Worlds Apart

After eating, Tanner stepped outside onto his porch to check the weather. Though the rain had stopped, the wind was still strong and gusting. Scanning the night sky, he noticed a sliver of a moon darting in and out of the fast-moving clouds. It reminded him of something he had heard from the yoga instructor at the gym. She said that a new moon cycle was, among other things, the sign of a new beginning. Tanner chuckled. She was always telling him the strangest things at the strangest times. She also spoke as if he would know what she was talking about, which he rarely did. Heck, he didn't even know her name. He did, however, remember some of her comments about dreams. She said that the "dream world," as she called it, was nothing more, or less, than another dimension to our reality, another plane of experience, a place where a soul can continue to learn and grow, just like it did when one was awake. She even suggested that Tanner pay close attention to his dreams. Hmmm, he mused, maybe she was right.

Thoughts about dreams and the moon's cycles were completely foreign to Tanner--before this day that is. He knew, of course, that the moon affected the ocean's tides, and he remembered his grandfather in Kentucky planting different crops at different times, according to the moon's phases, but never before had he considered what effect the moon – or any of the other planets for that matter – had on him. And before today, he just assumed that his dreams were nothing more than random thoughts haphazardly thrown together into vague, incomprehensible stories. Was he wrong? He again wondered.

After taking one last breath of fresh air, Tanner stepped back inside and locked the doors. Looking more perplexed than ever, he went into his bedroom and lay down, not intending to sleep. But a long week had taken its toll, and within minutes he was out cold.

The sun wasn't even up when Tanner was awakened by a loud banging on his door. Alarmed, he leapt to his feet knowing that he had overslept. He ran to the door and flipped on the outside light. There, through the window, he saw Mike, looking very distressed.

"Oh – my – God!" Mike exclaimed as Tanner opened the main door.

Saying nothing, Tanner unlocked the storm door and ran back to his room. He threw off his towel, pulled on a pair of underwear and began rifling through his closet. Mike entered just as Tanner pulled out his empty suitcase.

"Don't," Tanner warned, holding out his hand. "Don't say a word."

Ignoring his tone, Mike became hysterical. He began rambling on and on about already being late and missing their flight. Tanner quickly became irritated and threw a small bag across the room, hitting him in the groin.

"Ouch," Mike winced.

"Quite bitchin' and help me!" Tanner barked, pointing to an open drawer.

"I don't know what you want to bring."

"Just grab my shorts and some T-shirts."

"Tanner," Mike exclaimed, "this stuff isn't even folded."

"So what. Just throw'em in. I'll worry about it later."

Though it nearly killed him, Mike did as Tanner asked, and in less than twenty minutes they were out the door, in Mike's car, and on their way to the airport.

As late as they were, Mike still drove the speed limit and stopped completely at every stop sign. He even anticipated every yellow light, applying the brake well ahead of each intersection. Tanner knew Mike was a cautious driver, but this, he thought, was ridiculous. To him, it seemed as if Mike was trying to punish him somehow. But rather than getting aroused, Tanner remained calm, as did Mike--until they got stopped by a train, that is, a slow-moving train. In fact, it soon stopped.

For the next ten minutes, Mike was unrelenting. He kept asking Tanner the same questions over and over again: "How could you possibly oversleep on a day like this? Why didn't you set you alarm? How are your friends going to feel if we're not in Miami to meet them?" Tanner simply sat in silence, occasionally reassuring him that everything would be fine and that they would make it in time.

Once the train had passed, Mike drove with more urgency, and they soon arrived at the airport. They quickly parked, grabbed their bags, and dashed into the terminal building. But once at the ticket counter, they stopped abruptly. There wasn't another soul in sight.

"Oh no," Mike said, gasping for air, "it's already gone."

Tanner was briefly confused, for it did indeed appear as if they had missed their flight. But somehow, despite the evidence to the contrary, he knew the trip was destined to be. He could simply feel it.

"What are we going to do now?" Mike asked, dropping his bags and bending over to catch his breath. Becoming eerily calm, Tanner didn't respond. Instead he stood completely still, blankly looking ahead. "Well," Mike continued, swallowing hard between panting breaths, "what should we do?"

Without turning his head or breaking his gaze, Tanner calmly, matter-of-factly announced, "It's still here."

Straightening up, Mike looked puzzled as he said, "What?"

"I said, it's still here," Tanner repeated, while walking away.

Mike shivered as he looked off to where Tanner had been staring. But he didn't see anything that would logically explain his response.

"Are you sure?" Mike asked loudly.

Tanner turned his head slightly and said, "I'm positive."

Looking bewildered, and still unconvinced, Mike collected his bags and ran past Tanner to the nearest information monitor. Once he found their flight number, he drop his suitcase, sat on it, and looked up to Tanner as he approached.

"Thank god," he gasped.

Tanner looked calm, cool and detached on the outside, but he was feeling giddy and grinning on the inside. He glanced at the monitor before peacefully continuing on, leaving Mike panting and speechless.

Once at the gate, Tanner checked in and took a seat just outside the mass of weary, impatient travelers. Mike wasn't far behind, and after checking in himself, he tentatively sat down next to Tanner, leaving an empty seat between them. After an uncomfortable minute of silence, Mike swallowed hard and asked, "How did you know, Tanner?"

"Know what?" Tanner responded, playing dumb.

"About the flight," Mike fired back angrily. "How did you know it was here?"

Tanner briefly thought about the question. Though this was hardly the first time he had reached beyond his five senses for information, he wasn't sure how or why he was, at times, able to do so. He again looked like he was a thousand miles away when he responded, "I don't know, Mike . . . I honestly don't know."