Waking Up In The 4Th Dimension

Life is sometimes tragic. My first wife was a delight, she was always happy with a smile on her face. I did most of the cooking and shopping, even laundry. She was a grade school teacher and everyone loved her. We were young and sex was so exciting and fulfilling. There was no sex act that she wasn't up for. We fell asleep in each other's arms, usually from exhaustion.

My second wife was more mature. Sex was available but not as frequently. Oral sex was never part of her routine, nor was her response that of my first wife She was an accountant and a serious person. She lacked spontaneity and a sense of humor. On the other hand, she was reliable, concerned, and a good earner. She had a sense of design and the house was always orderly. She was also an excellent cook. I suppose as we grow older and mature, our values sometimes change.

When I woke up early Sunday morning, the night after the much-ballyhooed solar eclipse, I immediately realized something was very wrong. The woman in my bed was not my second wife Martha, but my first wife, Divina, who had died several years before I married Martha. Was God giving me a second chance or was someone playing a terrible joke? Or had I somehow slipped into the next dimension?

I got out of bed cautiously. l looked back at the woman in bed with me, she was black, actually ebony, with long woven hair, very kissable lips, and tiny ears. Yes, Divina was black, I've never cared an iota about skin color. We were students together. It was a foregone conclusion, by all who knew us, that we'd be married and live our lives together. We were the perfect couple. But the great God thought otherwise. After only five years of blissful marriage, a hit-and-run driver jumped the curb in Westwood, and Divina, as strong and vibrant as she was, was dead.

And yet, who was I in bed with?

"Hello, good morning honey," Divina's voice was languid and sweet.

"Are you okay, baby?"

"I'm a little confused, shaky on my feet," I responded.

Divina arose and embraced me, walked me back to the bed. She pressed a damp washcloth to my brow. Yes, it was she, As always she was nude. Her full round cantaloupe breasts left no doubt. She was as tall as I was, probably a little taller. Even though she'd been sleeping she smelled like a flower.

"Dearest, I know this is strange but I want you to tell me a little about myself. My memory has blanked on me."

"Sure hon, but maybe you'd like to make love to me first, you always say your balls are swollen in the morning."

"Do I say that? Yes, it sounds like me."

"Sure we'll make love, but for the moment, please indulge me."

"Fuck me first, we'll talk later."

"When's the last time we made love?"

"Two days ago."

Ok, I thought, it had been more than five years since I last made love to Divina, felt her large breasts, kissed her sweet mound.

"Ok, let's fuck." I didn't expect it but she started with a cock suck.

And we had spectacular sex, with hardly any foreplay. I was erect and ready to taste the delights that God had denied me.

I finished off with a flurry of rapid thrusts and whispered, "I love you" as I came intensely inside her.

"I think you like fucking me."

"Yes, I do, it seems like an eternity since I'd made love to you."

"I knew a white boy with a big dick would come in handy," said Divina, joking.

"And a black girl with a tiny cunt, would make me seem bigger than I am."

"Oh, you are plenty big already. Now what did you want to talk about?"

"Tell me a little about myself. I woke up and I'm feeling a little confused. Who am I?"

"Who are you? You are my husband."

"What do I do?"

"Well, you went to school to be an electrical engineer, and then five years ago you had an epiphany. You said you were hearing the voices of the dead."

.

"What happened?"

"You said Mr. Tuck, the fat guy who lived next door had just passed, and you said you could hear him talking to you. Something about leaving a dripping faucet on in his garage. You went out and opened his old garage door and yes, there was an accumulation of water. You turned off the water main and notified his family."

"Then you walked over to Shady Grove Cemetary, the black cemetery attached to our church, and stopped at each tomb and conversed with the dead buried there."

"The news traveled fast, and the local TV station sent a reporter and cameraman to follow you, and the growing crowd, from one headstone to another as you communicated with the dead."

'Ok, that's hardly believable."

"Believe it or not, I've got all the clippings and a digital disc of what happened."

"Can you give me any more details?"

"Sure, you said the children were the most exhausting to listen to. The little ones just cried, and those who'd learned to talk asked for their mothers. Their voices died out at about six months after their deaths."

"How strange. And the adults?"

"The adult voices lasted almost a year. They were quite lucid. They often said they were lonely. They asked about their loved ones, and why they did not come as often to visit them as they would have preferred. The dead were grateful for those who did come. Their conversations often went into detail about children, wives, past friends, or lovers. You discouraged those long conversations. Saying to them, you could not stay too long, as you had to talk to the others."

"Was I able to help them?"

"Yes, you tried to calm those who were unhappy or upset, and positively inform them about their wives, hiding unpleasant truths about widows who'd found new lovers or foolishly squandered the security left to them."

"That is a very strange story."

"Here is the clincher. Isacc Stone kept his valuable coin collection in a large safe. He died without revealing the combination to his widow. You spoke to him at the undertaker's office, where he lay dead on a gurney. Isacc Stone although dead, somehow communicated the combination to you, which you passed on to his wife. With those numbers, she was able to open the safe."

"What do I do now for a living?"

"Well, you left your engineering job at General Dynamics and became the assistant to my Daddy at the Holly Baptist Church where we were married. We had always planned for Daddy to marry us. I can show you the photos and films of the wedding and our honeymoon in Jamaica."

"So now I work with your Daddy?"

"You are the only white man to work as a pastor in an all-black church, although since your epiphany there are several new white congregants."

"Very interesting. Is the church still on Willow Street, in that old building that was once a Jewish temple? Why are you looking at me like that?"

"I'm concerned, have you suffered a stroke or something?"

"No, I don't think so. It seems I do remember some things. I'm going to walk over to the church, maybe that will jog my memory."

I set out at a trot but slowed down as I passed familiar sites where there had been changes. The pizza restaurant where we congregated as students was gone. The front windows were covered with striped paper. A strip club had taken its place.

A sterile fried chicken outfit had replaced the Knop Delicatessen, where the brother and sister who ran the place made terrific sandwiches on sub rolls with mouth-.

As I walked to the church, the white neighborhood gave way to the black section of the town. Perhaps integration was a dead end. People tend to cluster with their own. What else would you expect?

Black people began to greet me as I passed.

"Hello, Rev."

"Hi, Pastor, any words from my Mom?" One sad-faced woman asked.

And I'm thinking, where is Divina's husband? From the photos of him on the mantle, we look like twins. Is he in another time dimension as confused as I am? Is he fucking Martha, while I'm doing the same to his wife, our wife, on this end of the time spectrum?

I stood outside the cemetery gate, fearful to enter. Try as I might, I could not hear the voices of the dead. I gave up on the plan to go to the church. From there, I headed back home, although I was unsure if it was my home.

Divina was waiting for me. Her long fake nails with little rhinestones, glistened in the sunlight. I stood on the sidewalk and spoke to her.

"Ok, I'm not going back."

"What are you talking about?"

"I'm just saying, I am not going back. And if God has other plans, he's going to have to tell me himself."

"What are you talking about?"

As I stood there talking, I was oblivious to the noise of a passing garbage truck that missed the driveway, backed up, and drove up on the curb where I was standing. I was swept up and thrown high into the air. I knew I was moments from death's door. I guessed the big guy could tell me what were his plans for me.

Before I hit the ground everything slowed down. I could see Divina clearly with that frightened look on her face. She was wearing yellow short shorts and a low-cut yellow halter that showed off a glimpse of her beautiful breasts.

I tried to shout, "Goodbye," but the words never left my throat. Out of the corner of my eye, as I tumbled through the air, I could see my doppelgänger coming down the street. Then everything went black. It was as though I was caught in a vortex.

I awoke in my own time, in the bedroom I shared with Martha, my white wife. All the trappings of the bedroom were familiar. Martha acted as if everything was normal and remarked that our recent sex last night was terrific.

I still don't understand what happened. Physicists say that only one person can occupy the same space simultaneously, or a catastrophe will occur. I now attend the black church when possible, and I'm generous when they pass the collection plate. People give me strange looks, but I don't mind. My black and blue bruised hip took more than several weeks to go away and I've purposely stayed a distance from the cemetery. So far I haven't heard any voices.

THE END

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Erectus123