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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Literary Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic
Sometimes dreams speak about the past

Submitted: September 12, 2009

A A A | A A A

Submitted: September 12, 2009




“You’ll sleep now”

Silence deafened me. With the closure of my eyes darkness was obvious. But it was not the shade of the devil that forbade me from getting sleep. I feared the vision that has been repeatedly visiting me. They say dreams speak about the future. But I was seeing my past. I felt as if those dreams where answering my ever pondering grey cells. All my life, I’d been searching for answers that enthral me, answers to questions about my past. My life wasn’t a miserable one. I was born filthy rich...posthumous child of a ‘great man’. A great diagnostician who loathed getting himself ‘treated’. ‘Treated’? Just like the rest of the world I didn’t know if he had a thing to be treated for. But the dreams that came in last week spoke things that pierced my eardrum. It was ‘grief’ that killed my father. One tiny blunder cost him the life of his patient. No one enquired about the ‘natural’ death of the 65 year old cardiac patient. But the great man who was treating the guy knew ‘if the first tiny error in his professional career’ hadn’t happened, the guy would’ve had few more years of sufferings on earth.


But that was the story they said last week. Worse revelations followed. I discovered that I was not the only soul within my body. Two men resided in me. Ten incarnations (avatars) were not required to get the lessons that these two individuals taught me in just one life span. After all everything serves a purpose. Life plays its role, just like time does. Angel and demon shared my body. I loved to see smiles everywhere, tried to shower happiness everywhere, failed. God never bestowed me with his powers. ‘Forget him’ I mocked. “I couldn’t build the empire of eternal sunshine...maybe I could demolish the fortress of demons” I thought. That never worked either. Yeah, a lowly mortal I am.

I began as a hero, following the footsteps dad left behind. A true hero I was...then. I enjoyed the warmth of the limelight that lit me. Then I tried to sustain it. The devil was born. Time moved on. I continued to be in disguise. I was still a hero to all. The devil however made sure not a lie that was uttered would end up as grievous blows. So in effect everyone was happy, just like me. ‘Immaculate lies’ are allowed, I figured out.

Dreams began to debate. They said I didn’t walk like my ‘father’, talk like him, act like him. Perhaps I wasn’t his kid.

I threatened to cut my vein. The ground flooded with her tears. What poured out from her was a story of betrayal. It was not the pleasure that a widow would long for, that brought me into this world. The sole friend who extended care to the depressed wife of his beloved friend after his demise had raped her. She didn’t avenge. The rascal’s life was taken away by a drunken driver instead. The entire chain of events remained safe within the walls of her brain. My mother wanted an heir. Wolves would greedily eat away the fortunes, she feared. One ‘immaculate lie’ worked.

Dreams couldn’t say if her heart still burned. I can’t ask them, if she had erred. No...I don’t want them yelling out more truths...I won’t sleep again...

“Wake up now”

B: “Hey...buddy, sweating??? What Happened?”

A: “MAN...U SERIOUS??? All about your dad...and other stuff”(Panting)

B: “ha ha...idiot...right from the time we did our internship I’d been telling you’ll never be good with psychiatry”

A: “ weren’t actually hypnotised...grrr”

B: “Buddy...anyway you unleashed a master story teller...he he...kudos for that”

A: uuuuuuuuuuuuuu....SMAAAAAAAAASHHHHHHHHH...idiot, you are pathetic with genetics too...

B: ooof :)

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