Road To Nowhere

That high pitched wail. I can hear it again. Although it has a certain precedent, it always seems to catch me off-guard. I feel myself leaving this body. The screech of the siren carries me away into the light.

It’s always the same dream that follows it. While it may vary in certain details, the overall structure of it always remains the same. The sun is shining bright, and slowly moving to an overhead position. I’m cruising down a paved road, sometimes curvy, the other times straight and endless.

I’m in a car, a late 60s — early 70s variant of the American fastback. My hands wrap tightly around the metal frame of the wheel. There’s something relaxing, yet controlling about it. This most expertly crafted mass of metal moves and whirs at my every whim. The leather grip crinkles with every slight movement. It’s therapeutic to the ear. The seat seems to envelop itself around my frame, making me feel like a cog in this fascinating machine.

Then there’s the woman. I don’t recognise her, yet I feel like I’ve known her my entire life. An aura of unmitigated joy seems to emanate from her very being. And it looks to fill the space we’re in. I’m smiling and enjoying this. That’s odd. At times, her head’s outside the window holding a scarf moving freely with the wind. Her hair moves in tandem with the scarf; outstretched, carefree and in a fluidic flutter.Sometimes, she has her legs on the seat, crossed. And she’s just happy. That makes me happy too. I don’t understand this feeling.

The road seems endless. Time is a non-factor here. I am wholly in that moment. So is that mysterious lady. Frank Ocean and Eddie Vedder seem to be the soundtrack to this experience. I am in the wild. My worldly troubles seem far away from me.

But this is all too good to be true; I know it deep down. I can’t stay here for long. Society is always running at quite a quick pace; from a past that won’t let go of it, to a future that doesn’t seem to accept it. Dreamers and believers like me don’t have a place in that fast-paced life. After all, you can only outrun someone, or something for so long. It’s not too soon before it plays catch-up.

And so, I have to let go of myself from that place, that plane of existence. But I have it with me all the time, wherever I go. It’s the part of me that no one will ever see. Their cold hands will never take this away from me.

The ringing dies down, and the haze lifts. I come to an end of this account that I write, and wonder what led me here in the first place. The walls around me seem to reflect the dull white paint they carry with quite a glare right now. The light of my computer gives me a slight headache. Until the next time I return to that car, to that moment; until then I will still be here.