Stalking the Average Man
first drafts. They made notes in the margins or between the lines, and none of them folded their
coveted inspirations, other than those written on barroom napkins. From this, I realized Bonnie
had to be knocking off pages as she thought were required to keep me interested, and the only
reason to do this would be to create the appearance of her story being complete, other than the
training scenes. It explained why some scenes were watertight and others required preliminary
explanations—which also explained her quick bail-outs through contrived flashes of temper to
derail my inquiries.
The chicken bursting into flames triggered a deeper insight.
Bonnie damned-well knew that her character's ability -to know | punched a huge hole in her
story. To her credit, she had incorporated a surreptitious plea for the audience to suspend their
disbelief, but she was smart enough to know this alone wouldn‘t cut it. She had to have reached
the end of her options, and she was looking for a bigger kind of magic to fill the hole her
gimmicks had dug, instead of scrapping unworkable premises. I knew that trap all too well.
I apologized to the tenants upstairs for the acrid smoke, then I ate half of my blackened
chicken in triumph: an unfinished story meant the path to starting the grant application was wide
open. I didn‘t have to understand all of her premises. I could make up something that would fit
them so far, as had to be her goal anyway, and update the outline if I learned anything pertinent
before I submitted the application.
I finished dinner wearing the cloak of confidence that Bonnie wore so snugly, and though
the fit was smug when I called to test the temperature of our relationship, her renewed warmth
confirmed that she was afraid of losing the filter she needed to test out new plot twists, and
probably her ending.
In the morning, ahead of plan I called Rogers Communications to request a grant
application, before working on my screenplay.
Sitting on her couch the next afternoon, Bonnie gave me a scene in which a group of
students was quietly chanting in a circle around a smaller group, who were meditating on objects
in their hands. In the foreground, a young girl was dancing repetit ive steps, while a teacher
explained that by intentionally occupying her incessant here-and-now thoughts, she was
silencing her internal dialogue to potentially experience a number of things. O ne possibility was
to have pure a recollection—full disclosure of a distant or suppressed memory. Another
possibility was to enter a state of theme- like dreaming to access key memories of past lifetimes,
or she could receive new knowledge directly from Spirit. Any of these experiences helped to
pave the way for more fantastic experiences.
However, the teacher warned the group, information gained in any of these conditions
belonged to that state of awareness; the experience required interpretation into physically related
terms. It was common for an epiphany in one state of awareness to become a sense of
understanding in another. It also took effort and practice to hold one‘s focus, when making the
transition to bring back what you had learned, because to experience a mural of deep knowledge
was useless until the student could explain what they saw.
When asked for an example of a problem with translation, the teacher said that seeing auras
around trees proved to the observer that trees are conscious entities, not merely metabolically
alive, the knowledge of which advises the observer to respect the journey of trees. The observer
can easily bring back this knowledge, but they might not be able to explain a deep er sense of