How we cite our quotes: (Chapter.Paragraph)
Quote #7
"No one's gonna get you here, Cameron. The world is not going to end. I promise you that. You're one hundred percent safe. As for your disease, doctors are wrong all the time. They need sick people in order to make money."
"Only people who want to get sick actually get sick. They do it to themselves," Ruth adds. "You can even think yourself well if you want to." (24.124)
The folks over at CESSNAB live in a reality totally constructed from their own delusions. But whatever makes them happy, right? Then again, though, are they truly happy? Is denial a valid method of avoiding anything unpleasant?
Quote #8
"What if there are parallel universes where you're you, only different. You know, maybe you're a doctor or a gravedigger or a ninja. Maybe here, in this universe, your—your mom died when you were five"—I choke on the word "died"—"but in another world, she's alive, helping you make sand castles on the beach." […] "But all those other roads, those other choices you don't make? They must get to live somewhere. I mean, maybe…" […]"I'm just saying that it's totally possible that things don't happen until you connect with an event, then the other choices you didn't make unfold in other worlds."
"Whatever, dude," Gonzo says, hands up. "I'm fine with this reality. In fact, it's already more reality than I can handle. I'm not ready to take on another one." (35.5-16)
Schrödinger's Cat rears its ugly head once more, but this time Gonzo isn't stoned and things are just a bit too real for him. He feels like he's in over his head, and now isn't the time to start contemplating parallel dimensions where the choices you haven't made live on in perpetuity.
Quote #9
Dulcie's leaning over me. Her face is a small, glowing nightlight in the dark. "Hey, cowboy. You don't look so good."
"Can't breathe."
"Yes you can. You're just having a bad dream. Relax."
I try to take a deep breath, but it's like there's a Goddamn elephant on my chest, and my muscles are doing their twitch-and-spaz disco routine. For a minute, I hear Glory saying, "Relax, baby. Just need your blood pressure."
"I can't sleep," I say. I hear sounds. Beep. Whirr. Muffled voices. I don't see Gonzo. The bed next to me is empty. Glory's holding my wrist, checking my pulse, a frown one more line on her face. When she's through, she wipes my brow with a washcloth.
"Sweet boy. Get some rest." She clicks the bolus, giving me a new bump of morphine.
"Glory, I can't go to sleep. I'm afraid I'll die." She gives it another click, and my body feels light as goose down.
"Cameron, wake up. It's Dulcie."
"Huh?"
I'm back in the hotel room, away from dreams. Dulcie's stroking my face. "What did you mean, you were afraid you'd die if you went to sleep?"
"I saw Glory. In the hospital."
"Cam, you're with me, okay?" (43.78-88)
This is a perfect example of the juxtaposition between what's happening in our world and how Cam's hallucinations have become his reality. When he glimpses Glory in the hospital he sees what we would see—a very sick boy getting closer and closer to the end of his life. But in his mind this is the dream and his reality is that he is talking to his punk-rock guardian angel in a motel room somewhere in Florida.