What a Fool Believes

Submitted by Gordon Atkinson on Wed, 01/04/2012 - 12:14

Foy Davis driving up highway 1 north of Los Angeles in a red Mustang convertible. His left hand is on the steering wheel and his right hand is holding a half-eaten In-N-Out Burger. On the passenger side floor is a cooler filled with Diet Cokes. On the seat beside him is a computer and a bag of Pepperidge Farm Goldfish. He’s listening to the Doobie Brothers Greatest Hits CD and has it turned up loud. A range of steep hills are on the right; the Pacific Ocean is on the left.

He sees a hitchhiker on the right side of the road. As he passes the man, they make eye contact. Foy turns his head, watching the hitchhiker until he is looking at him over the back seat. He looks forward to check the road and then into the rear view mirror. The man is still watching Foy’s car.

“Holy shit, that guy looks just like me.”

He pulls over to the side of the road and watches the man in the rearview mirror. The hitchhiker is staring at Foy’s car but makes no move toward it.

Foy turns around to look at the guy. But the rear window of the minivan has darkened glass, so it’s hard to see him. On the seat beside Foy is a duffel bag with a Greyhound bus tag tied to it. There’s a pocket on the side of the duffel bag with a baby bottle in it.

Foy looks up and down the highway and makes a u-turn. He’s driving a red 1973 Toyota Corolla with standard transmission. The gear shift knob has been replaced with the wooden top from a bottle of English Leather cologne. The Toyota has an after-market air conditioner under the dashboard that doesn’t work very well. On the seat beside Foy is a chess set and a red striped candy cane. There’s a Doobie Brothers cassette tape in the tape deck; What a Fool Believes is playing.

He passes the hitchhiker again, this time staring at him out of the driver’s window. He slows and makes another u-turn. Then he pulls his car over next to the hitchhiker. The guy is wearing blue jeans, white tennis shoes, and a plain beige t-shirt. He has a ragged black backpack slung over one shoulder and is holding a Nerf football. He looks amused.

“What are you doing driving a Mustang convertible, preacher?”

“I’m not a preacher anymore.”

“Yeah, I know all about that, preacher.”

He tosses his backpack and Nerf football into the back seat and holds up a bag. “You want an In-N-Out burger?”

“Hells yeah,” says Foy, leaning over and opening the door.

They drive in silence for a few miles, eating their burgers. Foy looks at the hitchhiker. He looks at his shoes and his jeans and his hands. The man has a scar on his left index finger. Foy rubs a scar on own his left index finger with his left thumb. The man catches Foy looking at him and smiles. Foy flashes his fake smile back and stares straight ahead.

“You look a lot like me.”

“I’d say I look exactly like you, Foy. Spitting image.”

They pass a young girl wearing ragged clothes and selling candy out of 1930s cigarette-girl tray. Foy stares at her as they go by and then turns to look at the man.

“Are you who I think you are?”

“Yes and no. I am who you think I am. But I’m also someone you can’t possibly imagine or comprehend. I’m sorry, but I can’t explain it any better than that. I will say this: I know you’ve seen the little girl selling candy before, and I know where you saw her. And I know why you had a candy cane in your car a few minutes ago.”

They pass two signs. One says Texas Highway 118. The other says Fort Davis 23 miles. Foy notices the ocean is gone. He’s driving a Ford pickup truck. The man is wearing a fisherman’s fedora and is holding a Whataburger bag. Looking at him is like looking in a mirror.

“I’m dreaming, aren’t I?”

“Yes.”

“So none of this is real?”

“That’s where you’re wrong, Foy. This is the most real thing you’ve ever experienced. Far more real than the little island memories you have of your life, sticking up here and there above the deep waters. What’s more, this is now a lucid dream. Do you know what that is?”

“It’s where you’re dreaming and you know you’re dreaming.”

“That’s right. And those are very rare. Lucky people have maybe two or three in their entire lives. I suggest you make the most of the time we have together.”

“And you really are who I think you are?”

“Who do you think I am?”

“The Creator.”

The hitchhiker takes a bite of his Whataburger, chews it and swallows. He pushes the brim of his fedora back and says, “I am your creator. Yes.”

“Wow. Can I ask you three questions?”

“I’m not a genie.”

“I’m not asking for wishes. Just questions.”

“Okay, one question. Make it a good one.”

They drive in silence for a few miles. Foy finishes his Whataburger.

“Here’s my question: Am I okay?”

“Help me understand what you mean by okay.”

“I mean are you okay with me. Does my life seem okay to you? Are you…I don’t know…pleased with me?”

The man laughs. “I should have known. I can answer that question for you. But if I do, you won’t remember this dream. If you want to drive with me and talk about things, we can. And you’ll remember most of it, like you do with some dreams. But if I answer that question, you won’t remember any of this when you wake up.”

“Damn. That’s hard.”

“Do you want to hang out with me or do you want to know what I think of you? You can have either, but the second one has its price.”

Foy looks at the man’s face. Then he looks at the scar on the man’s left finger.

“I want to know. I need to know it, even if it’s just for this dream.”

The hitchhiker puts his left hand on Foy’s shoulder.

“What I tell you, you will only know for a moment. But you will know it fully in that moment, Foy Davis, even as you are fully known.”

He leans over and whispers in Foy’s ear.

~~~

Sleep well, Foy. I created you in my own image. And here is a deeper mystery, one which even I do not understand. Somehow you have been creating me as well.

Gordon Atkinson

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The whole Foy Story collection can be found at FoyDavis.com

Here are the Foy stories that have some of the dream imagery from this piece in them:

Childhood Like a Dream