Misty and brain slugs

Something that I don’t often do is “literally” travel down memory lane. By this I mean to actually go to a certain location where a memory was formed and stay there and reminisce. I did this on Tuesday. I borrowed Marie's Honda Hover Car and set off to Vacaville. I was in search of a lucid memory of Misty’s house. Misty was an ex-girlfriend who actually asked me to marry her back in the late 1990s, I think I denied her back then because I didn’t think that she was serious. So there I was on Misty’s old street, in front of her old house, collecting memories. The house didn’t look too completely different; same fence, same driveway, same mailbox. Same Misty? I couldn’t believe my eyes but there she was, a much older version of the Misty I once knew and loved. She was in her front yard doing yard work. Slowly I got out of the hover car and almost fell on my face because I keep forgetting that the car is hovering one foot in the air. She heard me almost fall and turned around because she was facing the other way. It took her a while for it to register that it was me half-falling in her drive way. Then she stammered out my name, “D-D-Daniel?”  We talked much like an old person drives, slowly and deliberately. She tells me about her daughter’s daughter April and how she’s hooked on brain slugs. I’m not surprised to hear that Misty actually sells brain slugs and harvests them in her backyard. She used to sell weed back in the old days to help with the income. That’s awful about April, I tell her. I also tell her that I’ve never tried brain slugs and she offers me a sample. I ask her is it safe. She tells me that obviously by the example of her granddaughter  it is addicting but that she does them herself sometimes to escape her sometimes dull reality. I agreed to try some on the condition that she did it with me. So I found myself in the same old living room that I used to know before, and Misty was attaching a brain slug to each of our brain stems. At first the sensation was tingling. Then it got intense, an almost cold/burning sensation at the back of my head. Then I felt as though I was floating outside of my body. I floated up and looked down at my body sitting next to Misty’s. I couldn’t remember ever feeling this good before.

Borders

I saw her at the local Borders reading an electronic Students for Free Culture handbook. I don’t know much about what she’s reading but I know that it must have something to do with creativity, copyright laws, fair use regulations and what the face of media will look like in the future if we start changing it now. I wasn’t even sure if it was her or not. It’s been about 37 years since I’ve seen her but it sure as hell looked like her. Her name is Michelle. I met her in about 1995 in the mall of my old local town. She was working at Footlocker and I was passing by, just strolling through the mall, probably looking for some action. I was 18. She was 17. She was beautiful in a cute kind of way. Shorter than me, she was the perfect size to hug and kiss while she looked up at me. Our relationship didn’t last long. We only had about 2 or 3 dates. But the lifelong impact from her is still felt now as I gaze upon someone who could be her in this bookstore in this year of 2033. So I walked up to her and asked her if she was who I thought she was. She was hesitant at first but then relented. It was her! We talked for only moments after I found out the truth of who she was. I guess we both felt shy because we didn’t even truly know one another back then. Back then we were just two kids that were attracted to each other, hardly knowing more about the other than our names. She agreed to get a cup of coffee the next day. So we met again, this time at Starbucks. We sat and talked longer and I found out more about her than I ever thought I would. She had got engaged to be married to a boyfriend of hers shortly after we lost contact all those years ago. Her fiancé died in tragic drowning accident when he was only 19. After that she sheltered herself inside her shell and hasn’t ventured out much save for the occasional trips to her parent’s house and bookstores here and there where she would download electronic novels and transport herself to different lands and times. She says she misses the feel of old-fashioned books, the ones you can hold and turn the pages on, but they are so hard to find these days and so expensive. I decided I would find her some books that she would like and give them to her the next time I saw her.

The Mayor of Pleasant Hill

I ran into Marie today in the Safeway parking lot. She was driving her new Honda Hover Car and I was walking. My hover car doesn’t exist because I don’t have one because I can’t afford one. I’m still driving my old school Volkswagen hoopty with something like 600,000 miles on it. Marie looks different. She got fat, and wrinkled. But her spirit seems intact and is as happy-go-lucky as usual. She told me that she lived on the moon for a couple years but didn’t like it because it was too cold and windy. Her daughter is all grown up with kids of her own. I was surprised to hear that Marie is now the mayor of Pleasant Hill, the city we met in so long ago. It’s funny because I never imagined Marie to be political at all, but I guess she is, now. She talked of how she is single and how her husband died on the freeway in a tragic accident some years ago. She seemed generally happy to see me and not at all disappointed or surprised that I’m out of work and close to being homeless. In fact, she has asked me to come live with her in her big ranch in Pleasant Hill, with her and her cats. I didn’t know she even liked cats; people change I guess. After all this time Marie is still beautiful, even more now on the inside than before. She is now in her early fifties and she is still radiant. I told her that yes I would like to move in with her and that I would arrive there tomorrow with all my things in tow. She asked about my son little Daniel, and I told her how proud I was of how successful he is in the Air Force, and how he has a family of his own now too. Funny, the year is 2033 and I don’t feel old, just aged a bit. It will be nice to enjoy the relaxing atmosphere of Marie’s ranch. I look forward to it. I hope that I can bring joy and happiness to her like she did me all those years ago.

Mars

The year is 2033 and I find Lindsay on Facebook. I guess she moved to Mars. At least that's what her profile says. I'm surprised people still use Facebook. Anyways, so yeah, she lives on Mars and has been married and divorced three times since I've known her. She is a psychologist and has her own practice. She has three kids that are all now grown up. The pictures of them on her profile look like her: pale skin, skinny and with dirty blond hair. The pictures of her look like she's sad and somewhat lonely. I'm wondering should I contact her. I'm surprised she accepted me as a friend, let alone I should try to come into personal contact with her. It's been so long. She is still beautiful. Well at least she still remembers me. Or is she one of those kinds of people that add anyone to their profile? What would I say to her after so long? Maybe I should say something like "Hey, do you remember me? I know it's been a while but I was wondering how you've been. So how've you been?" Or maybe I should be a little more direct in how I’m feeling, "Hey, I know that it's been forever, but I just wanted you to know that I haven't forgotten you. And I’m sorry about everything from back then, truly sorry. I would like to see you again and try and form some kind of friendship again." Would she even care? Is she truly single like her profile says or is she on husband number four? Either way it doesn't matter, I just want to see her smiling face again. So here we go, "Dear Lindsay…”

Taryn

Taryn. What kind of a name is Taryn? If anything it is an interesting name. Taryn. That was her name, or is her name rather. I met her in a coffee shop; she was working, I was loitering. I Took her home to my mom's house where I was living at the time, and we slept, only slept, together for the first time. I remember my mom coming home from work the next morning and finding her curled up next to me underneath the blanket, my mom never said anything about it. From that point on we were inseparable. She'd go to work at the coffee shop early in the morning and I'd wait for her to get off and come to me. We did nothing more than sleep together, not just sleep. She was sweet and cuddly and had a thing for fast food and Marijuana. We would "sleep", and cuddle and then go off to get fast food somewhere and come home and watch a movie or two. That was our routine, day in and day out. This went on for about 8 months. Then the end came, abruptly. I think I caught her in a lie about her being out with another guy and I bailed. I ended up in Seattle. She stayed in Benicia, where she will always stay. Then one day out of nowhere I get this friend request from "Taryn." Needless to say I added her and to this day we stay in touch but don't sleep together anymore. Just hello's, good byes and hugs in between.

Marie

Marie was 18 when I met her, brunette, light skinned, with a body that wouldn't quit. I worked with her and her older brother Paul at place that rented out jump-houses and carnival-like games. Marie was slightly dorky but was honest and beautiful. She was damn good at the violin. She moved in shortly after I met her and we lived together for three or so years. We had plans for someday getting married and of moving to Vegas so that I could be with my son. Those plans never worked out, largely because I fell in love with someone else. It broke Marie's heart but I was too self-centered and selfish to notice. Flash forward ten years later to now. Marie saw me on the news and emailed me out of the blue. It took a little prodding but I found out that Marie is now married and has a daughter of her own. She still plays the violin. Now she is some sort of paralegal and has a fancy car to show for it. We talk like old friends who never missed a beat. Marie was one of those great ones of whom I let get away. Still, it's nice to be in touch with her again.

Sierra

I met Sierra through my sister Aimee. She needed a place to stay and I had room at my house. It turned out that Sierra liked to go to the beach and have long walks on it like I did.  Sierra never got jealous of Tina, whom I lived with at the time. I think that maybe Tina got a little jealous of Sierra because of all the attention I would give her. I had to coax Sierra into cuddling with me, I think, but it didn't take much at all. When I would leave the house to go to school and Sierra would be there by herself she'd cry, often loudly, that sometimes the neighbors would hear. I started leaving the radio on to soothe her while she was alone and I think the sound of voices did just that. Though not neccesarily a big girl, Sierra loved to eat, and she was very against wasting food.  Sierra liked to kiss, but her breath smelled really bad. Sierra loved to dance and sing.

Lindsay

Dare I say her name? When I do, or rather when I did, I used to get this awful sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. Well, they say that time heals all wounds and I do find truth in this theory. Now I can say her name and be fine with it. Lindsay. There are still times when I'll hear someone say the name or see it in print like when I'm standing in line at Safeway and I see an article in some gossip magazine about Lindsay Lohan or something. The name conjures up images and memories of what she once was to me, and of course how I messed everything up. I think to myself quite often that if I still had her I'd be a much happier camper than I am now. Or maybe I'm just lonely. Still, I'm waiting for time to heal the wounds, and I'd rather not say or hear the name at all.