18: "Dream Of Californication"
Anthony stared after Dave as they
waded across the backstage area. They weaved around amps and equipment boxes,
toward stage left.
"Uh," Anthony uttered, then licked his lips. Dave
glanced over at him. Just as Anthony tripped over the neck of an electric blue
Ibanez. He stumbled and fell into Dave's arms.
The guitarist cracked a
smile. "You okay?"
"Yeah." Anthony stood up straight.
"You must
be really overtired."
Dave steppe dup to a door and turned its brass
knob. He pushed it open. They stepped into the darkness. Shadows of boxes
outlined every wall. And, amidst them, the form of a cot.
CLICK!
The boxes became brown, the cot a pale blue. Anthony stood in the middle
of the room and stared ahead.
"I'll come wake you up before my set."
Anthony turned around, and watched Dave's frame disappearing behind the
closing door.
"Dave, wait!" Anthony exclaimed. The door swung open
again, to a furrow browed Dave. "Can I talk to you a second?"
Cupping a
hand over his goatee, Dave ran a thumb across his chin. He shrugged. "Okay." He
slapped his arms to his sides and reentered the room. A shock of black hair
dripped down his face, through the centre of his left eye. He flipped his head
back and seated himself on a box.
Anthony sat down on the edge of the
cot, his eyes steady on Dave's. He stretched the muscles in his face. "What I'm
going to say..." He took in a heavy breath and released it. "I'm either going to
sound insane or full of sh**. Please just hear me out, keep an open mind."
Nodding, Dave rested a hand on each knee.
Anthony ran his thumb
and index finger across the glands in his throat. Even breaths. Eyes searching
Dave's, only finding an overwhelming aura of bewilderment. He lowered his hand,
"You believe in paranormal sh**, don't you, Dave?"
Dave's head raised
and lowered. "I believe in the supernatural, if that's what you're asking."
"Yeah, yeah," Anthony spoke evenly. "Something like that. Do you believe
in alternate realities?"
Dave smiled and snorted. Then scratched his
head. "I guess it's possible."
"It is possible." Anthony shifted where
he sat. He rubbed beneath his eye. "You remember to keep an open mind, right?"
"Yeah."
Anthony nodded. And sighed. "I'm..." He licked his lips.
"I'm from, like, an alternate reality. I don't understand how I got here, or
really what's going on. But I do know that I don't belong here."
Raising
his eyebrows, Dave stared. Silence permeated the air for a minute.
"Where I'm from though," Anthony continued. He gestured toward Dave with
a head-butt. "You were once a Chili Pepper."
Dave smirked. "I was?
During the punk rock or bubble gum pop era?"
"There was no bubble gum
pop era."
Leaning forward, Dave scratched the back of his neck.
"What really happened..." Anthony moved his hands as he spoke. "John
quit the band in 1992, and you replaced him about a year later."
Dave
raised an eyebrow. "Wasn't that after you stopped using instruments?"
Closing his eyes, Anthony shook his head. "That never happened. Brian
and Kevin were never part of the Chili Peppers. They're part of a boy band, the
Backstreet Boys. Their songs... they play what the Chilies do in this reality.
But, where I'm from, we continued to write our own songs. And, when you were in
the band, you wrote songs with us too."
"I was a Chili Pepper."
"Yes."
Dave stared at Anthony, then checked his watch. "F***! I
gotta get out to sound check! Can we continue this later?"
"Yeah,"
Anthony nodded, slouching. He watched Dave stand up and wander to the door.
The guitarist's fingers lingered on the knob. Holding a hand to his
head, he shook it. "Something about what you said...," he murmured, then turned
back to Anthony. His eyes widened. "Sounds f***ing familiar."
Anthony
sat up straight, his eyes illuminated. "Really?"
"Yeah!" Dave breathed.
His fingers slipped from the doorknob. "Sh**, yeah! Damn, this is twisted."
Mouth dropping open, a smile crossed Anthony's face.
"But
listen." The guitarist gestured toward the door. "I really do need to get out to
sound check. But let's talk about this after the concert, okay?"
Anthony
nodded. Dave reached for the doorknob again and turned it. "Sh**," he murmured
under his breath. He flicked off the light and left the room.
Pulse
racing, Anthony stared at the closed door. He lay back in the cot. He pulled the
blankets up to his chin and shut his eyes. In his mind's eye, he saw Michael...
no, Flea, to the left of him. His half naked form looked digital, like that of a
video game character. John Frusciante stood across from him, Chad Smith to his
right, both appearing as Flea. A cube hovered between the four, mirrors on all
sides. They each drove a fist into it. The glass parted as water and enveloped
their hands. A brilliant light flashed. As it waned, Anthony's eyes focused on
his smiling companions. Their flesh and their features appeared real again...
Real...
The image faded to black.
Anthony stood in the
darkness. He extended his arms in front of him and ventured forward. He could
feel the air in his hands. Moisture collected over his palms. A chill swept up
his spine, and he shivered. Flexing his fingers, he stepped deeper into the
abyss. Until he no longer felt floor beneath his feet. Or anything. His heart
skipped, and he clenched his eyes shut. And gulped. Stepping deeper.
An
energy force swept over him as a dry rushing wave from the sea. It slapped
against his chest, and he stopped. He stood in the nothingness.
"I do
dream you," a voice sang in a whisper, the tune echoing around him. "Allow me -
, to believe you - , are the real me."
Anthony squinted in vain. Gaping,
he furrowed his eyebrows. "John?"
"Hello, Anthony."
An ember
flickered into existence before Anthony's eyes. It shown upon the white
candlestick beneath it, its brass stand, the wiry fingers clutching it...
And a face. Anthony glanced over its features, at creases around full
lips, at the sunburst of fine lines around weary eyes. Shadows crossed a
forehead, just below shaggy locks.
Anthony smiled. "Hi, John."
"Anthony, there is something you need to know," gravely John replied.
Anthony sighed and nodded. "I know. I'm stuck in some kind of alternate
reality..."
"No!" John exclaimed, shaking his head. His eyes widened.
"This isn't a reality! This isn't real! It's all in your head!"
Anthony's jaw went slack.
John swallowed hard. "You're dying,
Anthony."
"I'm..." Anthony wagged his head. "I'm WHAT?!"
"You
wished for something. You made a wish tonight. Can you remember what you asked
for?"
Closing his eyes, Anthony saw himself laying on a sleeping bag,
beneath the night sky. He watched himself gaze into the stars and say, "I wish
they didn't see us the way they do. I wish they respected us."
Anthony's
eyes flew open. "Oh sh**! So... so the only way they'd respect us is if we were
a boy band?"
"No, Anthony." John heaved a sigh. He looked downward
before returning his attention to his friend. "That's what Aquarius wants you to
think."
"Aquarius?"
"Yeah! When you made your wish, Aquarius
answered it. He's the force that made you believe you're somewhere else. But
you're not. Anthony, don't you know the truth?"
Anthony shook his head
and stared into John's eyes.
"They only respect you when you're dead."
Taking a deep breath, Anthony closed his mouth and bit his lower lip. He
exhaled through his nose.
"You're getting your wish," John continued,
wide eyed. "Now Aquarius is becoming more distant. Unless you can reach him
again and reverse this, you're going to die. And then the rest of us."
A
breeze swept through the two, and blew out the candle.
"I answer these
questions now," John's voice whispered the song into the pitch blackness. "As to
why I'm the only one - , who carries answers to their fathers - , who carries
gray sky to the sun..."
Anthony bolted upright in the cot. Tossing the
blankets aside, he scrambled to his feet. And raced for the door.