I learnt at a young age that bonds were complex. I learnt this lesson from Hobbes.

Hobbes, unlike my family, was reticent to connect. Not one to lie or exaggerate, he would prowl into the room only on his own accord. If the vibes were off, Hobbes would simply stand, cast a withered look, and leave.

Occasionally, Hobbes was close, his downy ribcage vibrating with each purr. He'd perch in the airing cupboard- close but not too much so. It told me, 'I am here'.

Since Hobbes, I am grateful for the kind of companionship that is deeply, subtly nuanced.

Rene Lives Here

November 21, 2024

She told the waitress, “The usual.” I was too scared to ask for the same. I ordered a single malt, double, and neat. Now it was time for business.

Rene worked for me for nearly four months. In that period, sales and revenue doubled. I already gave her a corner office. She now wants a company car. I am inclined to agree.

The new project will require Rene to work seven days a week. I asked her if she wanted an assistant. She nodded in the affirmative. Then our drinks arrived. I took my double shot and threw it back (old college day's fun). She took her pint of beer and watched the waitress spray whipped cream on the top. Then she added a cherry for appearance. Rene unwrapped her pink straw and inserted it below the whipped cream line. From the neck down, Rene was more than an accountant. She was a star accountant with a business savvy par excellence. From the neck up, she was a combo of a little girl eating Halloween candy and a tomboy displaying a goofy, yet attractive, anti-savoir-faire.

I took it all in, and cleared my throat to regain Rene’s attention. “Did you want an assistant?”

She told me to wait at the table. Rene made eye contact with a young Korean looking man drinking the same beer with whipped cream, sitting at the bar. “This one will do.”

It was all I heard as she took her drink to sit beside him for nearly thirty minutes. When she returned, she told me she hired him and he would begin in the morning. Rene would take care of the necessary paperwork.

I thought about ordering the same drink. But only for a brief moment.

This is apparently Rene’s world.

I am just visiting.

For some people, dreams are nebulous nothings that disappear upon awakening, never to be remembered or discussed again. I have always had very vivid dreams. As I got older, my dreams began to encompass a full cast of characters and were so detailed I started writing them down so I could turn them into stories, or simply to remember the bizarre.

Sometimes I felt as if I truly lived only while I slept.

I often cry when I wake up.

Increasingly, dreams are the one place I feel safe and happy. Apparently, I am not alone in this sentiment given the overwhelming worldwide popularity of Lifesadream. Its first iteration years ago was as a virtual reality therapy program used to treat a variety of mental illnesses. Known as DreamTherapy, it incorporated positron emission tomography along with deep transcranial magnetic stimulation and a neuroelectro converter that transformed electric signals to images for review, aiding in more effective, targeted therapy. The success rate was nearly 100%, but even now the cost remains beyond the reach of most.

Subsequently, the makers of DreamTherapy modified it for use in the rehabilitation of criminals and enemies of the state (terrorists) with a program called NeuroRehab. Except in government usage, I doubt NeuroRehab will live beyond the experimental stages given the cost (executions cost pennies and the rise of penal labor camps has diminished interest in costly rehabilitation). Even so, to date, five serial killers, 13,012 rapists and 1,469 school shooters have been reintegrated into society as fully functional members thanks to NeuroRehab.

For some reason, none of those included from the enemy of the state group have survived the transcranial magnetic stimulation. I don't know why. They're still experimenting. Of course, there are plenty of subjects for testing, so I suspect it's only a matter of time before, one way or another, domestic discord is eliminated completely.

When DreamTherapy's proprietary technology patent expired, Lifesadream, a division of Neuralink, combined the existing technologies with an implantable neuronano chip that allows everyone to live in their dreams, or, for a more reasonable price, to relive their most precious memories over and over again.

Last year they introduced the neurocable and I've been trying to participate in the program ever since. Until the neurocable, you could only live in your own mind; but with the neurocable, two can exist in the mind of one.

After months of waiting, hoping and refreshing the waitlist page ad nauseum, three weeks ago I won the Lifesadream lottery. The waitlist has had millions of names since they first went live. So far, some one million people across the globe have entered Lifesadream facilities. In order to accommodate as many people as possible domestically, the U.S. government provided, at low cost to Neuralink, thousands of expropriated libraries and university campuses that had fallen into disuse.

As soon as I got the call, I quit my job and sold our house. Yesterday morning, I signed over power of attorney and our savings to the Lifesadream Foundation. They will use the money to maintain and care for my husband and I as we live out the remainder of our lives in my mind. My dreams. As I look at my husband sitting in his favorite chair, eyes vacant, I cannot wait.

**********

"Are you comfortable, Mrs. Pickering?"

It was evening. I was laying in a soft bed in a room that was probably a professor's office back in the day. The body suit in which they'd dressed me gently massaged my limbs. My husband was in the other bed, sleeping under a white comforter. There was an IV line in his arm, the bag hanging to the left of his bed. Mine was to my right. There were armchairs as well. We were surrounded by nurses and the surgeon we'd met that morning. A machine with various monitors stood between our beds, embedded in the wall and there was a desk with a chair and a monitor near the door. The windows were high up and I could see the sky was a pretty purple that would soon fade to black.

"Yes, thank you."

"Dr. Woburn..."

"Call me Maynard..."

"Dr. Woburn will be inserting the neuronano chip through the nasal cavity. It is painless and relatively quick. We'll start with Mr. Pickering and then we'll insert yours.

"Next, we'll attach the electromagnetic coils to both of you. We will wait until you fall asleep naturally since sedatives might affect your dreams, and then we will connect the neuro cable into the ports we placed above your ears this morning.

"Do you have any questions?"

"Do we ever wake up?"

She glanced at her tablet and said, "You have the lifetime package so we will keep you under until you die of natural causes. We will use the transcranial magnetic stimulator to maintain a state of infinite REM for both you and Mr. Pickering."

"What happens to people who don't have the lifetime package?"

"It depends."

"On what?"

"The package. Some choose the End of Life package in which case we put them under and then after 24 hours, we inject them with Pentobarbital. Some, like you, choose the Lifetime package and we keep them until they pass. Some with a partner choose the Until Death Do Us Part package in which case we keep them under until one dies and then awaken the other who can then decide whether to go back under with an end of life package or go home. Depends on the desire and the available funds, of course.

"Some choose the Memory Lane package and run a series of isolated memories for a set period determined by price. At the end of that period they are awakened and go back to their lives. It's a kind of vacation for some people. It's a great stress reliever. I do it once a month."

"If he dies first, will I still dream with him?"

"That is unclear at this time, but it is possible."

"What have others said?"

"At this time, all our clients making use of the neurocable are still in a joint state of REM."

"There haven't been any deaths?"

The nurses exchanged a glance. "At this time, all our clients remain in a state of REM, either alone or with a partner."

"What happens if I die first?"

"As stated in the contract, if the dominant party predeceases the partner, the partner will be removed to our hospice facilities and kept comfortable until their passing."

"What if he dies first?"

"He will be cremated and buried with you upon your expiration."

"So, this is it. I won't see you or this room again?"

"All things being equal, no."

"Okay." I took a deep breath. "Thank you for all you are doing and will do for us. The world had gotten almost unbearable for us. For me. It was so bad I looked forward to sleeping every night as a short escape. I can't believe we can actually, truly live happily ever after now. It's a dream come true. Literally." I laughed. The nurses smiled.

"Are you ready, Mrs. Pickering?"

I looked over at my husband of 42 years.

"Yes."

**********

"Baby?"

As I slowly awakened, I felt my husband's arms around me, his body strong and warm. I opened my eyes, "Eddie?"

"Morning, baby," he said, kissing me softly. "You wouldn't believe the dream I had. I swear I was dreaming our whole life all night."

"Really?" I said, running a hand through hair that was thick, curly and brown.

"Yeah, it was wild. We had a kid, I started my own business, you taught physics for 30 years and then retired to take care of me because I got early onset Alzheimer's. It was a nightmare! I was so glad when I woke up this morning and it was all just a dream."

Looking into his eyes, I smile. "Me too, my love," I leaned up to kiss him. "Me, too."

I sleep with my hands

pressed to my chest,

trying to hold in

what little warmth remains.

Like a winter bird,

folding into itself.

Each morning, colder.

Each morning, smaller.

The radiator hums to life.

Warm air rises.

Still, the heat

inside me fades away.

They say the body

forgets pain. But mine

remembers your temperature—

98.6 degrees of absence.

I breathe in your name

and exhale the memories

The silence tastes like metal

It‘s a harder pill to swallow

than the iron supplements that

make me choke up

Now I just choke up at the thought

of what we could have been

of what I need you to be

of what I could no longer be

I wonder if you hear the moon

screaming your name at night

begging you to hold me tight

My dog is named Sable. She knocks on my door every time she wants to come into my room for the night. She leaves me alone when I'm over stimulated and comforts me when I'm sad. She has been by my side longer than any human and knows me better than my closest friends. She is my companion and my commandant. She is loyal even when I don't deserve it. And, no matter how many times I yell and shout when I get home, just trying to relieve my chest of its burden, I am there for her too, always.

The time, it keeps bleeding away—

like ink from a cracked fountain pen,

like wine from an upturned glass,

like memories through broken fingers.

I watch you kneel,

your pride pooling at your feet

in shadows of what we were.

Your hands reach up,

empty as cathedral bells at midnight.

*Stay*, you whisper,

but the word falls

like ash between us.

*Stay*, you plead,

but your voice carries

the hollow echo of locked rooms.

I remember when your eyes

held galaxies of promises,

when your smile carved rivers

through the bedrock of my doubt.

Now they're just features

on a face I used to know.

The real you—

the one who danced in summer rain,

who laughed at thunder,

who wrote poems on my skin—

that you slipped away so slowly

I didn't notice until

all that remained was this shell,

these bones,

these beautiful empty words.

And here we are:

you on your knees,

me at the door,

and between us

time keeps bleeding,

bleeding,

gone.

Shivering

Quivering

Body withering

You’re snickering

I’m considering

Light flickering

Now reconsidering

Re positioning

No longer listening

No one’s listening

Words, words, words

Do they become verbs?

Stillness disturbed

When action occurs.

Backward, forward, then re-turns.

No lesson or no exercise

I’ve never learned mine

Letters exit my mind

Leave my “Friendly Confines”,

“Cubbies”

Took the keys

Felt the breeze

Release

With ease

Appease?

Please.

This rhyme scheme?

A dream

Finally, I write.

I’ve been avoiding you

for so long—Afraid

I will let my emotions fall

Like Ash in the wind

White burn with charred hope

Wound so tight, and twisting

In my gut —my pain cries

And I long for you.

My own blood fresh drawn

On paper, and ink

But this is how it ends.

Speechless, and homeless

And who am I but not

A poet—Sad, sad, and

Long gone before —

I took my first breath.