Topanga Fire
Short Story — Some people are crazy enough to follow their dreams…
Idy wanted to call it OPERATION: STAR CRAWL. Valissa thought it sounded too menacing. Cal said nothing, his hand gripped firmly on the wheel, smirking under his dark shades.
“Our Vision is not one of menace…” Val preached as they roared down the California desert highway in the stolen mustard yellow ’69 Chevelle with the soft top down. “Not entirely anyway…” she continued, “Our goal, sister, is one of metacognition… mnemonic witchcraft… dissolving the māyā of dichotomy… we shall remind the People of what they already know.”
Val was always talking like that, but now it was more than ever. Like, they actually went through with it. Life is different — that is, mutates beautifully — when you no longer have dreams to dream, because you are the dream, and all you have is the road now. The road and your two best friends, lovers, kindred, whatever…screaming and ecstatic hair tossing to loud rock ’n’ roll (so loud the oncoming cars you play chicken with hear the shrill guitar distortion zoom by leaving those…
