Brain Protest

We needed to get to the top of the dam. Truth be told, the top of the dam was only at eye-level, but from where we were standing, it was virtually impossible to get on top of it. None of us was strong enough to pull ourselves up onto it.

And what kind of dam was it, exactly? From where I was standing, it appeared to be a wooden pole with plastic sheeting attached to it that came down to the ground. It was holding back a huge volume of water. Part of my brain was protesting vehemently. The lake covered several acres. A stick and 6 mil plastic were not strong enough to hold back that much water. But they were, and another part of my brain accepted this easily.

To my left, the willowy girl was holding a roll of plastic wrap. Part of my brain protested that, too. It didn’t make sense. Why would someone carry around a roll of plastic wrap? But at least she was doing something – she had found a protrusion on the wooden pole holding up the dam and was using the plastic wrap to fashion a loop over that protrusion so that she could step into it to boost herself to the top of the dam. I admired her ingenuity. She was having a difficult time with it. It didn’t cross my mind to help her, though.

To my right, my best friend was intently studying the dam. I could picture the wheels in his brain turning as he tried to engineer a solution. He moved a little further to the right. The ground was slightly higher there, putting the height of the dam just below his chin. He could almost make it onto the dam.

The willowy girl was making progress with the plastic wrap loop. She put a foot into it and tried to boost herself up.

I do not know who the girl was. She had simply showed up and accepted our strange quest as her own.

It was a beautiful autumn day. The sun was shining but it wasn’t hot. There were two large hills beyond the lake. Both were covered in trees that were in full fall color. Reds, yellows, golds and purples abounded. And on the hill to the right, about halfway between the shore and the top of the hill, there was a house with a large overlook pavilion.

We needed to get there.

I walked to the right, past my best friend. He had almost pulled himself up onto the top of the dam. He was huffing and puffing – both of us were a little overweight – but his determination was admirable. I didn’t help him. Instead, I continued walking to the right.

I know what you’re thinking: I’m a selfish son-of-a-gun. Maybe I am. It simply did not occur to me to help either of them.

I continued walking to the right. The ground was slowly rising. The dam was at chest height, then waist height, then knee height and then I had walked up the bank to the point where the top of the dam was connected to the ground. And that didn’t strike me as odd at all. I turned to check on my companions’ progress. My best friend had finally gotten on top of the dam, but he was exhausted and simply lying there, trying to catch his breath. The willowy girl had succeeded in using her plastic wrap loop to get on top of the dam. Her arms were outstretched for balance as she walked the pole of the dam like a gymnast. She waited, and managed to hold her balance, as my best friend clambered to his feet and shuffled along the top of the dam ahead of her.

I remembered hating Physical Education in school. I had all the athletic capabilities of a rock – mostly, I would just lie somewhere unless acted upon by an outside force (like a coach). My best friend was the same way. I know that was an unspoken reason why we had been friends for so long.

My best friend and the willowy girl finally stepped off the dam next to me.  My best friend’s face was flushed. The girl looked barely winded.

“That’s our destination,” I said and pointed to the house halfway up the hill. My best friend simply huffed.

The girl shook her head. “I’m out. Peace,” she said airily and danced away. She was gone in a few seconds. For some reason, I did not think her disappearance was odd. I didn’t wonder where she had gone. It was almost as if she had never existed, except that she had left the roll of plastic wrap at the base of the dam.

Neither of us spoke as we crunched leaves under our feet climbing the hill. Fortunately for both of us, it wasn’t as steep as it appeared from the shore. But we were out of breath by the time we walked onto the overlook pavilion. Someone had left two glasses and a pitcher of cold lemonade on a table. Who leaves lemonade sitting out? My brain wanted to protest but we were thirsty and the lemonade looked so good.

My best friend was anxious to start moving again. Reluctantly I left the beautiful view and we entered the house. 

The house was filled with assorted furniture, random knickknacks and vague pictures. It could have been in a city or in the countryside. It could have belonged to a young man or an old woman. It was beige. It was vanilla. My brain protested that it was even worse: it was beige vanilla. It had no character whatsoever.

There was a closed door in the far wall. My best friend opened it and we walked through.

I stopped. My best friend had changed clothes. The protesting part of my brain wanted to know when he had done that. Instead of wearing a T-shirt and shorts, now he was wearing a dress blue uniform. Every crease was crisp. There were no wrinkles. His shoes were perfectly polished. The matching hat looked totally in place atop his head. I was proud of the many decorations and medals on his chest. I knew he had earned them.

I also knew that I was similarly dressed and decorated. We had been through everything together, literally everything.

I was carrying a leather attaché case. It felt right in my hand. The combination was 1-2-3-4 and part of my brain protested the lack of security.

Before us was a wide hallway. The walls were a dirty beige color. The floor was made of hard, speckled, 1960s-era 12”x12” floor tiles. The acrid smell of an industrial cleaner lingered in the air. Closed doors were spaced regularly down the length of the hallway on both sides. The mismatched ceiling tiles were punctuated with dim fluorescent lights at even intervals. Doorway, fluorescent light, doorway, fluorescent light, doorway… ad infinitum. The hallway seemed to go on forever.

This did not seem odd to me. No parts of my brain protested.

There was a series of black discs on the floor before us. Each was about three feet in diameter and paper-thin. I nodded once to my best friend. He nodded once in return. I stepped onto one of the discs. It accelerated down the hallway, rapidly transporting me past doors and more doors.

I turned to make sure my best friend was behind me. He had stepped onto another disc, but it was inactive. He rapidly dwindled in the distance, but I saw him leap onto another disc that accelerated after mine. His disc finally caught up with mine and together we were whisked down the infinite hallway.

Our discs slowed and finally stopped. I hadn’t tried to count how many doors we passed. There were too many. I was pretty sure we had traveled at least a mile down the hallway, though. Up ahead, the hallway made a 90 degree turn to the left.

My best friend and I stepped off the discs. He adjusted his hat as I smoothed my jacket. With the attaché firmly grasped in my right hand, we marched around the corner. And stopped short…

This hallway was brightly lit. Ahead of us, my parents and my best friend’s parents were standing at the nurse’s station. They seemed happy to see us. His mother gave a tentative wave. All around, nurses and doctors went through the motions of caring for patients.

Wait, we’re in a hospital? A very large portion of my brain was protesting again.

I frowned and looked at my best friend. He had changed clothes again (triggering yet another brain protest). Now he was wearing only a hospital gown. And I knew I was wearing a hospital gown, too, because I could feel a breeze on my naked backside…

I gasped and sat straight up. It took several seconds to catch my breath. I looked around in confusion and turned on the lamp. I was wearing a T-shirt and shorts. I was in my bed. I was in my room. I was alone – my best friend wasn’t with me and there was no willowy girl in sight. There were no colorful leaves or lemonade or dress blue uniforms or attaché cases or hospital gowns. No parents, just me. Was I dreaming all of that?

I shook my head to clear it, and that’s when I noticed my new bottle of sleeping pills on my nightstand. A bright red sticker read “May Cause Hallucinations.” And next to the pill bottle was a partially used roll of plastic wrap…