As they walked out into the crowded streets walking home trying not to cross any streets one hour later up in a small northeast community people started gathering. Here everyone knew each other and all their habits. As the mist broke through the lonely valley, most of the population was all dressed up. They waited for the ordeal of burying one of their own.
A figure of a middle aged woman could be seen walking through the crowded streets of Manhattan. Following the people was like ants coming and going with one objective and that was getting through the maze of everlasting people.
No one would have ever noticed her in the crowds, but for some strange reason she had something that was odd about her. She walked in a rhythm of joy that once was common and now forgotten in this new atmosphere called life. It was very humid, but she managed a little laughter on her lips. Who would have guessed that anyone could show external happiness especially during the year 2030 and the deadly plague?
Even though this year had a solid sound to it, life was far from that concept. And yet at fifty years of age she looked happy. Not a care in the world. How could that be?
She stopped deep within the crowd as a feeling of human compassion came over her as she waited to cross with the crowded counterparts. In that increment of time, an independent transport module plowed into all those who waited a little too long. Sad as it was their chances to advance had ended.
This was a somewhat routine event in the city of millions. The local Rescue Service was always stationed near by and would be ready to clean up the human debris. They worked like robots picking up all the scattered remains throughout the area.
Once they were done performing this routine task, sometimes even before the cries had a chance to die down. Refuse holders had to be quickly filled. One of those black plastic holders held and covered our Jane Doe. She was piled with all the others and transported to the closest holding center. Here she would go through the routine process of identification and then be disposed with the rest.
Back at the center, each of the refuse holders was randomly opened and the remains carefully placed into a glass-sealed crib. Two workers kept on unzipping and dumping the remains into those clear cribs.
What was normally routine became a problem as they unzipped what should have been the remains of Jane Doe.
"Joe, are you sure there was someone in this refuse holder?"
"Sure, it was tagged with a bar code label."
"Let’s scan it,” as they reached for the hand-held reader.
"Yes, you are right, it was a female around fifty years of old age who and she had no visible sign of life. Plus it was verified as official, the breath reader."
"We had better turn this over to the Group Leader."
"And what will he do that we can't?"
"Okay then, why don't we just take some of the miscellaneous body parts and dump them inside this crib?"
"Look Bill, we could get ourselves into trouble."
"Dead forms can get us into trouble."
"How about that bar code, it should be the tracking system?"
"I guess you are right, but this will mean working more than our normal shift."
"You know we can't afford to lose our positions, working twenty hours a week is a luxury we can't live without."
"You are right, but let’s wait till the first thing tomorrow to tell the Group Leader."
"Sure, let’s at least zip it up. No one will care. It can wait for awhile. We couldn't get all these sorted out today, anyway."
"True, but when will this ever stop?"
"You mean all this waste of human life?"
"I don't really know if it ever will."
NEED UP DAY
As they walked out into the crowded streets walking home trying not to cross any streets one hour later up in a small northeast community people started gathering. Here everyone knew each other and all their habits. As the mist broke through the lonely valley, most of the population was all dressed up. They waited for the ordeal of burying one of their own.
Hundreds of dedicated people were in a somber mood waiting for the long walk to honor a loved departed soul.
A church bell quickly broke their concentration; it was the sound of an awakening for all those that cared.
Slowly they formed the long lines of respect. One by one they passed the grave sites and gave their last respects. No one spoke or talked but they knew sorrow could never be replaced with the happiness this one woman once had.
As the last person passed that sight, all gasped at what they saw.
"How could that be?" One woman screamed.
Slowly they backed away in shock. Most believed it was an illusion of the spirit and turned around as a final tribute to the departed.
Word spread like wild fire; it became an instant conversation for this tight-knit community out in the country.
All those from the grave site held an emergency meeting at their hall of death, which was the largest open room in town. Even though many wakes were held in this same building, people overlooked that fact and automatically gathered.
"Did you hear what happened at the grave site?"
"It was eerie, she actually smiled and it just didn’t feel right."
"You know, if we didn't see her die, we would also believe she was still alive."
"How can anyone look so good and be dead?"
"You mean you really saw her?"
“Pete, are you sure all her blood was drained from her body?"
"Yes, it's the law. I heard all about it and none of this is impossible."
"You weren't there!"
"I know, but I was the one that saw all her fluids being collected and I also disposed of every last drop. What is more important, I did it myself. Look, I miss her as much as the next person, but she is gone."
"That’s easy for you to say, you didn't see how alive she was, and that smile, it was enough to drive anyone crazy."
Almost instantaneously across the country on the California Freeway, mobile transport vehicles were pressing their limits as only blurs of different shadows could be seen. These flying objects passed each other in both directions.
Then without warning, all motion ceased as a tremor of earthquakes of Rickter test proportions forced the masses of transport vehicles to quickly disappear. It was like the ground opened and consumed all of the roads in one large shake of the earth.
Out of this rubble, two forms slowly became visible. One male and the other was a middle aged female. Both held hands smiling as they continued through the maze of destruction, laughing and joking. Almost like they didn't understand what had just happened. They walked to one side and stopped to watch as the aftershock of destruction continued.
The enforcement crews came quickly and started roping off the vast area, trapping this lonely couple inside. Nothing fazed them as they continued to watch with interest.
As the excitement grew, more people began to crowd around the enclosed area, all wanted to know what happened and how they could help. With the dust settling down, the WXYZ Optical Terminal set up a remote wave simulator. They were allowed to pass.
The crew progressed onto the grounds of rubble and they spotted this happy-looking couple just sitting there on a massive bolder. Both were laughing and joking, having a grand old time.
This stopped the crew, as one of the commentary specialists felt that something was odd about all this. So he started to ask them some questions.
"How can the both of you be happy, when this area is nothing but twisted steel and concrete?"
Even before their Remote Wave Simulator (RWS) began focusing on these images, WXYZ headquarters instantly interrupted them. "What are you people up too? There is nothing but dust and rubble coming through."
"But we found this happy older couple so we stopped and asked them some questions. They are sitting right here in front of us."
"Look, I don't know what is going on out there, but move onto something more in line with this disastrous condition. Find some real human interest. People just wouldn't be sitting there. They would never have survived especially after such a great force of destruction, never mind waiting for you to come along and interview them."
The commentary specialist waved at one of the crew members of the remote wave simulator to focus on him. At the same time, he moved closer to the couple. Making sure they were all in his view, it was something like a group gathering.
"This is WXYZ on site reporting on a magnitude of destruction not experienced since the early 1990s."
"Cut! Cut! Move on." Could be heard blaring over their head simulators.
"I don't understand this." The commentary specialist remarked.
"You heard the leader."
The commentary specialist waved off the crew member. "This is WXYZ, out."
As they left, they heard the couple’s laughter ringing through their minds. It was even louder than before.
What draws these three situations together is one common bond? Could all these have been one person's dreams, played out long after death? Dreams are subliminal images that play regardless of remembering. They become captured and then maybe these illusions could be transmitted as if they were a part of real life. These events could have been ongoing all within a life time, right in our own modern society.
We are drawn together by what is the unexpected, but feel it as real. Are we living within a dream or are our dreams a part of what we live? Everyday you go through a routine and sometimes it can be felt a little strange. When that happened, you say it’s only my imagination. What if it was real and your life really was all a dream?
The sun, the moon, the winds, the clouds do little to change what could be. Was this real or was it a visual fantasy? Can the mind support what it sees or is what it sees teaching the mind? Do dreams have to be only an emotion that occurs during what we consider rest?
Many of our visionary images are nothing but an obstruction removed from reality. It can be satisfying and enjoyable to indulge in this form of fantasy resulting in a peaceful tranquil feeling. It leaves you wondering if this process could be stored and then felt beyond the life form we now possess.
If the basis of this question were yes, then dreams could be stored for later use. The key here is how will you feel them after? That consideration is a mortal departure from the living as we know it.
What would you feel like, say one, two, five, ten, even thirty years after death playing back a dream? How would it be stored and then more important how would it be able to come back into the spirit of the living? And how would it make you feel a part of what was once your normal life? Could this also be for others or is it only a dream for you? Or is this all a dream?
What happens if there were more than one active recall of this concept? Will it matter or influence the future? When will your future pass? The real unanswered question is, is there life after dreams? Or do you feel alive and real today or has all this been a dream?
There were three stories that ended abruptly with no real conclusion, and then you moved into an essay or article about what those three stories may have been: dreams or reality?
I would have read many times for my logical, engineering mind to grasp exactly what you are trying to purvey with these truncated stories and question marks about whether dreams/fantasies are real or not.
A couple of typos here and there distracted my reading.
Hearts of Gold
Synopsis
by
Frank P. Whyte
Portland, Oregon is known as the City of Roses. Of course that’s an odd name for a city whose mere mention conjures images of driving winds and torrential ra
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Five years have passed. The sequel to the award-winning Chapel of Eternal Love, this book revisits the same couples in the first book, and where the lives have taken them since they left the altar at The Chapel of Eternal Love
A figure of a middle aged woman could be seen walking through the crowded streets of Manhattan. Following the people was like ants coming and going with one objective and that was getting through the maze of everlasting people.
