Butterfly's dream

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Fantasy  |  House: Booksie Classic
How do you know you are dreaming your reality, but dreaming about your dream?

Submitted: June 14, 2013

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Submitted: June 14, 2013

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Darkness covered half of the classroom, as the sunshine lighted the other half though the window. The voices of students chatting presented in both side of the room. In every corners, there were crowds of people surrounding one or two boys. Leaders and members. Owners and slaves. The slaves would do anything that their owners command. Go draw on the blackboard! Go break a window! Go kill someone… Among the sound, there were an acute smell of sweats mixed with some sweet aroma of perfume. There were no girls in this school. It was an all-boys school.

 

In the light area of the room, a student with long hair was standing on the chair, talking to his group of people, "so I dreamed last night." One of his people, playing with his pen, looked up to the student, as if he suddenly got caught playing game by his mother. "I was a butterfly," he continued talking, not realizing the spits that came out from his mouth. "I flied across red roses and pink tulips and yellow sunflowers. I saw my friend flying to me. We said hello and I continued flying." His people looked so amazed like cats that found tuna on the dirty floor. Hearing this from the dark side of the class, a white boy with four slaves asked, "How do you know you were a butterfly?" For a second, the question seemed unimportant. The long hair could have ignored the white, but he chose to fight with the white's clan. Simply because he did not like people interrupting him. Two other clans chose to stay back. The fight wasn't long. The long hair was way stronger than the white. The long hair also had more slaves than the white. After five minutes of war, the white was ridden by the long hair. But the white was smiling. The white opened his mouth and spoke, "How do you know you were a butterfly. How do you know you are a human." The long hair replied, shooting spits directly to the white, "I have no clue what you are saying. I know I am a human because I can see myself. I can see my hands. I can see my face." "No, you can't," the white interrupted for the second time, "You can't see yourself unless you have a mirror. But how do you know the mirror is showing your face." "Fuck you! Do you think? I care? I just want to beat you up right now." "Go ahead. You can beat me up. Just keep in mind that this may be the dream. Let me ask you one last question, boy. How do you know you are not a butterfly dreaming this? There is no proof that says you are a human that dreamt about being a butterfly. Maybe it's the opposite," the white finished his sentence cooly as he laughed out loud. His evil laugh echoed through the soundless classroom. The long hair stood up and headed to the window. Wind rushed into the classroom, as he opened the window. The next second, the boy was gone. The sound of wind gushing in and the sound of high pitch scream remained inside the classroom. Outside, a butterfly was flying freely under the sunshine.


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