Иллюзии

by Richard Bach

"Иллюзии"... Самая пленительная, самая щемящая, самая глубокая и тонкая из книг Ричарда Баха. Взлетим же на старых бипланах над зелеными полями Америки вместе с автором и Дональдом Шинодой - Мессией поневоле...

И поверьте, очень скоро вы поймете, что книга эта попала к вам не случайно.

Genres: Fiction, Philosophy, Spirituality, Fantasy, Classics, Self Help, Religion

160 pages, Unknown Binding

First published January 1, 1977

About the author

Since Jonathan Livingston Seagull - which dominated the #1 spot on the New York Times Bestseller List for two consecutive years - Richard Bach has touched millions of people through his humor, wisdom and insight.

With over 60 million copies of his books sold, Richard Bach remains one of the world's most beloved authors. A former USAF fighter pilot, Air Force captain and latter-day barnstorming pilot, Bach continues to be an avid aviator-author, exploring and chronicling the joys and freedom of flying, reporting his findings to readers.

His most recent works include Travels with Puff, which recounts Bach's journey from Florida to Washington state in his small seaplane, Puff, and Illusions II: The Adventures of a Reluctant Student, which incorporates Bach's real-life plane crash.

In October 2014, the never-before-published Part Four to Jonathan Livingston Seagull was published.

Readers can find more about Richard and his work at www.richardbach.com

Reviews

[Dickie · Rating 5 out of 5]

This book changed my life. Over and over again. That is the simplest way to put it. One day a girl came into the pizza parlor I was working at and I commented on her tramp stamp. (It was as always, an attempt to get her to lower the jeans) - It was a blue feather tattoo. I asked what it represented and she told me it was the feather from the cover of a book, called "Illusions", and it had changed her life.
She brought the book into me as promised a couple days later with a four leaf clover as a book mark.
Needless to say, this was my lucky book. And, it happened to be the lucky book of a couple of other people close to me as well.
I told my friend about this and he remarked to me that it was fairly coincidental as he had just received this book as a gift from his brother.
Years later I recommended past this quirky thing to another good friend of mine, and he promised to put it on the top of his to read list. He found it the next day in a dumpster while looking for some song lyrics he had thrown pout.
I know this tells you very little about the content of the book, but like all Bach's works it is sweet and inspirational. I've seen it in the fiction, self help, and religious sections of books stores at it is unclassifiable in its means to reach its audience.
This is for young and old. To anyone and to all, may it help shape your life as it has shaped mine.

[Sfdreams · Rating 5 out of 5]

I LOVED this book!! I read it over and over and have given copies to several people.

The book starts off with a "handwritten" and smudged story, written like books in the Bible, by a auto mechanic who discovered the Divine in himself and was followed by throngs of people,who called him a messiah, until he had to disappear.

Then the "real" book begins: A young man flys around the country in his airplane, supporting himself by selling flights in his plane. One fateful day, he meets a strange individual who seems to have amazing abilities, including (one of my favorites)preventing insects from smashing on the windshield.

I feel that this book deepened my spirituality, and reinforced my desire to live life more peacefully, and with great kindness. I only wish I could perfect the "no-bugs-killed-on windshield" trick!! (Remember the Kleenex commercial about the monk who saves the spider, turtle, and fish, then after he blows his nose is dismayed to see that Kleenex kill germs? That is somewhat like me: I am always helping various critters outside--I don't like to kill anything. However, I don't worry about bacteria, molds, dust mites, mosquitos, and cockroaches. I am a hypocrite in that way!)

[Rajat Ubhaykar · Rating 2 out of 5]

I call anything sounding grand and oh-so-awesome but actually meaning squat a Richard Bach quote. Illusions, to summarize, is a compendium of such quotes.

However, I gave the book two stars only because it is consistent with the philosophy it preaches. The idea that the book is saying anything of consequence is an illusion and you are the one attaching any reality and importance to it.

The book might have had some 'message', but I was too busy smell-proofing my mind from all the shit flying around.

[Madeline · Rating 2 out of 5]

um... probably the nicest thing to say about this book would be... a dumb mans "Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance"

anyway, i saw this book at a garage sale for 25cents... that made me pick it up. what made me *buy* it was this introduction

"I do not enjoy writing at all. If I can turn my back on an idea, out there in the dark, if I can avoid opening the door to it, I won't even reach for a pencil. But once in a while there's a great dynamite-burst of fling glass and brick and splinters through the front wall and somebody stalks over the rubble, seizes me by the throat and gently says, "I will not let you go until you set me, in words, on paper." THAT is how I met "Illusions."

could i NOT read this book?!?

also, the back of the book has like a starry night time scene and says only "More than a great national bestseller. A great way of looking at life." - - and since i'm on this spirituality kick, i thought i'd give it a shot.

unfortunately, "spirituality" is letting me down.

[Shakirah · Rating 5 out of 5]

I heard about the book on Esther & Jerry Hicks Video. After reading the reviews here on Goodreads I decided to make the 10 odd minute trip to Kinokuniya to grab a copy. I never regretted it. A book which carries the message of how we mould our own future, our own life, our own outcomes in a very engaging way. I finished this wonderful book in 4 hours or so. If you need anything to lift your spirits when you are feeling down, or restore your faith in the Law of Attraction, this is one of the many books that will be very helpful.

[Steve Merrick · Rating 5 out of 5]

"Here is a test to find whether your mission to Earth is finished; If your alive it isn't."
Why write of the book when it could be more fun to explain the reactions of several other people who have read this one. Before I say anything else I feel it needs a health warning. The symptoms that I have witnessed as people read this book include, delusional psychosis, fantasising in public, maniac attempts at cloud bursting and one very very bruised nose. (A result of a grown man trying to swim in the grass on a very dry day in Hackney. If only he hadn't decided to dive in.) Also most of these poor crazed Richard Bach Fans discover something mystical and illuminating within themselves as they read the book. Unfortunately all of them want to share this great gift with everyone, so get used to some rather odd lectures if your Partner, flatmate, best friends, or children lay their hands on a copy of this book.
The story however is brilliant, A Messiah who wants to quit. A pilot who doesn't want to fly using machines anymore. Written masterfully and with a huge degree of characterisation. If you have read Jonathon Livingston Seagull (also by Richard Bach) then this is an evolution of that first book. However dangerous the book may be its a must have on any shelf. I hate to admit it but this book is enlightening, entertaining, thought provoking, but above all original. A one off. The mould was smashed up afterwards because I have never read anything quite like this. Nor have you.


YOU MUST READ THIS BOOK!!!!!

[Melissa · Rating 5 out of 5]

I loved this story.
I love taking responsibility for my own life and outcome.
I love doing what I want to do, and leaving others free to do what they want.
I loved the analogy about all the creatures clinging to the sticks and rocks in the river, but one was tired of clinging and let go to follow the path the river led it down.
I loved the point that freedom is watching "your own films" not someone else's films, and the introspection that resulted when I pondered the films I actually like and what that says about life choices.
I want to live freely and happily, to give up the boredom.

I love
"What the caterpillar
calls the end of the world,
the master calls a
butterfly."

I guess, in short, I loved this book :)

[Celia · Rating 5 out of 5]

Richard Bach is the author of Jonathan Livingston Seagull, a book about birds, but teaches lessons relevant to humans. I liked that book, but I like his second book MORE. It is about PEOPLE learning life lessons, not birds. I guess I relate more to people!!

Illusions is a lighthearted mystical adventure story about two barnstorming vagabonds who meet in the fields of the Midwest. Richard Bach meets Don Shimoda, the Reluctant Messiah. Magic and miracles surround Don. He calls them Illusions, not Miracles. Richard wants to learn. Don presents him with Messiah's Handbook: Reminders for the Advanced Soul. It starts 'Perspective, Use It or Lose It. If you turned to this page, you're forgetting that what is going on around you is not reality'. Richard reads more and more and Don speaks more and more. Very beautiful life-clarifying phrases.

I see this book as a wonderful book to read AND DISCUSS with a friend.

If any of you want to read this book, let me know if you would like to discuss it with ME.

5 stars

[Nafi3 · Rating 3 out of 5]

به نقل از کتابخوان:
«پندار» رمانی نوشته‌ی ریچارد باخ نويسنده‌ی آمريكایی است كه زمانی هم خلبان بوده و به دليل علاقه زيادش به پرواز هميشه توی داستان‌هایش اشاره‌ای به اين مقوله دارد. او موسس مذهب پرواز است و مريدانی نيز دارد.

خلاصه داستان:
دونالد شيمودا يك منجی جهانی است كه به حقيقت زندگی پی برده و معجزات زيادی را انجام می‌دهد. او تصميم می‌گيرد مدتی از جمعيت دور شود و در اين زمان با خلبانی به نام ريچارد آشنا شده و معنا و مفهوم جهان را به او می‌آموزد ... اين كه جهان و حقايق به نوعی وهم و پندارند و بعد از كشف و بنا بر درک عقلانی ما حقيقت می‌يابند ... اين كه با تمركز و باور و اعتقاد می‌توان هر كاری را انجام داد...
‌‌
برشی از متن کتاب:
جهان را زیبا، دادگر، بی‌طرف و کامل تصور کن؛ سپس از یک چیز مطمئن باش، آن وجود آن را بسیار بهتر از آن‌چه که تو تصور می‌کنی تصور کرده است.

[Monica · Rating 3 out of 5]

I've read this book more than once. The first time I read it, I was 22 years old, very idealistic and I thought this was the most brilliant book ever written by anyone. This one and "The Bridge Across Forever" were almost sacrosanct. Fast forward 15 years and I reread it with fond memories of the past and it struck me as less than good. In fact it was plodding and somewhat tedious. I am therefore splitting the middle and giving it 3 stars. A book for the younger idealist in me, not the jaded woman I am today.

[Bradley · Rating 5 out of 5]

I read this when I was a kid and it really did influence me, as did Jonathan Livingston Seagull. I love reality bending fiction and I also loved the bent it had toward living with wisdom. I can't imagine what my life would have been without being surrounded by good notions like that. Of course, it was also surrounded by reality bending, too, so maybe I was pretty messed up as a kid. Fortunately, I read a lot in order to shuck-off all of those reality-bending mindscapes in favor of new reality-bending mindscapes. As we all know, more reality-bending is better. Right? Right?
Regardless, it was one of the best, and first books that I had read of its kind and I suppose it will always have a great spot in my heart. Love and wisdom, after all, are some of the best things in the world.

[Errin Davenport · Rating 5 out of 5]

This is a wonderful book! I have read it several times and with each reading I discovered a little part of myself, and remembered those times of miracles I had forgotten.

[Tom Quinn · Rating 3 out of 5]

You are never given a wish without also being given the power to make it true.

You may have to work for it, however. (92)

Sometimes the stories of why we read the books we read are more interesting than the books themselves. Illusions was recommended to me by a coworker as one of his favorite books. In exchange, I suggested to him some of my favorites (and also pressed them on him from my personal library with an urgency that might have bordered on off-putting). I find it tricky to read someone else's favorite book, because there's a lot of pressure to say the right thing after. Illusions seems tailor-made for buddy reading and book clubs, though.

I was impressed by Illusions early on, and I'm glad the author had the sense to make his point and not drag everything out. I saw something of Hemingway in Bach's spare and economical sentence crafting. It's as if Hemingway wrote magical realism, kind of. Add in the gentle-but-stern sentimentality of Vonnegut and you've got a good idea of what to expect. The shared language of pilots, mechanics, and gearheads did not appeal to me but I see how it serves a purpose. Bach doesn't labor too hard on the dialect or make it difficult to follow by any means, but the jargon is present throughout. Still, the book as a whole feels warm and inviting. Truth be told, the saccharine sweetness of the main "there's a miracle worker in all of us" message is a bit hokey but it seems to come from a good place. There are quite a few parallels with a favorite film of mine: I Heart Huckabee's. The reminder that we can choose how we judge and react to things, that we can construct our own perceptions of the things around us, is a soothing and comforting one. Some of the more outrageous demonstrations don't do it for me, though.

3 stars out of 5. Divorced from all the personal context, the text isn't all that impressive. But our reading is never truly divorced from personal context, and I'm glad to have shared this one with someone.

[Farnoosh Farahbakht · Rating 3 out of 5]

در حال خوندن کتاب یه اتفاق جالب و عجیب برام افتاد!
سر کار با یکی از همکارام در مورد مفهموم خانواده بحث می کردیم.به طور اتفاقی کتاب رو که تازه شروع کرده بودم و فقط چند صفحه اولش رو خونده بودم از رو میز کارم برداشتم و این جمله که با فونت درشت نوشته شده بود نظرم و جلب کرد : "حلقه ای که خانواده ی حقیقی تو را به هم متصل می کند، همخونی نیست بلکه احترام و خوشحالی است که نسبت به زندگی یکدیگر دارید.بندرت اعضای یک خانواده در زیر یک سقف با هم بزرگ می شوند."
تعجبم وقتی خیلی بیشتر شد که شب در ادامه کتاب خوندم شیمودا که نقش یک منجی رو داره کتاب مسیحایی خودش رو به ریچارد شاگردش میده و میگه "فقط این کتاب را باز می کنی و مطلبی را که بیش از هر چیز نیاز داری می یابی" !!

[Mevsim Yenice · Rating 4 out of 5]

Richard Bach'ın malesef ki Martı'nın gölgesinde kaldığını düşündüğüm eseri.

Gönülsüz bir mesih ve onun "Bu kitaptaki her şey yanlış olabilir." diye biten el kitabı. İnsan olmakla kafayı yediğimiz şu kısa(!) ömrümüzde müthiş insanlar olmaya çalışıp, hata yapmadan yolun sonuna gelmeye çalışırken hatanın en büyüğünü yapıyoruzdur belki de. Belki de ihtiyacımız olan tek şey, bir mesihin çıkıp da bize "Bildiğin, yaptığın her şey yanlış olabilir. Dert değil." demesi. Bunu hissettirmişti bu incecik kitap bana.

Tavsiye ediyorum.

[Mehrdad Mozafari · Rating 5 out of 5]

این بار از کتاب نمی گم
از خودم می گم:
به وقت بود و به خواندنش نیاز داشتم
همین

[Jared Della Rocca · Rating 4 out of 5]

I am the product of two families. On the biological side, I was raised a Roman Catholic, and frequently joke that I'm part of the world's largest religion, Lapsed Roman Catholics. On my married side, I've been raised a Spiritualist. Wait, strike that. I'm a lower-case 's' spiritualist. Because it's not an organized anything, it's just a state of being.

This second way of living has trickled down from my mother-in-law to my wife and now to me. They are both more well-versed and studied in the miracles around us, while I am more of a novice believer in the power of the universe. Science, for me, is just a way of explaining the miracles in terms we can understand. But look at your cell phone. Open up an app. It's become routine, but can you explain how any of that works? And not just in general, but in the particular. Because for me, that's a goddamned miracle! And that's stuff that millions of people can probably explain how it works. Go bigger. Human life is created from stardust, exploding supernovas billions of years ago. Think about that for a minute, or an hour. Now tell me life isn't a miracle. But it's a miracle of science. It doesn't require God, or organized worship. It just requires us to open our eyes a little bit wider.

And that's what Illusions reinforced, for me at least. It's to open your eyes a little bit wider to the world around you. Understand that everything we see, everything we experience, is our brain doing its best to understand the illusion, the miracle of the world around us. But if we open our eyes and our mind a little wider, we can stop experiencing these miracles and begin to participate in them. We can go from observers to creators, from humans to Messiahs.

Intrigued? :-) Welcome to the unorganized organization of spiritualists. There's coffee and cake in the basement afterwards ;-)

[liz · Rating 1 out of 5]

Please note the shelves this book is on: It's much more "junk" than "fun." I received this as a gift, and it says on the cover, "The glorious best seller by Richard Bach author of Jonathan Livingston Seagull and One", which I think pretty much sums it up. The author's note in the beginning is pretentious drivel about "I never wanted to write another book again because it's just so hard, but these characters and this story were just begging to be let out of my head..." Waah. The book isn't even 200 pages, and the print is not tiny. You can finish it in an afternoon (he probably did). It's really predictable, and I could get the same basic idea reading a book about Buddhism without having to deal w/ the BS plot. I'm trying to find one to link to, but really, pretty much ANY book about Buddhism (or Buddhist meditation) will give you the same ideas but better articulated. Which I guess is kind of funny, since the person who gave me the book gave it to me because she loves the message, and she's an observant Christian (albeit an extremely cool, funny, and open-minded observant Christian).

An excerpt from the "Messiah's Handbook" (oracular book within the book):
You are
never given a wish
without also being given the
power to make it true.
You may
have to work for it,
however.

As a matter of fact, hey. You want to read a BETTER book about a "reluctant messiah" (not that better is really saying much) that'll give you the same basic message in a way more satisfying way? Try this.

[Anastasia · Rating 1 out of 5]

Wow, this book... *sigh* When I FINALLY got around to reading this little beat up paperweight, I was sick, in bed, with nothing else to do. I could have just as easily been asleep and equally productive. It was such a disappointment, because not only was it practically free, one of my best friends had good things to say about it.
This book was like the dictionary of fortune cookie-isms. The general message seemed to be "Whatever you think, that is what is, also, the opposite of that is as well." And my lucky numbers, what are they? And how do you say, "Stop smoking weed" in Chinese?

[Contrarius · Rating 5 out of 5]

This is one of my favorite books of all time. Yes, it is all soft pop-philosophy, but it can be profound at the same time. Just listen to it with an open heart, and let its message ease into your heart.

[Nathan Trachta · Rating 5 out of 5]

My friend Renee recommended this one to me, she knows I've had questions in life and I'm open to unique perspectives; what can I say, I don't know everything in life and I'm still learning. Illusions is a book of self learning or teaching by and indirect method, I'll let you decide. For me it was an indirect method learning about the illusions of life and how we limit ourselves. In this case Mr. Bach has two gentlemen who give airplane rides to people meet and we watch as one quests and learns about himself and the world. As he slowly expands his world past his narrow, limited world into understanding that the world is limitless and only we limit ourselves elite meant happens. Yes, Mr. Bach has shown us there is a world outside of the box we place ourselves in and while others can show us there's more around us, only we can go beyond our self imposed limits.

This is an outstanding read! I learned so much about myself it's amazing. This is a solid 5 star book where we can learn about ourselves and if we limit ourselves from doing all that we possibly can. While the is an allegory about a persons relationship with God, you don't have to limit yourself with this viewpoint. Expand yourself, take wing, and fly beyond your limits so others are amazed and you become their teacher.

[Candice · Rating 1 out of 5]

Ugh. Arrogant, precious, trite, irresponsible. Methinks the author could use a lesson in transcending ego, for he could not resist sharing his vast knowledge of aviation, even at the risk of alienating readers with his cocky jargon. He was also fond of reminding us that he was often one step ahead of his master and was able to correct him at turns, peppering the speech with dickish evidence.

I disliked the jocularity, verbiage, setting, background, and even the message. I do not buy that I "just don't get it" and that it's "so deep it must be read many times to understand". I find no unassuming depth or truth here. Perhaps I might have as a college student, but as a salty old 38-year-old woman, I've heard these messages conveyed clearer and more convincingly elsewhere. And without the full-blown barf-inducing ego.

Thank the Lort that it was short.

[David Ward · Rating 5 out of 5]

Illusions: The Adventures of a Reluctant Messiah by Richard Bach (Delacorte Press 1977)(Fiction). A barnstorming messiah stops long enough to make some profound statements. This is much better than it sounds. For instance: "The original sin is to limit the is. Don't." - Donald Shimoda. My rating: 7.5/10, finished 1978.

[Dr Janice Flux · Rating 1 out of 5]

fuck a bunch of this.

[KamRun · Rating 1 out of 5]

پندار را با اغماض بسیار هم نمی توان یک اثر داستانی دانست، مگر آنکه بتوانیم به اثری بدون پیرنگ صفت داستانی را نسبت دهیم. کتاب از مجموعه ای جملات مثبت و چند اصل پیش پا افتاده ی روانشناسی در قالب بسیار ضعیف یک داستان شکل گرفته است. پندار دو شخصیت اصلی د��رد: ریچارد (راوی) و دونالد، اما دریغ از ذره ای شخصیت پردازی. به نظر می رسد نویسنده با این پیش‌فرض دست به قلم برده که مخاطب ، پیش‌تر با خواندن کتاب‌های دیگر با شخصیت و افکار ریچارد آشنا شده. درون‌مایه ی داستان را این اصل تشکیل می دهد که همه چیز در دنیا (و حتی خود دنیا) توهمی است که رنگی از واقعیت گرفته است. حقیقت هستی "بودن" است و نمود آن هرطور که باشد توهم و رویاست. اندکی باور لازم هست تا انسان هرچه که می خواهد خلق کند... ساختار بخش هایی از کتاب عینا از عهد جدید اقتباس شده است: دو منجی در موقعیتی مشابه، در مقابل سوالاتی مشابه، با پاسخ هایی متفاوت.یک آنتی تز برای انجیل

[Lance Greenfield · Rating 5 out of 5]

This is absolutely the best book that I have read in a long while.

There is much philosophy and much humour. And there is so much to stimulate the reader's mind into a flurry of thoughts. I could pick out so many quotable passages, but my favourite remains as one which I used on my own blog recently. If you are interested, take a look at Writer’s Quote Wednesday – The Chrysalis Moment .

I loved it so much that I shall immediately put it onto my personal top books of all time list.

[Özlem Güzelharcan]

Şimdi içeriğine dair hiçbir şey hatırlamıyorum ama ilk okulda okuyup da çok sevdiğimi, çok etkilendiğimi, hatta kitaptan cümleleri ezberleyip evin bahçesinde kendi kendime tiyatro yaptığımı net hatırlıyorum.
Sihirli, spiritüel bir şeyler vardı sanki kitapta.

Sonra Jonathan Livigstone girdi hayatıma ve bana adımı (Gezgin Martı) bahşetti. Şimdi 25 yıl sonra burada karşıma çıktıysa Mavi Tüy, tekrar okumam gerektiğine dair en güzelinden bir mesaj değil de nedir bu?

[Nicholas George · Rating 2 out of 5]

I didn't know quite what to make of this. It's a mishmash of new-age wisdom and eastern philosophy disguised as some sort of fanciful folk tale about a man with godlike powers (he can create items out of thin air, fly his barnstorming plane without fuel, and so on) and a book of aphorisms he passes on to Bach, the author who also is in this tale. It's all a bit too precious. Thank goodness it was short.

[Jishnu Bhattacharya · Rating 1 out of 5]

Believe
that you
like a book
And you will
like it

Well, I tried to. Didn't work, Mr Bach.

[Rosalía · Rating 5 out of 5]

This was actually a life-changing book. It was a book that opened my mind as to my own thought process when I came upon other individuals having challenges with life's journey. Here's a story I wrote about it (Not for eyes under 18):

JEALOUS OF THE DOG


I'm in love with a man who doesn't love me. Well, love is a strange word, a strong word, a poor-excuse-to-be-miserable word. He loves me as a friend, as a sister, as a pet, perhaps. I'm always around, following him like a lost puppy.

It's cruel, unfair. Passion unrequited leaves its victim insane. It's the problem of supply and demand. When love is in low supply, you demand it even more, like the last cookie in the cookie jar. You see someone grabbing it, and suddenly it's the one thing you have to have, the one thing you've always wanted. You'd beg for it. You'd pay through the nose for it. You'd steal it if you needed to.

His name is Charlie, but he looks like Jim Morrison—his long, unkempt hair; his perfect skin; his blue-gray eyes; his morose poetness.

Love me one time. I could not speak.

The song pounds in my head.

Love me one time, baby. Yeah, my knees got weak.

He'll never love me, but my knees get weak. He'll never love me, but I cannot speak. I cannot sleep—in my bed, in his bed. I'm not allowed. Only Molly gets to share his sheets, his blankets. Only Molly.

He passes me a paperback across the table—Richard Bach's Illusions. That's what Charlie is: an illusion. We grew up together; played together; shared secrets together. I'd go to his house after school, and we'd write poetry or song lyrics. I'd bang on the piano, and he'd strum his guitar. He'd read Kafka or Camus aloud. I'd bask in his voice, in his blue eyes, in his Jim Morrison hair and melodic articulation.

Come on, Baby. Light my fire.

It's been six years since we graduated High School, and I still love him, but the only female he loves is Molly. He smiles for Molly, kisses Molly, pets her in front of me shamelessly. He brushes her ginger hair and feeds her from his soft, pale, perfect hands. Molly is a Golden Retriever. She has Charlie wrapped around her finger—rather, her paw.

Charlie hands me a copy of Illusions. The book smells musty and a bit like Jergens lotion with a hint of cinnamon gum. Charlie. It smells like Charlie. I turn the pages, taking care not to dirty them with peanut butter. I sink into the cracked, leather couch and struggle noisily to reach for the sliced apple to dip in the peanut butter. I lick my fingers after each bite. Lick. Bite. A dog licks. A dog bites.

Charlie sits in the orange recliner. His cut-off jeans display his lean legs. He shovels forkfuls of scrambled eggs into his mouth and fingers the bacon. When he swallows, his Adam's apple floats up and down. My face flushes, and the fever rages even more intensely. Each time his Adam's apple moves up, then down, I'm burning up. I need a bucket of ice water to dump on my head before it's too late.

Our sweat-dampened bodies stick to the furniture in this summertime Hell called Davis—one hundred ten degrees in the shade. Hot. The moisture accumulates on my upper lip, my temples, in the creases of my knees and elbows, running down my chest and collecting under each breast. My bra must be soaked, like someplace else that's soaked causing me sweet misery.

Molly sits in front of Charlie, wagging her tail and eyeing his strip of bacon. Charlie pats his bare knee, and Molly wiggles closer. She begs; better than me. Charlie places the slice of oily, crisp bacon between his lips and teeth; gets on his hands and knees and faces Molly. My heart flops like a goldfish that’s just jumped from its bowl.

Try now. We can only lose and our love become a funeral pyre.

Molly licks the bacon from Charlie's mouth and gently shares it's saltiness with her master. She licks. She bites. His mouth. She's a dog. I want to cry.

“Good girl, Molly. Good girl, Sweetie. Gimme a kiss. That's a girl.”

Even after Molly has taken her portion and has chewed and swallowed, Charlie stays on his hands and knees, lips puckered. For Molly. She continues to lick his lips, mouth, and teeth.

Sidewalk crouches at HIS feet like a dog that begs for something sweet.

Charlie makes kissing noises and croons for a dog. I watch, and my stomach drops to my knees. Someone has placed a brick in my gut and has tightened a rope around my throat. Somebody please find an iceberg to place on my head.

I've never been so jealous of a dog in my life. I've never wanted to be a dog so badly, a Golden Retriever, Molly.

This is the end.

God set me up. It's a joke: God's joke, Cupid's joke. Ha ha. Very funny.

I've loved him for years, and I thought he loved me too. We were like Siamese twins. We still are, inseparable. You'd think I would have known. I should have known: his pretty face, his pretty hands, his pretty smile and pretty words. But that's exactly why I fell in love with him.

People are strange.

I lick my fingers and turn a page and reach for another slice of apple. My legs stick to the couch as I shift and reach. There's a knock on the door and Molly follows Charlie as he gets up to answer it. His name is Charlie, but I'd swear he's Jim. He's an illusion.

“Hey, Charlie.”

“Mario.” Charlie lets him in: the man, a beautiful man, my competition—aside from the dog.

“Are we still on for tonight?”



Charlie and I met in a ceramics class the summer after Sixth Grade—wet clay, wet hands, creating art together.

Hello, I love you, won’t you tell me your name?
Hello, I love you. Let me jump in your game.

In school, we were best friends. We could touch, we could laugh, we could pass the time doing absolutely nothing. And when we discovered sex in junior high, we even kissed; behind the gym, waiting for the bus; my love, my first love, my door to everything.

Now, I’m gonna love you, till the heavens stop the rain. I’m gonna love you till the stars fall from the sky for you and I.

Senior year he changed. He started wearing make-up, earrings, bracelets, and necklaces. He started wearing kilts. Kilts are skirts. He looked so pretty, I should have known. The illusion. He was the tiger that disappeared, the rabbit in the hat. He was the ace up my sleeve. I've never been good at figuring out magic tricks.

When I asked if he was going to the Sadie Hawkin's dance, Heather laughed at me.

“Oh, Sofie. He's gay. Didn't you know?”

It's funny how things change, people change. You can't predict where life will take you, where love will take you.

Charlie protected me from junior high monsters: boys too young to be men. They said I had big eyes, cow eyes. Charlie said I had beautiful eyes. They pointed at my chest that had grown too large for a girl of thirteen. I tried to hide it under my hair while they snickered and joked. Charlie told them to grow up.

Charlie's kiss tasted like cinnamon and sunshine, and it warmed me all the way to my toes so that I thought sparks would spurt from them. He smelled like Irish Spring and Jergen's lotion and cinnamon gum. My savior, my messiah, my love—before he discovered he was gay. The illusion.

Senior year I barely recognized him on the outside. He was still the same old Charlie on the inside. He still made my knees weak.

Love me one time. I could not speak. Love me one time, baby. Yeah, my knees got weak.

I pat the couch, and Molly trots over. She smells my hands and licks at my fingers, expecting a treat. Mario smiles and comes over to pet Molly.

“Hey there, Sophie. What are you up to? Are you going out with us tonight?” His blue eyes are lethal. I see why Charlie can't get enough.

“I didn't know there were any gay bars in Davis, Mario.”

“Ouch. Harsh, So-So.” He plops on the couch next to me. “We're going to Shooters to play some pool and see a new local band trying to break out. You can join us if you like.”

Charlie joins in. “Yeah, Sofie, why don't you come? You never go out anymore.” He wipes his pretty mouth with a paper napkin.

“You don't want a third wheel.” I shake my head and try a smile.

“Yes, I do. I miss your company.” He's so beautiful when he begs. I want him on his knees.

“You just want a female in the group so you don't stand out.” I wink, and they both crack up.

Mario drags his palm along my calf.

“Ooo. Smooth. We all know what that means.”

“It means nothing,” I say gruffly and brush his hand away.

“A woman who shaves wants. . . ”

“Shut-up, Mario. I just don't like to be hairy, okay?”

“Mm hmm. C'mon, So-So. Go out with us. We'll find a guy for you.”

“Yeah, if you don't take him for yourselves.”

“Oh! Double harsh!” Mario laughs.

“What's gotten into you today?” Charlie picks up his plate and slaps me gay-like in the shoulder on the way into the kitchen. I hear the plate clank in the sink. Ugh. Just kill me now.

Strange days have found us. Strange days have tracked us down.

Charlie bursts out of the kitchen, arms outstretched, singing a Culture Club tune. He does his Boy George impersonation so well all I can do is laugh. Mario, beside himself, doubles over, tears streaming down his cheeks. I decide then and there to give in and go out with the dynamic duo; maybe find myself a nice heterosexual for once.

***

At Shooters, Aerosmith and a roaring swamp cooler overpower the crack of cue sticks and billiard balls. Mario and Charlie have dressed casually, and it feels like old times. I should have put my hair up. The nape of my neck is damp and sticky, and I keep fanning myself with tonight's paper program, but it doesn't do any good. Charlie's legs in snug blue jeans, Davis heat; I just can't get cool, not even lukewarm. The swamp cooler can't keep up with full occupancy even after the sun has gone down.

Mario and Charlie have me play on both their teams; otherwise, it wouldn't be fair. I'm that good.

“Okay, Sophie. Your turn. Put 'er in the pocket now, you shark.” Mario hands me the stick after chalking it up.

“Do I have to call it?”

“So-So, you can do whatever you want tonight. You're always on fire.” Charlie grins. “You can be on my team forever 'cause I'd never bet against you!”

“Ha! Flattery will get you everywhere. See that three over there? Red. Corner pocket.” I point my stick and lean over. SMACK. The ball slides across the felt and drops into the pocket. I sink solid after solid, then stripe after stripe. If the guys weren't gay, I'd think they just like watching me bend over. I fake a miss so they get a chance to play.

“Ohhh. . . So close.”

“Too bad, so sad.”

I notice the bartender looking my way. His shirt tugs at all the right places, showing off a set of huge biceps and a tight chest. I start fantasizing about unbuttoning the shirt, then I catch a glimpse of his thick legs. Mario notices him too.

“There you go, Sophie.” He nods his head toward the bar. “I promise. You can have him.”

“What makes you think I want him?” Oh, yes. I do want him.

Charlie skips over, holding his stick like a spear. So gay.

“What's going on? What're we talking about?” He bends his head in close. “Huh? Huh? Huh?”

“The bartender,” Mario whispers. “I think So-So needs to make a move.” Charlie glances over and nods.

“Oh. Definitely. He's a hunk.” Charlie grins wickedly and nods.

“You two are impossible! If I go over, will you leave me alone?” They're both leaning on their sticks, beaming and bobbing their heads. I sigh, pass Mario the chalk, and stroll over in appeasement.

Tried to run. Tried to hide. Break on through to the other side.

Sometimes a few steps away can feel so long and sometimes overcoming small obstacles can be profound. I smile at Charlie and begin the trek across the floor. The bartender regards me with green eyes and smiles, awaiting my approach. He ignores the customer on the stool to his left who's slapping the bar to gain his attention. I cross oceans to get there, deserts, miles and miles of burning sand and void, years and years of drought. When I get there, I feel as if my throat has dried up. I can't speak. I need water.

Break on through to the other side.

I slide into the stool facing Mr. Muscles. He grins smugly.

“What'll it be?” He leans onto the counter, dangerously close, chin on his hand. I swallow, and it feels like sand down my throat.

“Anything. Water first, then anything at all.” Oh please, anything. I want him on his knees begging. I want him to bend me over and fuck me hard with whatever he has hidden within the confines of those tight pants. I want to lie on the bar and spread for his dirty encroachment. I want his mouth on me, licking me, biting me, and I want him inside me filling me. I want to lift the apron to unzip his jeans and release any male savagery he has stored up to alleviate my anguish and deliver me from my years of desolate need.

That's when I see it: a book; a copy of Richard Bach's Illusions in the pocket of his apron.

“You're reading Illusions.” It comes out as a hoarse whisper. He looks down to his apron, then back up at me.

“Yeah. Have you read it?”

I really do want him. I want to touch him, suck him even, or sit on the bar and let him crouch between my knees to lap the puddle that has formed in my crotch till I scream and erupt with that fiery orgasm stored deep inside my core.

Break on through to the other side.

“I'm reading it now, actually. How strange.”

“I'm Eric.” He stretches out his hand. I shake it and watch his arm move up and down, the shoulder move up and down, like the Adam's Apple moves up and down. I imagine him between my legs and moving up and down. He's so thick. I want him like a piece of meat.

“Molly.” I lie. I'm not sure why. The new band starts with a Doors tune, and I turn my head abruptly toward the stage. They have the keyboard just right. The singer tries to move like Jim, but he doesn't look a thing like him. They need Charlie up there.

“Nice to meet you, Molly. You like The Doors?”

I'm looking at his mouth.

“Yeah. I do.”

I watch his tongue move as he speaks, his white teeth, his throat, his Adam's apple. Up and down. I'm imagining us on our hands and knees facing each other, eye to eye, nose to nose, lip to lip, mouth to mouth. Sharing bacon.

“I get off in a few minutes. You want to dance?”

Week to week. Day to day. Hour to hour. Break on through to the other side.

My heart pounds. My gut wrenches and the wetness flows between my legs, under my breasts, and under my hair. The back of my neck is so wet the hairs cling to my nape. I can't believe I'm actually saying it. I can't believe I really want it—my fantasy. Not what I thought. An illusion.

“Actually. . . You got any bacon at home?”