#294 Questions

#294 Questions

I asked my wife if she thought our world was as it seems.

“What do you mean?” she asked as she flipped the eggs she was cooking for my breakfast.

“I wonder if I’m deceiving myself by believing the world is mine to control, or is the incredible things I say or do imposed by someone projecting their insanity onto me?” She scorched the eggs once again. I wondered why she always did that.

“You’re confusing me with your crazy thoughts,” she complained.

“Come on. Didn’t you ever think we are only props in a game?” I shoveled burnt eggs into my mouth and washed them down with coffee before I gagged.

“Who’d create a game like that?” She took my empty plate to the sink. Her smug smile revealed that she burnt my eggs on purpose.

“Someone we may have locked in an asylum for the insane if we knew how they thought?” I said, and wondered if what I saw was really there, or was it all a delusion coming from another’s awareness or was my wife in my dream or was I in hers? Maybe we were both in somebody else’s dream?

“People don’t get locked up for what they think, only for what they do,” she said as she poured me coffee that looked like mud and tasted worse.

“That’s not true, ” I said, “because it’s difficult to know what’s real and what’s imagined.”

“There you go again with your abstractions. Exactly what do you mean?”

“Matter is nothing but waves washing through a universe that may only exist in someone’s imagination. Maybe all we see is nothing but an apparition, or worse, our world is a drug-inspired hallucination.”

“You’re saying that the eggs, toast and coffee you just ate weren’t really there?” She waved the dirty frying pan in front of my face.

“Well, it’s like when I think of sex. Is it all in the mind? Do I even need you to enjoy it, when all I need is the waves of pleasure provided by my mind?” I took the pan from her hand and carried it to the sink. The weight of it convinced me it was really there.

“I don’t understand your ideas of how scientists explain that I’m not really here, but as long as you don’t need me, I’m outta here.” She slammed the door on the way out.

Did I want her to go? Is that why she left, or did she want to go? Am I an avatar in someone’s game?  Was she ever really here? Was I happy she had left? I looked in the closet and her clothing had disappeared. In the sink, the frying pan was clean, and the coffee pot held aromatic coffee fit for a king. Good riddance to her, I thought.  I heard a knock on the door.

A woman, or rather girl of eighteen or so, stood there with a pile of luggage. “What’s this?” I asked.

“Mostly negligees,” she said and held up a transparent one for me to see.

“Do you know how to cook?”

“Like a gourmet.”

“Come on in.” I showed her the closet and watched her unpack 27 negligees, two dresses and other clothing that she neatly put away.

She put on a dress and went to the kitchen where she began to cook a meal.

“Let’s have sex before we eat.” I took her by the arm and led her to the bed. She knew things I never imagined, and I had the greatest experience of my life.

“Do you want me to serve you dinner in bed, or will you come to the dining room?” she asked as she kissed me on the forehead.

Her cooking wasn’t gourmet, and she misunderstood everything I said. My life became a bore, so I sent her back out the door and dreamed of the best companion a man could have, a dog. One that could cook, make a good cup of Joe, and converse in a language we’d both understand. We’d be buddies and have no need for women or sex.

My doorbell rang and there stood a male mutt with a bowl between his paws. He was a brown German Sheppard mixed with retriever, the best of all possible mixes.

“I understand you’re looking for someone like me?” the mutt said, with his mouth open in a doggy smile.

“Only if you cook and can make good coffee,” I opened the door for him to come in. He went right to the sink and washed his paws, then put on coffee and cooked a T-bone steak for dinner.

We talked and he understood everything I said and added a few anecdotes of his own. He got me a beer and asked if I needed anything else. Then he cleaned the house. When he finished, he lay at my feet, waiting to fill any wish or command.  I taught him poker and chess, and he always let me win. When we went for a walk, I always led. He even learned to use the toilet I built for him next to mine. I called him Jeeves because he was like an old English manservant who only lived to fill my every need and I knew this world was indeed one I had created