Travel: 37 Hours In San Francisco, CA
September 22, 2016 - Local
Ok, this is definitely not San Francisco.
I just woke up from a deep sleep in a bare white room that seems to stretch on for infinity.
Did I die? There’s nothing else here. Any sound I make seems to echo on for eternity. Something very strange is going on here. I’ve never been to a place quite like this before.
I’ll be honest, I have no idea how much time has passed. It could have been 2 hours or 200 years. There doesn’t appear to be any sense of time here.
My solitude is interrupted when I hear a loud noise behind me. What was that? I turn around to see a GIANT ROBOT HEAD THAT IS SHOOTING LASERS OUT IF ITS EYES!
I’m still dodging lasers from the eyeballs of the robot I now call Terror-Head. As I run, I realize my white surroundings are now turning into multicolored landscapes. I run through golden canyons and silver streams until I finally lose sight of him.
As I catch my breath, I realize I seem to have traveled down the side of a massive gorge and am now wading through a perfectly clear and cool river.
I look down and see fluorescent-colored fish swimming around my legs. One fish sees I am watching him and swims up to the surface toward me. It breaches the water and says to me “Time waits for only wind.”
I’m not really sure what to make of that.
I can’t remember how long I’ve been here, but I can’t remember not being here either.
The birds and fish are my friends. We sing and dance together in the mornings. In the evenings we discuss philosophy and mathematics. They teach me things about other dimensions. I teach them what it means to be mortal.
Terror-Head still comes around, but I know now he is no threat. The fish tell me he was a great warrior on his home planet, and now he wanders this land seeking battles. But the atmosphere here renders his lasers useless, so he is more of an annoyance than a threat to the other beings of this world.
There is no life here, and no death either. There is water for all to drink, and delicious fruits to eat. I never get very hungry though. Sometimes I go days without remembering to eat.
Somewhere in the back of my mind, I have a vague awareness that things weren’t always this way. I can picture a different world…one where I was a wanderer, who wrote about his travels.
But the image quickly fades. I must be meeting my fish friends soon; we have an afternoon filled with playing and singing planned. And after we’re tired out we’ll lay by the banks of the river and laugh when Terror-Head comes by looking to spar.