“Nice day, isn’t it.” The speaker is floating in a body of water. White sand appears turquoise under him. Cloudless sky is softly blue. A gentle wave lifts him. He makes no notice. He is relaxing in the murmuring ocean.
“It is. But, why am I not in the water?” I’m lying prone on a cloud that is hovering inches away from the ocean. I’m clothed, he isn’t. His nakedness doesn’t bother me. My clothes are no offense to him.
“Maybe there is something you have to see. Something that requires you to be set apart.” He chuckles from unrevealed knowledge, causing his rolls of fat to jiggle. The sight makes me chuckle as well. He reminds me of Laughing Buddha statues, only with a hint of sunburn.
I prop my head on crossed arms. “I spy, with my little eye, a scene of contentment and peace.”
“That’s what you see now, because you are up close. But what would happen if you were to move away? A change of perspective, shall we?” He tilted his head to me and smiled. A wave had drenched him already, his body hair clung to him from damp. I noticed his belly button held a bit of water. Everything felt suddenly still, as if waiting for me to answer him.
“Yes. Why not? Proceed.” I braced for a plunge into the water, or to be thrown onto land. Instead, the cloud I was lying on suddenly ascended straight up. I heard his chuckle following briefly.
I ascended. I saw the shoreline. Kids were playing in the shallows. Sunbathers stretched out on the sand. Lovers walking hand in hand.
I ascended. I saw schools of fish in offshore currents. The beach was a tan ribbon of brightness between the teal sea and dark green forests. A paved road appeared as a drunken graphite line.
I ascended. High altitude winds brought layers of clouds below me. I saw the fan of a river’s source basin. Mountain ranges with blocks of color where one type of tree dominated.
I ascended. The curvature of the Earth was pronounced. I should not be able to continue here in comfort. I felt solar radiation on my back. There was no sound.
I ascended. By the time I realized I was beyond Earth’s atmosphere, the Moon went past. I should be going out, not up. But still I felt as if ascending.
I ascended. The universe appeared to collapse below me, becoming a vibrant glowing imperfect jewel. Each ‘crack’ was a galaxy. Each sparkle was a supernova. Smaller and tighter it appeared.
I ascended. The universe was now a piece of glitter under me. The universe could not be seen. I am in darkness.
I ascended. The darkness becomes palpable against me. It soaks through my clothes and drenches my skin. I feel under water.
I ascended. The air bubble that is me popped as I broke free of the water. The vast ocean I thought I was in shrunk as I ascended becoming enclosed in a strange and irregular container. I recognized it. His belly button.
I ascended and my cloud came to a stop in the same position I had begun. I heard him laughing openly. I’m sure the look on my face was fueling his mirth. I blinked and turned my attention to his face.
“What the fuck was that?” My voice was mine, but it sounded distant. He splashed a hand in joy.
“Your journey. You tell me.” His face was red from the sun, but no brightness would ever shadow his eyes.
“I… I don’t know.” I recovered my wits and smiled dangerously. “Show me again.”
He did. Sending me into a unceasing ascension, I continually looped until I said, “Stop.”. I reached out off the cloud and twisted some of his body hair into a curl. “Okay. Just once, please.”
His chuckle sent me through just once as I asked. When I stopped, I looked for the curl. It wasn’t there.
“Wait. The hair…” He smiled. “You are the same as before, yet you are not. If I had recording devices, and took a snapshot of each time through and compared them after, I would find differences between each world. But while I’m in that world, unless I’m looking for the differences, each world I’m in feels like the only world.”
He smiled in a manner that expressed delight with my reasoning. “But now that I’m aware of the different worlds, none of them will be comfortable for me now. I will always be looking for the tells, for the way the worlds differ. I will always be wondering if I’m in my original world.” He nodded.
“May I descend?” The cloud shuddered and plunged into his belly button, taking me with him. When it came to a stop, I found the hair curl I had made, slightly drier, but still in place.
“Why this could drive a person mad!” He smiled and chuckled again. “Are there two of me here? Did one version come to the beach, and the other version stay in bed?”
“Who said you are here at all?” The look I gave him at his question broke him into peals of glee. “Are you a figment of my imagination? Did I fall overboard in the ocean, and this is the last dream of a dying man? Your story is centered around you, but my story is centered around me. What if someone else is telling our stories? What are we to them?”
Before I could answer, I was plunged back into the depths of his belly button once more. It felt like a tightly wound spring was slowly unwinding, slowly being allowed to relax. Water, then darkness, then the glimmer of the universe, then the explosions of lights around me, then the Solar system, then buzzing the Moon, then blue sky, then shoreline, then hearing the faintest snatch of chuckles before plunging down again.
I suddenly stop. My cloud rests just beyond his reach. His posture is lazy in the water. “There. This is where you first came in. Tell me, what do you see? Is it any different than when I asked before?”
It is. But not in a way I could describe. It was in a way that didn’t matter to this world, but was of importance to me. I realized that if I tried to dwell on this difference, I really would drive myself mad(der).
“I see a jolly fat man lying naked in the ocean with a sunburn. I see the universe in a drop of water. I see peace and contentment. And that’s enough for me.”
“Then rest in what you see.”
And I did.