“There’s probably no room anywhere,” she looked up and cackled. Well, more of a shit-eating grin than a cackle, as if she meant something that she wasn’t really willing to share with me.
I made my way to the next room, stepping over the mess, and looked in and a younger version of herself was in there, laying on her stomach, craned her head up to look at me and her brows were raised in a caricature of themselves, as if they were devilishly slanted away.
I carefully plotted my way to the next room and there was no room in there, either, and I suddenly had a strong urge to get out, a strong sensation that I didn’t belong in there. As I searched for a place, I saw the plastic leg on the floor and knew I had to get out.
Back in the hallway, the elderly woman was singing Come Down by Bush, and I immediately was struck that she shouldn’t know the words to this song, that is was unnatural. She looked at me and mouthed the words over the song that was now playing in the background.
“Love and hate, get it wrong, just cut me right back down to size. Let it fade. Who was there to take your place?” And she kept going on and on. “I don’t wanna come back down from this cloud. It’s taken me all this time to find out what I need, yeah yeah yeah.”
I went back into the room whence I began the trek and there was Cate, pulling out drawers like rails, setting up pillows on them, making a bed. “What are you doing,” my look said to her. A furrowed brow and raised lower lids and she went back to what she was doing.
A moment later, “These won’t work for the kids. Unless you pull apart the base and use them to clip their feet.” I didn’t get what she was going on about, so I laid back down and closed my eyes, slipping precariously into a dream within a dream, a solace within a nightmare, and the flooding of the pattern as I fell headfirst, plunged in control, plunged out of control.
“I don’t wanna come back down from this cloud.” I thought, what does it mean? It’s taken me all this time to find out what I need? What do I need? What did I find out that I needed?
And I slipped out of one dream and into another as a background noise momentarily woke me.
“There is no blame, only shame, when you beg I just complain.” Then it all comes down. Comes down. And I don’t wanna come back down. I spent all this time.
Then my mind begins to find meaning in meaning, meaning in the void of emptiness. Meaning in nothing. Meaning in everything. I remember, slowly, that I’m dreaming and this is a construct, and none of this is real. I mean, none of it. The dream, the void, reality. We’re all just particles slowed down enough to have mass, which is to say that we’re the same as the light the same as the dark the same as the matter and anti-matter and we could just pair annihilate today, any day, any moment. Why not now? Why not today? Why not be there and be here at the same time?
And does this mean that time is meaningless, while at the same time is full of meaning? I believe it does. I believe I’ve seen something, a glimpse, a peek. What if we really are just the machinations of a never-ending, Mandelbrot-ish algorithm, interminable, with no start because the beginning is reverse engineered into the pattern from the ending. There’s no start, no end, no pure pattern, and the creator has long since perished, and we were simply his search for meaning in a meaningless void, and now his search resulted in creatures that continue to search for the same meaning? Some say they’ve found it but the fact that not all have found it means that the algorithm is still running, running, fitting the pieces together. Some call it God, some god, some a creator, some a higher power, an intelligence. Some have declared the war over and the answer has been found to be no answer. Some have said the answer is 42, which I personally enjoy, but you never really know because the algorithm crunches on, on, ever into the void and we can’t see it any more than a line knows a second or third dimension.