Willy is traversing along a desolate flat stretch of Cali/Nevada highway. Yup, there he is, lone car road going and clipping along at a healthy pace of 82mph. Willy, noticing the fat red torchlight of Sun starting to round that curve of earth in front of him, smiles. It goes on to get dark in Willy’s little highway world and he just keeps heading sorta northeast on that road. He doesn’t notice how desperate the desert, and this old road, is for company. He pops a tape in the deck, an obscure tune hobbles into the air, and he’s struck to a hum. The distant mountains seem to run away in all directions, they shrink from the glow of dusk on this old, flat, dry lakebed. The tunes play on. Willy is cooing to his faithful compadres. Darkness sets in, no wait, it slams in suddenly on this scene like it had been there the whole time only it was shrouded in day. A yellow double line blurring into the darkness is all Willy has to tell him he’s on the right track. Little by little though, poor Willy’s eyelids are like automatic garage doors that want to protect what’s behind them. His final efforts to keep his eyes open proves futile and he flaps headlong into a much-needed session of dreamtime.
The road, built on such flat and empty lands, has no shoulder to bear on. Willy still heads down that road at a steady pace, foot to the floor. Eventually his car clips off the edge and Willy heads off snoring into the darkness of lakebed. Taillights fade to black as night and desert feast on Willy’s car. The lakebed, dry as it is, contains nothing. There are no rocks, plants or animals to hinder Willy’s restful slumber, or his momentum of travel for that matter. He is zooming and dreams of pure white light. In this dream he is the light and he sees all because he illuminates and exists and is perfectly still yet travels at billions of miles per hour. He dreams clear and he dreams peaceful. Willy thinks to himself that he doesn’t ever remember dreaming such clear pure beauty, but here he is. If it weren’t for the sound of the engine humming in the background, Willy would be it – total and utter tranquility. But that annoying hum seems to be trying to remind him of something. The light, being the light, is too beautiful and soon Willy is a deity to his own bliss. “Damn, Willy you must have been up for days to be sleeping this hard.” The car seems to be saying as it cruises at its steady pace along perfect dry lakebed flatness. Willy ignores that comment and eases into a box of cool refreshing air. He feels movement, a progress not unlike that of the ages. He is air now, in this magnificent dream, pure clean oxygen breathing across humanity. He moves unnoticed but notices all for his body is all above all, mass upon nothingness. In this freshness and flight he still feels like there was something he was supposed to remember, but in an instant, due to unbelievable bliss and harmony, he forgets to remember.
In the car as it’s moving, Willy slumps to the window and bonks his head against it, he perceives it as the sky. “Ouch!” He rubs his airy head and blows down to earth to try something new in this dream of momentum. Mineral, soil, gravel, ash – Willy is it man. He is earth, true grit dirt in this space, this inter-dream. He chews at the feet of Man as they create wheel to move more easily and quickly over him. He doesn’t mind this. He’s torn up and plowed through, he’s neglected and nurtured and thinks to himself, “Oh father, how glorious this and I are.” The car huffs “Get over yourself Willy! Wake up!” it wheezes and coughs at the diminishing fumes in its belly – still rolling. Willy turns his nose up at this and swims forever on a movement, forward going. He notices that he has become a culmination of air, earth, light – he is fluid now and he passes through this satisfied. He swims passed an H then a 2 and finally a big O. He feels his thirst quenched forever as he heads into the abyss millennium pouring over the edges. Once again he is clear, pure, clean. He drips in and out and swims through himself and experiences himself on a whole level, not just in parts. He thinks how wonderful it is to pour over this place, fall on this earth in particles, be separated into large parts and yet flow back into one continuous being. It is truth, the intelligence of water. He wishes Mankind could feel this for he knows if we could, turmoil and chaos would lose their angular foothold on this face.
A Gapping hole opens in the sky and a large torrential column of water pours down into the desert. It’s morning and Mr. Sun has been pawing at the shoulders of the mountains for a while now and he’s finally got that view of things that he’s accustomed to. He looks down and sees a lone car sitting in the middle of the desert and he lets out a concerned laugh. Willy is jolted awake from his dream. He thought he heard a laugh and it startled him because it came from outside not within were he was at. He looks around bewildered. He gazes out beyond the hood of his car at the carpet of pure desert sand that spreads out and slams right up against a huge blue wall of sky in front of him. He remembers his last dream before waking; he’s a kid in a room with four walls and no doors or windows, he is playing with a toy version of his car. The walls and ceiling of this room are painted blue and the carpet is sandy brown low pile. He feels peaceful euphoria.
Willy is now standing outside his car, trying to figure out what happened. He’s in the middle of the flattest, most desperately empty and vast landscape his mind could ever comprehend. There is no road in sight and he is completely out of gasoline. He should be panicking, down right freaking out. He’s not. He is very calm. He sits down in the dirt, smiles to himself, pulls a notepad and pen from his shirt pocket and begins recounting his dreams of the previous night. He has tasted a little bit of bliss and is ever so close to his own ultimate semblance of completeness. Golden.