We spent New Year’s Eve at Scotty’s house. All of us eventually confessed that celebrating New Year’s Eve seemed to be just plain depressing. Each of us sharing more sad New Year’s Eve parties than happy. Scotty stood up and made an announcement:

  “I have decided, sorry, WE have decided that I’m going to be moving in with Helen.”

  “You knocked her up, didn’t you?” I asked. Jillian turned to me and said in a loud whisper: “They will be living in sin!”

  “Okay, okay, the both of you very funny. Besides, you two have been living in sin longer than us!” Helen said. Jillian held up her hand and I high-fived her without looking.

  “We figured as much, it was inevitable, and it just makes sense.” Jillian said standing up and hugging Helen as I stood and shook Scotty’s hand and asked about his moving plans. Jillian and I were ready to assist.

  “Moving the stills might be more trouble than it’s worth. We’ll need to ration fuel for a couple of months and just use electric transportation.” Scotty said.

  “No problem.” Jillian and I said. We usually stayed at Helen’s house overnight anyway. She has more than enough room. Traveling at night is dangerous and very spooky.

  “One, maybe two trips using the big cargo van should do it.” Scotty said.

  “Next week Wednesday, we’ll be here at 8:00am.” Jillian said marking her pocket calendar. Scotty helped me top off our pickup truck and load a couple of five-gallon gas cans of fuel.

  “Do you ever feel… guilty?” Scotty asked me in a hush tone after a long moment of silence, leaning on the side of the truck.

  “I know what you mean, and yes, from time to time.” I said sincerely. After another long pause Scotty responded. “Me too.”

  A conversation of that magnitude and importance would have lasted months between women, for men it’s over in about ten seconds. Just knowing that another man struggles with similar emotions, justifies our feelings and validate one’s moral compass is not compromised.

  I awoke one night from a nightmare, I get these occasionally, but this one was very different. Jillian said that she has them as well, but attributed them to the horrific trauma she experienced the weeks following the initial outbreak.

  My heart was pounding, and I was drenched in cold sweat. Jillian calmed me down the best she could, however, I felt compelled to explain in detail the experience while it was still fresh in my mind.

  “We were driving down a road, daytime. I was driving. You were navigating. A man stood in the middle of the road. Thirty, maybe thirty-two years old. Dark blond hair, medium build, trimmed facial hair. He wore a gray smock or tunic, no shoes. Bare feet. His expression and stance reminded me of Anthony Hopkins in the ‘Silence of the lambs’, when he met Clarice in his jail cell. Anyway, I looked toward you and your hair was slowly blowing in the wind. Real slow motion, even your eyes blinked slow. I called your name and you did not respond. I looked back, and the man was just a couple of feet away, moving in real-time. He adjusted his stance and gave me a slight smile.

  Greetings. He said as his blinking was unnatural and appeared to be forced. I opened the door and got out of the… whatever we were driving, I don’t recall. Anyway, I looked around and everything was in super slow motion, almost undetectable and quiet… like a recording studio. Greetings. I responded.

  No need to be concerned. Just want to talk. The man said in a calming and truthful tone.

  Who are you? Are you responsible for this? I asked looking around.

  It is truly a pleasure meeting you. Finally. Greg. He said.

  You know my name? I asked.

  Yes. And Jillian, Helen, Roy, Ginger, Pete, Rosie, Becky, Jeff and the late Jess. He responded in an almost proud fashion. He has me at a disadvantage I thought.

  A disadvantage? No. He said with a smile.

  You can read my mind? I thought, without saying anything.

  Yes. He said. I was not able to read his mind, although a strange sensation occurred, like a head-rush when you get up too fast.

  You have too many thoughts and questions, let’s just simply talk. He said closing his eyes and taking in a breath. Why? I asked.

  It is a rare opportunity for us to, interact. He said in an honorable tone.

  I’m just a nobody. I thought. The man laughed.

  A nobody! Not true. He said. I had a sudden rush of thoughts and questions again. Only this time I was on the verge of a mental cyclical overload.

  Until next time then. He said. Then I woke up.”

  “You need to relax and take a couple of deep breaths. In through the nose out through the mouth.” Jillian said as she performed the breathing exercise three or four times with me.

  “What time is it?” I asked.

  Jillian looked at her watch on the night stand. “3:04 am” she said.

  I got up and walked over to the open French doors overlooking the backyard and the black Pacific Ocean. Looking to my left I noticed the light, just about where Catalina Island is.

  “The light is back.” I said quietly as Jillian got up and noticed it as well.

  “You don’t think there is a connection. Do you?” Jillian asked rubbing my back.

  “If he can reach me in my dreams, there is not much I can do about it.” I said.

  “What do you suppose he wants to talk about?” I asked Jillian.

  “Hmm. either, he has information, or he needs information. He doesn’t appear hostile? Does he?” Jillian asked.

  “No, it was more like… I hate to say it but, more like admiration.” I said a little embarrassed.

  “Well, the next time we meet, I’ll be sure to ask for a little more rain.” I said hugging Jillian. I waited for Jillian to fall asleep, and I went downstairs. Ginger followed me to the kitchen. I made some coffee and gave her some fresh water and we shared some leftovers from the fridge.

  The next couple of weeks went by without incident. Jillian and I seem to be looking for connections to common issues that we encountered on a day-by-day basis, and we both eventually agreed that this was a waste of time and energy.

  Over the past month I have been doing research on sailing. Since our power boat was not the most efficient as far as fuel consumption, a sail boat is the best and only choice moving forward.

  I started with a small boat just to get used to the mechanics and physics of sailing. Books and DVDs were helpful and I had to be rescued by Scotty in a smaller power boat as I hit something that caused the boat to sink near the shore. We all watched the video and shared some laughs at my expense. After the sixth or seventh time watching it, I found out what I did wrong and it was kind of funny.

  Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

  Scotty also showed interest in sailing. He and I would sail up and down the coast and eventually race each other and work our way to larger and more complex crafts. Smashing into each other was just part of the multi-million-dollar fun.

  We both had our favorite sail boats that could be easily managed by two people. Jillian and Helen both loved sailing as well as the dogs. Helen and Scotty named theirs “Pack O’ Wolves” and Jillian and I named ours “Fuck Me”, [which was Jillian’s frustrated response when she could not get Port and Starboard correct}.

  Helen was the most artistic and insisted on doing the artwork for the boats. ‘Pack O’ Wolves’ was done in small paw prints from a close view and a large paw print from a distant view. ‘Fuck Me’ was done in elegant sweeping letters that took a second or two to actually read. It was quite beautiful. We held the traditional ceremonials and headed south fishing one morning. Eventually and coincidentally putting us near Catalina Island.

  “Wanna have a look-see?” Scotty said in the radio. Jillian and I just looked at each other.

  “Hello?!” Scotty’s voice crackled loud over the radio.

  “We have seen lights once in a while near this island, and, well…” I said as Scotty interrupted.

  “Say no more. If you two are not comfortable we can head back. Rosie ate about three fish and made a huge mess. How did you do?” Scotty asked.

  “We are all packed up and ready to head home. Oh. And by the way, the losers; which will be you two, will have to clean ALL the fish!” Jillian said loudly into the radio.

  “Them’s fightin’ words!” Helen yelled back through the radio getting into the spirit of racing back to the marina.

  Jillian and I were slowly gaining on ‘Pack O’ Wolves’. Ginger and Pete barked playfully at Rosie, Becky and Jeff. All were just enjoying the ride. Helen stood up and pulled her bikini bottoms down and mooned us as we overtook them, as she turned around and pulled her bikini bottoms up, Scotty pulled off her bikini top and threw it in the air. At first, she was embarrassed but feeling the sun and wind must have felt good as she held her arms out wide, bare chested and feeling free, standing at the front of the boat.

  In order to avoid a serious collision ‘Pack O’ Wolves’ won. We packed up the golf carts and headed to Malibu. Ginger and Pete ran alongside for most of the way, Rosie must have eaten too much fish because she did not participate in the exercise at all and Becky and Jeff ran the whole way relieving themselves at strategic locations along the way.

  Scotty and I cleaned the fish and Jillian and Helen prepared appetizers, salad and a lovely dessert. Helen was very sunburned, her fair skin now very red. She and Jillian went upstairs to apply first-aid.

  “I hope you weren’t offended by Helen…” Scotty started to say.

  “I have never met a set of boobs that were not worth looking at.” I said holding up my glass of wine. Jillian and Helen returned just as we were finished grilling today’s catch.

  “You got some sun today too!” I said to Jillian looking at her face. Jillian and Helen exchanged smiling glances throughout dinner as Helen broke the silence.

  “Have you noticed anything different about Rosie?” Helen asked us. Jillian knew immediately what Helen was referring to and Scotty and I were oblivious. Jillian just looked at me and smiled.

  “PETE!” I said as Pete lifted his head up and came over to me hearing his name.

  “Rosie let me near her and I felt her stomach!” Helen said excited and happy that Rosie finally accepts her. We all went over to Rosie who was napping in the corner on the pillow cases Scotty had made for her. (They were really gross and disgusting and had a real funky smell.)

  Jillian approached her and Rosie let her feel her stomach. Of course, all the dogs had got up and shared in our excitement and happiness as we all had to pet and show our affection to all the dogs, especially Rosie who could not be any happier. A well balanced and strong pack is most important especially since small game numbers were increasing.

  “Were going to turn in.” Scotty said getting up and stretching.

  “See you in the morning.” Helen said as they both disappeared inside the house.

  I drank a little more wine than usual and stripped down and jumped into the pool. The dogs joined in and Jillian jumped in and held on to me. It was late and only a few lights were on. Jillian and I spent the next eight and a half minutes in the pool, then we were ready for bed. I held on to Jillian in bed basking in the afterglow.

  As soon as my eye lids touched, they opened. I looked down at Ginger and Pete as puppies. I turned and looked at my old R/V parked and a small campfire smoldering. I blinked my eyes a couple of times and the image did not disappear.

  Greetings. Said a voice behind me as I turned to see Ginger and Pete being petted by the same man in my previous dream.

  Love and affection. The two most important things to a dog. Besides a good meal. The man said as he tossed a ball and Ginger and Pete scampered after it.

  What is your name? I asked the man.

  You can call me… William. I have always admired that name. He said with a pleasant smile. After a long pause, I asked: You are not reading my thoughts, why?

  Those skills will be best utilized once properly developed. William said.

  I remember this place. I said looking around and feeling less overwhelmed and petting puppy Ginger and Pete.

  They are, were, so damn cute as puppies. I said sitting on the ground as they jumped on me and kissed my face.

  It’s to relieve the pain one endures from the death of a lifelong companion. I said looking at William who sat on the ground and shook his head in agreement.

  I’ve had… eight dogs… I started to say as William interrupted: I know, but ‘Panda’ was your favorite. William said.

  How do you know that? I asked sincerely.

  I helped you, a little, when she ran away on the afternoon of September third, 1982. William said.

  I remember. I was sitting at the kitchen table, not knowing what to do, or where to start looking. Then I got up for no reason, grabbed my keys and drove about a mile away, right to the busy street and found her. That was you? I asked William who stood up and broke a dog cookie in half and gave each to Ginger and Pete.

  What else do you know about me? I asked.

  Everything. William said immediately. I know more about you, than you do. William said with a short smile. I said nothing.

  Everyone has milestones and crossroads, some paths taken, some not. Each point causing multiple actions and reactions. Would you like to see the one of you being a famous musician? William asked with a hint of warning.

  Probably not. I said a little confused.

  How many of these… what did you call them? Milestones and crossroads, have I had? I asked trying to comprehend the scope of this information.

  Twenty-two thousand four hundred thirty-six. William said without hesitation.

  And you keep track of this information? I asked.

  Yes. He said. My mind was a flurry of questions that needed explanation and the sudden realization and embarrassment at knowing that my most intimate thoughts and actions were known by someone else was confusing. I started to slowly do the breathing exercises Jillian showed me, as I tried to clear my mind. William joined in on the exercise with his eyes closed.

  What about my family. I asked.

  You have several. William said.

  The one that was taken from me and making me live… this life. I asked looking at William with suspicious intent.

  Make no mistake Greg, this is not the result of anything I have done. Quite the contrary. It is the result of… others, their actions and paths taken. His response was sincere, convincing and he actually seemed upset.

  Believe it or not, everyone, is connected. William said without blinking. I thought about it for a while, William was waiting for questions and not offering any additional information.

  If I have had over twenty-two thousand different paths, I guess they could be called. Why are you interested in this one? I asked. William smiled and stood up.

  Imagine a single point, he said as he gestured with his hand and a small sky-blue sphere appeared.

  This is your birth. Now imagine twenty-two thousand four hundred thirty-six points” he said and made a gesture with his other hand and twenty-two thousand four hundred thirty-six points appeared in a circle around the sky-blue sphere.

  Now imagine, what it would take to connect each point to your birth. Consider every milestone and path decision you have ever made. He said, knowing full well that I was not capable of providing the answer.

  William waved his hand and a nest of lines of varying colors emerged from the central point eventually reaching each of the twenty-two thousand four hundred thirty-six points. He waved his hand again and the object rotated showing as a three-dimensional time-line, some lines short.

  Which one are we currently…at? I asked not knowing the proper terminology to use. The nest disappeared and a single green line remained. Only a few small sections were a different color and it looked like the lines in cracked glass.

  Why is this line significant? I asked.

  It is not it's significance; it is that it is unique. William said.

  I shook my head pretending to understand. I pointed to an early break point in the line.

  What’s this mean? I asked.

  You were eleven years old, you wanted to go ‘hunting’ with your BB gun. You slid down the ravine behind your parents’ house and started pumping the BB gun as you reached the floor of the forest. You saw a chipmunk sitting on a log eating something. You aimed at the chipmunk and she did not move. You thought as you looked at the chipmunk down the gun sights that killing an innocent, beautiful, non-threatening animal for no apparent reason just did not make sense. William concluded.

  I shook my head and smiled. I remembered that day. I also felt like a sissy for not killing the animal, because ‘that is what real men do.’ I said in a macho tone.

  I really don’t want to know all of these; I think I’m done. I said getting mentally exhausted. I looked at William and spoke in a direct manner.

  “What DO you want?” I asked a little agitated.

  “You are not interested in where I come from or how I know all this information?” William asked calmly.

  “No, not really. If you can read minds and only visit me here in my dreams, you have some cool skills but also limitations. If any of this is true, what’s in it for me?” I said firmly.

  “What’s the worst thing you can do? Kill me? I died the day my family was taken from me. You have nothing to offer me that I want or need by re-living my past. If you are here to help us, we could really do with some more rain.” I said in a frustrated and upset manner. Everything around me dissolved from yellow to black and I woke up.

  “Another visit.” Jillian asked quietly.

  “Yes, and I was kind of a dick to him.” I said feeling guilty. “What time is it?” I asked Jillian.

  “Three-fifteen. At least he’s consistent.” Jillian said.