The Lucky Penny -- Part 2

I kinda stuck myself in a jam with this "part 2" thing I pulled the other day when I had to hurry up and finish this long story because I had to work. Rather than saving The Lucky Penny"-- Part I in draft mode and probably never returning to it, I reviewed it and posted it as a "part 1," thereby forcing myself to come back and finish it.

In the present tense.

Here we go....back to Monday of last week...

Rooster crows at 6:45 a.m., heralding a new day on the other side of the chasm, joined ephemerally by a bridge spanning the gap between two high spaces: Night and Day.

Rooster cackles as Night pushes me forward across that bridge.

Stepping onto the bridge, a logo appears: Refresh. Revive. One Day at a Time. A daisy punctuates this sentiment. As I cross over, I'm spoon fed a business model, product, audience, message, and marketing strategy.

On the other side with the alarm silenced, the logo and daisy hang before my eyes. It's like leaving a bright space and for moments afterward seeing the afterimage, echoing light slowly fading darker until sight returns.

Refresh. Revive. One Day at a Time.

Refresh. Revive. One Day at a Time.

Refresh. Revive. One Day at a Time.

Refresh. Revive. One Day at a Time.

Refresh. Revive. One Day at a Time.

But...wait...that was a dream.

I was dreaming. I dreamed. I dreamt.

Last night I marked those tabs for REM-sleep research. Maybe doing so jolted my mind into action. Or, maybe it was just the hypnogogic state of sleep. Or, maybe it was a Jesus-dream. I don't know.

The message and product is so do-able. It combines elements from two divergent industries, gathering a broad target growing audience. I've heard some of the studies and talked with people in these industries. I know stuff.

Sticking my feet over the bed, and petting Buena on the way up, I stand, pick up the Motorola, and write everything down.

These days, it takes me about an hour getting ready for the day, making tea, feeding Buena...usual household chores. If I push it, I can be ready in 20 minutes, but today I have time, so I luxuriate in thinking about the dream while getting ready.

While driving to Bob's My Shop for a--hopefully cheap--repair on the Xterra, I compare the product I saw in the vision-dream against the two industries from which this produce would stem, mentally comparing details, packaging, and branding.

*

And I'm sorry I can't give more detail. This is a product I haven't seen but seems like a natural bridge between these two industries. I first want to see if there are any patents or anything like that. I'm currently in further research on it.

*

I leave my car at the shop and start the walk back to Brenda's, returning the dream product and how making money on that product could pay for a new car...or repair the one I have. I like my Xterra.

At the edge of the arroyo, I climb down, cross the wash, and scramble back up the other side, arriving at Brenda's yard.

Trying to work on papers, I still can't shake the dream. Not that I'm trying to, but it's like the entire concept has created a new neural pathway, a super expressway, in my brain. My friend, Diane, keeps coming to mind, as well. I'm not sure why, so I send her a text to see if she's available to talk.

At 10 o'clock, I get a call from the shop. It's not good. It's something in the ignition switch where the wiper control is housed that needs to be replaced. You're lookin' at about $500 ma'am, parts and labor. We've got to remove the entire steering column. You want us to start working on it?

No, I'll just come get it.

Five hundred dollars. 285,000 miles. Tires that will last another year. Oil leaking from the rear-main seal. Then there's also the mystery tapping--valves!--that make noises with low-octane fuel. If I repair everything on the Xterra and get new tires, I'd pay $3000. I like to drive it. It's a great off-road and camping vehicle. The car is worth that to me. Would I be foolish to dump that money into the Xterra?

Part of me wants to forget cars and trailers, hop in the Godspeed, and just go.

Out.

Out to the middle of a field with a mountain in the distance. Or out to the edge of a canyon--not the extreme edge, a safe edge--and just sit with the RV parked for days on end and nowhere else to go...or be...or work...or repair. I just want to go sit with my book projects and business plans for a bit. I want to spend time researching the efficacy of what the DreamGiver gave me last night.

I climb down the rocky incline, sliding part of the way on the loose grey rock, into the arroyo. In storms, this wash has the potential to fill swiftly with turbulent water. I've never seen it like that, but I've heard stories. By the time I reach the other side and climb up, I remove my jacket. The sun feels good, not a cloud in the sky.

On the sidewalk, something shiny.

Copper shiny.

It's a copper penny.

It's a little banged up and bruised, but I sense that this is it. A sign. My lucky penny on such a day of having such a dream. It has to be a sign.

So, I pick it up and continue down the road to the shop, feeling the sun-warmed penny as I wait at the counter for the paperwork. I pay for the diagnostic and go to the car, the penny still in my hand. What I'm wearing doesn't have pockets, and I don't want this penny to get mixed in with all the regular change in my wallet. This is a lucky penny, so it must go someplace special.

I set it in the super-special space between the seats, where the gear shifter is. I won't forget it there.

I pull away from the shop, enjoying the strong sun through the windows, but it gets hot quickly, so I roll down the windows. Usually, I'll listen to Wilkow on the Patriot Channel if he's on, but not today.

On the drive to work, I think about the dream.

Diane calls. I tell her the dream. If I go through with this DreamPlan, then I'll need access to a commercial kitchen in Colorado. -- While we discuss things, I pull into my space at work. So that the lucky penny does not get confused with any ordinary coin I might find, I move it from the gear shifter area and place it upon the dash. The super-special place on the dash where I'll be sure to see it immediately upon entering the car after work. When I see it, I'll remember it's a lucky penny. -- As usual, Diane usually has at least three ideas that could lead to a solution. We talk in depth about her first idea as I walk up to the back door of work. "Diane, I have to clock in in two minutes!" We say our goodbyes.

Pausing before the door, I turn my face to the sun to soak golden energy before stepping into the cave of work. The day is warm, and I'm glad I'm only working three hours. Maybe I can go for a desert walk later in the day.

My job is to inventory. Herbs Herbs recently changed ownership. The old owner and his wife sold their shop of 30 years. They had every vitamin, mineral, and herbal supplement catalogued in their heads. The new owner hired me as temporary help to assist with the transition and get the entire store inventoried and put into the computer. In addition to gaining this inventory control and management experience, I'm also learning more about vitamins, minerals, and herbal supplements.

While holding a vitamin bottle in my left hand, I input data with my right, eavesdropping a conversation. It's my new BossLady, OwnerBossLady. She's telling someone about purchasing the health food store. His voice booms in reply. Ho, ho! You know what they say: ya gotta make money every day. Right? That's what they say. The number one rule. Make money every day.

Make money. Like my penny. Or my work.

But, is that where man should emphasize his time? Toward money? What about praying every day? It all comes down to who we serve. God or mammon? That's where my mind goes with this until I think about my penny. It's a small sum, but with it, the Lord can multiply.

I decide to frame it...the penny...as a reminder. Some people have their first dollar hanging on the wall. I'll hang my first penny. The Lord shall multiply that penny as I follow His Word and walk in His Way. If He sees fit to bless me, then so be it. And, if not, then I'll just pray the Godspeed and Xterra hold up for another 25 or so years.

Later, I clock out and push through the back door into the open air and sunshine. Heading toward the Xterra, I fumble with the keys. I want to pop that key in the trunk, grab a seltzer water from the cooler, and hit the road.

The day is warm, almost hot. I want to get out on the land.

Key in ignition...

Clutch in, shift, gas, turn wheel...

Check mirror, pull out...

Sound

Of

Something

Sliding

Down

Way

Down

And

Rattling

Around

Yeah...so much for fortune.

By not properly taking care of my money, I let fortune slip away, right down into the windshield defroster vent.

Maybe it means I'm just not supposed to sell the car. Maybe I'm supposed to keep the Xterra forever. One day when I have a house, I can have it propped up on blocks on the side of the garage. Or maybe I'll turn it onto one of those flower garden relics that sit on the corner of a yard with daffodils and daisys.

Daisys...my dream: Refresh. Revive. Alive. One Day at a Time.

Am I allowed to alter a dream-vision like this? I kind of like it with the "alive" in the middle. Or am I supposed to keep it the same?

I pick up Buena and Cowboy on the way to the desert, driving a short way down a sandy and rocky path, pulling off onto the side, and making a parking space in the already torn-up sand. The number one rule of off-roading is do not tear up the earth. Instead, stay on the designated trails. There's backroads that can lead you anywhere, but there comes a point where you have to walk to go see something. Sometimes, you just have to park it and leave the earth intact for the microscopic critters, bugs, and plants to survive. These are all part of a greater ecosystem. If we don't respect it, it will be gone. For example, the palo verde is the state tree of Arizona. It is a protected tree and cutting it down or uprooting it will cost you a hefty fine. You're not even supposed to burn the dead pieces for firewood. Why? Because there is an indigenous bug that can only survive in this desert off of the dead, decaying trees. There's not much mulch or brown earth on the Mohave Desert, so every item that is bio-organic really just needs to be left alone for life to populate.

Buena scratches my hand. She wants out of the car. Cowboy just looks out the window, nervously standing up and sitting down and standing up. He's not sure what to do.

"All right! All right!" I scold Buena for scratching my hand and hop out of the car. She quickly pushes past me. Cowboy waits in the back seat. He's so well behaved. I open the side door and let him out.

Buena is already off and running from bush to bush, but Cowboy waits by the nearest bush, sniffing it and then looking to me. I shoo him away toward Buena while calling her over. Soon, he is chasing her through the sand.

I need to bring water, so I unload my backpack of the big stuff.

Removing the little scrippity scrappity papers, I get frustrated with my slovenly self as I'd let things build up inside the backpack-purse: recent receipts, wrappers, and a smooshed-but-still-wrapped Clif Bar. It's too much of a mess and I need someplace to hold all that life debris.

GRrAagH!

Both dogs look up at me as I pull all the scrippty scrappities from the backpack and toss them to the Xterra's floor. Later I will get a bag and pick it all up. Right now

I

Just

Want

To

Walk

On

The

Desert

And

Be

Lost

To

My

Own

Thinking

So I pull it all out until I am left with broken gum pieces and......

.......a penny.

Right there.

At the bottom of the purse.

Amid broken pieces of dried gum.

Staring right back up at me.

Lucky Penny 2.0.

I feel like this is a second chance.

Current Time on date of publication, which is the middle of the night almost ten days later:

I don't know what all this means...or if it means anything at all, but I felt compelled to write about it IN THE PRESENT TENSE.

(I'd appreciate any grammarians to point out issues, particularly while using first person and speaking of future or past events. Switching tenses in those instances is difficult because of the metacognitive thinking involved with the WriterSelf and the NarratorSelf. Each "self" exists in a different moment, so the perspective--or POV--requires constant fine tuning.)

And now, this is like the rolling credits at the end of a movie...if you've managed to stick with me for the entire narrative...then you get the bonus clip.

And this just happened today at work.

While inventorying the Solaray vitamin line, I hold a bottle in my left hand and key data with my right: vitamin type, strength, and number of units per bottle. My co-worker walks past and slaps something down on the desk: "Here ya, go! It's a lucky penny!"

So now I have three.

Kinda three.

Two on my desk, and one in the Xterra.