Country Road
“Cogito ergo sum”“I think, therefore I am.”
- Descartes
The day began as innocuously as any other. I was making my daily trip southbound to my job on my old, backwoods, country road. At this point in time, twelve lonely miles separated me from both the nearest homes in the mountains above, and the small hamlet in the valley below.
My sojourn to town has always been mundane. When going over this 24 mile trek, I drive seemingly on auto-pilot, knowing without conscious thought, where the occasional bumps, curves, and stops are. Also, I need not pay much attention for other motorists, because they come rarely, if ever.
This morning’s commute would not be so innocuous. I was on the verge of being late, which is not unusual for me. I took a moment to glance at my low mounted clock and saw that it proclaimed the time to be 8:57 AM. I was disgusted and worried over my being late. Thankfully, in such a small town there was little chance of me being fired and replaced.
My eyes moved upward from my clock to the road. I panicked immediately, seeing only two trees in front of me. I pounded my break pedal to the floor of my sedan and braced for impact. Though taking only seconds, the moment seemed to last forever, my squealing breaks seemingly taking the length of a full Beethoven symphony.
Crunching metal, smashing glass were all that I could hear before passing out almost instantaneously.
* * * * * * * * * * *
Seemingly only moments later I regained consciousness. My body ached a little all over, my head feeling the worst. I lifted my leaden eyelids and saw the front of my car smashed, my fender entangled in both a large oak, and a smaller maple tree.
I forced my door open and stumbled out. I got up and found my way over to a nearby stream. I knelt beside it and looked downward into its pristine, clear water. Staring back at me was a ghostly, surreal reflection of myself. My face was bloodied from a large, deep, painful gash in my forehead. Also on the phantasmal image was a five o’clock shadow.
I cleared my face of my congealed blood and returned to the scene of my mishap. I sat at the edge of the road and looked out at the mountains. I noted the sun, low in the western sky.
I then glanced at my wristwatch. It read 5:42 PM. Nearly nine hours had passed. Being so fazed, what really amazed me was that it was still in working order after the accident. Only the glass cover was shattered. It continued to tick, although it was somewhat odd sounding.
After a few moments I heard an engine purring softly in the distance but coming closer. It came around the nearest curve, a flurry of dust, and dark color machinery.
I began frantically waving my arms and shouting for the car to stop. My wild gesticulations proved to be for naught, as the automobile passed me by, continuing up the country road. The car, so similar looking to mine, would not be my hero.
With the car but a dust storm in the distance, I realized that another was unlikely to be passing by any time soon. My thoughts then worriedly turned to my wife, who would be expecting me home in but a few minutes. I imagined the fun that I would have explaining my wreck to my wife. I soon realized, however, that I needed to get home first in order to explain anything to her.
I began marching uphill towards my home. It was both a grueling, and time consuming ordeal. The miles seemed endless. The sun set and a cool mountain night settled upon the country road. Time felt warped and twisted, going alternately slow then fast during my long journey home. I reached my final destination at nearly midnight.
Surprising me upon my arrival was the fact that no lights were on in my house. I had fully expected at least one on, a sign of my wife’s worry filled vigil for my return.
I walked to my garage door in an attempt to make a more stealthy entrance, as not to disturb my wife. I found that entrance to be locked, which was unusual. Usually, I would only lock that door after returning home from work. Frustrated, I realized that I had left my keys in my ruined automobile, twelve miles and six hours behind me.
My only other option, as to entering the house, was to go to the front door and wake my wife. I crept towards my main entrance. . .
Only to awaken in my bed. I glanced at my alarm clock. It shone 11:48 PM in a brilliant red hue.
I relaxed as I realized that my tribulations were merely a dream. There was no accident or long journey home on my country road. I calmed as I glanced at my darling wife beside me, resting peacefully.
I began to ponder over what had awoken me so abruptly, when I heard a faint rapping sound. I clothed myself in my robe and went downstairs. By this time, the emotion and thoughts of my dream were but a distant memory.
The metal tapping sound came in short bursts of four to six taps. I quickly realized that it was someone at my door.
Although shocked that someone would be calling at such an hour, I tentatively opened my front door. I was dumbfounded to see standing before me -- myself.