Sleeping, Waking. Forgetting, Remembering.

 

(You may imagine a broad wink!)

There had been a sensation of movement over some distance. There was still a severe pain in his head. He tried to leave his eyes closed, as he was a cautious man gathering data. There was a base-level electronic hum, very low. The space was neither warm nor cold. Through his eyelids he sensed that the light in the space was rather bright, a cold light. No comfortable glow.

He was nude. The surface he lay on was slick. Not a bed, then. His fingers lightly touched the surface, barely making any motion at all. He discovered that he was firmly restrained on this surface.

He decided to risk opening an eye just a bit. He was beginning to feel some alarm. His mind had awakened, but not his memory. Just dimly he saw two women in scrubs sitting around a monitor talking. Neither glanced his way. He was more than alarmed to realize that he had no context to judge them by. Their costumes reminded him of something safe. But he didn’t feel safe. He found the cheerful print fabrics of the scrubs repellent somehow, like a very bad joke. He couldn’t place what the designs printed were but in fact they were little cartoon space craft and cartoon aliens. He coughed. Both women looked at him and then at each other. “He woke up,” one whispered to the other. “He’s a strong one,” said the other.

The first woman came to his side and adjusted his medication. Soon he slept again. He had no sensation of time. He did not dream. There was nothing, and in fact nothing with which to feel that there was nothing. His body withdrew into itself and began to weaken.

More distance traveled, not that he knew it. And time. Hope was lost. Life went on.

The director had a clinical sense of humor. Dry. Observational. “Let’s try this,” he thought. A location was chosen. A location that amused the director.

*** 

Matthew opened his eyes. All around himself he saw blurry areas of color and shadow. He didn’t move. He really couldn't move, yet. He was still in a kind of stasis. His vision cleared gradually.

He found himself in a clearing between large trees. He was beginning to remember trees. Yes, those were trees. Fortunately, it was a warm day for Matthew was still without any clothing. Lying on the soft grass he was quite comfortable.

As he was lying there innocent as a baby, a large hairy man, really big, like eight feet tall, approached with a bundle of fabric articles in his very large hands. This big guy heaved a vast sigh and said, “hey, wake up. You can’t spend the rest of your life lying nude in the forest. I got some clothes for you out of a recycle bin in town. It wasn’t easy either.”

So, the big hairy guy managed to convince Matthew to get dressed. But he was a sight. Guys that live without clothing don’t have any sense of what goes with what, so he can be forgiven for the outfit he chose. For the pants he chose some astounding three color striped bellbottoms of an early 70s vintage. The shirt was a Raiders jersey. He didn’t bother with shorts or socks. The shoes were a pair of pink Crocs, the only shoes in the bin that he had thought were big enough for the sleepy man lying in the clearing.

“Now walk around for a while. Maybe you will snap out of this dream,” encouraged the big hairy man. His smile stretched for about six inches across his huge flat face. His eyes crinkled with fun. To Matthew he seemed like the best friend a guy could have. Of course, as far as Matthew knew he was the only friend he had ever had. He obediently started walking around the clearing, and as he walked his mind began clearing also.

He conceived of a desire to know his own name. He wondered where he was and who he was. He looked around the general area for his best friend, the big hairy guy. But he didn’t see him anywhere. 

He let that go. He found himself, once he'd left the clearing, on a small, paved highway in a mountainous area. He had a gnawing feeling in his stomach and the remains of a rather vicious headache. The Crocs were wearing blisters in the skin of his feet.

As he walked downhill for that seemed best to him, he came upon a tiny lady sitting on a tiny stool beside the road. She was about four feet tall and dressed like a Mother Goose character. He said, “do you know who I am?”

“No,” said she with a Norwegian accent, “but you may have this apple in my pocket and this chocolate bar. I recommend the stream a bit further on if you are thirsty. It may give you some direction." 

“Hapla!” the little lady called after him as he walked on down the road. 

He turned and waved the half-eaten apple at her, then continued on his way downhill. He did find the stream and decided to take her word for it and drank of it. It was delicious. Memories knocked at the door of his mind when the cold water hit his throat. He sat by the stream and watched the water flowing downhill, always downhill and thought that it must mean something. He rubbed his head. He was still very hungry, so he ate the chocolate bar and it seemed that there was something very sweet connected to chocolate somehow. He needed to get downhill, all the way!

He folded up the wrapper and stuffed it in the colorful trouser’s pocket. He tossed the apple core out into the brush beside the stream.

At last, Matthew came to the outskirts of a small city. His legs were wobbly, and he was tired. He sat on a bench at a nearby bus stop, waving the bus on by when it slowed.

Seven small boys came hopping and frisking down the sidewalk like the very kids that they were. “Say, kids,” said Matthew, “do you know where to find help around here?”

All seven crowded into the bus stop shelter. Several of them hopped up on the bench. “There is a help desk in the library. The library is right down on the corner there. I think the library lady will help you,” said the tallest kid.

Right down on the corner, overlooking the bay was a very fine 1930s style brick building with signage claiming to be the location of the library. So, in through the ornate doors went Matthew looking for the help desk. This library seemed to be the very place to find help, for surely all knowledge was here.

Toward the back of the main room, which was a very large room filled top to bottom with books of all kinds, was a very important-looking large oaken desk with a sign over it saying "Help Desk."  Seated behind the desk was a pleasant looking young woman in a rosy pink print dress, with long dark hair piled up high on her head. Matthew stopped right before the desk, and she looked up.

Her mouth dropped open. Tears sprang into her eyes. She looked at him and stood up suddenly.

She whispered, for this was a library, “Matthew McCleary where on God’s earth have you been for a month!? And where are your clothes?” As you can imagine she had many further questions for her young husband later.

He said, “I was lost somehow. I don’t know how or why. But when I looked for help there were three helpers before I found you. I woke in the forest miles and miles uphill. A big hairy guy brought me these clothes and told me to walk, to start to remember. He was right. Walking did start to bring me back.

“On the road I became very hungry, and I talked to a tiny lady on a stool next to the highway. She gave me an apple and a chocolate bar and recommended that I drink at a stream down the road from her. The cold water sharpened my mind to the extent that I knew I needed to get downhill to find out who I was.

“Then, right near here, up the street a little I asked seven kids if they knew a place to get help. They sent me to your desk Maureen.” It was as if the covers of a book had closed, and all the story was safely tucked inside all of a sudden.

They both lived happily ever after, if a little foggy on the details of the past month in his case. He always kept the chocolate wrapper, so he wouldn't forget. He didn't forget, and he never was lost again.

*****

Your storyteller thumbs her nose at the evil doers and makes mock of them! May justice prevail, soon.