Seeing past the bug juice and projecting myself forward in the night

I'm driving.  It's late.  Real late.  I'm making my way across country.  Happy for the time we are making while the kids are asleep.  Driving any distance with kids is impossible, unless they are asleep.  I love to drive.  I love an open road.  Wife is asleep now.  No radio just the drone of the car on the road.  This stretch has a wonderful hum with it's newly applied grooves.  It's not lolling me to sleep as I am the night owl.  A predator for these moments that only happen at this hour and these rare events.  Absolutely meditation.  I am happily split into two separate beings.  I am conscious and aware that the second self is neither conscious nor aware.  It is this second unaware state that I am now culturing.  Like a proud parent on a park bench, I watch the second traipse in and out of concepts.  The conscious self is setting traps carefully to capture sparks of creativity flying off as the second plays.  These sparks are what I seek.  Things that can only be made by the ignorant playful self.

The speed is adding to the effect.  The straightness of the the road.  And the forced gaze into the oncoming lights.  Now I divide again.  I'm projected forward out of the car just beyond the windshield.  I am the car.  I'm delighted with my new third self who gets to be the car.  Even if it is a mini-van.  The cars existence is simple, drive.  And with my decades of driving experience I have a trained mind that does not need the frontal lobe to operate.  It just happens, thoughtlessly.  I am three now; the car, the ignorant and the conscious creator sliding back and forth between two children making sure each has their needs.  I don't find this difficult or exhausting but like I said a meditation.  It's relaxing and nurturing.

Technically we are doing 85miles/hr. but all three of us are standing still in the quiet of the night.  Each existing blissfully.  Two of which are only aware of themselves.  Me as the car, is totally focused on the repetitive task, rapped in a mantra of following the line.  The other runs free in fields and streams of thoughts past and present.  Creating collages of my mind.  It is these collages that are ugly, some beautiful and some are births of new concepts that the conscious self quietly records as a voyeur of true creativity.

And now it is gone!  I am dramatically and unpleasantly reunified.  I am conscious and my other selves have gone.  It's 2am in the morning.  I'm driving 85/hr and I am kept from my illusion that I am a blissful ignorant by the newest juice to be produced on the windshield, a lightening bug.  Tail still blinking, I turn on the wipers and the windshield becomes a huge smear of grease.   The road kill that I was able to focus beyond before now drives me deeper back into the car as I can no longer see efficiently.  I am once again a single being.

Slightly annoyed and depressed about the lose of my second and third self, I check my minds pockets.  And there mostly intact, are the new creative concepts left behind for me by me.  I spend the next few minutes rutting them in so as not to lose them.  Everyone is awake now.  The opportunity is gone.  I will miss myselves but am thankful for these new original thoughts.