To Break Reality
_____________
Soliloquy
“Its hard for me to be told that I'm evil,
because I think of myself as someone,
who is filled with love”
Hello!
My name is Vegard, and I'm unhappy.
Now, let me tell you, I'm not greatly unhappy. The past year has been tough for me, but it has also been the most rewarding year of my entire life.
I''m unhappy, yes ; but it is not like I wake up in the morning and battle with the urge to kill myself.
Throw myself over a bridge perhaps, maybe tie a noose around the beam over my bed and end it myself - nor have I ever felt a strong inclination to cock back the hammer of a 9mm handgun and blow my brains out. No, I'm not that kind of unhappy. Happy is simply a feeling I experience increasingly less like a person slowly losing his eyesight. Let it be said, I have no idea how losing ones eyesight is. I cannot even begin to think of what psychological and physiological horror such an event would spurr in someone. If I allow myself to imagine though, I would assume that the first things to go would be the colours – First the vibrant red, then the sharp yellow; after a while the greens of the meadows would slowly seep out. All the while, you would be there like “I'm losing my sight – all the beauty in the world is slowly dissipating in front of my eyes. Like tears in rain.
Slowly, the world would lose even form. Without the ability to distinguish colors, the world would perhaps lose itself in contours and lines of grey, distingushable only because of the pitch black. Slowly and certainly, even those contours would fade. First, the mountains – capped white in winter, but teeming with life come summer – would fade off. Next, the forests and trees would become greyp backdrops – like before the movie starts at the cinema. In the end, houses would fade. Getting to your neighbor would prove a challenge, then the road beneath your feet would vanish. Soaring on clouds grey, even you yourself would dissappear. The hand in front of your face, such a sure and permanent part of you, would gradually drift away and become lost. Then theres just black. The only remaining sensation of you being you and here, is that feeling of all those skeletal limbs trudging on aimlessly towards some point in the world that – hopefully – exists.
But I Digress, I guess you think I'm a bit melodramatic; A tinge of crazy perhaps, yet I assure you I'm no such thing. I am simply an ordinary guy, with a bit of a story to tell; and I believe that story will have a somewhat happy ending – though were or how that ending is remains elusive even to me. So please read the attached story, and I truly hope you enjoy it.
NB!!
I stayed up all night reading the story I just wrote and I realized that I have to explain something to you before you delve in. Now, this story is true in some ways, in others not. I am a real person, and I have done a lot of things, yet some of the events that will play before your eyes as they travel the length of these pages will seem “Fantastic” or “magical” - in lack of better words. However, they are real and have to deal with a rather complex topic. Namely, breaking reality. Now, you say “Breaking Reality? That's pure nonsense. I'm gonna put this book down, go have a nice long bath and never pick it up again” You have all the right in the world to do just that, I am well aware of it, but I think and hope your mind is sufficiently enticed to trudge on – through to the very end. I would be very glad if you did. My brothers said “Breaking Reality” made no sense, but I hope you disagree.
Now...yes! It is getting late, I am a bit tired, but I was about to explain to you what exactly I mean by “To Break Reality”. I coined the expression myself a few nights ago, and it has to do with what I have experienced and struggled with for a large portion of my life. Ok, here it goes. You see the quote on the top of the page? I stole it from an amazing man, Stephen Fry. Well, I did not steal it per say; He never wrote does words so its not exactly stealing, but he did say them. At a seminar, he and Hitchens (may he rest in peace!) debated alongside members of the Chatolic Church, and it was there he said those exact words. As a famous-bipolar-gay-person, he said that he found it hard to be told that he was evil - as the church dictates - because he viewed himself as someone who was full of love. Now, this struck a cord with me; not only because I felt very struck by the quote, but also because It made a poignant point about reality. Reality is subjective, not at all objective. We do not perceive the same world! In the world of an Orthodox-Catholic minister (pun intended), Fry is undeniable evil. “Men shall not lie with men”. However, in the reality Fry was in he was a good person, who only wanted to help others.
Myself, I have often felt that my reality was the wrong one. I did not see the reality people around me saw. For example, I get praise all the time – as you will become aware of if you read this story. But, I only hear the negative things people say about me. This has had very bad effects on me. I am - as said before – unhappy and struggle with a lot of things. Sometimes, I scream. I bark at myself every chance I get and focus on all the mistakes I have done, I do not see the good in me anymore.
Therefore, I imagine that some point in the past there was a Tear in Reality – it broke – and I got lost in another reality than my own. And that is – in difficult words, I know – what this book is about. It is about a boy and a young man; and how they in the span of a year “Broke Reality” and found the ability to smile again.
Enjoy, I hope I have not put you off by my malicious, good-for-nothing philosophies. I hope in your reality, my book and my story is somewhat enjoyable.
Vale!
Vegard Løvereide Lindtner
Ch1
Of the Moon, Hitting a Wall and Growing ones Hair out
The night had been endless, as well as sleepless. The time was 4.35 and birds were chirping outside, seemingly afraid if they failed to do so, all humans would oversleep and miss the day entirely. Deciding sleep would not come, I flicked on the TV and rummaged through the channels. Lying on the sofa proved harder than anticipated; I first fell asleep at ch84, where a night preacher was on a tiresome tirade about Samson of the bible. Five minutes after, when he was beginning to spout a range of theories Regarding the suffering of Job, I woke again – so I switched the channel.
I needn't worry waking my girlfriend, she was out of town for the weekend – some champagne-spa or what-not with her friends. I did not especially care, come to think of it I actually enjoyed spending time alone. Not that I disliked her in any way, it was just that sometimes I needed a little space to stretch my elbows and wear nothing but underwear all day.
This went on for quite some time; Me meandering through the channels in and out of sleep. I even tried going back to bed once. However, when I came to lie there. I felt completely awake, as if my whole séance in front of the TV had been nothing but a dream and I had just woken up. Giving up on the bed, I returned to the Sofa. Kardashian dropped her top and Jeremy Piven lectured on his modus operandi when growign a full german moustache.
After a while, if not two, I noticed a pang of hunger. Out of nowhere, it was so sudden I almost fell out of the couch. This was a hunger like no else. Not like the at-work-all-day-long-with-no-food hunger, or the slightly more surmountable friday-chill-out-snack hunger – no this was a hunger of an other world. It felt like I had been dropped in a traphole by busty amazons and left to suffer for a month. That was the kind of hunger this was.
Frantically, I rose not even minding my drowsiness. I opened the refrigerator, but found nothing but tomato beans and three beers. Disillusioned, I grabbed a can of beer and sat down on the sofa. Flicking it open, my eyes happened to find the window. Outside, a bright full-moon cut across the sky. Though somehow it did seem different from any moon I had seen before. The weather was clear and no skies had dared venture into the expanse of the moon, a fine night. A termometer left of the windowsill told me that the temperature was not half bad either – a pleasant eighteen degrees, give or take. Sipping at my beer, to the brisk interlude of der Zauberflöte playing at channel 104 – Simon Keenlyside as Papageno – I thought about the strangeness about this moon. The very moon that was outside my window right now, hovering on an expanse of dark. Sure, the “normal” moon has been connected with a lot of fairytales e.g werewolves, witchcraft and/or temperamental women. Was that how we got the term period from? My time of the month. My time of the moon cycle. Casting away the afterthought, my musings continued as Papageno had a sip of wine.
If there is, in folklore, an association between the fullmoon and strange events how did this come to be? And how can we translate that to our modern understandings of the moon. Hmm, not even drunk and here I am thinking about the moon at well past four. Now, I could not say for sure at this point that there was anything strange about this moon, but I was probably a sevent out of ten sure. This moon felt like another moon than the one I had seen before. Unsure, I Noticed that my can was empty. I rose, trudged sluggishly across the room and grabbed another can of beer. As I reached for it into the fluorescent shine of the refrigerator, my stomach growled; Reminding me I was still hungry. Then, as Papageno found his Papagena, complete silence.
As if a monster had swallowed the world whole, and we were now well on our way down its succofagus the world was emptied of sound in an instant. Everything continued mind you. The breeze whiffed at the trees, but the leaves did not rustle. The birds cried out, yet no sound escaped their lungs. Only the TV headed on aimlessly, not caring if it lost its sound. Dumbfounded, I turned around in a circle and listened. As this happened, the moon brightened and shone fiercer as if it was trying to tell me something, yet I did not listen to the moon; Though I could not hear it, my stomach was all that existed. My stomach, which told me that it was hungry without even making a sound.
A wallet and a bat later and I was racing down the expressway on my Honda motorcycle. Somehow, that silence had made me realize two things. I had to find food and I had to stop this hunger, even if I had to rob a place – so deep was my hunger. I throttled the gas, but did not hear it. Still no sounds existed, the world passed by in a blur. The only thing telling me the world was still spinning was the fact that my gauge told me I was approaching 100mph. There were no convenience stores open in the suburbs where I lived. Only white wooden facades lined my view, interjected by the occasional green park or skyscraper.
As I coasted onwards, the moon floated above, as if guiding my way. After a few turns left, I got onto the highway towards the city. It was a good twenty minute drive, but I could make it in fifteen.
Passing a dozen closed stores did little to deter me; I was going to find a place to buy– or, rob – some food. As my headlights cut through the darkness, I passed countless buildings of all shapes and sizes; Highrises, jam packed with windows both lit and not. Villas, some alight with party, others defended by walls and armed guards at the gates. I passed by gymasiums, swimming pools and cinemas – all dark and closed. Drifting through the darkness like this, I felt like I was the only one alive. Me and the moon. Like all the sounds and colours of the day belonged not to myself, but to different people living different lives; People who lived in villas or highrises, who bathed in swimming pools and went to the cinema. I was not in their world, people in that world slept at night. What a strange way to live?
5.25, green luminous hands told me as I approached the Bridge leading to the city. Crossing it, the moon stretched ominously across the water - coating it silver. Taken aback, I slowed down, stopped my bike and looked at first on the moon in the water. Silent, it floated beneath that surface, occasionally twitching and turning as the waves dictated. Entranced, I craned my neck upwards and gazed towards the heavens. There it hung, millions of meters above ground, so sure of itself as it trailed across the galaxy - reflecting the light of the sun with diligent efficiency. Casually, it dictated the tides and the waves of the ocean. Diligently it observed the planet and adjusted itself just so that it managed to reflect the sunlight exactly to where it was needed – not even a little bit off. What if there were two moons?
I thought to myself. No, if the planet had two moons it would be total, absolute chaos. Two celestial objects vying for the rule of the tides and the night. A sure-as-day catastrophe. Content, I laughed at myself for thinking so unnaturally, stretched my back, inhaled and exhaled slowly whilst counting to eight, before looking down at the bike between my legs. I padded the black leather seat reassuringly to sort of say “at least i'm not alone and I'm still here – chasing food with my Honda”.
As I came to the city, my hunger stopped. All of a sudden, that insatiable hunger that had led me here disappeared. I felt nothing whatsoever. How come? I had no answer, so I drove on, past a convenience store and a bakery loaded with fresh french croissantes – ready made for the people who ate croissants in the morning. Numerous food vendors blurred past, some in stalls lit with vibrant and colored neon signs – others in shops in houses of all colors, but I kept going. I had no reason to stop.
6.05 came and I found myself on the other side of the city – headed towards the mountains on the far end - as the sun peeked anxiously over the hills ready to relieve the moon. I was all alone on a stretch of road – four lanes wide and straight as hell. Mountains paralleled me on both sides - still capped in white, but relieved by green further down - narrowing in on me. The sun rose over the hills, which objected by reflecting the sun's yellow in the reddest of crimson. Red was the landscape as the moon handed the baton to the sun and disappeared completely; I veered left, off the highway. Soon there would be another world here – where people went to their jobs and swam in pools and lived in mansions. How terribly dull. The steering wheel shook when my tires found grabble. I barely dodged a tree and crashed straight into the rock wall. How strange to feel so lost. Well, at least I'm not hungry.
Waking up in the ER was an arduous experience. Why couldn't I just have died? The doctors said I had been incredibly lucky, coming from the experience with no physical damage at all – at all! Now, apparently I had not crashed into a rock surface. In my confusion, I had veered left off of the road and struggled with the terrain for some considerable distance before crashing into a Billboard – enamored with mountain scenery. Nonetheless, one doctor would say “That you're even still alive is a miracle, smashing into wood and plaster at that speed is nothing short of deadly”, another would push his glasses back with his index and rant about “you were driving way to fast, no wonder you lost control. You ought to be more careful. we'll have to report this to the authorities”. A third doctor indulged me with the luscious detail of motion theory, as if indulging me in a secret of state. He had black googles so you could not see his eyes, but I understood what he meant nonetheless. Every now and then, his left eye would twitch and he walked with a limp. Apparently, as speed increases so does the mass of the object. So, if you hit water at a leisurely ten mph you'll make a splash. However, if you hit water in 150 mph, the water will feel and act as concrete. Yet, I didn't really become intrigued before he told me how mass functioned in space. Now that was mind-blowing! Nonetheless, that was about all I got out of his lecture.
Numerous tests ensued. I had to take an MRI, its purpose still illudes me; A blood test; A full x-ray examination from head to toe. That done, I had to wait till the results came back, which wasn't half bad since the vending machine outside the room Nurses in white robes and tiny shoes which made loud noises had led me to was quite well stocked. I spent the most of the time wondering whether to pick the quarter litre can of pepsi, or the complete half litre of fanta. Deciding I was not thirsty, I returned to the waiting room.
After half an hour or so - I couldn't really tell since my watch had been broken in the crash, my girlfriend came back. Apparently I had inconvenienced her some by crashing flat into a billboard. Not only was she worried, but so were all her friends whom were very disappointed they had to cancel this once-in-the-year event. I explained to her that it was only a billboard and began lecturing her on motion theory, when she cut me off.
- You really are something aren't you?
- No, I'm simply saying as speed increases so does the mass of the object. Imagine if you wanted to kill someone with a baseball bat. You wouldn't simply drop it on him, no. You would swing with all you...
- I'm not talking about that....
- What then?
- Well, what if that had been a real mountain, not a billboard.
- Ehm, that doesn't matter really, doctor said....
- No!...what if you had died?
The conversation continued in this vein for some time. She was clutching my hand all the time, so hard it felt like she was trying to strangle it. She looked down all the time, at the hand she was trying to strangle. I was somewhere off, I couldn't really stop thinking about how Galileo Galilei managed to get the fundamentals of the tides wrong in his dialog to the church.
As she began to sob, I woke from my musings. Returning to the world, I brushed her long dark locks gently aside. Grabbing her by the chin, I motioned her neck upwards till our eyes met. She had a pretty face, not beautiful but pretty nonetheless. I say pretty because she had certain down-to-the-earth features such as a strong chin and a bit misplaced nose, but it was a pretty face nonetheless and it was all mine. We gave each other a wet kissed. I said sorry, and she told me never to drive into a billboard again. Damn! I must have wrecked my bike. That beautiful Honda.
Limping in tiredly, the doctor with the black glasses told us that I were free to go, but they had been in contact with the police. I were to expect a court date, and before he limped out advised me to drive more carefully in the future.
As promised, I was summoned to court where I was duly charged with reckless driving. As I had been an exemplary citizen to this point - not to mention not caused anyone no harm, not even myself – I got a citation due in a week and one month in house arrest. Later that day, the police came and put a sensor around my ancle. Then they notified me of where I could go. “You are allowed to go to the shops - and the local facilities – the alarm won't go off until you're more than five miles from your house. That said, a officer with a brown moustache and a coffee stained smirk announced that I could not move faster than 10mph. 10Mph! I thought, Bet I could run faster than that! I did not really know, so I voiced no concerned; I just nicked consciensciously to the officers as they packed their cases and left.
That done, I went to the kitchen. My girlfriend - Naome is her name in case your wondering – was off at work till late, and she told me not to expect her before nine or ten in the evening – so I had six hours left and five miles to move about in. It was a decent day, a bit overcast but without any hints of wind or rain. The newscaster had warned about storm today, but looking out my window I saw no traces of it. I felt hungry, so I checked the fridge, now filled to the brim with lettuce, avocado, tomatoes, corn; Cheese, both blue and white, solid and liquid; A jar of raspberry jam, another of ecological honey; Ham, Shrimp, smoked salmon and minced meat plus a years supply of chewing tobacco; I resolved to make myself a blue cheese salmon sandwich, on a bed of lettuce and tomato. Whilst assembling the sandwich, the radio played Beethoven's Ode to Joy . Finished with the sandwich, I noticed an urge to pee – so I proceeded to the bathroom to relieve myself.
Sandwich in hand. I gazed at myself in the mirror as I pee'd. Brown curls meandered down my forehead, where a three day stubble relieved them. Contracting and expanding my sternum, I deduced that I was in fact in quite good shape. I was not extraordinaly fit in any way - I had a bit of a tummy – but my muscles were tones, nothing sagged and everything seemed in order. Even the sound of my urine splashing in the toilet had a healthy sound, a nice transparent color too. And right then and there, staring at my peeing self in the mirror – sandwich in hand – was when I decided to let my hair grow.
