Air and Water

Two professors sat outside the restaurant on wooden picnic tables enclosed by a chain link fence. They talked while they waited for their food. The sun was low in the sky and a cold metal wind began to blow, pushing the star down under the horizon.

"I was reading today, about sleep paralysis," the scruffy-faced one said, “are you familiar with it?"

“Yea, I’ve had it maybe once or twice," said the shorn one disinterestedly as he leafed through a pile of napkins.

"It happens to me frequently, maybe once every 40 days, so naturally I was curious and did some reading on the matter," the hairy one replied, pulling on his beard as he spoke. "It's strange, all the similarities between reported cases, across culture and time. The fact that science can name it but not understand it bothers me. Those who've experienced it always describe a kind of malevolent presence, a shadowy form that wishes to do harm. I myself have seen and felt the thing, had it press down on me and whisper into my ear dark words I could not understand."

The shaven man interrupted, "I think it's not nearly as strange as you give it credit for. It's not surprising that people see, feel, and hear similar things - we are all wired the same. It's natural that a feeling of paralysis would induce great fear, which, if felt during the night, in a state between sleep and wakefulness, might cause the mind to create a hallucination, a phantom."

Proud of his explanation, the clean-faced man sipped deeply from his beer and turned the can in his hand, reading the label and smiling, drinking his assumed triumph.

"Yes, yes," the bearded man replied, "of course no one can dispute that we are all very much alike, biologically. However, consider for a moment how, in spite of all this sameness, there exists a seemingly infinite variety; in taste, love, dress, expression, thought. Does it seem logical then that all people would see the same darkly clad phantom creeping in their bedroom?" The bearded man put down his brisket and turned more fully toward the smooth faced man. As he spoke his hands danced through the air and gave shape to his words. "What if instead, some metaphysical communication were taking place? What if the mind, once placed into a susceptible state, could be contacted by the projection of another being's consciousness?"

The clean shaven man waved his fingers to shoo away the other man's words, dispelling them. "Oh, come on," he said impatiently, "now you're just making things up. None of this is probable, or even provable; it's mere conjecture. Show me the evidence for this and I'll entertain the idea. Otherwise, don't waste my time with magic and mystery.”

Smiling, the bearded man drank from his beer. “Does science explain everything? Can it? Might there be something we could marry to science that would provide us a more complete picture? I mean, you must admit that science has its shortcomings, no?

“No,” the baby-faced man replied, “science, given enough time, can explain everything, always. It is self correcting”

“Ah, always is a strong word, my friend. You’re making a dangerous argument. You are saying science can always explain everything, that given enough time there will never be a thing science cannot unravel.”

“Yes. And you’d do best to admit it yourself, instead of wasting your time drawing attention to things you think science cannot explain,” he said.

“Very well then,” said the bearded man, “but doesn’t science’s power, at least in some part, emanate from the idea that there are things we do not understand but want to, and could, with proper investigation? Mystery and magic are necessary for science, fascination is the precursor to understanding, is it not? When we observe a phenomena but do not understand it, our curiosity and desire summon the salve of science to demystify that which is seemingly inexplicable. Without magic, then, there cannot be science. So do not denounce magic and its power over the imagination, for it is the charming spark which kindles learning.”

A cold breeze blew and knocked over a mostly empty bottle of ketchup with a dull clink. A couple at a neighboring table had been eavesdropping and decided to take the opportunity to interject. The man, thin and spectacled, spoke first, “I don’t mean to be rude, but I couldn’t help myself; could I weigh in?”

“Of course,” said the bearded man.

“Well,” the thin man continued, “in university I studied anthropology, specializing in occult practices across cultures, and I can say definitively that there is a great deal of similarity when it comes to demonology. There is evidence to suggest that there has existed always in our understanding, a kind of a collective consciousness. In this consciousness is stored all the beliefs, feelings, thoughts and sentiments of civilization up to that point. This is why we can agree on universal fears; of the dark, of that which is monstrous, of loneliness. Each of us, on our own, must encounter the monsters in the closet, the ghosts and ghouls, the Boogeymen. It is believed that these ideas and symbols are stored in our memories, and from them emerge patterns of behavior and understanding, a kind of spiritual instinct."

A waitress broke the silence with a soft excuse me as she placed little electronic candles on the wooden table to stave off the dark a bit longer. On a nearby bench a group celebrated as a new member sat down to join them. A somber southern song sang out on the air, sailing sweetly from sad speakers. Yellow headlights rolled past as cars drove by and then stopped. All around them the sound of human contentment bustled; inside a sly smile, a sympathy-stealing pout, a deep groan of satisfaction, fluttering butterfly laughter. At their feet pigeons ambled about patiently, waiting for fallen scraps.

“You mean to say what, precisely,” the shaved man asked as he fidgeted in his chair, shifting his weight and growing spastic. “You mean to say that there is some primal, a priori knowledge inside each of us, signifying feeling, lending color and shape to those things shapeless?”

“Well, I mean, think about it,” the spectacled man’s partner interrupted. “If a group of people all sit in a small body of cold water, does the water not get warmer? Doesn’t everyone’s perception of the temperature occur independently yet at the same time together, and doesn’t each persons’ presence in the pool affect everyone else’s? These people become an intricate network, influencing and being influenced.”

“Oh come on,” said the smooth faced man, “we are not in a body of water, we are in air!”

“One need only go into a room and fart to see the fallacy of your logic,” said the bearded man as they all laughed.