Short Story Collection #2 — Miles Away

Short Story # 2 — MILES AWAY (3900 words)

Miles, an eleven-year-old boy, had only one priceless possession, a helmet left to him by his beloved grandfather, a German inventor, who had died a few years before. The helmet kept Miles awake and happy in his dreams.

MILES AWAY

Miles was eleven when I met him. He was mildly autistic. It was hard to pinpoint his abnormalities. He was withdrawn and silent. To communicate with him, you always had to start the conversation. Overall, he appeared to be an average kid. His mind seemed to work faster than his mouth. One could see frustration and despair while trying to express his thoughts. He had a peculiar tic—his left eye blinked when he seemed impatient. His sister Gretchen was my girlfriend. We were both seventeen. I thought she was the most beautiful girl on this planet.

Miles had been home-schooled; they said there was too much trouble at the public school. He had long suffered bullying and cruelty from his classmates.
Miles learned to love me because I treated him like any other person. I never treated him as if he had any mental disability. We were friends from the beginning.

His room was full of WWII memorabilia, all original stuff. He had boots, helmets, medals, diplomas, and other interesting things. He even had a first-edition book written by Sigmund Freud. His grandfather emigrated to the United States to escape Nazi persecution. He also had several notebooks written in German. Arranged in perfect order, everything in the room was his pride and joy. His grandpa had been an inventor.

Conversations with Miles were sometimes incoherent, but not when he was talking about dreams. That was his favorite subject. He appeared to be an expert in the matter. I never showed him indifference, regardless of how absurd his comments seemed. Gretchen and her dad avoided conversations with Miles about his dreams. They thought the dreams were interminable and boring.

I thought Miles’s mind was trying to balance his deficiencies with his abilities, the same thing that happens to blind people when some senses are heightened to compensate for the ability to see.

At first, deciding whether Miles was handsome was difficult, but the more time I spent with him, the more I realized he was a cute kid.

The day I knew I had gained Miles’ complete trust was when he showed me a helmet and mentioned that he wanted to share his dreams with me.

“Randy, let me show you something,” he said, “Look, this is the coolest thing ever. I call it ‘the dream projector.’ It helps me to travel in my dreams, and sometimes I can visit Grandpa.”

The thing was weird-looking. It was a gray helmet like the ones bicycle riders use. It seemed that the frame could be more solid or strong. It had gaps or slots, probably for ventilation, to prevent the head from sweating or the brain from getting too hot. Along the underside of the helmet were dozens of dull, hard rubber tips that looked like pencil erasers. It had copper wires and a few transistors.

Then, he continued, “This is my most precious treasure. I never use it for protection. I’ve been wearing it every night since Grandpa gave it to me.” After a short pause that seemed more like a moment of hesitation, he said, “Look, I love my dad, I adore Gretchen, and you’re okay, Randy, but my grandpa was something else.” As he said this, his eyes sparkled with tears and pride.

Afterward, when I asked Gretchen about the helmet, she said her grandfather built it himself and gave it to Miles just days before his death. Miles wouldn’t go to sleep without it, despite his dad’s insistence not to wear it in bed. It looked uncomfortable to use for several hours, especially in bed.

“I like my other me better than myself,” he said while tapping his chest with his right open hand. “I’m happier with my inside me,” he said.

“What do you mean, Miles? Is there another person inside of you?”

“Yes, he’s always there when I’m asleep. He is smart, has good brains, and can think better.”

“Can you communicate with him? Does he talk to you?” I asked.

“Are you crazy? He is me! There’s no need to talk to me, we think, that’s all. When I’m in there with him, we’re smart the same. I like him better than I like myself. Do you want to talk to him, Randy? You can borrow my helmet tonight if you want.”

“Is he inside your helmet?” I asked.

“No dummy, he’s in my dreams, ha, ha, inside my helmet. You’re a little retarded, Randy. Sorry, I didn’t mean to insult you, Randy. I would never do that; sorry, you’re my best friend.”

“It’s all right, Miles. I don’t feel insulted. You’re also my best friend. But tell me, Miles, how does your helmet work?”

“You just put it on your head before you fall asleep, and you start dreaming,” he said.

“But I’ve never needed a helmet to dream, and I’ve dreamed all my life without one.”

“Yes, but with my helmet, you can talk to me in your dreams, have real dreams, and see my dreams.”

“Well, it sounds complicated, but I’ll try it. Are you going to be okay without it for one night? Gretchen told me you haven’t slept without it since your grandpa gave it to you. What if you change your mind and I have it at home with me.”

“It’s okay, Randy. I can still have normal, boring dreams without it. Sometimes, I remove it in the middle of the night, and sometimes, I’m boring myself.”

“Before I take it, just tell me how it works. Does it need a battery or a charger? Do I need to connect it to an electrical receptacle?” I asked mockingly, which I immediately regretted.

“I don’t know how it works. My grandpa never gave me instructions. He just made it for me and said dreams are its energy”.

I didn’t know why I accepted to take it with me, but I was curious and wanted to be polite.

I had to admit that the device looked a little medieval. Like something you would expect a torture device to look like, like an apparatus someone would use to reanimate Frankenstein.

When I went home, I placed the “dream projector” on the nightstand beside my books. That night, I read a little bit until I got sleepy. After a while, as I reached for the lamp switch, I saw the helmet and grabbed it.

I put the helmet on in the dark. The blunt rubber tips inside the helmet rested on my thick hair. The tips felt like fingers, and when I moved my head, it felt like I was giving myself a massage. The way it feels when you’re shampooing your hair. It didn’t feel bad at all.

That night, I dreamed I was on the roof of a tall building, and I was afraid to fall. I was paranoid. The rooftop was tiny, a little bigger than my bed. I was lying on my back, grabbing the sides of the building with my extended arms. It was windy, and I was exhausted from resisting the wind. My fear was irrational and real.
Within my dream, I knew I was dreaming. I wanted the suffering to end, but I couldn’t. My terror kept increasing. When I noticed I wouldn’t be able to stop it. I decided to jump from the building. I thought it was my only escape. What a horrible nightmare. In the middle of my fall, I decided to control the dream and enjoy the ride instead of enduring such agony.

I went straight down at 100 miles an hour. After I relaxed, my mind took control of the situation and turned my nightmare into a sweet, beautiful dream. I could see the entire city, the sky, the clouds, and the horizon. I could fly above the treetops and go back up to the roof. I conquered my fears. I was happy.
When I woke up, I didn’t open my eyes or move. I was lying in bed, and I was sure that if I had been at the top of any building, I could have been able to jump and fly.

A moment later, I thought it was ridiculous.

When I opened my eyes, I had difficulty convincing myself that I’d been dreaming the entire time, including when I thought I was awake. Then, I removed the helmet from my head and wondered if I could’ve had the same dream without the helmet.

I realized there were two of me inside my dream! There was me, acting my dream, and the other me, watching me. Or the physical me dreaming in my bed and my other me inside my dream, and I liked the other me, the one with authority to control the dream. It seemed very clear.

“Did you wear it? Did you dream?” Miles asked the next day.
“Yes, Miles,” I said as I returned the helmet. “I wore it, but I wasn’t thinking about using it. I just put it on, fell asleep, and had a normal dream.”
“A normal dream?”
“Well, yes, nothing different. It was vivid, it felt real, and I enjoyed it because I could control it.”
“Did you like the other you better?”
“Yes, Miles, I liked my other me better.”
“You see what I mean now? Now we’re equal. I like my other me better, and you like the other you better.”
“What? Please wait a minute, Miles. There’s only one of me. The conscious one when I’m awake and the unconscious one when I’m asleep, but we’re the same. There’s no need to separate me in two (I felt a little stupid because I contradicted myself). When I say I like the other one better, it’s because I want to act like him in real life. I want to be unafraid and in control.”
“You have to admit it, Randy. You are feeling envy of the other you, but it’s amazing, isn’t it? This is your first dream, and you are already struggling with yourself and yourself.”
“No, Miles, it wasn’t my first dream. I don’t envy myself, and I’m not struggling with myself. But let me tell you one thing. You are a lot smarter than most of us. And don’t believe anybody that tells you otherwise.”

I was confused. I thought the damn thing was useless. It couldn’t protect your head, much less your brain. I was glad for Miles, though. The helmet was his only toy, and he loved it.

As for me, material things didn’t matter. I wouldn’t run to save anything during an earthquake. I would just run with myself and me.

The following day, Miles came up with an unbelievable commentary.

“Hey Randy, I saw your dream. I’m glad you know how to fly from the treetops to the roof of a tall building in just a few seconds.”
“What? That’s impossible, who told you about it? Nobody knows. I never told anybody that’s impossible, Miles. How could that be?”
“Randy, you shouldn’t be so surprised. It’s in my helmet. You knew that. Didn’t I tell you I wanted to show you my dreams?”

It just blew my mind! How is that possible? To know about that dream, he had to be inside my head unless the dream was somehow recorded in the helmet, but that’s so out of this world, so science fiction. There had to be a better explanation. I needed more evidence.

That was beyond normal comprehension. The world needed to know if the helmet could work like that.

I was going too far ahead on my conclusions.

Miles probably saw all the provocative questions in my head because he gave me the thing back and said, “Here, Randy, try again.”

*****

---

Gretchen wasn’t demanding or submissive. I knew she could be happy with me or without me. Gretchen had a strong character. She was also a little overweight. What some people might consider being on the verge of obesity, I would consider voluptuous.

Knowing that we were both virgins, I decided to experiment with her in my dreams.

Sometimes, when I did something repeatedly for hours during the day, I would dream about it. If I swam for hours or watched a movie that impressed me in any way, I would dream about that.

Gretchen and I would make love for the first time in my dream. There was no need to take any precautions: no condoms or promises. Oh, and I wanted lots of foreplay.

I imagined everything, including all my fantasies, and she would enjoy them too. We’d make love all night long. I’d take advantage of my experiment. After all, it would be just a dream.

I put the helmet on and concentrated on my future dream until I fell asleep.

I woke up with a big smile on my face. The dream I had with Gretchen was vivid and real. It was so real that when I woke up, I still had an erection. My penis was still sore in the morning. I’m sure it hadn’t been a wet dream because my underwear and the bedsheets were clean and dry.

The following day, after I returned the helmet to Miles, he said, “Randy, I saw what you did with Gretchen, you dirty man! I couldn’t believe it. I had to turn it off.”

I couldn’t find a rational reaction. I just said, “It was just a dream, Miles, don’t pay attention to it.”

I should have considered that Miles was going to be a witness to such a dream. That was not a PG13 dream, and I felt ashamed.

“I’m sorry you had to see such a shameful dream. Listen, Miles, I can’t control what I dream, I’m not an expert like you. Besides, I’ve been having wild dreams lately.”

“Don’t worry, I didn’t see the whole thing,” he said.

I realized I was in the middle of a complicated dilemma. Should I tell the entire world about this fantastic invention? Should I get a patent and sell it for a hundred million dollars?

A moment later, I discarded the idea. The helmet belonged to Miles, and I had nothing to do with it. Nevertheless, I knew the helmet’s future was in my hands. I could decide to keep it quiet or expose it to the world.

The potential was limitless, but I wasn’t concerned about its enormous value. This was something completely incredible. And I was enjoying it too much.

“How do you turn it off?” I asked Miles after a short pause. “You just tell yourself to wake up, as simple as that,” he answered.
“Please, Miles, don’t say anything to Gretchen about it, okay?”
“Why would I tell her? It was just a dream, right?”
“Yes, and completely unpremeditated.”

After that day, I asked Miles many questions regarding the helmet without trying to be too fussy. I didn’t want to lose his trust or his friendship. I asked him if I could read his grandfather’s notes and books. He accepted, but it was useless because it was mostly in German. Miles was the only expert on the matter.

“One day, I’ll be with my grandpa Dieter forever. He was my best friend, loved me, and was patient and caring. In the end, my grandpa was crazy like me. I know two crazy people can understand each other. After he died, he was in my dreams, and I felt safe there with him, only there. The helmet was our connection; he gave it to me to visit him in my dreams.” I saw his eyes sparkle again.

“I still miss Grandpa. I miss his caressing hands, his hugs, and kisses. Unlike in this life, where most people are cruel, I was always the hero in his stories. All things are better when I’m with Grandpa.”

Miles said the helmet transported him to another world, to another real world—better than the one we live in. He wanted to spend more time in his ‘dream world.’ He believed that one day, one world would cancel the other.
He said he wanted to erase bad memories from his past and add only good things to his future, and it broke my heart to hear him talk that way.

I tried to hide my enthusiasm for the ‘dream project’ with false indifference. I didn’t want anything to ruin our ‘partnership’. I told Miles that I wanted to experiment more. I asked him if we could alternate using the helmet, and he agreed.

*****

---

One night, a sinister idea came to my mind. I decided to go on a tour to hell. A totally drastic change from having sex with Gretchen. I figured that since I could manipulate my dreams if I didn’t like hell, I could turn it into heaven. It could be painful, but I was stubborn.

After I gathered some paintings from the masters depicting hell, I focused on them, put on the helmet, and fell asleep.

In the morning, I woke up a little disappointed. There was no hell whatsoever. Hell probably didn’t exist, or I couldn’t invent it in my dreams. Maybe I needed to concentrate more.

All I dreamed about was Miles having fun with a kite and an older man cheering him up until Miles fell to his knees. I was there, watching the older man comforting Miles after his fall. I saw Miles in my dreams for the first time, but I felt a little disappointed. The dream was a failure. It proved nothing.

When I went back to Gretchen’s house, I got another surprise when I saw Miles.

He had some scrapes on his knees. I immediately asked him what had happened to him, and he said he didn’t know. He said he woke up like that and probably fell from his bed, but I knew that was very unlikely. Could it be possible that he was in my dream? No, no way. Either way, I didn’t tell him about my dream.

The following day, he told me about his dream.

“Randy, I saw you in my dreams! I was having a lot of fun with Grandpa. I was running and having fun with a kite until,” Then, I interrupted him and finished his sentence, “. . . until you fell and scraped your knees!”
“Yes, Randy, I was so happy with Grandpa. I knew I was in a dream and didn’t want to wake up. I wish I could stay there forever. But it’s getting harder for me to connect with him. There’s somthing wrong, I know it.

*****

---

One day, Gretchen told me she had missed her period. Then she said she probably just missed it. Period. She was curious and asked me to walk her to the pharmacy for a pregnancy test. Later, I heard her screaming in the bathroom.

“Positive? Positive! Positive?! It can’t be. Something’s wrong; somebody is playing a joke on me. No way. I’m a virgin! I have never even seen an erect penis in my life! Randy! You have to believe me. I need to get another pregnancy test. This test was probably defective. Let’s get another one.”

On the way to the pharmacy, she kept going at it. I didn’t know whether she was mad at me for not believing or for believing. I never said a word. The always composed and undisturbed Gretchen was mad at me, God, and the entire world. The second test was positive again. Then, she took a different approach.

“The Divine Providence, Randy, that’s what it is, a divine mandate! God chose me!” she said with a sarcastic smile. “What are we going to do, Randy? Well, not you. Obviously, it’s not your fault. What am I going to do? I can’t tell my dad. It can’t be possible. Help me, Randy!”
“Well, if you’re pregnant, and that is beyond far-fetched, would you have the baby? Would you keep it?” I asked her, considering I was the only accusable prospect. After all, I did do it in my dream.

Then I thought about Miles’s scraped knees. Did that happen in my dream or his dream? Was it possible for things to materialize from a dream to real life with the helmet?

“It makes no sense. Why would I need an abortion if nobody has impregnated me? It’s impossible. But if I claim I’m innocent, I’ll be ridiculed. Please believe in me, Randy. If I ever get pregnant, it will be only by you.”
“Yes, Gretchen, I believe you. But if you want, we can make it real.”
“Oh, Randy, don’t joke about it now.”
“Sorry, sorry. I tell you what, Gretchen, let’s wait a week and retake the test. Then, you’ll decide what to do. Of course, if it’s negative, we’ll do nothing, or we’ll celebrate, and . . . oh, never mind.

That night, I elaborated on a plan.

I thought that if I impregnated her in my dreams, perhaps I could undo it in my dreams, too. It sounded absurd, but I wouldn’t lose a thing if I tried it.

After gathering everything I needed to provoke the dream, like pictures of a hospital, doctors, an operating room, and Gretchen’s photo, I focused on my intentions and put the helmet on. And after performing my relaxing ritual, I fell asleep. In my dreams, abortions are legal.

A week later, we got another pregnancy test. When Gretchen came out of the bathroom, she said with a sigh of relief, “false alarm.” Of course, I was ready to show a false expression of surprise.

The instructions claimed ninety-nine percent accuracy. But it could be misleading. It could be less accurate if done within the first days of a missed period. Anyway, I was glad for both of us. I could never know if I got Gretchen pregnant in my dreams or if the abortion in my dream was a success. Or if it was all just a fluke and nothing ever happened.

A few weeks later, Miles said he was going to miss me. I didn’t understand what he meant.

“How can you miss me if we are together, even in our dreams?”

“Yes, Randy, but it’s like a rubber band; it could suddenly snap and push us even further apart when it gets stretched to the limit.”

Sometimes, I couldn’t understand Miles. Sometimes, he expressed himself like a philosopher and other times, he was a complete lunatic. But I always loved him, regardless.

Then, one day, Miles disappeared into thin air. Nobody ever saw him again. His dad filed a police report, and they looked everywhere. The city offered a big reward. Nobody ever claimed it.

It was the saddest day of my life. And only I knew where he went.

A day after his disappearance, I saw him in my dreams. He had finally decided not to come back. He said he was happier there, with his grandpa. He said that he could use the helmet to visit us.

But I had the helmet with me.

I told Gretchen precisely what had happened to Miles, but it was too hard to convince her. So I gave her the helmet and told her how to use it.

I didn’t care if she saw all my dreams. I just wanted her to see how happy Miles was with his grandpa.

The following day, she grabbed a hammer and broke the helmet into a million fragments.

The End

*All stories are protected under the © Seal of the Copyright Office of the United States. April 27, 2023 and May 01, 2023

Edmundo Barraza / Visalia, CA.

Originally written Aug-22-2011

First posted on Blogger Mar-3-2017

Posted on WordPress Sept-2-2020 / Reposted Mar-8-2023