My attitude changes after I read:
“I think of my son and the solitary life the future holds for him here. Isn’t an entire planet still alive if there’s just one witness to its existence? If I could pass along one thing to him, it would be to follow his heart and act in ways which make him feel alive. My hope for him is that he finds meaning in this place, because if he’s the only survivor left on earth, his meaning is now the world’s meaning.”
My father’s words move me. Being the only survivor, I can’t spend my life in a state of forgetfulness. What was once the consciousness of billions of people observing and experiencing this planet is now just my own. I had to follow my heart, come alive in this world, and experience the here and now. I won’t return to my dreams and fantasies, but live here. Falling asleep, I’m thankful for my father’s advice from beyond the grave. This was his final gift to me.
*****
After a quick breakfast, I leave the house. A steady snow blankets the landscape. Starting the trek to the sail sled, I remember my promise to continuing the journey.
How fortunate that I wasn’t near the chamber when the circumstances of my parents’ death surfaced. I’d surely have entered a dream. The chamber was a readily available solution to any problem. A moment of weakness and I soon dream, having to start the process of self discovery all over after awakening. My struggle is similar to that of a junkie, addicted to a substance, hiding from his problems, and trapped by the relief it pretends to bring for years. Feeling myself consciously breaking free of dependence on the chamber, I’m ready to find out exactly who I really am.
Reaching the large “X” of rocks I left on the road, I turn off and work my way down the icy hill towards the coast. Late in the afternoon I find an abandoned hotel. After passing through the dark interior hallways I enter an empty room and shut myself inside for the night.
Falling asleep in the cold, dark room, I’m happy with my decision not to return to the compound, and excited to continue to the other islands tomorrow. I’ll even see Kaanapali on my way to Oahu. What’s become of the resort where dreams were made with Allison? I want to experience whatever waits in this world.
Chapter 21
Maui And Molokai In The Winter
“What lies behind us and what lies ahead of us are
tiny matters compared to what lives within us.”
-Henry David Thoreau
Waking early in the morning, I hurry away from the Big Island, sticking with my commitment of continuing my journey. Sailing northwest up the coast of Maui, I feel better.
Picturing Allison next to me on the yacht I reminisce over our time together, even though it was artificial. Approaching the resort city of Kaanapali, there are vivid memories of dolphins swimming around us in the sparkling waters offshore. But right now the only sights are three snowcapped frozen islands surrounding me.
To the west, a large white dome protrudes from the ice, the remnants of the once lush island of Lanai. To my north, a snow covered mountain extends over the eastern portion of Molokai. I picture the northern facing cliffs, currently out of my view that were once home to cascading waterfalls flowing into the ocean. Frozen cliffs must now take the place of the beautiful waterfalls. To the east, a series of snowy peaks on Maui tower above the abandoned city below. What’s become of the Kaanapali resort now?
After securing the sled near the shore, I venture inland past frozen coral formations, now exposed by retreating ice. Soon I stand directly beneath where I swam with Allison and the dolphins. Picturing the dolphins flipping and swimming above, we laugh while experiencing the beauty of life. The dolphins and laughing disappear, dissolving into nothing but an overcast sky above and colorless ice below.
I continue uphill towards the familiar resort. Thinking about my dream and how long it’s been since entering the chamber, I’m proud of myself. It’s been nearly two weeks since last hiding from my identity- the longest since first entering as a boy according to the board in the library. Though all my memories haven’t yet returned, I have a good idea of who I am.
Arriving in back of the resort, I pass through the frozen pool area. Rusty patio furniture is scattered about, and the pool is iced over. The outdoor bar is fallen and in shambles. Arriving inside at the reception desk, I picture Allison standing behind it. The memory quickly fades into the dark and empty present reality.
Is my same room open? After winding through the structure, the door to the room in my dream won’t open. Walking to the back patio, a door attached to a different room on the first floor opens. The frost cracks around the metal frame while the glass door slides free.
After setting my bag next to the bed, I look at the hotel furnishings. There’s a television that doesn’t work, useless elegant faucets, and inoperable decorative lamps. All these items were once expensive commodities, but are now worthless. Sitting on the bed, I open my father’s journal and read more entries with the flashlight.
He writes about my mother:
“Claire meant the world to me. I’m trying to cope with her loss, but it’s unbearable. I don’t know who I am without her. She was the other half of me, and I don’t think I can be happy again in this world without her by my side.”
I feel for his pain, but see how he mistook my mother’s love for his own identity. Did his inability to let her go hasten his death? If only he’d remembered his value as a complete person, and my mother not as the source of his identity and happiness, but as the expression of it, he may not have suffered as much in the end. This was true about Allison in both my dream and waking lives. The times I shared with her were expressions of my happiness, which is a permanent quality. She’s never been the source of my happiness, though I love her.
I can’t truly love anyone or anything if I’m not capable of letting go. Holding on to that which moves out of my experience, it becomes the source of my happiness not the expression of it. The quality of love is permanent, but the many things on which it’s projected may come and go with the passing wind, even if sometimes that wind lasts for a lifetime.
Manifesting anything permanent in a dream or waking lifetime is impossible. I can only manifest temporary expressions of qualities that are universal and always available. With this thought, attachment to memories of my parents, Allison, and my past disintegrates. My identity is freed, allowing permanent qualities to appear in new and unbounded ways. Immersed in freedom, I fall asleep.
*****
I wake, eat breakfast, and leave through the sliding door into the cold and windy wasteland. Walking behind the room I pass through what used to be the garden. Crossing a steel bridge, I leave the dead garden, pass the frozen swimming pool and climb down the stairs onto the exposed rock by the edge of the ice. Arriving back at the sail sled, I’m ready to move on because this place has nothing left to offer.
It’s foolish to try sail to Oahu in one day because I’ll have to sleep in the middle of the ice if I fall short. I’ll pass through the narrow channel south of Molokai and continue around the up the western coast tonight, saving Honolulu for tomorrow. What does a city look like after it is nuked, flooded, drained and then frozen? My main goal is to find out if anyone is still alive, but there’s a part of me that really wants to see the aftermath of the attack.
Soon, I’m sailing to the west on the narrow patch of ice remaining between Molokai and Lanai. Two shipwrecks sit inland on Lanai from long ago when the water was higher. The first large skeleton is rusted out from decades of battering by the elements. All structures in this world will eventually succumb to a similar fate and crumble from exposure and neglect. How long until there’s no sign humans inhabited earth and all of mankind’s undertakings turn to dust? Stopping for lunch offshore of the decaying vessel, I look at the exposed rusty steel ribs again and consider what’s happening. Time recycles all that is form back into idea in a system that is devoid of waste.
After finishing lunch, I sail west down the narrow channel of ice. Leaving the wind shadow between th
e two islands the sled gains speed. By early afternoon, I reach the western half of the southern Molokai shore and follow it towards the far tip of land. Over the past few days I’ve become very proficient at controlling the sail sled.
Rounding the tip of Molokai late in the afternoon, I follow the coast, looking for a place to stop. An old hotel inland appears to be intact. Anchoring the sail sled to the ice, I unload my gear and hike towards the structure above.
The lower rooms of the hotel have been exposed to flood waters. The upper floors are slightly more intact although still run down. Climbing a dark concrete stairwell, I reach the second floor.
The doors and windows of the rooms are destroyed, but the remaining walls keep out the wind. I unroll my sleeping bag on the empty concrete floor and keep my father’s journal in the pack for now. Removing my reality journal to read while eating, several entries written during my years of isolation in the compound stand out:
“After reading accounts of several dreams, I can see unifying threads in them all. Regardless of what I create inside, good or bad, the experiences keep me captivated and focused. Each individual life wouldn’t end until I lived out the particular intended purpose. Additionally, every time I died in the chamber, it only happened when the subconscious author aspect of my mind was ready for the dream to finish. In a sense, every death inside the chamber was actually a suicide because the life ended only when I chose.”
It’s interesting that I chose when to live and die during my dream lives, but I guess deep down I already knew that’s how it works. Reading on:
“Desire for experience is the fuel that keeps man grounded to particular circumstances. If we want to break free of the temporary, we need to see past those things which draw our attention outside, away from our inner self.”
It’s always been a struggle to break free from the endless cycle of being drawn to the lifetimes I create, but the lives inside are designed to draw me in. My life is an internal struggle taking place across two realities. My awakened self wants to continuously mask my identity, and my dream self tries to discover the truth about who I really am, lifetime after lifetime. I play an endless game of hide and seek with myself, never leading anywhere. Until now that is, because I refuse to hide who I am any longer. Promising myself to never veil my identity again, I fall asleep on the hard floor.
Chapter 22
Frozen Catastrophe
“The state of your life is nothing more than
a reflection of your state mind.”
-Dr. Wayne Dyer
Waking to a lightened sky, soon, I’m sailing directly away from Molokai towards the eastern coast of Oahu. Crossing the ice, I recall the detonation of a nuclear warhead above my head at the end of my dream on Oahu. Unable to imagine the moments after the blast, I’ll soon see the magnitude of destruction first hand.
Snow capped peaks on Oahu become larger throughout the day. Stopping for lunch offshore, I look at the island through binoculars while eating. An old lighthouse stands on a southern peak. At least one structure survived the devastation.
Early in the afternoon, I round the southeastern coast of Oahu, and the magnificent sights of Coco Head and Diamond Head Craters come into view. Honolulu, Waikiki, and Pearl Harbor are obscured by these large rock formations, so I’m not able to see any remnants of the large buildings. Scattered structures line the hillside nearby, too far inland to tell their condition.
Is this place radioactive? Swinging the sled through the wind, I see past Diamond Head, unmasking the destruction.
Stopping the sled, I look through the binoculars at the city. I’m taken aback. Scanning the skyline west from Diamond Head, I follow the bits of concrete remaining from the large retaining wall. A huge patch of smooth ice sits inland, half way between where Waikiki and Honolulu once stood. This was ground zero. Sparsely populated concrete foundations with rusting steel scraps protruding out of them dot the edges of the former city. All else is rocky and barren.
I visualize the destruction- The nuclear warhead detonates above ground between Honolulu and Waikiki, in the center of the retaining wall. A crater now forms from the vaporization of everything in the immediate vicinity. The rapidly expanding pressure wave rushes out, destroying all buildings in the area, forcing the giant retaining wall and ocean out. The blast wave carries up the mountainside to the north and out to sea to the south.
Eventually, the massive shock wave dissipates, and the wall of water rushes back in towards ground zero into the unprotected and burning city, sweeping the debris swiftly away. Over the following months, the water retreats from the freeze, and eventually ices over. The crater at ground zero retains water, freezing into a smooth icy surface. The only remaining manmade objects are bits of concrete and steel, twisted and crumpled.
Unparalleled destruction occurred around the world. Berlin, Moscow, Madrid, Chicago, incinerated inland, ruins left to burn. New York, Hong Kong, Mumbai, Singapore, Amsterdam, Sydney, many more coastal cities, vaporized then swept away by the ocean. Were it not for the possibility of residual radiation, I would explore inland. I scan west towards Pearl Harbor.
The skeleton of the USS MISSOURI Battleship sits on dry land right where the retreating ocean left it. Nearby, the USS ARIZONA battleship also sits on the frozen surface, still in its final resting place.
Searching the rest of the former harbor and other areas on the island, nothing promising is found. This island is risky to explore and devoid of life. Turning to prepare the sled for Kauai, a black shape protrudes from the ice a few miles southwest. Quickly peering through the binoculars, I see a submarine, frozen into the surface. Hastily, I prepare the sled and sail towards the vessel.
The black hull sits motionless on the surface. Snow and ice piled up over the years and slowly devoured the vessel. The steel sail is all that clearly remains. After securing the sled, I sling the rifle over my shoulder, pull out my flashlight, and climb on the frozen sail.
Reaching the top, a metal hatch opens with great force. No signs of movement or life appear below. Climbing down the cold rungs hand over hand, I emerge into the dark belly of the beast. My foot reaches for the floor after the final step, but doesn’t land on the flat surface expected. Stumbling, I land on my side on cold, steel grating.
Slowly standing, I reach for my flashlight. Once found, I dimly illuminate the interior of the hull. I stepped on the body of a man, frozen long ago.
Chapter 23
The Final Leg
“All wrong-doing arises because of mind.
If mind is transformed can wrong-doing remain?”
-Buddha
Really wanting to climb back out, I force myself to explore. Walking down the dark corridor with the dim light, a second frozen body appears, then a third. Weapons lay next to the corpses. More bodies, wearing navy uniforms emerge from the darkness. Spent bullet casings lay on the floor.
At the back of the submarine, I see no signs of food, life, or power. A steel door is barricaded from the outside. I remove the debris, and the creaking door swings open. Another corpse is next to a table, hunched over and frozen. In front of him a logbook lies open as if he were making an entry when he died.
Truth unfolds:
01 MAY 2037: NO COMMUNICATIONS RECEIVED FROM HEADQUARTERS. IT’S BEEN SEVEN DAYS SINCE NOTIFICATION OF NUCLEAR ATTACK. ALTERING COURSE TO PEARL HARBOR.
14 MAY 2037: FIFTY MILES SOUTH OF PEARL HARBOR. ATTEMPTED SURFACING TO ESTABLISH COMMUNICATIONS. BROKE THROUGH THIN LAYER OF ICE. CROSS-CHECKED GPS AND NAVIGATION EQUIPMENT FOR ERRORS AND FOUND NONE. CONFIRMED LOCATION TO BE FIFTY MILES SOUTH OF OAHU. PROCEEDING TO PEARL HARBOR.
15 MAY 2037: SURFACED THREE MILES SOUTH OF PEARL HARBOR THROUGH ICE. NAVIGATION CHARTS ARE 200 FEET DEEPER THAN ACTUAL OCEAN. WORLDWIDE OCEAN FREEZE AND DROP SUSPECTED. MAINTAINING PRESENT POSITION AND SENDING OUT INVESTIGATION PARTY. FEAR OCEAN FREEZE WILL TRAP US ON THE SURFACE.
16 MAY 2037: INVESTIGATION PARTY REPORTS SCATTERED SURVIVORS ATTEMPTED TO OVERTAKE THEM FOR SUPPLIES.
CITIES OF HONOLULU, MILILANI, AND KANEOHE NOW RADIOACTIVE BLAST ZONES. MOST BUILDINGS ARE RUBBLE AND RADIATION DETECTION BADGES INDICATE HIGH CONTENT IN THE AIR. PEARL HARBOR AND THE WESTERN PART OF ISLAND STILL SAFE FOR TRAVEL BECAUSE THEY WERE SUBMERGED DURING ATTACK.
19 MAY 2037: SURVIVORS CAME OUT TO SUBMARINE FOR FOOD. SUPPLIES ON ISLAND EXHAUSTED OR DESTROYED. UNABLE TO ASSIST DUE TO INTENSIVE RATIONING.
20 MAY 2037: ANGRY MOB PENETRATED HULL AND KILLED MOST OF THE CREW. REACTOR DAMAGED AND SHUT DOWN. INTRUSION ISOLATED TO FORWARD SECTIONS.
21 MAY 2037: INTRUDERS BROKE INTO AFT COMPARTMENTS. I BLOCKADED MYSELF INTO THIS ROOM. I’M THE LAST SURVIVING CREW MEMBER. HATCH IS LOCKED FROM THE OUTSIDE AND INTRUDERS SECURED VENTILATION, SO I’M SUFFOCATING. THE VERY PEOPLE I WAS WILLING TO GIVE MY LIFE TO DEFEND JUST A MONTH AGO KILLED US ALL.
This is what humans became when society collapsed and survival was on the line. Taking the officer’s pistol and full clip of ammo, I leave the room, resealing the door behind. I take several unused radiation detection badges from bodies on the way back to the front.
Finding the captain’s stateroom empty, I decide to seal myself inside for the night and sleep on a real bed. I gather gear from the sled, and I’m soon inside the quiet hull, away from the wind. I close the door, separating myself from the frozen bodies on the other side. After unpacking, I lie on the soft bed, reading my journal under the flashlight while eating dinner.
My parent’s difficult circumstances exposed their true natures. They made unselfish sacrifices for my survival, never at the expense of anyone else. On the opposite end of the spectrum are the frozen people lying outside the door that attacked the submarine and its crew. They respected social rules, only when it directly benefited them. When society collapsed, their true natures came to light, evidenced by their selfish actions.
My dream lifetimes as a whole also reflect me in this way. None of the dreams themselves define me, but reactions to my circumstances reveal my true character. This applies even more when I’m awake.