She found herself walking along a track of railroad in the predawn light of a cool swift sunrise. The first sunbeam of the morningâs radiance glanced across a cluster of dew drops, hanging like pearls on a gossamer screen, suspended in a nearby tree. That radiant stream shattered a million different ways, making the tree glisten with gleams of gloryâif only for a moment.
âBeautiful,â she remarked to herself in a hushed tone. A smooth dulcet tone, betraying youth and vitality in the midst of her awe.
The glittering scene slowed her to a snailâs pace, before she stopped completely. Delicate parted lips of wonder hung on a fresh face of caramel skin. A soft chin ever so slightly lifted. A contemplative cranium, ever so slightly tilted. She gazed with graceful glad eyes at the sight before her.
âWhat kind of tree do ya think that is?â she asked someone beside her. Someone who wasnât there. Someone who had never been there.
After a moment of confusion, staring into the empty air to her right, she turned back to the tree. And there she saw someone. Someone who hadnât been there before. He just seemed to pop into existence, right in the middle of the glittering sunlight, precariously perched on a golden bough.
With a furrowed brow of perpetual disbelief, she sauntered forward. Her eyes were fixed on the tree, and the man in the tree, like fresh honey on warm bread. So entranced was she by the sight that she nearly tripped over the track as she meandered slightly in her dazed march.
âHello there!â the man called out as she came sufficiently close. A most curious man who inspired her curiosity. At first on account of his sudden appearance, and now on account of his⌠curious appearance. A man with a wide bright smile, surrounded by a halo of hair on his scraggly yet handsome face, topped by an old worn out top hat. Two long legs draped in brown corduroy. The pants had the look of being brighter at some point, perhaps a shade of yellow, but time and rugged use had worn them out to their present dull dusty hue. Darkest of all were two scuffed up black shoes, which conversely looked like they would be darker but for years of labor and trek.
The man kicked and dangled his feet like a toddler in a high chair. A high chair that in this case was nearly six feet off the ground. Protruding from that thick wooden tree limb was an unusually straight branch. And some kind of cluster at its end.
When she got a little closer, she could see that that cluster was actually a bindle. A polka-dot bag bobbing up and down on an old stick in the manâs grubby hand.
âVicky, right?â the man asked before sliding off the branch and flopping down to the ground with a strange kind of silly grace, plopping with a comical kind of jostling like the trained pratfall of a circus clown who tumbles with a finesse designed to look uncoordinated, when it is anything but.
âDo⌠do I know you, mister?â
âOnly in the day time,â the man replied with a hearty laugh.
His words reminded her of space and time, and how out of both she now felt. She slowly turned about and surveyed her surroundings, momentarily forgetting the strange man. An empty flat desert for miles all around, punctuated only by the railroad track and the solitary tree. A subtle breeze blew in her ears. Far off the hazy purple outline of mountains broke up an otherwise clear blue sky. Wisps of dust blew across the landscape once or twice forming whirling dust devils in the distance.
âDo you⌠know⌠how I got here?â she asked at last.
âNot sure if here is the right name for it, but I guess itâs as good as any. Itâs certainly how it seems, and ultimately the line between seeming and being⌠well, but I guess Iâm⌠getting off track.â The man darted his eyes to the nearby railroad ties and chuckled.
âI think that I was⌠somewhere else. Just a moment or two ago. Was I?â This last question was one she asked mostly to herself. In any case, the man didnât bother to answer itâat least not directly.
âItâs best not to think too much of it. Thatâs all gone now. The train only goes one way and all.â
âThe train?â
âRight. The train. We have to catch up to it if weâre going to get anywhere.â
The man seemed strangely familiar. Whether it was that, his bright smile and charisma, or something else, before she even really thought about it, she was following him down the tracks. It was already like noon at this point. The sun somewhere out of sight with bright blue all around and the heat of a summerâs day. But she didnât really think about that either.
âWhere are we goinâ exactly?â the woman asked.
âThe station of course.â
âRight, of course,â she remarked with a nod, feeling a little silly for a second as though it was perfectly obvious. But then with a furrowed brow she remembered that none of this made much sense. âWait⌠but where are we headinâ from there? Which station is it? Where are we right now? How did I getââ
âVick, Vick VickâŚâ the charming hobo called out with a calming tone as he turned around and grabbed her shoulders, gazed into her eyes, and gave her a disarming smile. A subtle aroma of cheap aftershave lingered in the air. âDo you always need to know where youâre going before you get there?â
âWell, I suppose not, I mean⌠wait⌠I mean, yes! Yes, I do need to know where Iâm gettinâ! How do I know Iâm goinâ the right way? I donât even know where I am!â
âVickâŚâ the man said with a sigh. âYouâve never truly known where youâre going nor where youâve been. All of you. Iâve been leading you around for some time. At this point thereâs only one way to go.â
âWhich wayâs thatâŚ?â
âForward of course! I told you the train only goes one way.â
âWho⌠are you, anyways? You never introduced yourself, sir.â
âHeh, so I need an introduction now, eh? Alright, well⌠Iâve been given many names. What do you want to call me?â
âYour surnameâs just fine. Unless you prefer me to call you by your Christian name. Seems thatâs in vogue these days with you⌠youâŚâ She drifted off, unsure what she was going to say next, but whatever it was she felt it was something that would give her pause. And so she did pause, and looked down at her hands. Smooth delicate hands with smooth nails to match.
When she looked back up, he was marching forward again. Briskly waltzing along the track, while whistling a tune. She instinctively ran after him.
âHey!â she exclaimed before catching her breath and coming to his side. âYou never told me where we are exactly.â
âI come here often when Iâm asleep. Not that I ever actually sleep exactly.â
âWhatâŚ?â
âIt shouldnât be long now.â
âUntil the station?â
âExactly.â
She decided to stay silent. The conversation hadnât been exactly productive and now some things were coming back to her. Things she could use some time to think about. And so she gazed off to the horizon in contemplation as her strange companion continued to whistle jauntily beside her.
âIs thisâŚâ she began, her own voice giving her a little start. Partly because she had simply been silent for so long and partly because she knew the next words she was about to ask. Words which were startling to think about. âIs this a dream or am I⌠am I⌠dead?â
He stopped dead in his tracks. He put one foot on the railing and took off his top hat, its ripped top flapping in the breeze, and wiped some sweat from his brow. âSo now we come to that, eh?â
She responded silently with a gulp.
âWhat is a dream but the life you live when youâre dead to the world? I think drawing such points of distinction is a bit arbitrary, isnât it?â
âAh codswallop! Mister, can you not give a gosh darn straight answer to nothinâ?â
âStraight and curved comes down to the scale of your perspective ultimately.â
She sighed, and gave up again. They continued on. Treading along in silence. The only sound a soft but warm breeze fluttering, the mix of gravel and clay near the tracks crunching under their feet, the occasional fly buzzing by, and their own personal little noises. Regular puffs of breath. Fabric swishing with itself. The indistinct little janglings of whatever was inside the hoboâs bindle.
âYou can call me Ray if youâd like,â the man finally said, interrupting the silence without stopping or looking back. A sudden surprise that gave her a little jolt inside.
A moment more of silence passed before the woman spoke up, herself. âHow do you know my name, Mister Ray?â
âIn case you donât remember yet… yes. You did die. I just thought itâd be better for you to recall that yourself.â
âThank you for finally answerinâ what I asked before. Do ya think you could answer what Iâm askinâ ya now?â
âTheyâre related, you see…â he remarked wistfully, still facing forward, marching steadily if a little lazily. His swaggering amble made his corduroy blazer swish around floppily and the top of his top hat flap in the breeze. âHow do you think you know anything at all?â
âAre you questioninâ my education, sir?â
He let a soft laugh out of his nose and shook his head. âNot in the least, Victoria. But I can feel why you would take it that way. You felt the need to prove yourself. That you were already judged on the account of the way you look. Your mixed ancestry. Never completely fitting in. Always standing out. Some may have made it an excuse to live as a victim. To retreat away from the world. Fortunately your fatherââ
âYou talk about me like you know me!â she interjected with a fair amount of furor. âJust who the hell are you, and why have you been up in my business?â
He turned around to her and gave her a soft smile. That same disarming smile from before, but a little more sorrowful this time around. She swore she saw a spark twinkle in his eye.
âItâs your turn to shine, Vick. My lightâs bright back in the world we both know. But out here, itâs the other way around. I can see your whole life laid out as clear as day. Itâs blinding in fact. The more you remember the easier it is for me. But⌠thatâs gonna take a little more time yet, I know.â
âMister Ray, you sure like to talk in riddles. I wish youâd come around to makinâ sense.â
âRight, the Logos and all. There will be time for that too. You should just know that itâs not at all what youâre expecting. The sooner you come to expect the unexpected, the easier this will be⌠for the both of us.â
Before long, the empty desert faded into a greener landscape of creosote, desert broom, and other shrubs. Mesquite trees and palo verdes steadily appeared on the horizon as they marched forward. The quiet stillness from before was replaced with the subtle swish of little twigs and leaves in the breeze, along with the occasional rustle of some unseen little creatures crawling through the low-lying vegetation. Another sound creeped up from the silence, growing louder and louder until it threatened to drown out all the others. The buzzing rasping whir of cicadas. A smell wafted up along with it. The lovely fresh aroma ofâŚ
âRain. Huh, it smells likeâŚâ she started to remark and then looked up. Somehow, it escaped her notice. A massive thunderhead rolling over the distant mountains like a lumbering puffy giant. A dark blue sheet of rain pouring over remote foothills.
âNothing quite like rain in the desert, eh?â
âYeahâŚâ she whispered. Rain in the desert. The thought of it stirred her heart. And she wasnât quite sure why.
âIt shouldnât be long now.â
When they finally arrived at the train station, she heard it before she saw it. Rising up from the surrounding mesquite trees and creosote bushes was a quaint little brick building with an awning stretching out to the track. The sound of steady rain cooling a hot tin roof. They rushed toward the sound and sought shelter beneath it.
Empty wooden benches lined the far wall of the little building. Two or three trash cans made of metal strips painted green sat empty near the support columns of the awning. The scent of wet wood wafted through the air from the planks of pine comprising the little elevated floor beneath their feet.
âShall we enter?â he asked, removing his old hat and brushing his damp hair with his fingers.
âHeh, you sure itâs open?â
âQuite sure,â he said with a warm smile. âJust remember what I told you before.â
âWhat?â
âExpect the unexpectedâŚâ
He pulled the old creaking wood door open with one hand, held his top hat in the other, and gave a little bow like the doorman of an old hotel. She snorted at his gesture and made her way through the little portal to gasp as soon as she entered.
A massive arena like space filled with a massive crowd to match. The size of the space and the hustle and bustle was more fitting to Grand Central, even grander in fact. It didnât accord with the quaint little structure she saw outside at all. And stranger still was the fact that there wasnât a brick in sight. Sheer white walls. Transparent escalators. And some sights she wasnât even sure what she was seeing.
She turned and almost ran back out the door when she saw one of the non-human travelers waltzing about that space. A creature like an overgrown frog walking about on two legs like a man, clothed in some kind of tunic, chittering and croaking to its apparent companion. She didnât get very far, however, when her hobo acquaintance grabbed her shoulders and gazed into her eyes.
âVicky, itâs okayâŚâ
His warm smile somehow stopped her thoughts and gave her a moment of calm. But only a moment. She shook her head and pushed his hands away. âYou gotta tell me whatâs going on right now, mister, and it better be good. No-none of this makes sense!â
âIâll try, I really willâŚâ he said with a nod and a slow blink. He then gestured her to turn and consider the crowd. âThis is objective space. Itâs created by consensus. Much like the space you knowâor the time for that matter. It canât be like where we were, anymore than waking can be like dreams.â
âYou sayinâ we was dreaminâ?â
âNo, not exactly. Again, these distinctions of yoursâŚâ he said with a sigh.
âVicky?â a man called out from the crowd.
âOh thank the blue giants!â Ray exclaimed with an eye roll and a sigh of relief.
The sound of the manâs voice sent a shock down her spine. She knew that voice. But it couldnât be⌠could it?
âClarenceâŚ?â
âVicky! Iâm cominâ, just a hold on!â he called back. A half dozen yards away or so, a tall man in a sailorâs uniform made his way through the crowd toward her.
Her breath quickened its pace, and her heart beat to match. âOh my lord, oh my lordâŚâ
A lump filled her throat and tears filled her eyes. Soon they embraced, and their tears fell just like the rain outside the door. Or at least her door. Apart from her tears, his own uniform was dry. She didnât know it, but he had just come in from a lighthouse by the sea.
âClarence! H-how long have you been waiting for me?â
âWaiting? I just got here, sis!â
âBut⌠but youâŚâ She started to sob. He pulled her in until she could catch her breath.
âIt sureâs been a long tour, I know.â
âNo. No, Clarence. You donât remember what happened?â
âWhat do ya mean, sis?â
âYou was just a baby out on that boat,â she said, wiping more wet drops from her eyes. âYou⌠never made it back. That wasâŚâ She paused thinking to herself. âThat was some 70 years ago.â
âOh⌠my⌠wha-what⌠IâŚâ Clarence muttered in confusion. His eyebrows then relaxed and he nodded. âRight, yes. Floodinâ in the engine. We⌠couldnât get outâŚâ
He finally turned to his sister and saw her as she was in the end. Rather than the youthful soul she felt inside, he saw the wears and tears of time. The many folds of thin skin. The hair which had lost its color long ago. Trembling arthritic fingers stretching out from bony limbs. But in her pure crystal eyes, he recognized her. His baby sister.
âOh, sisâŚâ He reached out and hugged her frail frame. âSeems itâs youâs been waitinâ lot longer than me.â
âAhem,â Ray spoke up. âSorry to interrupt, but I think itâs about time I take my leave.â
Victoria gave him a warm smile and a nod. A youthful woman again. A thought then flashed across her face. âBut⌠where do we go from here?â
âJust take the stairs up there on the right. Youâll know where to go from there.â
She nodded again. âThank you, Mister Ray.â
âYouâre more than welcome.â
âSay⌠donât I recognize you?â Clarence asked Ray.
âMaybe. I havenât quite gotten there yet, but Iâm sure I will. Or at least a part of me will. Anyhow, Iâll be on my way now.â
As he exited the door back out into the rain, Clarence turned to Victoria. âHe looks just like the ferry man who brought me to this tower.â
And so at last Ray went his way to render aid to other lost souls… Namely everyone. Including you. Weâre all a little lost in life, arenât we? Normally I donât get a chance to talk to you directly, although Iâm always not far from any one of you. Well⌠from my perspective anyhow. Whirling around there in the dark. Iâm grateful to shed a little light your way.
Timeâs different from my perspective, but still limited. And so Iâll leave you with one final thought. (Itâs in the title.)
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