The Road

[BadBeast]

I'm starting to think that although there are many roads, there is only one Road. Kerouac knew this, and how once you get on it, there is no getting off. You might think you're off it, but then something happens and you realise you've been on it all along. It's straight, and wide, and it disappears on over the horizon. Somehow you know that there are no junctions. No Crossroads.
No Turnpikes. There are stop-overs, where you can pull over, have lunch, forget about the journey for a while. Forget completely, while you get sidetracked by something, or someone you meet. But always that nagging feeling at the back of your head that you are forgetting something important.
       
You try to think what it is, and then you're back behind the wheel again. Different car, different scenery, but still the same road. Only now there's a sense of urgency about the whole thing. The engine has a whine to it that won't let you relax. There is more traffic too. The other cars all look a little worse for wear, the drivers, hunched at the wheel like they all had somewhere to be, half an hour ago. You can't see what kind of car you're driving, but you're sure it looks as dusty and worn as the others do. There is no scenery now to speak of, only the vast, greyish red desert as far as the eye can see. You don't remember when the desert started, it feels like it was there forever, but you're sure you can remember trees, and mountains, not so long ago. It feels like you took a wrong turn, but there are no turns on this road. All there is is dust, and asphalt, and the smell of hot oil.
         
There is no horizon anymore, the view disappears into a haze of dust and smog. The desert is punctuated with what first appear to be boulders, but on closer inspection, they prove to be old twisted car wrecks. But all old cars, like 1930's old. The whine from the engine seems to be getting louder. You decide to pull over at the next opportunity, get some rest. You can't remember how long it was since you slept, but you don't feel tired. Just old, and kind of stretched out.

Then it dawns on you that you're dreaming. Asleep and dreaming. But there's no relief in this realisation. That it's just a dream.
The only time that there is any relief in realising "It's just a dream" is when you wake up. And waking is something the dreamer has no control over.

The dust is so thick now you cant see the other cars, just a muffled "whoosh" when something passes you. You turn the headlamps on, but they don't really help much. The whine from the engine is almost unbearable now. You'd pull over, but somehow you know that if you pull over here, you will be lost forever. So you drive on, into the darkness, into the dream. Although you are aware of other traffic on the road, you know you are totally alone here. The car, the darkness, and the road are all there is. and the road never ends.

You start to feel thinner, more insubstantial, like smoke. the sound of the engine fades, leaving only the whine, and after a while, this too gets quieter. No, not quieter, farther away. You are rising up, up in the air, no car now, just the road, looking like an endless ribbon below you. And you wake, breathless and sweaty, For an endless second or two, the dream is as real as the day, and this is not a comfortable knowledge. Then, the relief of waking drives the dream back into the mists. Not gone, but waiting. The dream never dies, the road never ends. Some waking part of you knows that you are still "On the Road", and that soon enough, you will find yourself behind that wheel again. But for now, you are content to forget.         

[Eve Hill]

 

[BadBeast]

Thanks you. Glad you found your way here, anyway.  I did wonder if I'd ever get any response to this post. It needs a little more work really.

[Eve Hill]

I like it as is. Haunting imagery.

[BadBeast]

Then I shall leave it as it is. Truth is, I'd forgotten even posting it, until you bumped it.