The Dreamer
This has started to become very daily for me, hasn't it? Anyway, here is another short story that we are writing for shitsumeibu! It's based on the theme "in the corner".
Anyway, here it is.
The Dreamer
To whom it may concern,
Lately, I have been dreaming these strange dreams. They always start out differently. Last night, I dreamt that I was floating through the sky. My body had no weight, it seemed. The high atmosphere made me dizzy, and the sun was so blinding, but I felt good, as if nothing could weigh me down any more. This is probably how all those kids feel when they do their drugs, if you can understand that, but this was definitely better. Seeing the whole world from the sky brought tears to my eyes. It was an experience that you can't fully comprehend from sitting in seat of some plane, trapped within the walls.
That is how it felt. But as soon as I began to savour the contentness, I started to fall, and fall fast. All of the magic dust wore off, and I could no longer soar through the sky like Peter Pan. I was falling with nothing but the once beautiful sky above me, and the ground below. When this happened, it seemed that I could feel the fear in my heart, even in the real world, where I lay sleeping. I heard before that if you dream of yourself falling and actually hit the ground, then in real life, you'd die for real. So, you could imagine my fear.
I think at this point I blacked out, because when I woke in my dream, I was in an empty room. I know what you're thinking, "Are you sure your dream didn't just change?" I'm sure it didn't. Because when I looked up, there was a hole on the ceiling where I have fallen through, and there was the same sky that I had just been flying through hours earlier. Hours I say because, when I flew, it was day, but now, it was night.
This is when all the dreams become similar. I feel as if I've been in this room before. It's cold, damp, and dark. The hole on the ceiling was always there also, but each night, somehow I make it larger. Before I had fallen from the sky through it, in a previous dream, it was a hole in a ground that I trip and fell through, and then before that, it was a gutter on the side of the street, that I tried to reach into to grab a coin. In this dream though, the hole was finally big enough to allow some of the moonlight to shine into the dark room. I could see in the room now.
In the corner of the room, I had never noticed before, a boy sitting. He had his back pointed towards me, facing the corner. He was bare, with scars all over his back, and he was sobbing. It may sound cruel to you now, but I couldn't cry. I felt no sadness for the boy as he cried in the corner. I had no feeling at all. I stood there, and he sat there, not realising that I was there. I took a step forward, and although the sound of my shoe echoed through the room, he took no notice to my prescence.
Now I stood next to him in the corner. I kneeled down behind him, and touched the scars on his back. He still did not notice me. He only continued to cry. As I ran my hand over all the scars on his back, I felt as if each one told a story. I felt as if pieces of this boy's memories, the memories of his scars, came to me, and then suddenly, I was crying also. I lost my composure, and fell. I, too, was now crying in the corner with this boy.
I leaned against a wall, because the pain was too unbarable for me to support myself. I understood all the feelings that this boy felt just by touching his scars, and it began to scare me. I felt more afraid than before when I was falling. I feared being alone. I feared being sad. I feared not being loved by anyone. And I knew. I knew I was alone. I knew I was sad. And I knew that no one loved me. This boy was crying because he knew, and I understood his pain.
I opened my mouth, and suddenly, I was calling a name. I was calling the name of the boy, but he couldn't hear me. I screamed at the top of my lungs, because I wanted him to know that I was there, and that he wasn't alone. I tried to grab him by the shoulders and shake him; to get him to notice me. But when I tried, it was like my hands could not touch him, and they just fell through. No, don't just fall through, I thought. I really wanted him to know that I was there. My hands turned into fists, and began to punch the wall. Why coulnd't he hear me? Why didn't he know that I was there? Am I a ghost?
Suddenly, a heared a door creek open, and light began to emerge into the room, and it embraced me and the boy. And we were gone. And then I woke up, in the real world. So, what do you think?
Sincerely,
The Dreamer
***************************************
Shonanoka--the seventh day anniversary of her grandfather's death. This was when Kazuko finally gained couraged to go through her grandfather's old things. This was no easy feat for her, for she was close to her grandfather, who practically raised her to be the woman that she was today. She felt very sentimental towards anything that belonged to him, and in no way wanted to get rid of anything.
"How are you holding up?" she heard the voice of her husband ask.
"Not well, " she replied. "Grandfather's things... it's like if we throw them away, I'm losing a part of him all over again."
Kazuko's face began to feel hot, and she knew that she was about to cry again. Her husband stood next to her, put his arm around her, and pushed back her hair. "It'll be okay. As long as you remember him, I'm sure that you will never actually lose your grandfather."
"That's what I try and say to myself, but my heart and my mind think two different things."
Kazuko started to go through her grandfather's old books, looking through each one carefully, before packing it in a box. There were many books on the human psyche. Her grandfather was a psychologist after all, and it was normal for him to have these types of books. Many fascinating books... sometimes she or her husband had to stop herself from getting into them so she could focus on the work at hand. Just as soon as she had thought that she put all the books into a box though, she found another, on the top shelf, covered in dust. It wasn't an ordinary book, she could tell. It was bound together by thread, but a book nonetheless. She opened it up, and began to read. The pages were all written in handwritting of her grandfather. At first, Kazuko believed that they were notes that he may have taken, but then she realised that each page was addressed "to whom it may concern" and were all signed by "The Dreamer".
What were these strange letters, she wondered. She sat down, and read the book, from cover to cover. At the conclusion, she understood everything, and then she loved her grandfather even more.
***************************************
There was once a boy, who lived in the corner of a dark room, with nothing but the moonlight as his companion. By day, he was tormented by a loveless father, who blamed the boy for the death of his wife (for she had died giving birth), shuned by the adults, and bullied by the other children, who would make whips out of rope and beat him until he would lay there, bleeding. The corner was the only place where he could get any solace.
One day, the boy met a girl, who was kind to him, and loved him. At first he didn't know why, but as the years passed, he began to understand, and he loved her back. When they grew up, they got married, and moved away from the town. They lived happily for many years, and even had a son. This son grew up, and got married as well. And then they had a granddaughter.
Not long after their granddaughter was born though, the boy's love fell ill and passed away. The boy grieved and grieved, but he knew that he must keep on living for her sake. However, the boy began to see dreams of a dark room where a boy lived in the corner. He didn't understand at first, the meaning behind these dreams. Until one day, he understood. Ever since the day he met the one he loved, he had surpressed all his painful memories.
The boy did not feel sorry for himself because of his past though, because even though the beginning was rough, in the end, he lived life with someone to love. He never shared his memories with anyone. And that was satisfactory to him.
おわり
Anyway, here it is.
The Dreamer
To whom it may concern,
Lately, I have been dreaming these strange dreams. They always start out differently. Last night, I dreamt that I was floating through the sky. My body had no weight, it seemed. The high atmosphere made me dizzy, and the sun was so blinding, but I felt good, as if nothing could weigh me down any more. This is probably how all those kids feel when they do their drugs, if you can understand that, but this was definitely better. Seeing the whole world from the sky brought tears to my eyes. It was an experience that you can't fully comprehend from sitting in seat of some plane, trapped within the walls.
That is how it felt. But as soon as I began to savour the contentness, I started to fall, and fall fast. All of the magic dust wore off, and I could no longer soar through the sky like Peter Pan. I was falling with nothing but the once beautiful sky above me, and the ground below. When this happened, it seemed that I could feel the fear in my heart, even in the real world, where I lay sleeping. I heard before that if you dream of yourself falling and actually hit the ground, then in real life, you'd die for real. So, you could imagine my fear.
I think at this point I blacked out, because when I woke in my dream, I was in an empty room. I know what you're thinking, "Are you sure your dream didn't just change?" I'm sure it didn't. Because when I looked up, there was a hole on the ceiling where I have fallen through, and there was the same sky that I had just been flying through hours earlier. Hours I say because, when I flew, it was day, but now, it was night.
This is when all the dreams become similar. I feel as if I've been in this room before. It's cold, damp, and dark. The hole on the ceiling was always there also, but each night, somehow I make it larger. Before I had fallen from the sky through it, in a previous dream, it was a hole in a ground that I trip and fell through, and then before that, it was a gutter on the side of the street, that I tried to reach into to grab a coin. In this dream though, the hole was finally big enough to allow some of the moonlight to shine into the dark room. I could see in the room now.
In the corner of the room, I had never noticed before, a boy sitting. He had his back pointed towards me, facing the corner. He was bare, with scars all over his back, and he was sobbing. It may sound cruel to you now, but I couldn't cry. I felt no sadness for the boy as he cried in the corner. I had no feeling at all. I stood there, and he sat there, not realising that I was there. I took a step forward, and although the sound of my shoe echoed through the room, he took no notice to my prescence.
Now I stood next to him in the corner. I kneeled down behind him, and touched the scars on his back. He still did not notice me. He only continued to cry. As I ran my hand over all the scars on his back, I felt as if each one told a story. I felt as if pieces of this boy's memories, the memories of his scars, came to me, and then suddenly, I was crying also. I lost my composure, and fell. I, too, was now crying in the corner with this boy.
I leaned against a wall, because the pain was too unbarable for me to support myself. I understood all the feelings that this boy felt just by touching his scars, and it began to scare me. I felt more afraid than before when I was falling. I feared being alone. I feared being sad. I feared not being loved by anyone. And I knew. I knew I was alone. I knew I was sad. And I knew that no one loved me. This boy was crying because he knew, and I understood his pain.
I opened my mouth, and suddenly, I was calling a name. I was calling the name of the boy, but he couldn't hear me. I screamed at the top of my lungs, because I wanted him to know that I was there, and that he wasn't alone. I tried to grab him by the shoulders and shake him; to get him to notice me. But when I tried, it was like my hands could not touch him, and they just fell through. No, don't just fall through, I thought. I really wanted him to know that I was there. My hands turned into fists, and began to punch the wall. Why coulnd't he hear me? Why didn't he know that I was there? Am I a ghost?
Suddenly, a heared a door creek open, and light began to emerge into the room, and it embraced me and the boy. And we were gone. And then I woke up, in the real world. So, what do you think?
Sincerely,
The Dreamer
***************************************
Shonanoka--the seventh day anniversary of her grandfather's death. This was when Kazuko finally gained couraged to go through her grandfather's old things. This was no easy feat for her, for she was close to her grandfather, who practically raised her to be the woman that she was today. She felt very sentimental towards anything that belonged to him, and in no way wanted to get rid of anything.
"How are you holding up?" she heard the voice of her husband ask.
"Not well, " she replied. "Grandfather's things... it's like if we throw them away, I'm losing a part of him all over again."
Kazuko's face began to feel hot, and she knew that she was about to cry again. Her husband stood next to her, put his arm around her, and pushed back her hair. "It'll be okay. As long as you remember him, I'm sure that you will never actually lose your grandfather."
"That's what I try and say to myself, but my heart and my mind think two different things."
Kazuko started to go through her grandfather's old books, looking through each one carefully, before packing it in a box. There were many books on the human psyche. Her grandfather was a psychologist after all, and it was normal for him to have these types of books. Many fascinating books... sometimes she or her husband had to stop herself from getting into them so she could focus on the work at hand. Just as soon as she had thought that she put all the books into a box though, she found another, on the top shelf, covered in dust. It wasn't an ordinary book, she could tell. It was bound together by thread, but a book nonetheless. She opened it up, and began to read. The pages were all written in handwritting of her grandfather. At first, Kazuko believed that they were notes that he may have taken, but then she realised that each page was addressed "to whom it may concern" and were all signed by "The Dreamer".
What were these strange letters, she wondered. She sat down, and read the book, from cover to cover. At the conclusion, she understood everything, and then she loved her grandfather even more.
***************************************
There was once a boy, who lived in the corner of a dark room, with nothing but the moonlight as his companion. By day, he was tormented by a loveless father, who blamed the boy for the death of his wife (for she had died giving birth), shuned by the adults, and bullied by the other children, who would make whips out of rope and beat him until he would lay there, bleeding. The corner was the only place where he could get any solace.
One day, the boy met a girl, who was kind to him, and loved him. At first he didn't know why, but as the years passed, he began to understand, and he loved her back. When they grew up, they got married, and moved away from the town. They lived happily for many years, and even had a son. This son grew up, and got married as well. And then they had a granddaughter.
Not long after their granddaughter was born though, the boy's love fell ill and passed away. The boy grieved and grieved, but he knew that he must keep on living for her sake. However, the boy began to see dreams of a dark room where a boy lived in the corner. He didn't understand at first, the meaning behind these dreams. Until one day, he understood. Ever since the day he met the one he loved, he had surpressed all his painful memories.
The boy did not feel sorry for himself because of his past though, because even though the beginning was rough, in the end, he lived life with someone to love. He never shared his memories with anyone. And that was satisfactory to him.
おわり