Visions of a Madman

“Man, my back is killing me.”

“Why? What did you do to it? You didn’t load up all that wood into your truck alone did you?”

“No, that’s not what it was. I did that yesterday and it was fine.”

“Well, what did you do?”

“You know how I won that lottery drawing?”

“Yeah. I still say you’re the luckiest bastard I know.”

“Well, it was the money.”

“You tweaked your back with money?”

“Yep.”

“You can’t leave it at that. How does one tweak one’s back with money?”

“You know how folks are always talking about wanting to sleep on a bed of money?”

“You didn’t.”

“I did. But $50,000 is not that much when it comes to bedding. Actually, a bit less than $50,000. More like $20,000. I did buy the truck after all.”

“$20,000 should have covered your bed pretty well.”

“I didn’t want to sleep on money on my bed. I wanted to sleep on a bed of money.”

“Oh. I guess $20,000 would be a little thin in that case.”

“Believe me it is. So I took the bills back to the bank.”

“And that’s when you tweaked your back?”

“Nope. That’s when I got $20,000 in nickels.”

“And hauling that is when you tweaked your back?”

“No. While $20,000 in nickels makes for a pretty decent base, it is crap for comfort as far as sleeping on it goes. I woke up this morning and my back was killing me. And even worse, I had nickels stuck all over me. There were nickel imprints on my face for an hour this morning.”

“Terry, you are an idiot. A lucky idiot to be sure, but an idiot none the less.”

“You keep telling me that.”

I stepped through the door and ended up here. I don’t know how it happened, or even what happened. All I know is the world I stepped into is not the same one that was on the other side of the door I exited.

And that door is now broken.

It had been a pleasant day. Martha, Jules, Gabe, and I had been enjoying the weather and when Martha suggested we check out the greenhouse, we had agreed. She had bee quite excited about the orchids she had been cultivating and wanted to share the results of her efforts.

Her greenhouse was lush and full and vibrant. While I recognized much of what she had gathered, there were some plants I with which I was completely unfamiliar. As we walked through this tamed jungle, I had the sensation of being in an almost alien landscape. The various shades of greens, with hints of yellows, whites, reds, and purples appearing here and there were dazzling. The scent of fresh earth, of cleansed air, and of subtle floral undertones lent itself to the other worldly sensation.

She led us to the orchids and I was speechless. Before us sat a half dozen of the most unusual plants I had ever seen, their flowers covering the spectrum and their height easily three times the tallest the orchid I had ever seen.

“These are what I was telling you about.”, Martha said as we approached. “I am still trying to identify the exact species.”

There was some back and forth hypothesizing of possible species between Martha and Gabe. Jules gently inspected the plants and their flowers. I just stood there, momentarily struck dumb by the sight and the sensation that as I watched these plants, so too were they watching me.

A sense of detachment filled me, manifesting itself in a sensation of almost floating from the greenhouse floor. The unexpected nature of the sensation snapped me back to the moment and I rubbed my brow.

“You OK?”, asked Jules. “You look a bit pale.”

“I’m fine.”, I replied, not wanting to raise false alarm. “I think the heat of the greenhouse is getting to me. I’m going ot go grab some water. I’ll be back in a minute.”

I walked out a side door I had noticed and found myself here. Martha’s house was nowhere in sight, nor was the greenhouse I had just left. All that stood was that door. That broken door.

I tried going back the way I had come, but the door’s frame was broken and the door would not open. Not that there was anything on the other side. But when faced with something that cannot be explained, one tends to try irrational things.

Rational or not, my world has changed. For better or ill, I do not know.

Yep, I took a day off of the riffs. Ended up spending the day hanging out with friends, and by the time I got home it was after midnight, so I figured I would let that one slide. It happens and I am sure it will happen again at some point. 🙂

“You know the old saying ‘Dance as if no one’s watching, sing as if no one’s listening, and live everyday as if it were your last‘, don’t you?”

“Well sure, but I think there are exceptions to that saying. It’s not like it is set in stone. It’s not an immutable law of the universe.”

“No, of course it isn’t, but I can’t see there being any need for exceptions to it. It’s a mindset. A philosophy to enjoying life to its fullest.”

“Oh, I have no problem with it as a philosophy. I do believe everyone should live life to its fullest. Otherwise what’s the point of life? But I do think there are exceptions to that saying.”

“Really, and what kind of exceptions are you thinking should be in place?”

“Well, for one, I think that if you really live every day as if it were your last, it could lead to bad things for some folks.”

“Really? And how’s that?”

“Ask folks what they would do if they knew it was the last day of their lives and what do you think they would say? Do you think anyone would say ‘Oh, I think I will go to work.‘? Of course not. If everyone adhered to that literally, then no one would ever work, the economy would tank, folks would run out of money before too long, no one would be able to support themselves or their families. And let’s not even talk about the folks who respond ‘I would try drug xyz because I would be dying anyway, so I may as well see what it’s like.‘ You’d be looking at a potential heroin/meth/crack/designer drug of the week explosion, at least in some portion of the population.”

“Yeah, OK, folks would probably not go to work if they knew it was their last day, but all in all I think that’s really kind of a pessimistic view of humanity you’re describing.”

“Oh sure it’s pessimistic, but it doesn’t make it any less accurate. Economic disaster and junkies everywhere, that’s what it would be.”

“Now I am sure there would be more folks who would spend time with their friends and families …”

“Yep, I’m sure there would be as well. But you would still have economic ruin if you ran with the literal interpretation. And the streets would be filled with the sound of off-key singing.”

“What?”

“About 4% of the population is tone deaf.”

“Yeah, but that is only 4%.”

“Right, so there is a core 4% that will sound like a chipmunk singing opera. Add to the the estimated 60% of the population that has ‘trouble’ with singing on key and it will be a cacophony of chipmunks being scraped down chalkboards while singing opera to 8 bit video game tunes.”

“Wait … 60%?”

“Yeah, I read that somewhere. Suffice to say that the noise will be horrendous … and may lead to a larger explosion in hard drug use in order to cope with it.”

“Oh I don’t think it will be that bad.”

“No, it will more than likely be worse. Because then you will have folks dancing to that deafening din and doing so like a bunch of seagulls running down a beach.”

“Seagulls don’t run.”

“My point exactly.”

“There can’t be that many folks who dance that badly.”

“Well, when you are dancing to music that has no discernible rhythm, or worse, hundreds of different rhythms that do not sync with one another, while you have enough horse tranquilizer coursing through your veins to drop a … well, a horse, it is a recipe for disaster.”

“I’m sure it won’t be that bad.”

“Two words. Elaine dance.”

“Ewww.”

“Yeah. So anyway, that’s why I think there should be exceptions.”

“Yeah, OK, point taken.”

“So, what are you up for tonight? Maybe some karaoke and clubbing?”