Traffic

His two hands wrapped around the steering wheel of his red Porshe Sport.  He likes to think.

Staring. Tense. Gripping.

The car in front, a Rocket Ship. A huge furnace of an exhaust pipe blasting out spiraling flames that reached out into the dense heat of the day.

Transfixed.

Unable to process that his hands were his own, that he could move them, that he was in control of them. They twitched.  His veins pulsating up into his head. Pounding feeling. A never-ending pounding feeling.

Not a migraine.

A black hammer, bashing against unyielding metal. Over and over again. The clanging sounds piercing.

‘Excuse me mastah! U R slowing Dooooooooooowwwwwwwwwnnnnn traffic!’

He looks out the tiny crack of his window at the policeman.

Sweating. Dripping.

What was this fascinating beast of a person, draped in navy blue and capped with an astonishing mushroom cap. How could he mutter those words to him? He looked up into the rear view mirror and there was a wave forming.

He looked again.

Dread.

The wave, had turned into a tsunami, rising up into a gigantic colossal being eating up everything in its wake as it stampeded onwards to him.

Fragile. Useless.

The world was silent, and the road in front of him was a climbing stairway to the gates of the realm beyond human comprehension.

He steadily got out of his car, the policeman standing aside confounded.

His naked feet crunched softly on the grainy cool sand beneath him. The tsunami had collapsed into the vast space behind him and was now creeping at his ankles, tickling and friendly.

Reminded him of Patch, his dog he had loved and cared so much for. He would come home from school and Patch would pace around the compound lovingly, finally kneeling, licking his ankles and panting excitedly.

A car had knocked down Patch in front of Victor’s house one day and his dying dog’s last motions were to drag his battered body to the side of the road, probably to avoid being of further nuisance to anyone.

Uneasy.

The stairway had formed fully, and he shuffled across the sand to the base of the stairs. Raking his head up, he absorbed the enormity and splendor of the walkway. Each step was embedded with sapphire gems that gleamed an astonishing blue radiance. Higher up, the blue submerged into a wash of white light.

A blinding star? Almost.

A distant dream? Maybe.

A lost memory? Definitely.

He had been losing so much of his memories he sometimes could feel it slipping off his head, but now it lay at his feet. With each step upward, he delved deeper into the gallery buried in the dark cave of his mind. His legs effortlessly carrying him toward the manifestation.

Was it fear of some unknown entity that reverberated from his drumming heart? His physical being was fine but his soul was disturbed, uncomfortable with the ascent.

He could sense emotions that had anchored in the pits of his stomach for many years suddenly surround him. All around the clouds of his memories pressed on his shape and the white light loomed ever closer.

At one point he felt a sudden jolt to his fingers and he relived his mother’s comforting hands soothe the pain he had endured as a busy child playing with sockets. She had always been there to soothe his pains.

Mother’s touch. Love.

He was reaching for it, her hand/ the light. All one and the same thing. In a moment he will be back in his mother’s arms being cradled and loved. One final step to be with her in eternity. What he had fantasized about as a child, the heaven of the bible, the Quran, the stories. All those dreams had faded with age, and the memories were cramped together one against the other in a long cue, lining the stretch of his known history.

The only thing that remained free was the open road ahead. His hands placed firmly on the rubbery texture of the steering wheel. He jammed on the accelerator but reversed straight into the car behind him.

BAM!

Crash.