This is an EXTREMELY ROUGH couple of selections from the first month or so of Reality’s Dream. This is about 12 pages; I fully expect this, when I have the other days added, to be about 50-75 pages. I expect the full novel to be around 400-700 pages. Yeah, that’s a pretty general estimate, but I know I need to establish the characters very well very early on; I’m not sure what that’ll take at this time, because I had originally planned on starting the novel much earlier, or having flashbacks, and developing with that. My plan to fix that is I will eventually do another novella like the two “bridges” that connect RD to OE and OE to IG. So while the first half of this particular book is going to be character driven, and the main plot points of interest will rely initially on Alan’s alter personality discovery, the second half of the novel is more plot oriented when things turn to shit.
The most important part of this is, well... the beginning. It’s important because it’s actually THE BEGINNING. Everyone, let’s take a moment and appreciate this: THIS IS THE ACTUAL BEGINNING TO THE NOVEL. If you don’t realize why this is big shit, you’re out of the loop. I’ve had six different beginnings to the novel since I actually started jotting down ideas and selections in 2006.
The main reason I’m posting this is just to prove that I’ve actually done something, to prove to myself that I can actually keep this going. I’ve got an even more extremely rough draft of stuff that’s about 230 pages long, but its just literally barebones.
I’m not expecting anyone to read this or comment on it because it’s so rough. When I feel like this selection is... competent... and not just a slew of scenes I will post it here and on facebook. I do have to say, even though this is rough, it does have several references to various things and “call forwards” [brief references to what will happen in the future, I hesitate to call it foreshadowing though because its just a parralel or silly reference to something that’s coming. and yes, i stole the term from Arrested Development] to other parts of the novel or series, and I am proud of the absolute nerdery that they represent.
Note that because blogger is a douche, it doesn’t accept indentations when I copy paste, so I replaced all tabs with a line break. I’m aware that there is probably a way to do this; I am completely fine and happy with the line breaks.
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simply saved as “Reality’s Dream”
====================
My hand stretches out for Dr. Lindblum’s, though it’s just out of reach. I lean forward a little further in my chair and shake it. She holds it for a few seconds that linger on far too long for my comfort. I let go, relax, and press my back up against the tall chair.
“It still felt awkward for you, didn’t it, Alan? You’re getting better at it though, I’m proud of you!” She says warmly.
Touch is something that makes me extremely uncomfortable, though it’s far from the biggest of my problems. I wouldn’t be seeing a shrink for that reason alone. The doctor picks up her notebook and pen, then looks back to me. I try to focus on the constant stream of bubbles in her fish tank, though when she clears her throat I know this hour has to be different from the others.
“So you’re getting ready to begin your second year at Rosewater College, aren’t you?” She asks. I simply give a nod in answer. “Tell me about that.”
My finger runs up under my glasses for a second as I try to wipe away something in the corner of my vision. “It’s good to get away from home again. I’m already moved back on campus since I’m working on campus. I love my friends back there, but you’ve heard me rant about my parents.”
The doctor begins to speak but I raise my hand and cut her off. “There’s not really anything new to discuss with them.”
She nods and writes something down in her notebook. I’m always curious as to what she writes, I have been since the first day I started coming here, but I’ve never had the courage to even ask if I could see her notes, much less actually read them. I don’t even know if that’s allowed or not. Maybe one day, but today won’t be the day. Our session continues on for a few more minutes, just like always. I talk more about school, about my eagerness to return and how I want to take on a bigger role in my fraternity in the coming semesters. After another silence falls on the air, she clears her throat again.
“Has your other doctor put you on any new medications lately?”
“No,” I answer. “Just the same things. Anti-depressants, sleep aid, and something for the OCD.”
“So let’s talk about your blackout periods more, shall we? I’ve been seeing you since you were fifteen and these have been becoming more frequent, you say. Some of your last visits have been...eye opening... to say the least.” She moves to her desk and pulls out a tape recorder.
“I want you to listen to this. I’ve put a lot of thought into this diagnosis but I finally believe it’s the right thing. The last few times under hypnosis have brought me to this conclusion.”
“What is it?” I ask before she hits play. My mind races. I wasn’t aware she even wanted to give me a new diagnosis on something.
“You’ve talked to me about your friend Maryiah in the past. Just brief mentions of how you’d made a new friend, so on and so forth, but to me... things just didn’t add up. Alan... YOU are your friend Maryiah.”
I blink a few times. “That doesn’t make any sense, I don’t understand.”
“Just listen,” she answers.
Dr. Lindblum hits the play button the tape recorder. My stomach immediately fills with dread.
“I don’t remember falling asleep here.”
The voice is mine, but I have no memory of saying it. I sound confused, panicked at first.
“Do you remember who I am?” That was Dr. Lindblum. The volume grows louder.
“Yes.... We’ve talked before.”
“Can you tell me about yourself? Your name, for instance?”
“Maryiah,” my voice says. “Maryiah Lynn Faith.”
“What the FUCK is this?!” I say blurt out suddenly. I don’t understand, I’ve never said any of that, this has to be some godawful joke–
“Just pay attention,” Dr. Lindblum says sternly.
Her voice comes back on the tape recorder after a few more seconds. “Tell me, Maryiah, what do you last remember?”
“I don’t know... I feel like I was asleep forever. Why am I here?” My voice asks.
“Well, Maryiah, that’s what I would like to try figuring out.”
I cough on the tape. “Maryiah. Like Mare-e-uh. Not Mariah. I don’t say my own name wrong, hun.”
“Yes, of course, I’m sorry, Maryiah,” Dr. Lindblum’s voice tries to emphasize the name correctly this time. My voice begins to cough heavily and then everything on the tape sounds muffled. I can hear my voice, vaguely, but they’re words I remember saying last time I was here.
“Everything after that point you came back to consciousness. I put the tape recorder back in my drawer so you wouldn’t notice then. You have dissociative identity disorder, Alan. More commonly referred to as multiple personalities. Have you heard anything about this disorder?”
I nod feebly. What. The. Hell. My mind is in complete disarray. I’m light headed. This can’t be something I have... I’m... average. As average as most people can be, at least, given my other circumstances. When I think of someone with a serious illness my mind immediately wanders to someone institutionalized, a babbling madman, a person severely messed up. I’m not any of those things!
“This is a lot for you to take in, but this is just the beginning. I’m sure you have some questions.”
“How I can talk to Maryiah and know she’s talking to me, if she’s... in my head?”
“Both of you are conscious at the same time, in your body. Most alters are only induced by certain triggers. Stress, for instance, or a reminder of something painful from the past.
“Alan, this is a very long road ahead of you. But I’ve been seeing you for five years now, I know that you can be a very strong individual. The next step is to find out just what your triggers are, and then after that how many other alters you have and–”
“There could be others?” I interrupt. My stomach continually churns more with each passing second... I hate today.
“It’s possible, yes. Most people with D.I.D. have a few. After we determine how many you have, I think we can discuss treatment. Your personalities can be integrated, ad you can become a whole person. We’ve talked in the past about you have no memories of your childhood, how there’s large gaps in your memories or things are just a blur. I think there was some form of trauma during your youth that has caused this. I believe, with enough counseling, we can unlock these repressed memories from your past.”
She shuffles through a folder underneath her notebook and pulls out a bundle of papers. “This is the most update information I’ve been able to compile on dissociative identity disorder. Read over it as soon as you can, please. Given today’s talk, I think we should schedule again to meet later in the week.”
“Yes, Dr. Lindblum,” I say uneasily. I try to stand but my legs wobble. I manage to take a step forward, two steps, and exit her office. I wordlessly write a check out to the receptionist and leave after getting my receipt.
The sun outside hits me with it’s bright contrast to the simplicity of the office which I just left. I take a few more strides forward, but I hear my friend’s car before I see it.
A tan car pulls to a stop beside me and the radio’s blaring is suddenly cut in half though its still pretty loud. I open up the door and get in. A cloud of smoke immediately greats me. My friend, Brianna, blows a puff right into my face.
“You should turn the volume down some,” I say loudly. Vibrations from the speakers pulse throughout my body.
“What?” She yells over the noise.
“Exactly,” I murmur. She dials down the radio to a more manageable level.
“So just how crazy are you today?” She jokes. Any other day I’d crack a smile, but after what just happened....
“I dunno Bree, it’s pretty bad,” I answer. I usually answer this way, even though it’s the truth this time. I take a hair tie from my wrist and pull back my long brown hair. I stare out the window for a time, though she jars me out of my own little world unexpectedly.
“That’s our song on the radio!” She screams.
Not like our song as a couple, although we’d dated in the past. Literally, our song, one we’d written and performed. Bree and I are in a band with two of my other best friends called “Plus One.” She sang and did keyboard when required, while I did guitar and backup vocals. Her brother, Mat, played bass, and Eli did drums. Last December we’d rerecorded our demos as an EP and in May we released our first full length album.
Bree flicks my ear and I jump. “What is wrong with you? Come on, this should be a happy moment!”
Her voice filters through the radio on the chorus line, and it’s beautiful, haunting. She’s by far my favorite singer. Then my voice comes on and I cringe. People say my sound fits well, but I’m still embarrassed whenever I hear my own voice being played back to me. Our song fades from the airwaves and Bree turns the radio off altogether.
“Seriously, what’s wrong? You look pretty shaken up,” she asks.
Bree’s been my best friend for as long as I can remember. I’ve never really kept any secrets from her in the past, though this is something I’m not sure I’m comfortable telling anyone. She keeps glancing from me to the road and back again.
“Nothing really,” I lie. “Just more of the same, no real progress.”
“Have it your way,” she answers. She doesn’t call me on it and my head turns back to the window.
I always thought of myself as normal in the past. I go to school, I’m in a band, I have a few good friends to count on. I see nothing remarkable about my life. I live just like everyone else. Today though, it gets me thinking. What am I? Who am I? I no longer seem like everybody else. I don’t know anyone else that might even possibly be going through what I was just diagnosed with. I suddenly feel isolated–
Bree’s wet finger in my ear pulls me out of my thoughts.
When we arrive back on campus, I step out of the car first. Bree’s dark red hair stirs in the gentle breeze blowing, though she doesn’t seem to notice as she relaxes against the side of her car. The sun is warm on my skin, nearly makes it tingle, but the wind keeps things from feeling too hot.
The smell of fresh cut grass hangs in the air, but that’s typical for Rosewater College, since the ground crews keep everything as pristine as possible. It’s a small college, with about 1200 students tops, but I think that’s what I like about it so much. I can walk from one end to the other in about ten minutes, and it only has two main buildings where classes are held; the athletic department meets in the gym on most days, while the science department has its own center. Every other academic program is lumped into the other buildings.
“Well, anything going on tonight?” Bree asks.
alan’s nickname = tiggs?
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saved as “first hayley meeting”
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August 8, 2008 [maybe 2009 instead?]
“I thought you weren’t scheduled to work until four,” my boss says as I approach the information desk for the first time this year. I glance down at my watch; three o’clock, just as the email read. I tell him as much and he pulls up the schedule.
“Well, my mistake,” he tells me. “Some freshmen is going to be here at three, I forgot you had these hours.... You know how to do everything, would you mind teaching her? I’ve got a few other things that I could be taking care of.” He rubs his shaved head after coming to his feet. I sit down behind the desk, sign in, and bring up all the usual programs needed. A few seconds later I see a short girl with long, somewhat wavy auburn hair standing in front of me. She’s a good few inches shorter than me, a bit heavier than Bree, curvier, but very pretty nonetheless.
“Hayley, this is Alan. He’s going to teach you everything you need to know about working here.” He turns to me for a second. “Well, I’ll let you get started then.” I nod and he walks off.
She looks at me, gives a small wave. “My, what long hair you have,” she says in a heavy British accent. My eyebrows shoot up for a second. She comes around the desk, sits at he chair beside me.
“Nice to meet you too,” I say, hoping to cover the surprise in my voice. “I’m guessing you’re not from around here?”
She rolls her eyes. “I just like to speak in a fake accent,” she jokes. “I’m an exchange student from the U.K.”
“That’s a long way from Rosewater,” I say. I blink. Good job, Captain Obvious. “Why here of all places?”
She tenses up for a brief second. Her green eyes, splotched with hazel, narrow for a second. “Ohhh, you know... tuition and everything was more or less free because of the program, and the psychology program is one of the best that was offered out of all the options.”
“Ahh. We had a few exchange students come here last year, I never really understand why anyone would wanna come here.”
“Then why did you come here?”
I don’t really feel like telling her that it was based off a promise to my ex. That story is too long, so I offer up what I tell everyone else. “It’s far enough away from home, but not too far.”
I take a seat in front of the computer and motion for her to come closer. “Well, this is pretty much the easiest job you’ll ever have.”
I run her through the basics in a matter of minutes. She operates the computer a couple of times to make sure she has it down, then moves back to her seat. I open up my laptop and IM Ian.
“Do you know the British girl that’s new here?” I ask.
“Yeah,” he answers. The icon shows he’s continuing to type.
“She’s pretty cute,” I add. The icon flashes gray for a moment to show he’s stopped typing. It flashes that color on and off for a few seconds before he finally answers.
“You think so? Go for it!”
“I don’t know....”
I take a quick glance at her and see her pulling a small etch-a-sketch from her purse. She begins to doodle on it.
“Really?” I ask.
“What?”
“Nothing, that’s just...” I laugh. “That’s pretty cool, actually.”
She smiles. “Well, thanks.”
The two of us continue to chit chat a little bit, but many awkward silences abound. In between I’m constantly messaging Ian.
“What should I do?” I type.
“Just talk to her... find out what she’s into.”
Not very helpful; I figure if he knows her, he could give me some insight. It might be for the best though, at least for the current moment. If I’m too busy typing to him I’ll be too preoccupied to talk to her, and if she actually sees me talking about her, that’ll put an end to things even quicker than my own blunderings.
“So how do you like it here on campus?” I ask, struggling to keep any form of conversation going.
“Oh, it’s...friendly. Pretty boring though since classes don’t start up for another month and most everyone’s not here yet. I’ve been out taking a lot of photos, Rosewater’s a beautiful little town. Nothing like home, but it’s one of the better places in the States I’ve visited so far.”
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saved as “hayley hypocrite”
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I pop open the door to the information desk and take my normal seat in front of the computer. Hayley rests her head on the countertop and doesn’t bother to look my way when I enter.
“How’s it going?” I ask. She does not immediately answer so I instead ask, “What’s wrong?”
She glances up for a brief second. Her eyes are red, her mascara is smudged and starting to run down her face. I reach over the wall and grab a couple of napkins from the nearby cafe shelf and hand them to her.
“What happened?” I ask again.
Hayley wipes her tears away and tries to clean off the running makeup. “I don’t see why people can’t just love.... I’m just so tired of stupid guys being like ‘I just don’t want anything serious right now’ and wanting someone to spend time with and have a little more... what the hell? Why are they so fucking scared?!”
Fuck. Well, she isn’t with someone, it sounds like, but she does like someone. I try to take this news in stride but it still hurts.
“It just doesn’t make any sense,” she continues. “It’s like he wants to reap the rewards without the effort... no one’s going to find a girl that will be fine with that. I don’t want just some fuck buddy, no girl’s gonna want that... there’s more to a relationship than that, I want someone to care about me for me and not get it in their head that I’m just a good fuck... I mean I know I’m good,” she tries to laugh, “but that’s not the point. It isn’t something I want, I have more respect for myself than that.”
“I wish I could say something to make you feel better... but we’ve got an hour to kill here, I’m all ears,” I tell her, though her last statements may have been a little too revealing for my enjoyment.
“There’s not much you can do, but thanks.”
My lips twitch. “Seriously, things do get better. I promise.”
“People always say that though,” she answers. I can’t tell if she’s frustrated or on the verge of crying again.
I groan. “I know, and it’s a bitter pill to swallow, and it’s cliched and it’s not what you wanna hear right now... but it’s true nonetheless. I’ve been in bad spots before too, and people told me the same thing; I know what I’m saying isn’t really helping you any. But trust me, things get better. All any of your friends can say are a bunch of words you don’t wanna hear and it really won’t do a damn bit of good. I wish I could say just the right things, but I’m definitely here to help, listen or whatever I can.”
Hayley gives a small smile. “Thank you,” she says. “It means a lot to me.”
We continue to chat off and on over the course of the hour, but the time flies by pretty quick. I wish I could keep talking to her, hoping that maybe I can get her away from this other guy and interested in me, but I have to go over to the House and meet up with a few of my brothers.
I stand up and begin to say my goodbye but she hugs me. “You’re a good friend,” she whispers. I should take this as a compliment but the f-word is a downer.
“I hope you’re feeling better soon. Even if this other guy doesn’t realize it, I think you’re an amazing person, and I mean that from the bottom of my heart.”
Her grin goes wide. “Thank you!” I pat her on the back and pull away.
“So I’ll see you in class tomorrow?” I ask.
“Definitely.”
======
next day
======
I stare blankly at the wall on the other side of the room as students trickle in by ones and twos. I didn’t know too many of them; I’d only taken the introduction philosophy course last semester and most of the students entering were older than me. This particular class was in the 300 range, junior level stuff, but the professor assured me I’d do fine in it. As the room continues to fill, people pick out spots around the table.
“I hate spiders,” I hear the voice of one of my brothers murmur just seconds before a book slams down onto the table in front of me. I see spider legs sticking out from under it. “You know, I was getting in my car to come here and then it literally turned into a spider.” His eyes go wide. “I got here real fast. The whole thing was like a bad acid trip.” He pauses for a second before sitting down. “Actually, I’m making all this up. Hell, I don’t even have a car.”
He extends his hand and I shake it with a smile. “Goddamn, Tiggs, how’ve you been holding up? Feels like I haven’t seen you in forever.”
“Oh, you know,” I start to answer, but Hayley walks through the door. She glances my way and moves for the seat beside me. I turn back to my brother. “Um, sorry, what?”
He gives a knowing smile, then beneath his breath quietly murmurs, “Good luck with that one....”
Before Hayley can even start to pull out her books, Professor Davidson storms into the room and closes the door. He moves the lectern from one of the side tables and puts it right in front of the marker board.
“We’ll be looking at as many concepts as we can from the modern philosophical era over the course of the next few months. Most of the philosophers of this time-period are concerned primarily with God.” He looks out across the table at the dozen or so students in the room.
“I recognize most of your faces from last year’s classes....” His eyes dart from person to person as he calls their name. He says mine and gives a slight wink. I’m by no means a teacher’s pet, but I found myself going to his office a lot last year, debating with him as best as I could. He’s one of my favorite professors on campus, one of the few I actually respect.
“Now, who do we have here...” He glances from Hayley to the course roster. “You must be Miss Poland... Hayley Ayn Poland. After Ayn Rand?”
“Yes,” she answers.
He’s momentarily taken aback by her British accent, though moves on before most people notice. “If you know who she is, you’ve probably read her works. I’d love to discuss them sometime.” He checks through the rest of the students. “Now, since so many of these philosophers were concerned about God, I hope to use these arguments to prove to you that some sort of higher power exists. Speaking of which, how many of you believe that there is a God?”
Most of the students raise their hands, me included. Three do not. He asks if anyone is atheist, and two of the three volunteer their beliefs.
“And you, Miss Poland? You didn’t raise your hand.”
She shrugs. “I didn’t answer because I don’t have proof God exists, yet to say I don’t believe in God means there is a God that exists which I simply don’t believe in.”
Professor Davidson blinks before laughing. Hayley’s words run through my mind again; she spoke fast and her accent made it difficult to understand, but I believe I get it. She’s attractive and smart.
“You really do pick the weird ones,” my brother murmurs under his breath. I elbow him in the side.
“Well, I’m glad to see we have at least one open-minded student in the room,” Davidson says. “Now, if you’ll all open the syllabus to page three....”
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saved as “like reveal”
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We sit at the info desk again, much like any other day. I think about the unofficial party that’s going to happen at the house in a few days to kick off the start of the school year. I’ve been thinking about asking Hayley for quite some time but I manage to talk myself out of it after thinking too much.
It’s weighing heavily on my mind but I turn to her and blurt out, “So I know you like someone but I just thought I’d ask you to this party on Saturday.”
She bursts out laughing. “You don’t even know who I like. And I’m sure you have some girl you like that you can go with.”
“I don’t,” I say. I’m not sure which statement of hers I’m answering. Both, perhaps. “Who is it?” I force a laugh but... well, I do want to know.
“Nay,” she answers. “It’s a secret.”
“You should totally spill it, what does it matter?” Again, I try to play it off as friendly joking but I think I can get it out of her.
“You should eat my ass,” Hayley says with a smile. Part of me wants to crack a joke but I don’t know her well enough and definitely don’t want it taken as serious.
“Well you’re just no fun...” I pause. “Well, I do like this one girl on campus. I’ll trade ya mine for yours.”
“Only if you go first, or no deal!”
“Grrr....” I think for a second. “Well, fine. If this blows up in my face, so be it, and if this hurts our friendship, at least I’m honest and open. Kinda you.”
“Oh,” she starts. “But you don’t even really know me!”
I don’t know what the expression on my face resembles, but she rambles on for a few more seconds. “I guess that’s a bullshit answer though. I don’t really know what to say, and I’m just getting myself sidetracked.”
“Out with yours,” I murmur.
“I have two. And don’t even think I’m just saying this because you said me.... You’re one of them. But I know we don’t really know each other that well yet. But as far as you as a person and what I’ve grown to know so far... and the fact that you’re more real than anyone I know is attractive. Whenever we talk our conversations get deep and I feel like I can just say whatever I want and not have to censor myself.... And the other guy is... someone from back home... which is totally pointless to tell you.”
Hayley’s hands start to fidget across the counter.
“Why is that pointless?”
“You don’t know who he is, so it’s pointless even talking about him. It’s like if I told you what I had for lunch, in your head you’re just like ‘uh, ok.’ Do you get what I’m saying?”
“Touche,” I murmur. “But you should think about coming to the party, it’ll be a lot of fun. It’s just gonna be a bunch of people hanging out, it’d be a great chance for you to meet more people on campus if nothing else.”
“I might,” she says. “I’ll have to see what I’m doing.”
“That’s fine, just lemme know. We’re trying to keep track of how many people might come over.”
***
(a couple days later, Hayley agrees to go to the party)
***
“Tiggs, guess what?!” Bree shouts through the phone.
“Calm down, Mr. President. What?”
“So you know how the lead singer of Moustache Towel is in rehab, right? Well she got stuck in there right before they started going on tour. They got ahold of me through our band’s site today... they want me to fill in on backing vocals! I’ll be in Canada for a month! I leave tomorrow, they’re paying for everything to fly me out there!”
“Wow, that’s great!” I wanted her to meet Hayley this weekend, see what she thinks, but this is huge and can help spread word of our band too.
(as Bree tours, her and Alan constantly talk, he speaks of Hayley a lot, she jokes that she thinks he’s making her up, while still believing the things she heard about Maryiah as being a real person. HURHURHUR)
*****
party -- hayley brings her friend
*****
night after party, the following section has to do with the ending to ESOTSM. Definitely want to follow the “Alan and Hayley’s first movie is the Clockwork Orange disaster,” dunno if that should happen or not and then they watch her fav movie to make up for that or not or if she just talks about the last few lines of it or not though.
“The movies make it seem wonderful, eh?” Hayley asks as I shut off the TV.
“Love?”
“Yep. They should show it as two sided....”
“I’m sure it’s great when both people are in love.”
“I’ve yet to see that.... I’ll believe it when I see it.”
“See two people love each other?” I ask. I briefly think about my times with Bree. We rarely seemed to be on the same page when we felt for each other.
“When I have it myself... if that happens,” she says.
“I’m sure you will one day,” I tell her. All of this pessimism on her part frustrates me. She likes me, but she doesn’t seem to positive about a future with me or anyone else for that matter. What good does any of this do then? I like her, but I don’t want to waste my time and get hurt for nothing.
Hayley stretches out on my couch, her legs poised on the edge of the footrest. She stifles a yawn. “I feel people throw away love too easily... it’s too easy to break up, divorce, et cetera nowadays.... People are scared. No one is going to be the perfect one... and nobody should settle either... but accepting the fact that there’s going to be shit and there’s going to be great things too, that’s a part of it.”
She rolls over onto her side, adjusts herself just enough so that she can see my face better. “I think we all have a soulmate... this probably sounds stupid I know but just hear me out... I believe we all have one... but I don’t think we ever end up with them. And some people will be their soulmate but give up on the problems... and go separate ways and don’t end up with them... but we also don’t truly know who our soul mate is until we’re on our deathbed... and sometimes not even then in the case of the people who never got to meet theirs... I think I’ve already met mine, but I could be wrong... but I think I have and he gave up on us. That hurts me, but I have to accept it. But at least I had the opportunity to love him and meet him, which is more than most people get the chance to do.”
That’s the biggest pile of bullshit I’ve heard in a while, I think to myself. At least, most of it is. “I understand what you’re saying and I have to respectfully disagree,” I say. “But that’s more of a fate against free will philosophical argument.”
She arches an eyebrow. “Because we both aren’t philosophy majors.”
“Well, I personally disagree because that implies some degree of fate, and you can’t just have ‘a little bit of fate’ like one certain thing has to happen, because life is far too circumstantial. I think our life experiences and our reactions to them make us who we are... it’s not as romantic an explanation but... I feel like the alternatives are kinda cop outs. But then, maybe I’m just too jaded.”
“I guess my thoughts on life in general is that one thing affects another, but not in a fate way... people’s decisions and choices lead to one thing and so on.”
“That’s cause and effect, Hayley... that’s a very free will thing. Our free will is our reaction to the cause. And you can argue that the specific cause of one specific instance is the effect of a previous incident. Life’s a big chain reaction of cause and effect, but we control how we react. Always.... That’s always our choice.”
“I guess I’m more Buddhist in my thinking? They’re more in between.”
“Karma,” I mutter. She nods her head. “I absolutely loathe that idea because that means we all get what we deserve. I think about stuff like that a lot because of what’s happened to me in the past.”
“Part of what I’m arguing is the concept of Pratitya-samutpada. Interconnectedness. What happened to you in the past?” She moves to my computer and searches for an internet article on her concept. I brush away her question; I don’t feel comfortable enough revealing that to anyone yet. I skim through the article.
“I mostly agree with what you’re saying there, but I don’t think you can use that as an argument in favor of fate.”
“Urrgh! This conversation is over! I think I believe in both... and that’s my story.”
“No!” I exclaim. “No no, I’d let you end it right up until you said that! That’s just a huge self-contradiction to believe in both!”
“Think about it though; there are things that are fate, things we can’t control; what if someone is born with a disability or something? And then there are the things we can control like if we want to keep talking about something or not.”
“I wouldn’t call things that happened to you before birth fate though; that’s just situational. I guess I mean fate in a way like we have no control over our lives or the decisions we make. LIke I was fated to meet you at the beginning of the school year, or I was fated to have this conversation tonight. I don’t buy into that.”
“Fate is having no choice though, I can be born wit ha disability but I have a choice in how to go about living with that disability... but something happened beyond your control. That’s the same thing as fate.”
“I think maybe our disagreement comes out of differing definitions of fate; your definition is something out of our control. My definition is having no control.”
“I still think we’re saying the same thing. You don’t have control of fate. Someone comes over to my house to shoot me, I have no control over that. I do have the control of ducking when they pull the trigger.”
“We are saying the same thing. But fate is equal to something out of our control. Something out of our control is not equal to fate, however. It’s like saying all squares are rectangles, but not all rectangles are squares. Fate is something that must happen. Everything you’re talking about is chance, and that’s something that just randomly happens.”
“So wait. Fuck.” She bursts out laughing.
“What?”
“You’re right. Goddammit, I thought I was different.”
“Why’s that such a bad thing?”
“Just eat my ass, okay? It makes you right!”
I smile. “It’s about time we finally agreed! ...Or were we fated to?”
She punches me. “I swear to God, Alan, nothing like that ever again. My head hurts.”
“Really? I thought it was fun... I haven’t had intelligent conversation like that in a while now. And besides, you started it with all of that soulmate talk. Do you see what I mean about that now though, kind of at least? It just sounds like you loved someone in the past and haven’t moved on yet. Who’s to say you won’t love someone more than that, or in a couple of years you pass someone up and then you start claiming the same thing? You make it sound like you’ll never love anyone more than that again.”
Hayley shrugs. “Maybe I won’t.”
I want to shake her out of this, it sounds completely ridiculous to me that a person should continue to be stuck on someone else and have no hope for a future love. Despite agreeing with me, she still seems caught up on the idea of “the one.”
“I’d better be going, it’s getting late.” She rises off the couch abruptly. I walk her to the front of the building. We pause awkwardly in front of it for a few seconds.
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edit in that Alan put his arm around her, ran his hand along her leg etc during the convo
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“Sorry about up there, if you felt like I invaded your space,” I murmur. Idiot. That won’t make things any less awkward.
“You’re fine, I liked it.... Soft touching turns me on.”
“Oh yeah?” I file that away for future reference.
Hayley just blushes and moves in to give me a hug. “So, I’ll talk to you tomorrow, right?”
“Of course,” I answer. After she walks off, I linger for a few seconds and watch as she goes to her dorm building. I really like her after tonight. Things have been great... I just need to prove I’m better than my competition. That’s the only thing that mars these moments with her.
