― M. Scott Peck
Switching Gears
My whole life has been a search for answers when I'm not even sure I'm asking the right questions.
Some can embrace paradox and live comfortably and thrive in the midst of mystery. I can't.
I need things to be well-defined and that's a great source of my anxiety because the fact is things can never be simple or clear and my need for certainty is a chimera, an illusory desire impossible to fulfill.
Ironically, in Greek mythology , a chimera is also a a fire-breathing female monster with a lion's head, a goat's body, and a serpent's tail. Sounds like my night terror mixed up with sexual repression and a failure to please women.
But I'm not a clairvoyant and my own life opaque and uncertain, hence I reserve the right to be wrong, a state I so often inhabit.
It's a damnable thing―I hate metaphysics and despise clouds of unknowing but love to lose myself in rain, so later that night when the weather turns, I find myself out walking on rainy streets.
This whole thing's bothering me. I can't bend my mind around this girl's mystery―the way she's been able to walk in and out of my life.
I hate to admit it but I've never stopped dreaming about her, as a matter of fact I go camping with her every night―it's my lucid fiction of possessing her when she's eluded me except for dreams.
Damn! I know I'm sounding mystical, but this girl who once went moonlight dipping with me in phosphorescent sea has haunted me all of my life. I long to see myself as a practical but truth is, I'm obsessed by her memory and now she's back in my reality leaving wet footprints all through my psyche.
There’s more to this than serendipity…and it scares the hell right out of me.
I show up next morning at the at The Harbourfront and am directed to Angelica’s penthouse suite.
She’s out on the terrace finishing breakfast and invites me to join her for coffee.
It’s a lovely late August day and the sky is filled with white cumulus, the rain of the last night now only a memory, like so many other aspects of my life.
Angelica has been studying me and suddenly comments, “You like things simple and sunny like this morning—you don’t do well with ambiguity.”
If she’s trying to impress me with her ‘reading’ it’s not working. I’m pretty straight-forward and not hard to figure out.
“I guess you see right through me,” I smile acerbically.
“But you’re a bit conflicted,” she continues, “ since you love late night walks in rain.”
My jaw drops. Okay, now I’m listening. This girl’s abilities are astounding and I’m suddenly feeling vulnerable and naked before her.
”I’m sorry, Zach,” she whispers, “I didn’t mean to invade your privacy.”
“How..how could you possibly know what’s going on inside me?” I stammer.
“Well, you do invite me into your dreams…” she blushes, “so it’s easy to forget about modesty.”
I’m totally disarmed by her response and my inability to draw a line between her and me…
And I’m not even sure I want to wall her out of my most intimate thoughts since all my life I wanted nothing else but her in my dreams.