So now I lie on my back and try to make sense of something that defies conventional order, and this is perhaps the hardest thing anyone can ask me to do. In the time I’ve been on this trip, my father has shown up in my dreams twice, both times we have been in Cheyenne Wells, Colorado, and I have been a little boy. I wonder what that means, or if it means anything at all. If I were an oneirologist, which is a person who studies dreams, I might have some basis for understanding this. I am not an oneirologist. And what of Fremont and Preuss? I can’t make sense of that, either. I remember watching a program on their expeditions and thinking that Preuss was the kind of person I would like, because he was very particular about things, just like I am. This quality made him a good cartographer but a bad explorer, and the program noted that Preuss never seemed to grasp the import of the things he saw. For example, Preuss once happily wrote in his journal that some of the men in the traveling party had successfully negotiated with the Indians for some salt, which would make their food taste better. The program I saw noted that Preuss said nothing about the fact that they discovered Lake Tahoe around the same time. The narrator seemed to find this humorous, but, to be honest, I saw Preuss’s side of it. It’s hard to be impressed by big things when the little things are all messed up. He just wanted his salt, just like I want to know why I am adrift and why I’m being shown these things in my dreams.
There is a deductive device called Occam’s razor. The way it works is that when someone is trying to sort through multiple possible explanations for something, the hypothesis (I love the word “hypothesis”) that makes the fewest assumptions is generally the correct one. In other words, the simplest explanation is the best explanation, until and unless more information emerges that suggests a different reason. I like Occam’s razor for a lot of reasons, but the disdain for assumptions is my favorite part of it.
I decide to apply Occam’s razor to things. I turn on the bedside light, pull a notebook from my bag, and begin writing.
1. I came here to help Kyle, but he’s beyond my reach.
2. I also came here because I was feeling adrift.
3. I still feel adrift.
4. My father has visited my dreams twice, and both times he has been with me in Cheyenne Wells, Colorado.
5. John Charles Fremont and Charles Preuss visited my dreams, and they were explorers who mapped the way for others.
6. I need to find my way, and it doesn’t seem that anyone can map it for me.
7. Though I have to leave Boise, I don’t have to go home. I have eight days, including this one, before I leave Billings for Texas.
8. I’m going elsewhere. I think I will go to Cheyenne Wells, Colorado. Even if my father’s appearance there in my dreams is completely random, I would like to see the town again.
9. I’m done with the list now.
10. Now.
11. Shit.
I’m determined to stop writing, even though the last thing on my list is a curse word and an odd number. I manage to do it—I’m very proud—but I have to snap the pen in half to keep from writing down the number 12.
I feel better having made a decision about what to do next, but then my mind goes back to Kyle, and I feel bad all over again.
When Victor came home earlier tonight, all four of us sat at the kitchen table and talked. Victor impressed me. He was disappointed that Kyle called his mom a bitch and me a freak, but he did not yell at the boy. Kyle did all the yelling.
“You made me come to this stupid place and this stupid school. I never wanted to leave!”
Victor spoke to his stepson softly. “Kyle, you’re not the first kid who’s moved. I lived in four different cities when I was a kid.”
“That’s your problem!”
“No, it’s our problem. What are we going to do about it?”
“Like you’d give me a choice anyway.”
Donna spoke. “I think we need to talk to someone together, all of us, as a family.”
“Him, too?” Kyle pointed at me.
“Edward is going home.”
“Why?”
“Because we’re going to be busy here, and because he has to go to Texas to see his mom.”
“Not for eight days,” I said.
“Can he stay until then?” Kyle asked.
“No,” his mother said.
“Why not?”
“I just told you. Because we’re going to be busy.”
“This sucks.”
Victor pointed at Kyle with his left index finger. “Young man, I’ve warned you…”
“Yeah, whatever.”
Kyle stood up and shoved his chair hard against the table, and then he ran down the hallway to his room and closed the door.
Victor looked at Donna and then at me. Donna looked at the table. I looked out the sliding glass door to the backyard. The sky was purple and orange, and the leafless trees looked like spindly (I love the word “spindly”) black monsters against the sky. I don’t think I ever noticed how spooky trees can look. I’m noticing a lot of things I’ve never noticed before, and I’m finding that I don’t like all of the things I see.
It’s 5:34 a.m. now. I kick off the covers. I have a new route to plot. Time is wasting.
OFFICIALLY TUESDAY, DECEMBER 13, 2011
From the logbook of Edward Stanton:
Time I woke up today: 4:47 a.m. First instance this year that I’ve been awake at this time.
High temperature for Monday, December 12, 2011, Day 346: 23 (according to the Boise newspaper). Twenty degrees colder than the high the day before.
Low temperature for Monday, December 12, 2011: 20. Six degrees colder than the low the day before.
Precipitation for Monday, December 12, 2011: a trace amount.
Precipitation for 2011: 19.40 inches
New entries:
Exercise for Monday, December 12, 2011: Donna, Kyle, and I took a walk but came home early after Kyle mouthed off.
Miles driven Monday, December 12, 2011: None.
Total miles driven: 688.3
Addendum: Much earlier than I’d anticipated, I’m leaving Boise and cutting short my visit with Donna, Victor, and Kyle. I wrote yesterday that “fun” was the key word, and I’m sorry to report that we never managed to have any. I’m sad that I will not get to spend any more time with my friends, but I understand why Donna thinks I should go. As I still have a week before I’m due back in Montana for my flight to Texas, I will be turning south today and heading toward Cheyenne Wells, Colorado, in the southeastern part of the state. Though I do not believe that dreams hold any particular power, I am intrigued that my father has been showing up in mine and that he has been in Cheyenne Wells when he does. On the off chance that I’m wrong about dreams, I figure I better go there. It is 998.9 miles, and I am going to try to make it in two days, which means I’ll be driving farther each day than I ever have before. If I manage to do that, I can spend two days in Cheyenne Wells and still be back in Billings with a day to spare.
I realize I’m doing something unusual for me, in that I’m driving off the course I originally set and I’m doing so on a whim. But I think this venture will be worth it. If I’m correct and dreams hold no answers about why I am so adrift, at least I will have seen some countryside and a town I visited when I was a little boy. If I’m wrong and my dreams have been guiding me toward something, I will have to reconsider my strict adherence to facts and allow for the possibility that unexplained things, like my dreams, can have profound implications.