SURREALISM

     Richard was 17 years old. Coming from a lower middle class family, he had never been one to ask for things, especially at Christmas time. He accepted what he had, realizing he was still better off than a lot of people.

But as an older teen living in a time of an exploding music scene in 1965, 

(Rolling Stones, Beau Brummels, Beatles, Byrds), he wanted to be a musician and experience that excitement. And for the first time in his life, he began dropping verbal ‘hints’ to his dad for a set of drums at Christmas. So his dad, who had been playing guitar since the age of 6 and still played music in a band even though he was in his forties, understood Richard’s desire.

     His dad came home from work 2 weeks before Christmas and said, “C’mon son, let’s take a ride and go check out some drums.” Richard couldn’t believe his ears. Yes, yes, yes! The drums he desired so much were finally going to be his! He quickly grabbed his jacket and jumped in the car.

     The drive to the music store seemed to take forever, although the store was a mere 5 miles away. Daydreaming in the car, Richard pictured himself behind the drums up on the stage, rocking a screaming audience. His dad looked over and noted his son’s ear-to-ear grin. He smiled.

    Looking around the music store made Richard feel like a kid in a candy store. The shiny guitars and amplifiers, the sparkling drums and cymbals, baby grand pianos and trumpets, all held a magical quality that Richard had been unaware of until now. His dad saw how excited his son was and told him, “Alright, pick out the set that you want.” Along with the drums, his dad bought another guitar, which puzzled Richard. He didn’t dwell on it however, because he finally had his drums! He was gonna be a star!

     Over the Christmas holidays, he jammed with other kids in the neighborhood, as well as his dad and brother. His dad had persuaded him to play the other guitar and surprisingly, it was fairly simple for him. With dad on guitar and his brother playing the drums, the bass guitar became his instrument.

     Over the next few years, Richard played music with many musicians, played a lot of ‘gigs,’ and truly enjoyed being on stage entertaining others. He was living the good life. But as he grew older without the fame he had once sought, he realized the time had come to put down the guitar.

     He enlisted in the U.S. Navy to see the world and excelled in the medical field. He learned life saving techniques and how to respond appropriately in emergency situations. He moved up the ranks and decided to apply for a program that would teach advanced medicine and reward him with an officer commission. He remained in the Navy for 25 years and thoroughly loved his commitment to medicine.

     Transitioning to the civilian world was easy. Drawing on his medical knowledge and experience gained in the Navy, he had his choice of employment opportunities. He worked in clinical medicine, emergency medicine, and psychiatry for twenty three years before deciding to retire.

     After retirement, Richard settled down for a while before purchasing a recreational vehicle and traveling as a full time RVer. Going places and seeing things he had never seen before was the pinnacle of his life. His trips were amazing, from the glaciers in Alaska, the Statue of Liberty in New York, to the CN Tower in Toronto, Canada and the Great Lakes.

     During one of his ‘down’ times at home, he decided to explore the inside of an old, abandoned Greyhound-type bus that was sitting on his brother-in-law Ted’s property. Ted had a nice 15 acre parcel scattered with pecan trees and big enough for three beautiful horses. He had allowed an acquaintance to park the bus there some years ago, but the acquaintance had since disappeared. His brother-in-law was now considering hauling it to the junkyard and Richard wanted to get a look inside the bus before it was gone.

     So one Saturday morning while his wife and sister-in-law were out buying groceries for their next RV trip, he thought it was as good a time as any to poke around the old bus. The bus sat in the very back of Ted’s acreage, so it took him a few minutes to walk out to the bus, with ample time to finish his beer on the way.

     Gazing at the bus as he walked, he liked the looks of it. He imagined driving that behemoth across the nation, taking passengers to family reunions, new jobs or homes, college, vacations, or wherever (he enjoyed indulging in these ‘Walter Mitty’ moments).

     As he approached the vehicle, it struck him as odd that while the bus sat abandoned, it still appeared serviceable. Although the windows and windshield had a thin coat of dust, everything else looked in fantastic working condition. “Why would someone abandon a perfectly good bus?” he questioned himself. 

     The bus was large. At 40 feet long and over 8 feet wide and 11 feet tall, it was a vehicle that would have commanded the highways. With it’s bulk and weight, it would have provided a feeling of safety. It was easy to understand why many people in those bygone days preferred to see America in comfort on a bus such as this.

Richard opened the door and stuck his head in to look around. The interior was amazingly clean and well-preserved even though 25 years had passed since it’s production. He climbed the four steps and paused on the aisle beside the driver’s seat. He saw that the inside trim and metal fixtures were inevitably dull, as expected, but otherwise it looked ready to be driven on another thousand mile trek.

     Looking toward the back of the bus, he noted 11 rows of double, soft, well-upholstered seats on both sides of the aisle. The row of seats on his left ended at the outside wall of what he guessed was a small bathroom in the rear. “That made long trips more tolerable,” he thought, “let’s have a look.”

Walking to the back of the bus, he opened the door to the bathroom and had to duck his head to enter. When the door closed, the only thing he noticed was a soft, bluish ambient light coming from? He had no idea where it was coming from! “This is strange,” he thought. Telling himself he’d seen enough, he opened the door and stepped into the aisle.

     Looking out the dust covered windows, he saw that the bus was now parked outside his hometown church. He walked to the front of the bus and stepped outside. The church marquee read:

                                FUNERAL SERVICE

                                             FOR

                            RICHARD THOMAS 1 PM

Richard stared wide eyed at the sign. The shock that came over him felt like an immobilizing weight. “That’s me!” he cried to himself, as tears welled in his eyes. Ever hopeful, thinking it may be someone else with the same name, he rushed inside the church.

The first things he noticed when he walked in was a blown up photo of himself on an easel at the front of the church with an open coffin lying upon the altar.

      With the service apparently over, the congregation was casually standing and conversing with one another. He had to let everyone know that something was terribly wrong; he wasn’t dead!

      He noticed his old bandmates on the right side of the church talking amongst themselves. He quickly walked in their direction. “Hey guys, how’s it going?” he said as he approached. They continued talking to one another, ignoring him.

     Ray, the drummer, said, “Yeah, everytime we played, he’d hit some wrong notes and it’d throw me off beat. I can’t tell you how frustrating that was.”

     “You think that’s bad,” interjected the guitar player, “I had to show him practically every bass line on everything we played. He wasn’t very good at improvising. Not only did I have to come up with my own licks, I had to spoon feed him like a babysitter!”

     “Hey guys, I’m right here, I can hear you,” Richard barked. None of the band members paid any attention to his remark and headed for the door. Richard stared at them, not believing they would give him the cold shoulder like that and say all those rotten things about him.

     Bewildered, he looked around and noticed a nurse he had previously worked with standing with some other people he recognized from one of the hospitals where he had worked. Walking slowly their way, he caught snatches of their conversation. “...and always thought he was better than everybody…”;

“...and the suturing job he did on my husband....Frankenstein.” 

Richard had heard enough. He walked up to the lady that had made the last remark, intending to explain to her that he had used the proper suturing technique and that she was just being overly critical. When he tapped her on the shoulder, she didn’t move. He tapped her harder and his hand disappeared inside her shoulder! He screamed, “This can’t be happening! I’m not dead!” Nobody turned, nobody responded.

     He started running as fast as he could toward the front doors of the church and caught his foot on the carpeting in the foyer. He fell through the closed doors! 

He continued running for the bus. He reached for the buses’ door handle and pulled. Nothing happened. He tried again, and still nothing happened. With a large sigh, he walked through the door and raced to the rear of the bus to the bathroom. Walking through the door, he stood there and again told himself that this can’t be happening!

     Turning around, he attempted to again walk through the bathroom door and only bumped into it. He smiled and thought, “I’m home.”

Opening the bathroom door, he walked down the aisle and the steps and reached for the door.

As the door opened, the alarm clock blared rock and roll music as he awoke in a cold sweat!