Notopia Read online

  The camera showed what looked to be the base of a rather broad rainbow with people emerging from it. Something about them looked off, but she wasn’t sure what, and why would they be coming out of a rainbow? How can that happen? And what did she mean by an array of dreams? Why can’t I call her? She reached again for her phone and still no signal.

  Back to the studio reporter, “On a more somber note, firefighters responded to three blue fire flashes last night. That brings the total this month to fifty-two. We have with us, in the studio, Roger Tremon. Roger has been researching and tracking the blue fire phenomenon.”

  “Well, Dave, it seems that numbers have been going up for a few months,” Roger said.

  That’s Roger! NO! she told herself. This is crazy, and what numbers are going up? Why is he on TV? Where is this TV station? I can go there and talk to Roger, and I bet I’ll find Delilah there too. She had somewhere to go now, but how and where?

  She darted to what she figured was the door leading to the garage. She was right, her car was there, and it was backed into the garage as usual for her. She ran off to the bedroom to change her clothes.

  She pressed the remote control for the garage door, and light flooded in as it opened. The car started, and she pulled down the driveway only to jerk the vehicle to a dead stop. Right in front of her, streaming down to the valley, was the most massive rainbow she had ever seen. Framed by a clear blue sky, it carried all the way to the valley floor. She could see waves in the rainbow. No, not waves, but bulges that seemed to move toward the ground. She got out of her car and walked to the sidewalk to get a better view. It was the same as what she had seen on the news broadcast, and there was the other rainbow just to her right. She ran back to her car determined now to find the news station and talk to someone she knew!

  ***

  Gwen splashed water on her face and let it drip off as she stared into the mirror. She was home again. She dashed into the hallway and found no empty picture frames; it was her home. She could smell the coffee and the toast.

  Sitting on her couch, Gwen tried to make sense of what was happening. These were not dreams as she was quite awake when they occurred; nor were they visions, at least not like she had ever thought visions to be, and these were not products of her meditation or relaxation attempts either. Could she be hallucinating? Nah! What then? And what does it all mean? So many things puzzled Gwen about her experience. The commonality of the bathrooms, the blank frames in the hallway, and the fact that Roger and Delilah were there, but above all, she now had a strong desire to go back. She felt a calmness come over her when recalling the house and the valley below. She wished to journey into this new world she discovered.

  She wondered. What if I sit back and close my eyes. Will I find myself there? How will I come back? Is this someplace I go to through meditation? She closed her eyes and nestled into her couch, thinking about the house, the kitchen, and the rainbows. Nothing had happened; she was still in the real world.

  Delilah’s ringtone seemingly filled the room. “Hey, Delilah,” she answered.

  “Gwenie! How are you this fine Saturday, I see you called me last night.”

  Gwen thought for a moment and realized she had tried to call when she was in that place, but there was no signal. So, how did she get it?

  “Gwen? Yoo-hoo Gwen! Don’t space out on me honey. What is up with you lately? You okay? Do we need to talk?”

  “I’m just fine, Delilah. Thank you. However, I have a question for you. Have you ever wanted to be a TV news reporter?”

  “What makes you ask that?” Delilah said.

  “Oh nothing, forget it, I am just being silly.”

  “Let me answer you. Yes, I have. Ever since I wrote articles for the school newspaper. Now, tell me. What made you ask that?”

  “Before I do. I remember that you and Roger went to high school together. Was he on the paper too?”

  “Yes, he was two years ahead of me. He was the editor that year and was hoping to go to college for a career in journalism.”

  “Delilah, what time did I call you last night?”

  “It was about 11:15. I know that because all of us were on the karaoke stage singing ‘California Dreamin’,” she said. “Now are you going to tell me what this is all about or do I need to come over there? I know where you live, and I have a key remember.”

  “Yes, Delilah. Please come over now if you can.”

  “Are you sure nothing is wrong, Gwen? Can I get you anything on my way over?”

  “No. Nothing is wrong, just off. I will explain when you get here.”

  Gwen hung up the phone, but now she had more questions. Why, or even how, would the vision include Delilah and Roger, and portray them in their dream jobs? This place was getting more perplexing all the time. She recalled something the reporter, Delilah, had said. “There seems to be quite an array of dreams,” but what the hell did that mean?

  Delilah entered through the open garage and found Gwen in the kitchen. “So, where did you go today?” Delilah asked.

  “Go? I haven’t gone anywhere. And just how did you come in through the garage?” Gwen replied.

  “PFFT! The door is wide open darling.”

  Gwen went to check the garage and then recalled that in Notopia she had pulled the car out for a moment. “You see, Delilah? That’s the problem; I didn’t do that. I mean, I did do that but not here, not in this house, not this garage. It was in another house—a different garage—and the rainbow stopped me,” Gwen paused. “Listen to me. Oh my god, I sound like a lunatic.”

  Gwen walked past Delilah back to the kitchen, where she began to pour two glasses of wine.

  “I don’t think that will help matters, Gwen,” Delilah said.

  “No, Delilah, I’m fine. I admit I am confused a bit. Hell, a lot!” Filling the wine glasses, she continued. “The blue lightning thing was the real mystery. Although the rainbows—God, they were enormous—have me guessing as well, but the intriguing part is that I want to go back. I want to find out what all this means.” She handed Delilah her glass of wine and marched off to the living room.

  Delilah looked at the glass of wine, half expecting to see a little tag that read “drink me,” and half wanting to drink it down quickly. She decided instead to take a good size drink and carry the bottle with her into the living room.

  “Gwen, you are going to have to back this train up all the way to the ticket counter. I have no idea what you are going on about. What is this about giant rainbows and blue lightning and a different house and going back? Where did you go? Did somebody put something in your drink?”

  “That’s just it, I didn’t go anywhere, I never left the house. I got home from work yesterday evening and have been here ever since. At least, I think I have been here,” Gwen paused. “It is all so damn real Delilah, so very real.”

  “Okay, that didn’t help a thing. Take it from the top and go slow,” Delilah said.

  Gwen talked. Delilah drank. Gwen talked more. Delilah refilled.

  Gwen recounted her experience in great detail, and when she finished, she looked at Delilah, hoping for some answers.

  Delilah said, “I was a Reporter? And Roger was some kind of expert on blue lightning? Or blue fire? You sure you didn’t go anywhere or meet anybody in this other world you go to?”

  “I’m quite sure, but that is a damn good idea. I need to make it a point to meet someone next time I am there,” Gwen said. “Listen to me talk. I act like it’s someplace I can drive to or visit whenever I want. I don’t know how I get there Delilah; I just become aware that I am, and then I become aware that I am not. I tried to sit here a short while ago and think about it—to take myself there, but I failed. Also, when I do go there, there seems to be very little time lost, if any, from the real world, but there are also little links that occur. Little random events like the garage door, the coffee table, and your cell phone. They all seem to be quite impossible, but they are there.”


  “Do you think it’s a good idea to meet someone? You know nothing about this place, and it isn’t even real! Holy crap, Gwen! Now you got me talking like it is real.” Delilah took another drink. “Yes, yes you go meet people next time you are there. What could it hurt? It isn’t real, so you really aren’t meeting anyone. I have a couple of suggestions though. First, pinch yourself next time and see what happens. Second, if you are still there, make sure he is cute. Just think, if this place is as awesome as you make it sound, then imagine how much fun the bedroom can be!”

  Chapter 2

  “You, a news reporter? I can see that,” Paul said. “I’m picturing you holding the microphone in your hand and reporting right now. Delilah Roberts, reporting from the boudoir. Sex with Paul was simply marvelous today; in fact, stupendous would more fit the performance.”

  Laughing, Delilah said. “Stupendous only applies when describing a repeat performance, and you need a good half hour before that can happen.”

  They lay next to each other, his head on her shoulder, her lovely breasts right before him. They dearly loved to talk after sharing a sexual encounter. In a way, it seemed to not only prolong their carnal times but also served to validate their intimacy as an entire personal connection. Mind, body, and spirit; each played a role in expanding their coexistence.

  “Seriously, you would make a terrific reporter, Delilah.”

  “Thank you, kind sir, but do you think I need to be worried about her?”

  “Worried? No. Concerned? Yes. I mean it’s obvious she is dreaming, and it is very curious that the dream not only returns but also continues. That is a very a rare thing, and the details that she recounts to you are fascinating, such as the people walking out of a rainbow, that must be some type of transportation mode.”

  “Yes, but she said the reporter called them dreams, and that they were new arrivals. For some reason, I feel that is significant—almost like the dreams were people.”

  “Interesting. Didn’t you say something about seekers? That would fit as you have dreams and people seeking dreams. So, these are not dreams like when you sleep; these are dreams people strive to achieve. Well, that fits Gwen as well; she is smart, ambitious, pretty, and sexy.”

  “Okay, you can stop anytime! I have seen the way you look at her sometimes, mister.”

  “Well, I do sometimes look, I admit, but only to remind myself how special it is that you and I are together my love.” Their lips then met in a long, loving kiss. “The half-hour is up.”

  “I noticed, but hold that thought. I need to pee.”

  The evening was quite late, and Paul was very content at times like this that he and Delilah had moved in together.

  “Paul?” Delilah often talked from atop the throne. “You and I have never talked about our dreams.”

  It was clear that round two was not going to happen soon and that was not a problem. Delilah was worried about Gwen, as was he, and that doesn’t make for good intimacy. “Delilah, before we do, just how do you define a dream?”

  “Define? Wow, I never thought to define a dream before. I would say attaining goals, doing jobs or tasks one likes to do and often that would include helping others,” Delilah said.

  “So, doing things that make you happy?”

  Delilah crawled back on the bed and laying on her tummy, said, “Yes, things that make me happy, make me feel good inside, and that doesn’t hurt anyone.”

  “To follow a dream is to pursue happiness,” Paul said. “Aristotle said, ‘It is virtuous activities that determine our happiness.’”

  “Using that, then I would say that pursuing a self-decided virtuous endeavor would constitute living one’s dream.”

  “I suppose that’s true, but does it have to be so grand? Can’t we have little dreams? Like can I dream of being a cowboy just for a weekend?”

  Delilah roared with laughter. “A cowboy, eh? Well, cowboy. How about you rustle us up some grub, cuz dis lil’ cowgirl bin ridin’ all night and her tummy be growling like a bahr fresh out of hibernation.”

  Paul sat up and patted Delilah on her bottom. “Coming right up missy, and you just go on dreaming in that pretty little head of yours.”

  Paul sliced an opening into the thick Texas toast and spooned in the strawberry filling he made earlier. He filled the bread with the berries, dipped them in an egg mixture, and plopped them into the pan, where they sizzled away. The aroma of coffee mingled with the fresh fruit, the butter, and the eggs. The plates were on the tray, waiting. While flipping over the toast, he thought, so now Gwen has been to Notopia and remembers it. Then, he sighed. I hope Delilah begins to remember she goes there too. He sprinkled the toast lightly with powdered sugar and added a mint leaf to the plate before carrying it all to the bedroom.

  Delilah saw the breakfast plate and said. “Yeah, I knew it. I saw the strawberries in the fridge yesterday, and you know this means we will have a salad for dinner. And I don’t want to hear any complaining.”

  “You won’t.”

  Chapter 3

  Roger sat at his desk viewing the vertical glass screen displaying a map of Notopia and the recent blue fire locations. There didn’t appear to be a pattern, but the frequency was clearly on the increase. In fact, for the first time that he could recall, the number of fires each month was outpacing the number of arrivals. Add that to the increased number of new seekers, and you have quite a dilemma brewing.

  For Roger, however, it was too slow. This Notopia—this subconscious bastion of human spontaneity—needed to die, and now his plans had a promise: to use the creative minds that gave rise to this place against it. Though he couldn’t stop it, he could manipulate weaker, more desperate minds to help generate his creation. Soon, the seekers of Notopia would grow frantic in their searches. The dreams themselves would feel pressured and go into hiding as the seekers probed them mercilessly. A need for trained Seeker Assistants would soon be an acceptable idea. These assistants would be educated using his documents and his design, unaware of his agenda.

  For years, Roger had been strategically placing ads in papers touting the need for a Seeker Assistant Program. After all, he was the authority on this. He alone monitored the traffic of dreams and seekers in and out of Notopia, and when people read the reports, they also read his suggestions. Soon, his idea of a volunteer Seeker Assistants Program would circulate and become agreeable to those in Notopia. Then, his real menace would arrive.

  Roger moved from his home office space to the basement and sat for a moment on a three-legged stool, looking across the room at a painting. Ah, but when will my dream appear, what will it look like, and how will it intercept dreams before they contact their seekers? That’s why Roger had gotten the firemen to film all arrivals for his review. He would recognize this thing when it first steps from the array of color that delivers it. In the meantime, Roger returned to formulating his campaign designed to instill apprehension, desperation, or fear into the seekers that they would not find their dreams or that someone would steal them.

  Much still needed to happen, but when his plan did unfold, he knew it would balloon rapidly. It would be only a matter of days before things would unravel in Notopia, and he would most certainly be the number one suspect. He pulled the supply goods shelving away from the dirt wall and continued digging. He planned to tunnel underneath the street and into the basement of the building directly across from him, and he was very near his goal.

  Chapter 4

  Gwen tried to take her mind off her visions and began reading a synopsis on the life of an extraordinary young French woman named Charlotte Corday. As a baby, Charlotte was never known to cry, and as a child, she was brimming with happy eagerness. At the age of 12, people began to observe “small miracles” occurring around her. For example, after leaving a home she visited, the occupants reported that no mice or bugs of any kind could be found around the house, which was pretty amazing in the late 1700s. In winter, some people reported that coats and j
ackets had mysteriously been mended shortly after a visit from Charlotte.

  Charlotte received some special education from the church as they began to suspect a new Saint might be in their midst. She was very loving and caring to people and animals. As she flourished into a woman, she fell in love with a young and clumsy lieutenant serving in the French Army. Things were going very well in their little world, but the French revolution was not far off. The ugliness of politics combined with the cruel advent of the guillotine disturbed Charlotte greatly.

  One day, an unfortunate accident occurred in town, and the young lieutenant was blamed for the death of an innocent lad. The lieutenant was alone at the time and a maddened crowd descended upon him, killed him and removed his head. They all knew he and Charlotte were lovers, and with their hatred unsatisfied, they took his head to the monastery where she was housed and studied. They called for her at the gate, and when she opened the viewing portal in the large wooden gate, they shoved the lieutenant’s head through it and into her arms.

  She collapsed in shock and barely spoke for months. The monastery sent her home, which was several hundred miles away. There on a warm spring day, she could be found sitting peacefully under a tree, picking petals off flowers and mumbling to herself. The locals knew something was wrong. Their loving Charlotte was not the blessed, cheerful young lady they were accustomed to. They were not aware of the gruesome chapter recently added to her life. They presumed her lieutenant would be along any day and thought they heard her saying, “He loves me, he loves not,” with each petal she plucked. It never occurred to them that what she was saying was, “Do I kill him, or kill him not,” referring to the evil politician, Jean-Paul Marat, that so vilified the French government and had condemned so many to the guillotine. She blamed his evil for the death of her lieutenant. That cruel act had destroyed her love for nearly everything and turned her focus toward vengeance and the freeing of her country from Marat’s madness.