Pat Watson

“That I am NOT talking to YOU!” He leans closer and pokes me in the chest with his forefinger to emphasize the point. He smells like sandalwood incense and ocean, with a bit of body odor mixed in. Robed in layers of multi-colored blankets, he could be at home in the far reaches of Tibet or living beneath an underpass in LA.

“I don’t get it,” I say. “Is this some kind of joke? Some kind of comedy routine like Abbot and Costello? Some kind of riddle?”

“You figure it out,” he says back to me before turning brusquely and returning to the cave.

“Now go away.” He says to the rock wall instead of me, waving me off with his right hand. On his way back to the cave, he mumbles, “Not that you have anywhere else to go.” I follow him and as soon as he enters the cave, he’s gone. I’m only a few steps behind him and he’s nowhere to be found. No shape. No shadow. No nothing, not even the dim light at the back of the cave that was there before and now it’s not.

By this time, I’m starving but it’s nearly dark and I don’t want to climb down the unlit expanse of boulders. I’ll find something to eat tomorrow. For now, I try to find a way to be comfortable among the rocks next to the fire and think about the stranger from the cave. Is he a sage, a lunatic, or evidence of my insanity? His distorted face reminds me of the imaginary faces I’ve seen since I got here. At least now I know I’m not alone on this strange contradiction of rockbound brutality and lush garden splendor. He certainly gives me plenty to think about.

Hints of moonlight sneak through gaps in the heavy clouds and give alien light to the valley below. I find a niche in the rocks and get as comfortable as possible, this time using my trusty hoodie as a pillow. The fire is continuous and keeps me warm. I quickly fall asleep. A dream comes on quickly and it’s quite strange. In my dream, I’m thinking that this is all a dream within a dream, a double-decker dreamer’s dream. In this dream, I look out across the valley to the rocky ridges beyond the forest, which begins to surge and flow like the waves that brought me here. I can hear the rocks across the valley moan and whisper words I can’t quite understand. Clouds stream across the sky beneath the moon. Then, lighting strikes the distant ridge. Lightning strikes repeatedly, each bolt hitting in a strange sequence that looks like it’s making strides, strides toward me, as each bolt lands markedly closer than the last. Between the strikes and the echoes, it seems the rumbling thunder has something to say. I see a rough and jagged giant of electric energy walking this way. The oncoming bolts get closer, lighting up the forest floor and expelling debris into the air. It’s closer. I’m scared. I realizing I’m dreaming and that wakes me up. A flash lights up the rocks yards away, outlining a silhouetted figure standing before me. It’s distorted face fixed squarely to mine. I gulp. I catch my breath, turn my head and look away. I look back. The figure is gone. All is quiet. I wonder. I stare at the fire for a long while and eventually go back to sleep, unnerved, curious and afraid but tired and determined to find food in the morning. Continued…