Subconscious Valley

Swish Rattle Clink Tap. A mishmash of beads, pods, ceramic and stone trinkets which are hanging from the rear view mirror sway back and forth as the rusty van rattled, haphazardly manoeuvring along the uneven road. Water, time and roots working in unison to buckle the asphalt beneath the worn tires, the road narrow and washed away in large sections. It snaked at the base of ancient towering cliffs which loomed above the valley.

Twisting and curving, the road was leading the white Toyota on a wild ride, hands clamped on the steering wheel and eyes scouring the road for hidden potholes. It is precisely this kind of intense focus which can allow one to miss something right in front of them. A momentary blindness of sorts to something which is unexpected, a trick of the brain. As the faded black road became a monotonously passing blur the van went over a small flat object on the road, her brain detected nothing unusual. It was more of a building feeling, a sense in the left temple which suddenly jolted the conscious mind back to life. Eyes darting, assessing the fast passing surroundings and quickly finding clarity in the blur of green, brown and grey. The van veered left towards a widening shoulder, exiting the road with attitude and braking suddenly, stones sent flying as a cloud of dust filled the air.

She sat still in the drivers seat, foot poised balancing the clutch, questioning herself, did she see a book back on the road? Shifting into neutral still uncertain she looked back over her right shoulder as if expecting to see something, but all she saw was the road curving around behind her swallowed at the bend by wildly tangled scrub. The vehicle shuddered as she flicked it off, noise of the engine replaced by a chorus of delight as a group of lorikeets passed low overhead.

Stepping down onto the earth, she felt drawn by the mystery and started running along the small road. Shoes pounding on the hot bitumen, sweat beading where her hair brushed against her flushed face she ran towards the unknown under the full weight of the midday Australian sun. Passing the bend and beyond her footsteps began to slow, losing momentum as she wondered what the hell she was doing. Walking on despite the uncertainty, backtracking ground she had just bumped over not minutes ago, on this occasion the curiosity won out. The doubt washed away as she squinted forward along the road which was blurred by rising heat yet still yielding a mysterious shape outlined in the distance.

As she grew closer it didn’t seem to get much bigger, it definitely seemed like a small book. The rattling sound of 4.5 tonnes of steel hurtling along the quiet road filled her ears and she quickly ducked off the road, wedging herself between close growing eucalypts as a faded green truck carrying two startled cows whooshed by. The wind whipped her face and sent the grass around her ankles scrambling to hold onto the earth by their roots, grass seeds itched her, and she quickly jumped back out onto the road.

Fully focused on the object on the road she closed the final distance between her and the book, she had no intention of being on the road if another large vehicle passed. Eyes devouring the small black book below her, enveloping them fully with their intense curiosity. She closed her hands around it and raised it to her chest, clutching it as if it may now at once disappear. Turning suddenly on her heel, she began back to towards the van, stretching fluidly from the hip and making long powerful strides. Focused on getting her treasure back to the safety of her rolling home.

Taking in the surroundings much more than she had on the first pass, her eyes were drenched with vivid untouched beauty. Gnarled trees scattered across the narrow plateau were bending and contorting into naturally unnatural shapes, wrinkled and melted like massive pockmarked candles in the sun. Old trunks roughly milled into fencing spoke of colonial settlements and the farming of this wild land, framed from above and made inconsequential by a giant red exposed scar marking a recent landslide on the cliff faces. Lost in the awe of surroundings she had once again slipped into the unconscious mind through her wonderment, and suddenly found herself back at the van. Slipping to the side door it roared in metallic protest in response to being wrenched open, she climbed onto the bed and clicked on her lamp.

She stared at the illuminated book held out gently in her flat hands. It almost seemed as if it were someone else’s hands holding it, and she were in a dusty old library somewhere. Raising the book to her face she closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, before catching herself and laughing aloud at the odd habit. The scent which entered her nostrils during that brief moment awoke memories of her grandfathers pipe tobacco, which clung to his old battered leather bound books. Gently opening the first page a piece of weathered, yellow paper fluttered out and landed on the bed. Putting the book on her lap, she delicately unfolded the strange old piece of paper.

Immediately she noticed the font, something right out of a different era, then her eyes scanned the page and her facial muscles scrunched and contorted as she deciphered. Ford. Definitely something about Ford, she recognised the name but the logo wasn’t quite right. Numbers she could read but the letters she would have to work at, the corners of her eyes folded like a delicate Japanese fan as her cheeks raised, almost as if trying to lift off her face.

The intense sun was bearing down on the uninsulated roof above her, and suddenly the air felt stagnant and heavy. Her skin prickled and she felt her clothes weighing against her skin, her ankles itched – socks still covered in cobblers pegs and rogue grass seeds. She leaned heavily, shifting the weight to the front of her left leg and fished around her deep pocket for her phone. Clicking it on her face illuminated, eyes searched the small corner and an exasperated sigh slipped from her lips. No signal. Lost deep in the basin carved over millennia by the forceful lashing of rain, the porous shifting soils and the contouring winds of time.

She refolded the odd sheet of paper and returned it neatly to the book from which it came. She closed the cover and turned it over in her hands. It was a beautiful book, made by a true craftsman rather than mass glued by an intelligently programmed machine. She slid the little black rectangle safely under her pillow to investigate later before reaching her hand instinctively for the grab bar above the door and hoisting herself somewhat smoothly, albeit not gracefully to land on the uneven tufts of thick grass. Following the side of the van around to the drivers door she swung it open and sprung up into the high sitting seat, turning the keys and bringing her baby roaring back to life. Indicating to an empty road she turned the wheels and they climbed over the uneven lip of bitumen and began right back into the tiresome ‘dodge-a-pot-hole’ game.

As the road wound its way around the voluptuous valley and began to climb, the blasted cliffs closed in around the already narrow road, tremendous changes happened to the world around. It became enveloped in mystery and ancient wonder, tree ferns towered on either side of the road between grandmother gums as a waterfall was guided under the road by discoloured concrete down towards its nearby fast flowing destination. The road snaked violently around cliff edges, before popping out on a blind corner high atop the cliffs.

The van rolled across the intersection, pulling up in a shady spot opposite she cut the engine and fished for her phone again, 4 bars! Extending her arm behind her seat and fishing under the pile of pillows until her hand closed around the book she felt that it was warm from the heat of the car and brought it forward. She took out the folded slip of paper and opened it, poring over it. To a financially uneducated guesser it almost seemed to be some sort of stock receipt, maybe a bond?

She tapped the side of her mobile and opened the web browser, pausing, fingers frozen unsure how to form a search term her crystal eyes became glassy and vague. Lip subconsciously making its way behind her teeth she gnawed passively on the fleshy pink tissue before snapping back and quickly typing ‘finding old stock certificates’ and tapping search a little too forcefully. Results popped up luring her to every second grade financial news website around, she scrolled until she found one which grabbed her attention and consumed the article greedily, light reflecting off her pale eyes. It would seem the next step would be to contact the transfer agent at Ford, and ask for more information. Well, that she would do, all while feeling like a member of the famous five, at it again!

The next hour passed listlessly as she waited on hold and was bounced between operators in the quest to connect her with seemingly the one person in the company who could answer her questions. Seat reclined feet on the dash she looked out through the bug spattered windshield. Aerosolised orange particles glowing in the dipping afternoon light as she stripped back the thick skin of a citrus, phone wedged precariously between her right shoulder and ear despite the firm protestations of her neck.

The hold music cut and a woman’s voice dripped from the phone like golden honey. As they spoke her skin began to prickle and anticipation spread like a rash on her skin, sternum tight with the weight of breath caught in her throat. Her heart was hammering like a snare drum between the phone and her ear, she raised her hand to catch it as it fell away from her face quickly clicking it to speaker. Although she heard the words there seemed to be some hold up in the actual relay of signals to the processing core of her brain. Head teetering unsteadily as if suddenly not adequately supported by her neck, she gave some details to the smooth voiced stranger and the line went dead.

Silence rang in her ears louder than any sound she had heard before, so loud it drowned out the flock of black cockatoos screeching up a storm in a nearby tree. For a moment reality was suspended, blanketed by a vibrating blackout of the universe. Her subconscious was having a real run for its money outside of sleep on this particular day. She had been woken up by the breaking light of dawn that morning with $7.30 in her bank, $2.45 of loose change under the front seats and 307 cans waiting to be recycled. Alongside this a travelling home, a bunch of free toilet paper and a sense of adventure.

This changed everything, and nothing at the same time. She was now worth $20,000 and change care of one unclaimed old stock certificate tucked into a weathered pocket copy of Edgar Allen Poe. How it ended up on that bumpy road was a mystery she burned to discover, but for now she was happy to call it a day. Her seatbelt clicked as it locked into place and the hanging trinkets once again tapped, rattled and clinked as she swung Huey the van around and rocked over the bumpy backroads towards the sunset. Making camp her only plans, tomorrow an unchartered new day full of things she wasn’t to even know she didn’t know.