Notopia Read online

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  Splashing the water on his face and looking in the restroom mirror, he could see the stalls behind him. He instinctively reached to his right for some paper towels to blot his face and hands dry, trying not to get his tie wet. Now he was curious. Does Gwen remember that they saw each other in Notopia? Does Gwen even recall Notopia in real life?

  Chapter 5

  Gwen’s eyes opened slowly to the sound of her alarm clock. She rolled onto her back, almost hoping to see the canopy covering the king size bed she so envied from Notopia. But, alas, it was not to be. The shower was particularly refreshing this morning, and she felt renewed, invigorated, and motivated for the day ahead. Coffee and toast were perfect, and for a moment she thought that perhaps all these thoughts of Notopia were silly imaginations. The garage door opened to what appeared to be a very lovely day in the makings and she pulled onto the road, not noticing the valley was ahead of her. At the corner, she stopped. Salem Street? Gwen sat for a moment, realized where she was, and decided she would drive around and see what Notopia had to offer.

  She headed downhill toward the city she could see from her home. House after house looked cared for in varying degrees. She noted the homes were vastly different in architectural styles. From modern to vintage, the entire gambit was here. As she rounded corner after corner, each neighborhood began to coalesce into one massive eclectic collection. All the homes were different, and they all appeared to fit in; even the geodesic dome house was not out of place. Gwen was so preoccupied with the houses that she didn’t notice the people out milling around, quite a few of them. Their attire showcased a wide array of fashions and styles and even time periods. They seemed to be interacting and bustling about like in any other town she had seen.

  Directly ahead, the road ended, and she would have to turn. As she looked both ways, deciding upon a direction to take, the house in front of her began to shake. The ground around the foundation of the house started to separate from the home and beams of light burst forth. Then, without a sound, the house collapsed in upon itself and vanished into the ground. Within seconds, a fresh growth of grass covered the lot, and it looked like it had always been that way.

  Fearing an impending disaster, Gwen put her car in reverse and spun around to depart. As she sped uphill, a huge structure came into view that took her breath away—a gigantic dome flanked by two smaller sized pyramids lay dead ahead. It was much bigger than anything she had seen, and she was certain it must be a building of significance. She knew she had to explore it.

  She parked as close as she could, left her car, and proceeded on foot. A series of steps lay before her, not unlike those to the Lincoln Memorial, but much wider. At the top of the stairs there was a broad arching entryway that resembled a half-opened eye and across the top of the archway was some signage. “Notopia Museum of Human Dreams” with a quote underneath, “There are no dreams in Utopia.”

  Inside, the brightly polished marble flooring was as breathtaking as the building. The grand entrance was a good 200 feet across and looked to be 100 feet deep or more. Gwen entered through the archway into the sphere. The sheer size of the inside was unlike anything she had ever seen, and she had to stop for a moment to take it all in. Spiraling up the inside of the sphere were several stairways. Each step appeared to have been individually carved out of the walls, and there were paintings hung on the wall beside the steps that appeared to go all the way to the ceiling. On the ground floor in front of her was a smaller sphere-shaped room, mostly of glass, which glowed with a green hewed light. She decided this would be her first stop.

  Gwen entered the glass room and began looking at the paintings around her. In the center of this room were three paintings that formed a triangle pattern. They hung with no visible means of suspension and rotated slowly. Thus, the viewer could stand motionless and see each painting as it turned into their view. A very colorful painting was in front of her now. Two human forms, male and female, entwined in an erotic embrace, so masterfully painted that they appeared to float off the canvas and their skin tones exuded all the colors of the visible spectrum. It was almost as if the act of making love for them was returning their very essence to the stardust from whence they came. She could see a name on the plaque that read, Emilie de Chatelet. The genius French woman, Thought Gwen? Ah, but of course, Emilie had proven the bending of light 150 years before Einstein, and her passion for love and life enhanced the mind of the already genius Voltaire.

  The next painting was entirely different. It was an ancient Greek country setting with a lovely hillside view of olive trees, grape vines, and a small Greek-columned structure. Inside the structure, a kindly looking, white-bearded, old gentleman sat with one hand extended, palm side up, while the other hand held a large bunch of dangling grapes. Charging up a path were several young eager-faced children. Gwen could feel the joy and the innocent anticipation that only kids can display, and the calmness of heart that beset the old man. This painting belonged to Aesop, the storyteller.

  The third painting depicted an outdoor scene, though it differed greatly from the others. There were unfamiliar looking grasses, shrubs, a couple of trees, and the pastel hue of the skyline at twilight. A somewhat messy and large bonfire is in the foreground. Around it, curious looking stones and animal bones lay on the ground. Through the glow of the fire were not two faces but three. They were very different in appearance, and they moved in and out of view as the flames flickered randomly. The people were wearing animal skins, and she could feel the warmth of the fire from the painting. The name on the plaque was Muutah. Very curious indeed, Gwen thought.

  These paintings left Gwen stunned by their beauty and realism, and she wanted to see more. She wanted to see them all, but that was going to take days, if not weeks, to accomplish.

  “Excuse me, miss,” an elderly gentleman said. “Please step back a little so I can sweep here, I will only be two seconds.”

  “Certainly, I’m sorry I didn’t even see you. I was so enthralled with the paintings,” Gwen said. Gwen then realized that there were many people in the museum. She had been oblivious to them all.

  “First time here?” the man asked. “It’s okay, lady. I see it all the time. People come and gawk for hours at a time. They are amazing dreams.”

  “Yes, yes, they are. Did you say dreams?”

  “Yes, these are the paintings of their dreams; their contribution to the human existence. The unparalleled combination of intelligence, spiritualism and the erotic pursuits of Emilie, the purity of education through self-discovery of Aesop’s fables, and the man that brought the first dreams to reality by making stone tools, Muutah. Oh, they are all here, miss, look around. Every dream ever fulfilled and brought to completion by humanity hangs in this museum.”

  “This is utterly amazing. I … cannot fully comprehend what I’m seeing.”

  “Miss, your painting is here as well. At least the frame is, and I would be willing to bet it is starting to fill in too.”

  “Mine? I don’t have anything here,” Gwen said.

  “Yes, miss. Sure you do, everyone does. Everyone has a frame here before they ever arrive in Notopia. Once your frame is complete, your house begins to form, and your portal painting takes shape.”

  “My portal painting? The landscape painting in my home?”

  “Landscape, bus stop, prison bars, underwater. Heck. I have even seen one from inside a bathroom. They are as individual as you. They are from where your mind first generated the dream you are here to find. You want to see yours?”

  “Yes, yes,” Gwen read the nametag on his shirt, “Rick, I would love to.”

  Rick gestured for her to follow and led her to a large book on a podium. “Name?”

  “Gwendolyn Parker.” That was her birth name. She mostly went by Gwen, and some close friends called her Gwenie.

  “Here we are. Sphere B center pentagon. Well, that is a very prominent spot, Gwendolyn. You must have a very big dream.”


  “You can call me Gwen, and I have no idea what my dream is.”

  Smiling, Rick said, “Yet.” Rick pointed toward a large opening that read “Sphere B” over the arch. “You can’t miss it.”

  Gwen headed for the opening. The sheer number of paintings was overwhelming, and she found it hard to believe hers would be in a prominent spot. She passed through the corridor and emerged inside another enormous dome. There in the center were five paintings suspended in mid-air and rotating slowly, just like the previous three she had observed. She moved in close to the first one that faced her. The image of stars, gas clouds, and nebulas was shockingly real. It appeared that you were journeying through this mass of stellar wonder. The plaque read, Albert Einstein.

  The beauty was simply breathtaking. Gwen thought for a moment. Is my painting really hanging with this?

  The next painting came around into view, and the first thing she noticed was the condition of the frame, which looked damaged or incomplete. The painting was a grayish mass of fused colors; not ugly, but very murky. It was hers. Her name was there on the plaque, but the painting was nothing. How can this be? Why would it be on display in this condition, and among these other fabulous pieces?

  The next painting came, and she was instantly stunned by its genius. It seemed to pull from her mind a variety of images, all of which moved on the canvas in three dimensions. It was almost as if they had used some type of holographic paint. The painting portrayed an ability of the human mind to project into reality with a mere thought, making thought the origin of the object instead of the object the origin of the thought. The name on the plaque read Anton Wilhelm Ano.

  The next was another Greek-style scene, albeit quite different from the Aesop one before. This one depicted an inspiring countryside setting and dotted about the painting were small clusters of people. A little off-center was a man who wore a golden rope sash, pointing at some leaves being held by another man. He appeared to be talking to them about the plant. The other cluster of people also had one man wearing a golden sash, though each group seemed to have a different focus. One was about a small animal, another a fish, and a person was on display in the third group. The ones doing the pointing and wearing the golden sashes must be instructors. The plaque read Socrates.

  The fifth painting swung into view. The canvas oozed colors of all shades and hues. Ribbons and pools of color bubbled to the surface, popping into the room. The droplets formed words in mid-air that were briefly visible before vanishing into a colored smoke. Gwen read a few words and knew the artist in an instant. “When I think and pray, I pray and think.” She knew this line from the Shakespearean play “Measure for Measure” where eight human moral dilemmas confronted the characters, testing their resolve.

  Gwen slowly walked away from the paintings toward the exit of the building. She was deep in thought, wondering what painting or idea had she generated that rated as special as those of Socrates, Shakespeare, Ano, or Einstein. Surely this was a mistake, or perhaps it was temporary while her painting formed.

  Rick caught up to her, saying, “Did you like yours, Gwen? That’s some mighty fancy company it is hanging with. You must have something very special in that head of yours.”

  “Thank you, Rick, but I’m not like them—they were geniuses. They forgot more in a day than I could ever know! My painting has no business amongst them.”

  “It’s not what you know; it’s what you dream that counts. Everyone is here because of the dreams they have. Look around you. Every painting you see is a dream that was realized and brought to fruition by someone just like you, just as puzzled upon arrival as you. This is the birthplace and incubator for the continued evolution of man’s ability to dream. This is where all the goals, whims, and aspirations in life take their first breath. Without Notopia, all humanity will cease to journey, and cease to explore. Then, it would wallow in stagnation and grow hostile in boredom. Soon, only the thrill of the most basic and primal desires would serve to motivate. The need for food, water, survival, and procreation would dominate humans, just like every other beast or insect on the planet.”

  “But Rick, I do not possess the mental fortitude of an Einstein, or Socrates, or anyone in that group.”

  “Come with me a moment; you need to see something.”

  Rick led Gwen back through the large sphere where they entered one of the pyramid buildings. “Gwen, not everyone comes to Notopia; only a small number come here. There are other platitudes of existence that people experience. Here, for example, is Spirituality—a very busy annex that was the first addition to the museum. Here, you will find the gateway to the 4,000 gods that man has brought into existence. The idea that an omnipotent entity provided the universe and its order was first a dream. From that dream, more dreams emerged, and the concept of a god soon became inevitable.”

  “Are you saying that God is merely a dream?”

  “I am saying that God is every bit as real as Notopia.”

  “Rick, I think I should go. My mind is spinning out of control.”

  “Certainly, Gwen,” Rick said as he directed her back to the front of the museum. “I will see you again, Gwen. I am sure of it.”

  “Goodbye, Rick.”

  As she reached the opening, she stopped to look at the painting closest to the entrance. A peaceful lake, or pond perhaps, skirted with tulles, shade trees, and a small boat dock. On the dock, a man sat on a three-legged stool, and a small boy stood beside him fishing. A lunch basket and a tackle box were also within arm’s reach. It was such a simple, peaceful and serene scene. What a nice dream.

  Gwen sat behind the wheel of her car. Her mind didn’t know where to start thinking about what she had just seen, or where she was. So much input, so much information. How could all this be? Although it made sense, it defied reason at the same time. She started the car and began the drive back to her home. She longed for reality again and let the world of Notopia sit on the back burner for a bit.

  Gwen drove instinctively toward home feeling much more familiar with the streets than she should. The next turn should be Salem St., and dead ahead the empty lot where the house vanished. She expected to see people milling about, perhaps wondering what had happened. Instead, to her surprise, there was a new house. She first made sure it was the same location and then pulled her car over to investigate.

  The two-story house sat on a simple but nicely groomed lot. A white picket fence trimmed the front yard with a trellis entry to a very inviting stone path that led up to the porch.

  A voice rang out. “Come on up! You are more than welcome! It’s a lovely morning, and you can have some herbal tea if you like.”

  The woman was tall, thin, and sported the most gloriously vibrant red hair that Gwen had ever laid eyes on. Her hair did more than partially flutter in the breeze; it seemed to wave at the world, and it beckoned Gwen to enter the gate. Once in the yard, she realized this Victorian structure reminded her of a college sorority house. The lovely sky-blue paint blended almost seamlessly with the sky overhead.

  “The others are still painting; they should finish today. Hi! My name is Strata, and you are?”

  “I am Gwen. This home is absolutely charming, it just feels so… so friendly.”

  “YAY! That’s what we’re going for—friendly and happy. Come on up and select your tea. I am so excited that you are here.” Strata gestured to the table then reached to open a screen door, leaned inside the house, and hollered. “We have a visitor!” As she moved gracefully back to the table, Gwen noted her lovely hazel eyes and was a bit jealous of her cute, petite nose.

  Gwen sat at the table and selected a tea bag. Strata slid a cup and saucer toward her, and she noticed it was steaming. She looked inside the cup to see it filling with hot water from nowhere. “That’s a cute trick!”

  Strata giggled a bit and smiled. “Isn’t it though? Wish I knew how it worked. This place fills cups and puts food on plates, but we still must paint it. Go figure.”
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br />   Through the screen door stepped a new face—a young Asian woman with a short, sassy hairstyle that complimented her attractive facial features.

  “Cirrus meet Gwen. Gwen, this is Cirrus,” Strata said, “You going to join us?”

  “Hello, Gwen, I wish I could, but I need to finish painting a cloud and then I will. I could not wait to see you though. You are the first seeker to visit.”

  “Hello, Cirrus and I don’t know what to say. This is a lovely place you have,” Gwen said.

  “Ooh, how exciting, we have visitors! Thank you,” Cirrus said as she dashed off.

  “The boys will be around soon,” Strata said while sitting. “You like your tea?”

  “I do, thank you, it is perfect.”

  “Wish I could take the credit, but the cups do all the work.”

  “Strata, did Cirrus say she was painting a cloud?”

  “Yes, she did, and she is. We are painting clouds on the house, want to see?”

  “Yes, I would. Recently, paint has become a very curious substance to me.”

  “I am not sure what you mean by that but follow me.”

  They went down the steps and around the side of the house. The blue-sky colored walls had wonderful fluffy clouds painted on them—the kind of cumulus clouds that sometimes darken and rain and other times drift by like ever-changing sculptures in the heavens. Gwen could recall being fascinated with them as a child. She would watch a sea turtle gradually transform into a dragon and then an orchid, doing it so slowly that one had to stop and wait for a bit to see it happen. Amazed at how real the clouds appeared that she half expected them to move, and they did.

  “Did that cloud just move?” Gwen asked.

  Again, Strata giggled, and this time she hugged Gwen. “You see it! You see it! Cumulo was right! He knew it could happen. He knew people would see it if they took just a moment to watch closely.” Strata, grinning from ear to ear, had a tear in her eye. “He is going to be so happy that you see them move!”