Chapter Two
Proto Zoa's vision was blurred and he felt like he'd been pancaked between the Wonder Bus, or something equally large, and a solid concrete wall, so the blue, translucent form in front of him was barely visible and felt to him like a strange delusion or dream. He thought he saw the form move, and his vision cleared, but the form had vanished. He still felt like hell, but on the coffee table lay a half-empty bottle of wine, so he took a swig from it and set it back in its general location and lay back down on his couch, rubbing his eyes.
He felt himself dozing off, and he thought he saw the blue form return, though he could see more clearly now that it was the form of a woman with short black hair and dressed in a way he'd never seen before. "You're determined to stay in this haze, aren't you?" she asked, and she had a strange accent that was as unrecognizable to Proto Zoa as her dress.
"Who are you?" he mumbled.
"I'm probably the only one who can penetrate your haze right now, what with your incessant drinking."
"I feel like hell already. You don't need to make it worse."
"It's either this or an alcohol-induced coma. Your choice."
"I'd rather have the alcohol-induced coma right now given the choice." Proto Zoa adjusted his position and closed his eyes.
"I dunno if I can do comas," the woman said, waving a hand over Proto Zoa's head, "but I can do deep sleeps." She lowered her lips to her ear and whispered, "Dream, dream of what you want most of all."
Proto Zoa watched his memories unfold before his eyes as if he were dreaming the whole thing, starting with when he met Zenon, who'd won a contest and got the opportunity to meet him. The memories flowed through, and each was colored by Zenon, from when she was thirteen, winning against a space mogul who was intent on crashing his own space station, to when she was fifteen, insisting his song was being used as a signal by aliens, to when she was eighteen, evacuating the Moonstock settlement to protect the people from the wrath of the moon goddess Selena. The memories were played to the tune of Supernova Girl and then The Galaxy is Ours, which perfectly described Zenon, at least, in Proto Zoa's mind.
When he reached the end of this reel of memories, he slipped into a semi-awake state, but only for a moment before he realized he needed to throw up. Before he could think about it, he ran down to the bathroom, but the nausea passed by then. He collapsed against the wall and buried his face in his hands. The blue woman appeared again. "I knew it," she said, sitting on the floor and leaning back against the lower cabinet. "I knew that was what you wanted above all else."
"What good is it? She left me for some guy."
"And you left her as a consequence, as I recall."
"What are you, anyway? A freakish alien shrink?"
"Close. I'm Selena, and the dreams are a result of one of my tricks."
"You control dreams?"
"I prompt dreams, I can't control them."
"You see them, too?"
"I saw yours, only because you were so open, talking in your sleep about them."
"Oh, great. I can't keep quiet about anything."
"I just wasn't expecting the nausea, but perhaps that's an effect of the alcohol."
"I wasn't expecting to not need to throw up."
Selena floated to her feet and looked around. "I've gotta say I like your taste."
"Thank you."
"Well, phase one complete. Gotta be off now." Selena vanished in ribbons of blue mist.
Proto Zoa eventually pulled himself to his feet and stumbled through Nova Linda, barely thinking about where he was going or the state his hideaway was in. He collapsed on the couch in a sitting position, staring at the wads of notepaper he'd tossed about during the first few months. His eyes soon found their way to where his guitar lay on the floor, and a song flowed through his mind, one which entered his dream just minutes before.
He put his feet up on the coffee table and tilted his head back until it rested on the top of the sofa with a heavy sigh. He still felt like hell, but reaching for the wine bottle was the farthest thing from his mind.