to talk. Leaning over, I kiss her again. I pull a short distance away, and she smiles while looking deeply into my eyes.
“Today was the happiest I’ve ever felt,” she whispers.
I am so happy we met once again. Against all sensibilities, I feel myself falling for her. Soon, we kiss even deeper and slowly take off our clothes. Throughout the rest of the night, we make intensely passionate love, existing as one on the thin membrane separating the world of bodily sensation from a realm where any separation is unknown. After blissfully alternating between the two realms for an indiscernible time period, we fall asleep in each other’s arms.
*****
The morning sunbeams shine across our faces through the glass, gently waking us.
I lay next to her, realizing I found an indescribable new sense of happiness in this dream. It’s now clear why I was willing to die for Allison in the fire on the roof of the building in my previous dream- because our true existence is somewhere else, untouched by circumstance. I know my purpose in this dream isn’t to become lost in love, but I decide that one more day on this island with Allison can’t hurt.
Allison’s calls the desk, taking the day off. The day is filled with sitting by the pool, walking on the beach, and in each other’s arms. One day turns into two, which turns into three. Every passing moment I fall more in love with her.
With the breeze rushing through our hair, we take the motorbike down narrow cliff hugging roads, overlooking picturesque landscapes. After swimming for hours on a secluded beach, we hike into a forest preserve, eating delicious fresh guavas as we journey into the dense jungle. The trail breaks out of the forest onto a vast overlook high on the mountain, where we share a passionate kiss. The days blend together.
On the fifth day, I take her to the yacht. We sail north to Molokai and explore the striking scenery. Rounding the secluded eastern tip, a large valley stretches before us, eroded from the huge waterfall in the distance. Passing around to the isolated north shore, we stare in awe at a massive sheer cliff face, spanning most of the island. Cascading waterfalls tumble down the rocks, carving valleys filled with lush green jungle. Sailing further east, we sit offshore the old leper colony at Kalaupapa. The tiny structures are mostly submerged by the risen ocean. A few remaining intact buildings near the cliff face are completely cut off from the rest of the island. Returning to the resort on Maui for the night, we witness another beautiful sunset.
The morning of the sixth day, we return to the yacht, this time sailing south around Lanai and Kahoolawe islands. Two whales swim off to our left, spraying water into the air. Exhausted, we fall asleep in each other’s arms on the gently rocking deck. Days merge into a blur of passion and Allison fills my heart and mind.
On the eighth night, we ride my motorbike to her aunt and uncle’s house up the mountain. Over the course of dinner, I learn more about her family. Feeling right at home, we talk in the living room while eating dessert for several hours until they go to sleep. Now quiet, we turn on a small battery powered radio to find music while lying together on the couch.
Searching amongst static, a news program weakly comes through.
The reporter announces, “The nation of Israel has been attacked by a nuclear weapon from an undisclosed neighbor. Return nuclear missiles have been launched, and the Israeli Military is preparing an all-out military invasion with assistance from allies.”
The alarming report instantly and horrifically snaps me from my carefree state. Dropping the radio, I remember exactly what’s going to happen to this world.
Jumping from the couch, I say, “Allison, I’m sorry, but I need to return to my boat and leave.”
Stunned and confused, she follows me outside to my motorbike in the driveway. Distress fills her face.
“I don’t understand.” A tear rolls down her cheek.
Grasping her arm, I look into her eyes, “Something terrible is about to happen, and I needed to go to Kauai quickly. The safest place for you is here.”
She begs, “Please take me with you, I love you more than anything and want to be wherever you are.”
I look into her eyes while tears roll down her face.
“Allison, I love you, and will find you again soon, I promise. But I need to do this alone, I’m sorry.”
I sit on the motorbike while she looks me in the eyes.
“Gabriel, I’ll wait for you.”
While kissing her, one of her tears transfers to my cheek. Turning away, I quickly speed into the night, leaving her standing in the driveway. As strongly as I feel for her, I know she’s a product of my dream and will disappear into the desires of my subconscious mind when I soon awaken.
Chapter 12
Facing Awakened Death
“Divest yourself of the thought that there can be substance in matter, and the movements and transitions now possible for mortal mind will be found to be equally possible for the body. Then being will be recognized as spiritual, and death will be obsolete…”
-Mary Baker Eddy
Parking the motorbike outside the hotel after nightfall, I rush to my room. Without checking out I load my gear and motorbike on the small boat and speed towards my yacht offshore. Only two days remain before the final nuclear attack. I’ll bypass Oahu for now and go directly to Kauai, returning only if there’s time.
The yacht cuts through the dark ocean in the night. After passing between Lanai and Molokai, I speed across the dim channel towards Oahu. Well into the night, the southern coast of Oahu stretches to my right.
Speckles of orange light emanate from campfires scattered across the mountainside, dotting the landscape. Is Allison’s family sitting next to one of the tiny fires? The partial moon light faintly outlines the city skyline. I imagine people living inside the wall in darkness, enduring the chaos. Passing Oahu, I hope to return in the light of day before the attack.
Sailing until dawn, I approach Kauai just as the sun breaks the horizon to my back, outlining the island in the distance. After anchoring the boat, I realize I haven’t slept since last night. Exhausted, I go below for a nap.
Lying down, I’m on the verge of sleep. My dream world seems incredibly substantial when I allow it. Missing Allison, I know I could’ve easily spent an entire lifetime exploring my love for her, and create a life seeming to have meaning. Seeing how convincing my interactions are, it’s apparent that intense pleasure is a trap capable of binding even an awakened mind. What makes the world I’ll wake to any more meaningful? Is it my belief in a meaning there that makes it substantial? Only time will sort this question out. Lying in the bed below, I drift into unconsciousness amongst the gently rocking waves.
*****
Waking with the morning sun higher in the sky, I’m refreshed from the short but restful nap. After loading the small boat, I lower it into the water. With the lush green island spread before me, I motor towards the coast. Massive wind turbines spin on the southern tip of the island in the distance.
Once the boat is tied to a tree by a clearing, I unload the motorbike and make my way through some brush to crumbling pavement above the flood. The motorbike picks up speed while carrying me to the wind turbines. The breeze cools my warm skin in the heat of the late morning. No cars, but only a few people on bicycles share the road.
I approach a side road leading to the wind turbines. Turning towards the spinning towers, a sign reads, “Welcome to Herrington Wind Turbine Farm.” Did Allison make it here ok? Any interaction with her or her parents is just my dream projection and isn’t my awakened reality. With only the purpose of exploring the facility, I enter.
Several medium sized structures sit between the bases of the turbines. There are eight buildings, with a collective size that’s several times my compound. This place shows the most promise of supporting life in my world.
An older man checks a box at the base of one of a wind turbine. Approaching the man who must be a technician, I ask several questions about the complex machines.
&
nbsp; “Hello sir, I’m Gabriel. I was passing by and these turbines caught my curiosity. Do you have a moment?”
Looking at me in wonder, he states, “I’m David. Got all the time in the world, how can I help you?”
“How long will the turbines last?”
“With proper maintenance, you can get fifty years or more out of one of these beauties.”
“Interesting, do they still work up in the arctic in freezing temperatures?”
He replies, “As a matter of fact, I worked in Alaska on similar ones some time back. They tolerate any temperature, even if I don’t.”
“Impressive, well I won’t take up any more of your time, thanks for the info.”
“Any time, you take care now.” He returns to work.
These structures could still be inhabited in my world. Journeying here will be worth the extra effort. Looking at my watch, there’s only a few hours left before sunset. With plenty of time to make it to Oahu before the final attack in two mornings, I ride the motorbike to the boat and motor back to the yacht anchored in the distance.
Steering towards Pearl Harbor at full speed, I take a breath and realize there’s just one more place to visit before I awake and embark on my real journey. Imagining the vast channel between Oahu and Kauai I’m speeding across as frozen solid, I consider how challenging it’ll be to cross. However I attempt it, it’ll be a daunting task.
Continuing towards Oahu, the sun sinks lower and lower in the sky behind me. Oahu faintly appears on the horizon, so I steer in the direction of the southern coast. The sun sets while approaching the island in the early evening. Countless boats, canoes, and kayaks return to shore after a long day of fishing. Considering the large number of fishing craft everywhere, there can’t be any fish remaining in these waters.
Approaching the southeastern coast of Oahu in the twilight, the island is covered with flooded communities in the process of being swept out to sea. The destruction around me intensifies as I sail on top of what used to be Pearl Harbor, dropping anchor off the new shoreline. Stretched before me in the night are the faint outlines of submerged houses and buildings extending to the rising mountain. To the east, the tops of the buildings from the skyline of Honolulu and Waikiki protrude from behind the massive retaining wall. An elevated freeway leads into the walled city from the west.
Sitting on the deck of the yacht, overlooking the landscape, I think about the destruction of this city and its inhabitants looming deaths, including my own in this dream world. While contemplating dying, another flashback- I’m a young boy and my family is at Allison’s brother Greg’s funeral just after he was killed by the looters. With everyone standing around his fresh grave deep within the forest, many words are spoken by both families, expressing what he meant to everyone and how much he’ll be missed. In our state of grief and sadness, we all feel a part of ourselves is gone. My father speaks words of wisdom:
“The good person he was lives on in each of us he left behind. This good is indestructible, and will last forever.”
I feel Greg in each of us. Knowing how devastated Allison is, I wish there’s more that can be done for her family. Tears roll down her face, her pain pouring to the surface.
Flashing to the present, I contemplate death. Will my imminent death here really be a death? Are these people who inhabit my dream alive? Am I alive in this dream? What in this dream defines me? What part of me can die? Everything here is a projection of my thoughts based on another reality. When the city before me is soon destroyed, I’ll still exist. Even when my body dies I’ll still exist, simply awakening inside the chamber. Death has no power over me here.
I am nothing in this world yet at the same time everything is inside me because it’s the projection of my thoughts. Tracing myself back further, I see that I’m the desire for the thought to be projected. Desires continually change, so I trace myself further to the unchangeable- the only thing that is always here in every circumstance, whether dreaming or awake.
As the witness to all experience, I’m the eternal awareness that exists in both my dreaming and waking worlds. This is my key to living free from being bound to limited definitions. With thousands of tiny campfires stretching far up the mountainside, I peacefully fall asleep in the calm waters off the coast.
Chapter 13
Burning To Awaken
“Your vision will become clear only when you look into your heart. Who looks outside, dreams. Who looks inside, awakens.
-Carl Jung
Opening my eyes, I know it’s the last day to explore Oahu and the walled city. There aren’t any nuclear submarines in port, but one could still return sometime after the attack, prior to the freeze. Since it’s on the way to Kauai, I’ll stop in my world to see if anyone lives here. With that decided, I can spend the rest of my time exploring. Setting the alarm on my watch to just prior to the final attack, nine am tomorrow, I’m assured to witness the catastrophic event.
After going ashore at an onramp to the elevated freeway, I ride the motorbike towards the encompassed downtown. Several rusty abandoned vehicles line the sides of the highway, intermixed with tents and pedestrians. A military convoy passes me in the opposite direction.
After crossing over the large floodwall, the freeway sharply drops to the ground level of the city below. Taking the first ramp, I drive towards downtown Honolulu. People swarm the streets, pushing carts filled with meager belongings. Rudimentary shelters constructed from any available materials fill the alleys and side roads. Picturing the contrast of the formerly beautiful city with this present ugly habitat filled with turmoil makes me cringe.
Weaving the motorbike between pedestrians, I drive towards the larger buildings in the heart of the city. The former financial buildings have become dirty and broken structures. Street vendors sell goods from curbside stands. I’ll find a place to sleep inside these walls for the night. Turning east towards Waikiki, I parallel the base of the massive retaining wall. Waikiki contains many hotels and few tourists, so it should have somewhere to stay.
Steadily making my way along the base of the massive concrete wall keeping the ocean at bay, I imagine water high above my head on the other side. I picture how this came to be when the balance of global warming tipped. A beautiful sunset across a flat ocean is suddenly is replaced by a wall of sandbags, then construction cranes, and finally bland concrete. The Earth won’t die tomorrow during the nuclear attack, but slowly died long ago from humanity’s conscious decision of refusing to change over the last five or six generations.
Arriving in Waikiki midday, I drive the streets, looking for somewhere to sleep. Former luxurious hotels are in shambles. Less order exists here, evidenced by yelling from balconies and fights in the street. Stopping in front of a relatively intact structure, an old sign reads, “Hilton Hawaiian Village.” After walking through the door, I approach an older man behind a counter.
“Hello, I’m looking for a room for the night, is this hotel in business?”
Snickering, he replies, “Tourism dried up years ago. The government housing act converted these hotels to residences for people who lived in flooded houses outside the wall. Are you from Oahu?”
“I’m from the Big Island and here for one night. Here’s five-hundred dollars for a room.”
“Money is of no value here, son. The only currency is food and water. Bring me something I can use and I’ll put you in a room.”
“Ok, I’ll be back.”
Riding the motorbike, I pass a food cart a few blocks away. Approached the man behind it, I ask, “What do you want for your cart of fruit?”
He replies, “What do you got?”
“All I have is this motorbike with a half of a tank of gas. Would you trade it for your cart?”
His face lights up, “You have yourself a deal, Sir. I can visit my daughter on the North Shore!”
Joyfully riding off on my motorbike, I’m left with his fruit cart. After wheeling the cart back to the old hotel, I enter the lobby. Approaching the
reception desk, I tell the man behind the counter, “Half of this cart is yours for a room.”
Smiling, he annoyingly states, “Ok, but I get to pick which half of the fruit.”
The man gives me a key to a room on an upper floor. After filling my backpack with some of the remaining fruit, I leave the rest of the cart under his supervision for the time being. Fifteen flights of stairs and a long corridor later, I arrive in my room, sweating profusely.
The dirty room has no water or sheets, but a nice view. Out on the balcony I overlook Honolulu and the top of the flood wall to the west. The waves on edge of the risen ocean are just below the top of the concrete. Would these people be able to extend the wall any higher if the ocean had been given the time to continue rising? It’s doubtful.
Looking at my watch, I have sixteen hours until the final attack and my awakening from the dream. Wanting to see firsthand what the people at the end of this world have become, I‘ll walk the streets later. The only thing keeping me attached to this dream state is my curiosity to witness the end first hand.
After lounging around in the room for some time, the sun sets in the western sky, viewable over the wall from only a few high buildings. With the sun down, I return to the front desk and take the fruit cart, pushing it out onto the street. I hand out pieces of fruit to a few hungry beggars, and soon a crowd of people follows me surrounding the cart. Overwhelmed by the mob, I walk away, leaving it to the hungry pack of wolves to swarm like a prey. A fight breaks out around the cart, which I am glad to have no part of.
The center of Waikiki holds many interesting sights. Men crowd around a fire, cooking on one street and down the next is a police officer pointing a flashlight into the face of a man motionless against the wall. A portable music box plays and people dance to my right and two women beg me for my last piece of fruit to my left. Finally, a crowd surrounds two men fighting and yelling loudly.
There’s nothing left in this place except violence and aggression in its many appalling forms. A building sits off on its own, in quiet solitude. Peering into a window, several people sit on the floor in guided meditation. Upon entering the quiet room, I join them on the floor and listen to the leader in the front conducting the guided exercise.