LUCID

lucid adj.

clear perception, transparent; or aware

By V.Van Tiem

LUCID - Victoria Van Tiem

Contents
PROLOGUE ............................................................................................................................ 3 - 1- INTERVIEW ......................................................................................................................... 4 - 2- NUMBERS DONT LIE ........................................................................................................ 21 - 3- NOT A DATE...................................................................................................................... 35 - 4- INVITED ............................................................................................................................ 51 -5- KESS................................................................................................................................... 70 -6- HANG OUT DATE ............................................................................................................... 84 -7- STAYING PUT ................................................................................................................... 102 -8- DINNER AT JACKS ............................................................................................................ 111 -9- VEGAS ............................................................................................................................. 126 -10- ODDS ............................................................................................................................. 147 -11- THE BEAUTIFULS ........................................................................................................... 159 -12- THE VAULT .................................................................................................................... 181 -13- SURPRISES ..................................................................................................................... 194 -14- A-LIST REVEAL ............................................................................................................... 214 -15- LIFE WORLDS................................................................................................................. 225 -16- A LIFE TIME OF KNOWING ............................................................................................ 238 -17- LUCID ............................................................................................................................ 252 1

LUCID - Victoria Van Tiem

In vain to scream with quivering lips she tries, and strains in palsy'd lids her tremulous eyes; in vain she wills to run, fly, swim, walk, creep; the will presides not in the bower of sleep. Erasmus Darwin

LUCID - Victoria Van Tiem

PROLOGUE
I could not move my legs, my arms. Nothing obeyed as the darkness weighed heavy over me and pinned me down. It suffocated the light, clutched its sheen until it fragmented into minuscule glints, and extinguished. I blinked and tried to focus my eyes, squeezing them open and shut again. I visualized the tiny nerves firing to the muscles in supercharged bursts, forcing movement. My fingers twitched- I could wiggle them. I pushed harder, and clenched my teeth under the strain. My arm was free. Frantically I grabbed at where I knew the light to be. I felt for it, reached for it, smacking my palm around on the nightstand searching for the ceramic base. My fingers skimmed along the neck to find the protruding metal button and pushed. Click, pop! A loud crackle and the entire room flashed as the bulb exploded. For just a moment, I saw it. A shifting mass of dark, its outline burned in my eyes. This is the exact moment, I realize, I am in fact, asleepdreaming. I know this because Ive had this dream my entire life. On a good night, I wake with my hair matted by sweat and a bit disoriented. On most, the realization that Im dreaming propels me onto a single silver line and I can feel them, rushing, grabbing, shoving. On rare occasions, I am pushed. I fall unable to wake in this reality, yet fully awake in theirs. Over time, I learned to rationalize lucid dreams and false awakenings through science. Only science cannot explain why the light still bursts, when I know, without question, that Im fully awake.

LUCID - Victoria Van Tiem

- 1INTERVIEW

Statistically speaking I was a solid eight, an eight out of ten. Why do we rate ourselves by a scale to ten, who came up with this? I lost points because the equal thirds rule. Divide your face in thirds, measure the bottom of the chin to the tip of your nose, again from the tip of the nose to right between the eyes, and again to the hairline. The closer each sections measurement is to the other, the higher your score. My middle third is a bit short. Frankly, Ill take an eight. In fact, it feels good. Gum? woman with mismatched outfit sitting across from me on the trolley asks. I shake my head no. Wait what if I need gum, what if thats why shes offering. Um, yes Im sorry, that would be great. I accept, popping the spearmint into my mouth, now assured I would not show up to conduct my first interview with anything less than minty breath. We seem to stop at every corner, but I enjoy the ride. The wooden interior panels try to capture a forgotten charm of a different era, and thick cushions of black vinyl invite you to sit and relax a spell. Trust me, its all for show, in fact, the vinyl is sticking to the back of my thighs right now, sure to leave two gigantic temporary welts. Outside, its a typical beautiful day. Lake Havasu on average had 300 perfectly sunny days a year. No, I never counted, it brags this little bit of information on every travel brochure and website- sunny and hot but with a dry heat. My wavy hair curls up in the humidity, so as a bonus I have better hair days since I moved here from the Midwest. This is Arizonas playground tucked

LUCID - Victoria Van Tiem

neatly between the foothills of the Mohave Mountains and the reservoir from the Colorado River. The trolley stops and passengers shuffle off and on while gum woman stays put eyeing me. I narrow my eyes and turn my lips up slightly in her direction, only to realize I have a mammoth bubble hanging out of my mouth. Pop, I anxiously snap the first one and quickly close the gaping hole to pop two more in rapid succession, pop, pop. Fun little trick not entirely appreciated, yep, I get it, very annoying. I spit it in the wrapper and with eyebrows raised give a little shrug. My foot begins tapping where the bubbles left off. This will be my very first time interviewing anyone and its going to be published. I have to keep saying this to myself to believe its real. A-List is a national, well-read celebrity hype magazine, a cross between Glamour and People. An intern had stumbled upon my blog and shared my beauty by numbers formula I had posted with some colleagues. They were measuring each other faces and tallying their totals when the supervisor asked what they were doing, and since she too ended up participating in the distraction, they contacted me. By the way, she totaled a 9.5. My blog, Pop Science with Kessler Rae, has gained popularity in the last few years not because Im offering high-level, deep thought provoking scientific theories, but precisely because I dont. I focus on the science we all talk about: what exactly is dj vu, how can you tell if someone is lying, what exactly is consciousness. The whole reason I started the blog was to make sense of a world that no longer did. I want to see beyond the curtain, I want answers, and I want a VIP

all access backstage pass. Mostly, I want to know why my before life is gone, and Im here, existing only in the after, the four years and seven day ago after.
I look at my watch, 9:45 am. I have fifteen minutes to make my appointment. I lean out of the trolley letting the manufactured breeze skim my cheeks, and finally see my stop ahead. It only took thirty minutes to travel a half mile down the road from where I started. I could have walked, but not

LUCID - Victoria Van Tiem

in these heels, no way. Today, I, Kessler Rae will conduct my first interview, for my first

paid article on my mathematical beauty equations for A-List Magazine, and I needed to dress the part. This includes heels. I still cannot believe who I am interviewing, the man of the moment, Jack Bradford. A-List set this up to give my data something tangible to sink its teeth into- a near perfect face to demonstrate the data, and as one of Peoples most eligible bachelors, twenty seven-year-old Jack fit the cover perfectly. Did I mention this is a possible cover story? The trolley rolls to my stop so I unstick myself from the seat, give a passing nod to mismatched gum woman, and make my way out. Most of the downtown had second-story office buildings leaving the street level for the mom and pop shops. Not Jack Bradfords building; it took up the ground floor as well. Square blocks of white concrete walls stacked high in odd interesting fashion outlined vast single pane windows. This was the House That Jack Built, it said so, etched and contrasted by white overlay above the double doors. I walked in and immediately regretted the heels. Why do shoemakers insist on making heels in a material that makes noise with every step? This makes everyone look at you, and then your feet, as if It wasnt bad enough to feel like a full out circus performer balancing on stilts, now I had taps. Click clack, click clack. The receptionist looked up, glared across the room at me, and then my shoes. I click clacked closer to check in. "Yes?" he miffed. He is wearing a bright yellow button down shirt over a deep blue tee. Odd combination, yet it somehow works with his yellow-cropped curly hair and fair skin. "Kessler Rae to see Mr. Jack Bradford. I provided. The desk lamp dimmed and surged

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back full when I spoke. Mump, it does that sometimes as the trolley goes by. he rolled his eyes as he checked his watch as if I were late, which by the way was a Rolex, and grumbled. His timepiece and demeanor reflected self-importance. He waved me away, dismissing me to take a seat. I peeked outside trying to catch a glimpse of another trolley before pretending to dig for my phone, a maneuver that allowed me to walk slowly, and step soft, to minimize the tapping of my shoes, strategic, although only somewhat effective. The spacious two-story foyer was barren with high white walls except for the oversized framed art with bright pops of color. The narrow windows stretched from the baseboards to the rafters allowing the Arizona sun to bounce through uninterrupted. Strange, artistic planters resided next to white leather benches, and an orange shag rug pulled the seating arrangement together. It was simple and impressive. I sat down and looked at my watch again, which, by the way, is not a Rolex. In fact, it is a rubber strapped, oversized ten-dollar timepiece, reflecting no level of importance, only the time, which is 9:55. Why am I so nervous? I admit, I am a bit of a nerd and within the scientific and journalistic community; I am definitely on the outside. You could say an outlier. According to Wikipedia, an outlier is an observation that is numerically distant from the rest of the data. Yup, thats me, distant from the rest, however at an eight it wasnt a numerical distance. Yeah, Im going to run with that as long as I can. Magazines all featuring Jack stare at me from the little white coffee table. I thumb through them. Room Remodel with a four page spread on Jack Bradford. Dwell modern

LUCID - Victoria Van Tiem

homes favorite beach house from The House that Jack Built. I pick through the tabloids on the bottom shelf and yup, even these highlight him. Clever titles like a New Jack in the box, or Jack-Of-All-Trades, in bold fonts layered across his photo, and most included the girl of the moment, some celebrities, but mostly models. Jack Bradford is the new media Darling who is reinventing how the it culture builds their McMansions. Instead of the typical sprawling estates, they now wanted uber designed prefabricated modular units in green home architecture. Responsible celebrities lined up for Jack to design and build their renewed image conscious vacation homes, and rumor had it even Leonardo DiCaprio was having one built. Jack Bradford was everywhere and as luck would have it, he was right here in Lake Havasua. The entire building abundantly sold his image. Clean lines, minimalist dcor, even the smells were inviting. It was masculine with a rich musky scent. I took a deep breath in, closed my eyes, and took another. So intoxicating and heavy, I could not place the blend of spices. Oh, it was wonderful, why had I not noticed it before? Another deep breathe in. I needed to just relax, and exhale. Someone cleared their throat. I opened my eyes, and my stomach dropped. Jack Bradford stood directly in front of me. I could not believe I smelled him before I saw him. He was every bit as beautiful as the photos I had seen- it was a bit unnerving. I immediately found my feet. "Hi, Im Kessler Rae, Im here for the interview from a-list," I said sounding robotic, forcing out my hand and trying to look professional.

LUCID - Victoria Van Tiem

Jack, it's nice to meet you. He said without inflection. His hand wrapped around mine, and he did not let go. I did not let go. A million tiny electrical charges surged through me, as if my body had fallen asleep and I only now was shaking it awake to pins and needles. I could not take my eyes from his. They were the lightest pale blue I had ever seen and the light played in them creating fluidity. I knew him. It was not that I recognized him. I mean, he felt familiar. The moment seemed to last uncomfortably long and then, just like that, his hand released mine, and he simply spun leaving me nothing to do but follow. The smell proved distracting, it somehow seemed to lead. I took another deep breath in. Since Mr. Bradford walked ahead of me, I placed most of my weight forward and tiptoed so my heels would not make any sounds back through the foyer. I knew the receptionist was watching me, I peered over my shoulder and sure enough he rolled his eyes in my direction. I narrowed my eyes and pursed my lips back. If I had not been here to interview Mr. Bradford, he may of gotten a I need to push my hair back, oh wait did I use my middle finger gesture. I take another breath in, wondering what the brand is. Something new and Im sure expensive. It probably had pheromones. I had written a series of articles recently for my blog on pheromones. I even ordered some, ran experiments, and documented the results. For men, the pheromones Androstenol and Androstenone are to mimic mens sweat creating a testosterone charged alpha male. For women, they add a hormone called copulins to imitate when she is ovulating, thus increasing a mans testosterone by as much as 150% I dont think Jack Bradford would need additional pheromones to grab attention, or more testosterone for that matter, but no one can naturally smell this good.

LUCID - Victoria Van Tiem

I grab hold of the steel and cable railing of the stairwell as I step up grateful It had custom-made carpets covering each one and I followed him, letting their cushion muffle my heels. Mm he smelled good. I take in deep slow breaths as we climbed to the upper level. And as you can see, a very short climb to the top." Mr. Bradford stopped and starred directly at me, eyebrows furrowed, lips pressed together. Was he referencing the stairs or his career? He seemed to be waiting on a response. I nodded slightly as If I agreed and smiled. Yeah I got nothing; I almost laughed at myself. Oh, my gosh Kess get it together. Mr. Bradford led me through a maze of well thought out functional workspaces while he spoke of form and function. These are plans to create a guest retreat," he said as he pointed down at someone's vacant workstation. You couldnt really call it a cubical, more a standalone open office. Two white walls interlocked creating a nook for a small desk and worktable. The computers screen had random windows open with gridlines depicting different buildings. I placed my hand on the monitor and the screen jumped, I quickly pulled it back. I was careful not to touch anything else, keeping my hands safely behind my back. On the side table sat a miniature model to give the vision 3-D depth, and beside it, multiple coffee rings gave clues to the whereabouts of the missing inhabitant. I could really use a coffee right now. We call this an easy-breezy rail system, because it has walls on a track allowing the cool breeze to pass right through. No air condition unit means a smaller footprint. Jack continued piecing the words together thoughtfully in a most quotable way, only I wasnt
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writing anything down. His entire presentation seemed pre-rehearsed and flat, I guess I expected Jack Bradford to be animated and larger than life. Instead, he seems reserved and quiet. Except when he looks directly at me, and then he was unsettling. We stop briefly on a catwalk that overlooks a huge warehouse. A myriad of activity and noise emulated from below. Cranes hoist house pieces together like a large 3-D puzzle. This is why he needed the ground floor as well as the studio above, I thought to myself. You know, his voice dropped a little lower as he peered over the factory floor. Part of finding the answers, is asking the correct questions. Jack paused and glanced quickly at me before returning his gaze forward. Was that a hint for me to ask something? Had I asked him anything? I barley was listening to be truthful, well I was listening to his accent. I couldnt place it; In fact, it was so slight I couldnt be sure I had heard anything at all, until he would slip on a certain word. My client is looking for an extension of themselves in the homes we build. They want to appear successful, trendy, and environmentally responsible. his voice grew even quieter. He leaned down on the cable and glass railing that matched the stairwells, We are also working with large companies who want to be branded as a philanthropist. They are funding an inexpensive version, a sustainable housing solution for poverty-stricken areas. The pause lasted longer than necessary. I still didnt say anything. Knowing what they are looking to accomplish, what exactly they are looking for allows me to find it for them. The whole world seemed to inhale and hold its breath. Jack

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shifted his weight and turned directly to me. His chin came up to serve me a question. What are you looking for? This was a different Jack Bradford. This time the words and expression were working in tandem, not deadpan at all. His eyes were disquieting. Hes so close and looking right at me, talking directly to me, about me. I knew him. Below a blowtorch ignited sparks of fire and the world exhaled shooting the volume up by more than double. Without waiting for an answer, he turned and continued walking. I scampered behind to catch up, as if nothing out of the ordinary occurred. His guided tour and prepackaged speech picked up right where it had stalled. What am I looking for? "Maybe we could sit down and talk?" I stopped him in midstride. Mr. Bradford froze, tilted his head, and sized up my proposition. My office. Is all he said and I followed him back the way we came to the first room we passed. The room loomed enormous with tall windows that mirrored the front foyer, providing the perfect view of Lake Havasu. Boats drifted across the water, tourists flew by on jet skis with the infamous London bridge reflected in their wake. I wondered why he sat with his back to the window. The focal wall featured leaning ladders in a row of three; their shelves housed small works of art and miscellaneous awards. His simple desk reminded me of something I had seen at Ikea. In fact, his whole office could be a show room for Ikea. In this enclosed space, the smell, his smell was almost unbearable. What kind of pheromones were in this stuff. He extended his hand, indicating for me to have a seat. Sitting opposite him, finally I was able to take a good look. He had intense, bright blue

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eyes that seemed translucent when focused on you, and a shade deeper when engaged elsewhere. His expression held serious, with a permanent slight furrow to his brow. He had an angular jaw already shadowed by the promise of afternoon scruff, a medium frame, and athletic vibe. The buttoned down white shirt hung loose over a pair of dark jeans, and a black suit coat he wore for more formal meetings, hung by the door. No Rolex, in fact no Jewry except A simple brown cord wrapped over a small wooden cross like what they sell at Ana Crombie or Aero. His style said undone in the most put together way, its no wonder he captivated the media. I sat across from him, shifting in my chair not wanting to start in prematurely with my measurements. I needed to time it all out perfectly; otherwise, I may end up like Bridget Jones, with a false start halfway down the firemans pole, and the last thing I wanted was to be caught with my backside exposed. "So as I said Ms." he paused for me to fill in the blank. Rae." Rae, My company is leading not only in design and brand, but in making an impact on the environment." He continued with his speech finding its way back to its natural rhythm. I understand, but Im here for a different kind of interview. His eyebrows rose marginally showing a slight amount of interest. Im doing a story more on human design. I admitted. He didnt stop me so I spoke

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faster as I pulled my notebook and pen out setting them across my lap. In design, there are rules of proportion, certain equations that are most pleasing and are used over and over even in nature. You know this as the Golden Ratio." Golden Ratio he said at the same time. What I explained was art basic 101, but he was respectful and allowed me to finish. I dug around in my bag looking for the fabric measuring tape I brought. When I had it, he scrunched his eyes and leaned back in his chair, arms crossed across his chest in the standard blocking motion. Jack watched me and this felt familiar. Yes, I feel accustomed to having his eyes on me, which feels weird, not the him watching me part, but the feeling that Im used to it part. Mr. Bradford, I interrupt my own thoughts rolling the tape between my thumb and finger. Jack. Please. He offered, his tone softened, still eyeing the tape. Jack, there are roughly, well, exactly, twenty nine measurements to predetermine a person's overall rating, you know the typical scale of one through ten. I stood up making my way towards him trying not to inhale his scent. I was rambling and rushing my words, I needed to get a grip. The closer I got to him the stronger the odd sensation grew. My thoughts and mouth worked separately. In my mind, I scrutinized every mannerism, I wondered if he reminded me of someone, and if so who? My mouth rattled off the basics of the theory. No one has been recorded as a perfect ten. Although I bet, you can guess who comes close. A celebrity. I explained watching him closely. He definitely was confused by the

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turn in the interview. Brad Pitt of course right? He scored 9.3 out of ten. I held up the tape measure as if to ask for permission to proceed. His eyes narrowed, and for the first time the corners of his lips curled into a bemused smile. He straightened his posture and waved his hands for me to proceed. His phone rang and he clicked the speaker button. I froze where I stood. Yes. Excuse me, Mr. Bradford. Your next appointment is here. The receptionist interrupted sounding much more pleasant than he did with me. Jack regarded me a moment, and I worried I missed my opportunity, that I should of cut to the chase first thing and skipped the tour. Please inform her Im running late. Click. No common courtesy extended. He waved me in to continue. I leaned in towards his face, my hands shaking as I unwound the fabric coil. Standing this close his skin seemed flawless. I could not see any visible pores, not one. I wonder what cleanser he used. I run the fabric through my fingers, aligning the lowest number to just under his chin, and measure his chin to nose tip. Three inches. I say aloud as I moved the tape measure from the tip of the nose to directly between the eyes. Three inches. Then middle of his eyes to his hairline. Unbelievable, I measured again and stood there dumbfounded. Whats wrong? Jack asked me. Your face is in perfect thirds, in absolute perfect thirds, I repeated to myself as I

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stepped back to my notebook and wrote it down. Mr. Bradfords expression relaxed for the first time, immediately revealing his mere twenty-seven years. So does this mean Im in Brad Pitt territory?" he teased. I looked at him surprised that he slipped out of character. Twenty eight more combinations to go. I assured him. His lips curled up in an easy smile, another first. I only needed a few for the article but the more I jotted down, the more I kept going. I measured length to width ratio, each half, his ears, and even length of lips. This one proved tricky. You need to be very still." Why did I speak so soft? I positioned the tape measure from one corner to the other, and he full out smiled and guffawed. Was he embarrassed? Perfect creases formed around the corners exposing one single deep dimple. My eyes lifted from his newly formed smile and found him looking right at me. My stomach jumped, I turned a full glowing, change to a different color kind of blush, and instantly refocused down on the tape. You can't smile." I reprimand gently holding back my own. He repositioned his lips in a straight line, very stiff and mumbled, I don't understand what this is about." his eyebrows shot up. The prepackaged demeanor from the tour now completely disposed of. He is impossible. Not only was he a living pheromone trap, but also I had to be this close, not this close, but THISCLOSE. I finished and glanced at him sideways as I wrote down the numbers.

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So you're a serious journalist. Are you? Mr. Bradford provoked. His tone dropped low, and his expression reverted to the stern disposition. I stepped back to answer him. Well I write a popular blog, but this would be my journalistic debut, in fact. I admitted not adding anything more to the conversation. I was busy jotting down the final numbers and reviewing the groupings, making sure I had indeed gotten what I wanted. The equations all seemed too balanced, too perfect. I needed to reevaluate the combinations, add them up a second, and maybe even a third time. I also wanted to rationalize the strange feeling I was experiencing around him, it definitely was something more than just basic attraction, mathematical or otherwise. I started packing up my things to leave without further discussion. Jack seemed puzzled, surprised. Did I sense a little disappointment? Ms. Rae, He invited me to explain as he leaned back again in his chair gesturing with hands held out in front of him. He does know my name. Really that's it? Nothing more you want in your debut article? He dragged the word debut out, I could not tell if the tone was patronizing or teasing. You didn't really ask any questions, how we started, gross revenues; you didn't even ask me who I was dating. his voice dropped like before on the balcony, Dont you have any other questions for me? There it was again, that feeling. I stopped for just a second. Mr. Bradford. I had the feeling Jack was used to a certain interview pattern. Then there was me, I actually dont think I asked him many questions. Did I ask him even one? Well, I smelled him. I followed him around, and I measured his face. I smiled.

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OK, yes, I do have a question. How tall are you?" yup, that was my question. Im 510. He paused, Really?" it was more of a challenge posed as a question. Now he was just annoying me. 5'10 wow, not 59, not 62, nope exactly 5 foot 10. Guess what the average height of all leading men in Hollywood is Mr. Bradford? The average falls between 59 & 511, with the absolute ideal being a perfect 510. Brad Pitt, 510, Robert Redford, 510, Paul Newman, 510. Tom Cruise, he sniped. NOT 510 Well hes listed as 510. Jack laughed in spite of himself. I liked his laugh- it was instantaneous and genuine. Anyways random misalignments do exist. Actual variables along the same line. Now he looked at me smiling as if I was crazy. He stood. Look. Jack disputed his hands up, I agreed to be interviewed for A-List. You know, a typical interview highlighting what Ive built, my company and sure, maybe some personal stuff on me. But honestly, face measurements, my height?" Mr. Bradford, have you ever heard of the predetermined line? The floor lamp in the corner dimmed. I paused and listened if the trolley was rolling by. The predetermined line, I repeated. Is my theory of how everything from your name, success, your looks, are all decided before you even say your first word. Maybe, even before you were born. The fascinating thing is the amount of scientific evidence

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supporting this. What does this have to do with me? Jack leaned in on his desk. The magazine is the one that had wanted to fluff up my data, and now the actual fluff was questioning my creditability, or at least teasing me about it. Random bits of luck, whether good or bad, could be dots on an already drawn line connected with invisible ink. This article is a small piece of my theory. The measurements contain a few fun bits of data that support real scientific equations. I explained now on a roll. A-List only was interested in my data dramatic pause to drive it home. If it were wrapped around a pretty face. I raised an eyebrow, tilted my head in victory, and waited for his reaction. Are you sure you dont want to ask anything else? He said this as if I was missing some important detail. I didnt even pause, "Yes, one more questionwhat cologne are you wearing?" That was my question. I cannot believe that rolled off my tongue. This broke the seriousness and he full out laughed. I smiled in my embarrassment. I don't wear any, bothers my skin. he shrugged, shook his head and raised his arms up in surrender. I gave him a professional nod as if satisfied with the answer, turned and left. Are you kidding me? He does not wear any! I made my way back down the corridor, deciding to use the elevator on the way down. How can he not be wearing any? I wonder if I am ovulating. He seriously was lying, messing with me, had to be. Just as the steel doors opened, I walked smack into a pair of Victoria secrets Miraculous Bra boobs; you know

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the one that makes you two sizes bigger. Her high heels put her at least a foot taller than me. She was all legs and deep red lipstick. "Sorry. I offered as tall, blonde, and bouncy sneered down at me before hurrying off in the direction I just left. Obviously, she was one of Jack's girls. I wondered if she could smell him. I literally had to stop myself from turning and asking.

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