Week 9, Day 1

It’s as if I woke up in the backseat of some cockpit.  I knew it was a dream but there was still a feeling of awakening.  At first glance, Iwoul d have sworn I was in some kind of spaceship.  Everything outside the glass was
pitch-black.  When I looked at the front seat, things slightly refocused and then I saw the pilot.

“Grandfather?”

“Yep.”

He paused for effect.  “Given much thought to our previous encounters?”

“You mean communing with my more insane side?”

“Tones.   Frequencies above the individual fundamental.”

“Fundamental?”

“Resonance affects all life.  You could say we are salmon moving through a vibrational stream.”

Then he shut off the engine.  Suddenly, the only sound was the wind as we ripped through the sky.  Grandfather pointed out the cockpit towards the wing.

“See that?”

“What?”

“The wing.  The wobble.  How it vibrates.”

“Yeesss.”

“You know what a wing looks like side on?  The air foil?”

“Kinda’.”

“Take that shape, that air foil and twist it once.  You get two wings.  Do it again and then you have three.  Do it again and again and again and again and you have seven wings strung together.”

“And?”

“That image of seven wings also approximates the harmonic overtones of a guitar string.”

My dreams were now reaching into my reality and commenting in my sleep state.

“How do you know what I do out there?”

“Subconscious.  Dream, remember.  I am not real only a phantom plucked deep from your recessive mind.  Your memories and fears are my playground.”

“You’re not real?”

“There are cosmic forces at play here.  Reality is only the building blocks of sanity.”

“I’m confused.”

“Tell me something I don’t know, Buckethead?  This is a dream.  Dreams are a mess of confusion.   But, like sludge through a grate, bits will get caught and form thoughts later that become monumental.”

We flew on powerless.

“What do I need to know?  What are you, it, them, myself trying to say?”

“You led yourself to this point; put together the pieces in a somewhat correct sequence.  Let it ride.  Don’t plan.  Tend to reality like a gardener and watch it grow.”

“Oliver?”

“The fundamental.”

And with that I was in free fall.  No plane, no chute and no Grandfather.  As I fell to earth, ideas and concepts seemed to connect in my mind.  A few feet from splattering on the desert floor and all became clear.  I knew what Grandfather was trying to say.