Dreaming of Life

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Status: In Progress  |  Genre: Religion and Spirituality  |  House: Booksie Classic
This is a dream I had.
A very visual and realistic dream. The first dream I've ever had where my first impulse was to put pen to paper and write something about it.
I'm not a writer. I'm barely a reader. But I'd still appreciate a bit of feedback on this. Whatever your thoughts please share, this is something I need to share but there is no one close enough in my life I'm willing to share with non-anonymously.
(Has not been spell checked. Sorry)

Submitted: February 17, 2017

A A A | A A A

Submitted: February 17, 2017



Tom's life was one I loved to frequent. His house on the hill he'd build to begin his family, the burdens on his shoulders happily eleviated by the love and hard work of his wife and children. I know he feels guilt in his heart for the life he lives but we all have weight in our hearts. Even me. 
Tom was a small but burly man with a red beard that always reminded me of the fire in a warm fireplace and though small in size his stature was taller than most mountains. His wife watched him sleep almost every night before allowing herself to fall into that blissful slumber. His two children had the same heart of gold that Tom had passed onto them and were never shy about pulling up their sleeves for some hard work. 
For some it was the ideal home despite his sometimes quick temperment or when times were tougher for them than other families. I had never come to their home for work. Except for today.

Most of the family were out further from the house today gathering firewood with the horses. Tom's small hatchet lay resting on a smaller pile of lumber, to be pulled from it's employment by a man with nothing but malice and evil running through his veins. I could only watch as he walked from the shed to the front door of the house, pounding on the door, the axe held behind his back.
Tom's daughter was beautiful and her father's greatest source of pride. Many desired or envied the girl due to her looks and kind nature. She had her flaws as we all do but she was above all things innocent, and undeserving.
She opened the door with a smile which quickly began to fade from her lips as her eye met the expression on this man's face. She dropped whatever it was she'd been holding at the time, it sounded like a basket filled with apples. I could not tell as my gaze was fixed on hers. The terror. The fear. The horror I've seen too many times.
I held her hand through it all. The entire time I held her hand as she stared back into the air above her. In her mind I think she was wishing for her father to come back home, to walk through those doors after having forgotten his small trusted hatchet for his labourous afternoon. He would find this man trying to take from him his most precious thing in this world. He would have stopped it. There was nothing Tom wouldn't do for those he loved. 
He didn't come. 
In her last moments I saw that she was no longer looking into the air between her eyes and her mind. She was looking at me. I was caught surprised by this and tried to smile to her to let her know it was alright. She shed a tear before leaving me behind. I don't know if she truly saw me or not but the tightness of her hand around mine tried to convince me that she was still here and not somewhere better.

People know when something is wrong. It can be as small a sign as a fine dress laid on a dirty floor, a broken dish on a table or a pile of fresh apples cascaded over the front step. 
The man was an officer of the law who came simply for a friendly chat and perhaps dinner  with a man he respected greatly. 
As he entered and saw the situation I felt relief and a hope that perhaps there was some true justice in the world. Some might think that I'd know what would happen as he pointed his pistol at this fiend of a man. It was my role after all to facilitate death. But I am not this role for everyone, in fact my employment is only for a select few on this Earth. 
The relief I felt was not for whether or not this man died immediately for his crimes but for Tom's sake. I did not want him to come home to this. To see it with his bare naked eyes. The love of his life snatched away in such a cruel manner. In the end the gun did not fire. There was to be no justice for the lost beauty today. As the weapon slowly lowered her grip on my cold fingers lessened as her hand fell limp.

There are limits to what a man can hold back from others. He can keep most his feelings hidden from those around him. He can appear tough when in he is weaker than the rest. Tom couldn't hide this from the world. The sight of his wife and son crying over their lost daughter and sister. Their mutual screams of sorrow shook me to my very core though I showed no signs of remorse. 
The officer had taken a moment  to lay the young woman in a resting position on her bed. I doubted this was standard police protocol but I thanked him for it. She looked to be sleeping soundly in her bed rather than abused and stolen while lying on the cold kitchen floor. Tom asked the officer to leave but he would not. He stayed to watch over the family as his deputy has already arrived and driven the killer down to the end of the road out of sight of the grieving family.http://9gag.com/tv/p/aePe6E/pewdiepie-apologizes-anti-semitic-jokes?ref=tcl
I stood beside the officer. We had both adopted a similar stance as we waited, listening to the sounds of a family mourning. I could see the look in his eyes. Before today he thought he was too desensitised to violence and heartbreak. Now he questioned how someone as soft as himself could conduct such a miserable role. 

No one had had this effect on me before now. I could still feel her terrified fingers clenching mine. I examined my hand back and forth just to be sure this sensation was all in my mind. 
We were at the police station now. No more warm home or the smell of a fire burning to warm the house. This was a concrete and cold place. Every step echoed through the walls. A place where someone couldn't escape their own thoughts. 
Tom stared blankly at the desk of the familiar officer. He'd not slept since it had happened. The officer was trying to explain to Tom, in the kindest of words, the situation at hand. Trying to explain to him that this evil man was for the time free to wander around his own much fancier home without shackles or even a heavy conscience. Tom only continued to stare as he was explained that this fiend would see justice though the officer's tone let me to believe that even he didn't believe it. He regretted not pulling the trigger the moment he walked into the scene. 

Tom eventually stood up and walked out of the building. His hands shaking with anger and fear. The officers and some of the criminal in the building stood up as he passed them. The could barely comprehend Tom's pain but they wanted to show their sympathies and support. A criminal who is known throughout the community as a rascal showed Tom the respect he thought he deserved for everything that had happened to him.
Some may not have noticed his hatchet hanging from his belt by his side, but I did. For the first time in many years I felt genuine fear for my friend as he disappeared into the rain. 

The fiend drove his automobile through the heavy storm. The earth beneath the sky was dark and blue rather than it's usual bright white and orange. The odd looking machine pushed itself over a very slowly raising creek, pushing the water aside. I stood in the creek and felt the cold water washing past my feet and toes. The automobile came to a half in the middle of the small pebbly creek, the engine still puttering alive. Tom stood on the far side of the creek, claring into the vehicle with eyes of cold emotionless metal. 
The fiend exited his car with a smirk, pulling out his pistol and aiming it at my friend. My heart skipped. The fiend knew he could shoot down Tom on his own property and claim he was defending himself. Tom knew this too but did not care. In his mind it would take more than a few bullets to stop him as he'd faced them before in his life.
The fiend continued to advance through the creek's rushing water. His feet clumsily fumbling across the loose rocks as he continued to smile and advance on my friend. His face unchanged as he pulled the trigger and the weapon fired. 
The shot echoed through the rain violently. It was the sound of death but the sound was unjustified. The fiend's expression changed from a wicked smile to confusion as Tom stood there in the rain, resolute and unchanged. He fired again. And again and again until the pistol clicked meaninglessly. 
In my hand I held six bullets. All fired and smelling of gunpowder but non finding their mark on my friend. It was not my place to intervene. It was not my role in this small world to take sides. To dispense justice. To let my presence be known. But what happened here today would be known to few. 
Tom advanced on the fiend who now felt fear in his soul. He tripped over his own clumsy feet into the water. Tom grabbed him and hurled him against the rocky creek bank, tossing the useless weapon aside. My heart skipped as Tom began to strike the man repeatedly. My eyes darting from the Fiend back to Tom as I feared the worst.
Tom switched his hatchet from one hand to the other and raised it above his head, ready to crash it down onto the murderer and extract justice for himself. His dearest wife. His young son. His beautiful daughter whose smile he would never see again. Whose laughter he would never hear again. 
'Thomas!' I yelled. The sound of my own voice a shock to even myself. It echoed through the rain louder than the crack of a gunshot. 

Tom's eyes were locked on mine. His chest rising and falling rapidly  as he held himself over the murderer of his daughter, still with his hatchet in hand ready to make the killing blow. He could see me. He could see my face. Any ordinary man would be shocked or atleast surprised but not Tom. 

"Why not?" He yelled back to me. The emotions in his soul could be heard through his broken voice. "Why shouldn't I take the life of the man who has taken everything from me?" Tears welled up in his eyes as his hand trembled on the grip of his hatchet. Had Tom not noticed that the rain drops were no longer falling or that the world was no longer moving? That everyone was watching his moment?
I felt a slow building warmth beside me as I struggled to justify my reasoning to my friend. I had learned my lessons by being surrounded by death. I was death. And I couldn't justify Tom taking the life of this man for reasons I wished I didn't have to learn. The warmth by my side grew hotter and burned into my cold heart, reminding me of the warmth of Tom's home. 

"Dad" whispered a familiar and loving voice beside me. I turned my head and saw her. She stood surrounded by a dim white light in a beautiful golden dress. Her hair flowed as though she were underwater. Had she always been there just I had been? Could I not see her until she made herself known to us both?
Tom whimpered in joy but also fear. He knew this couldn't be possible but there she was standing beside me. His daughter standing beside Death. Tom fumbled up to his feet, his hatchet dropping into the gravel as he struggled to balance himself. He ran to his daughter as though she may disappear if he didn't hurry and embraced her. 
My role as Death is difficult but I'd never cried before. During the most difficult of times I'd never cried. But this wasn't difficult, this was easy. This was a father reuniting with the daughter he'd lost so suddenly. The two cried in each others arms as I stood beside them. Neither said a word yet as everything they needed to express to one another they could through their embrace. 
Both of their gazes lifted from one another to me as I stood watching them both. I moved to wipe the tear from my eye but my hands moved on their own. They took the cover that was hiding my face and pushed it back over my shoulders. My face revealed to both my friends. 

Tom knew me. I knew him. It was a lifetime ago in a period of horrors and tragedy. We fought together, bled together and shared stories with one another in the trenches of a war we fought. I'd never had such a relationship with any other person before. Thomas was my buddy who I promised to defend just as he did me. 
'As long as you fight as hard as you can for me, I'll do the same for you. I promise if we both do that we'll be alright' Thomas told me with a warm smile. I hold my rifle tightly and simply nodded, perhaps not showing him just how much those words meant to me. Thomas was larger than life in my eyes and he promised to protect me. All the gods in heaven couldn't have made me feel safer than Thomas did, and it was my job to ensure that he also was protected. 
We charged into the enemy and fought savagely. My job was not to kill but to save my friend. The fighting lasted for days. Gunfire. Explosions and screaming of the dying and the wounded surrounded up. I remember a hissing noise coming from a crater nearby and realising what it was. Thomas' mask had been lost weeks ago. I still had mine. 
As long as I protected Thomas, he would protect me. Nothing could happen to me as long as we fought for each other. I looked into his eyes as I held the mask over his face and the large grey cloud enveloped us both. The same smile he'd given me earlier I was returning to him. He struggled and yelled to pull the mask off of him and to save myself but I wouldn't allow it. I was saving us both. He wouldn't break his gaze from me as my eyes became unfocussed and I fell limp onto the ground.

I knelt beside Tom and his daughter who'd been brought back into this Life. Tom in what he saw as a moment of weakness and drunkenness had revealed to his beautiful daughter some of the horror's he'd endured during war. The expression in both their eyes let me know they both knew who I used to be. 
"She will always be with you" I told Tom. I could see his grip tightening over his daughter's hand, not willing to let her go again. "Just like I have always been watching over you, so too will she be". 
"How will I know?" Tom asked after a long hesitation, not wanting to see his daughter leave.
She looked at him, her hand running under his red bearded chin. "You'll always see me" she whispered with a bright smile and joyful tears running from her eyes. "In every plant that grows. Every animal that frollicks. Every newborn child. Every moment of joy you feel. That's me". 

I stood to leave them to have this moment together when I felt Tom's hand reach out and grab mine. The years of regret, the anger at himself and the unquenchable frustration finally came out. 
"I'm Sorry" he told me. I wanted to say something that would ease his mind but no words could describe it. I simply gave him that warm smile he'd shared with me in the darkest of times. We both shared in that smile before I disappear from his view.

I don't know what they spoke about nor could I even begin to imagine how you could summarise a lifetime filled with love in a single bittersweet conversation. But eventually it had to end. 
The rain was still pouring onto the two me. One curled up into himself and the other holding his hatchet over the other. Tom looked up and around the creek looking from someone, but seeing no one at first. His gaze moved behind him where he saw two police officers standing on the other side of the creekbed. They had weapons but they were not raised. They understood that justice was now in Tom's hands, not theirs. 

I would visit the Fiend again. Only two weeks after. The rascal in the local jail cell might not have been a man of much morale character but some crimes outshine others and they found the Fiend's body laying on the cold concrete of his cell. A slightly relieved rascal sitting beside the body with a smirk on his lips. The Fiend had passed in a fearful manner that I'd seen a few times before. Unwilling to leave until the end and never finding that inner peace before fading. 

I stood on a hilltop that overlooked the small house where she'd spent most of her childhood being swung on a low hanging swing by her father. Perhaps she thought this might be the last time she'd see it. I knew that wasn't going to be true but waiting for as long as she needed. She was going to have questions with he knew found role, there were going to be things she wouldn't understand at first. 
I was Death. She was Life. Who could say which was the crueler role? To give life is to eventually see it go. To live is to eventually leave.
"Everyone?" She asked looking up at me from her childhood swing seat. She looked beautiful in the rising sunlight.
"No. Only the worlds of the lives we've affected and been affected by. Those are the people we watch over".
"And... when non of them are left?"
"Your impact on the world will be felt for generations to come. It may never end". I felt warm fingers wrap around my cold hand. She looked up at me and smiled.



(I've got no one close enough to share this with, so I'm sharing it with you. This was a very powerful dream I had one afternoon, after which I had to put pen to paper and capture it before I lost it to memory. Please share what you think. Dream interpretation... writing cretique... whatever comes to mind. I really need to get someone else's opinion of this)

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