《memories from the ether》


 Dream 1: A Familiar Girl and His Stories

    His head spins. He didn''t know where he was. When he opened his eyes, he was met with a messy collection of colors. It took awhile to figure out ¡ª they were objects, but vaguely represented by blurry images instead. There was no detail, just a vague shape consisting of one color for each one. It made his head ache. He wanted to look away, but couldn''t.


    He sat in the middle of the visual chaos with no idea what to do. Though, really, he didn''t wanna do anything. He didn''t wanna be here. He didn''t wanna be anywhere at all. He wanted to sleep, so he lies down on the spot that he stood.


    He tried to close his eyes, but his eye lids kept opening. He didn''t know why, but he found that annoying and made his eyes feel like that they were drying. It was concerning, but what can he do? All he could do is accept his bad luck and try to deal with it. It was basically his whole life at that point.


    He tried again and again to sleep. He rolled over and over, trying to get the best position to sleep. But still, it was hard to sleep. He felt incredibly drowsy that he might actually close his eyes for years.


    As he was readjusting his position he felt his touch someone with his toes.


    "Ah, sorry!" He jolted up into a sitting position with a mix feelings of shock and sheepishness.


    When his gaze met, he was met with a young girl. Appearance wise, she was young possibly 8 years old. The girl''s hair is brown and tied into a ponytail. She wore a grey hoodie and a skin tight and very short denim shorts. It was a type of clothing that really that does not fit a child. As expected, she wasn''t very tall, perhaps a little bit over half his height.


    When he looks at her, he had a feeling of apprehension. Though, the longer he stared, the more she became familiar to him. Yet, at the same time, he didn''t know her. It was a contradictory feeling. What connection could he have with a girl younger than ten?


    There was something terrible coming, he didn''t know what, but he felt it. He looks away out of awkwardness as he realized he was staring at an 8 year old girl that he didn''t even know. There was nothing he could say. He didn''t know what to say or do at the moment. But then again, when did he know what to do about anything?


    As the thoughts swirled, the world became a collection of black and gray.


    ("What should I do? What can I do?")


    "What can YOU do?" The girl spoke finally.


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    He looked at her, he didn''t know what to do anything else though. It was annoying. But what can he do about that? He was at a loss. His expression is as blank as a professional poker player. Yet, a hole was burning through his chest. He didn''t know how to show that.


    ("Now what?")


    He now sat at a field. The girl turned into his very familiar laptop. It sat there and on the screen it said: "Chapter 1. Nothing Else." That was annoying.


    He saw it, he had a story. He puts his hands out and tried to type words. But he couldn''t write anything. When he looked around in his vicinity he was confused, uncertain and the figure of apprehension still clung on to his heart as if it was desperate to stay alive.


    ("Please let go...")


    He knew that was pointless, no matter how much he pleaded, it will not let go of him so easily.


    He tried to write again to remove it''s clutches. He wanted to fill the hole with something. He needed a piece and he was certain that this was it.


    He wrote to fill a gap, but it breaks down as he wrote. Something stopped him from finishing his work. Just like most things, he didn''t know what that was, but it was something. The hole remains. He tries again. He hits a wall. It repeats.


    He was getting sick of it, but he need to fill it with something. His chest hurts. His heart feels like it was slowly sinking in quick sand. He felt lost. The world around him was jumbled, but the people lived like nothing was wrong.


    He continues to write again. Nothing. He repeats. He rewrites chapter one again after so many time. There was so many that he had already lost count. Why can''t he move despite his desire to? He couldn''t answer it, yet he was the only one who can.


    Tentacles began to surround him. He wasn''t sure about them, but he couldn''t care. He didn''t wanna care.


    "Selfish." Whisper enter his ears.


    "I don''t care!" He shouted.


    As the tentacles began to surround him and take hold of him firmly, he saw the girl again. Laying on... something. He didn''t know. He didn''t wanna think about it. He didn''t wanna remember it all. It was too...


    He was falling off a building that he apprently. It was freeing. A fantasy. Something he could never achieve. He wanted it. But he didn''t like it.


    His eyes opened and he sat on his bed.


    ("A dream...") He thought.


    The night felt cold and biting. He rests his head. He felt the same as he was when he was in his dream.


    His dream were getting odd as of recently. Though, he didn''t particularly care just like with anything. His head hurts. He didn''t know what time it was, but it was still night.


    Tears began to fall, he was confused as to why. He didn''t wanna cry. He wasn''t sad, he shouldn''t be, there was no reason. Then, why does he have tears? He didn''t know. He wasn''t sure on how to know about it.


    ("Maybe if I sleep, it''ll go away.")


    There was no basis for that whatsoever. But he had no other solutions.


    ("I should be okay... I will be okay tomorrow.")

 the looming monster

    It was now morning. The alarm had not sounded yet, but he could feel the incoming familiar dread of the coming day. He didn''t want to wake up. He wanted to close his eyes for hours more. But the drilling sound would enter his ears at any moment. It was a sound that he hates with every fiber of his being.


    Finally, after an unknown time had passed, he reached for his phone and slightly opened his eyes. Then, he was greeted by flash of familiar bright light. It hurt even though it was at lowest brightness, but he didn''t care, he just wanted to turn it off before it goes off. He always hated that noise.


    After a brief and painful few seconds later, he turns all of the alarms off. He had set many alarms from 6 to 7 o''clock with each alarm being 10 minutes apart. He knew it was pointless if he was gonna wake up before 6. But it was a just incase measure to make sure he does not over sleep. At least, that was his excuse. He then puts his phone back on the bedside drawer and continues to sleep a bit more.


    Yet, he never could truly sleep anymore. It was too late. He was now awake. Then to add to his dread, the rest of the day loomed. It was inevitably coming towards him. No matter what he does. He will have to face it. Unless he wanted to be shouted at again.


    After an unknown amount time passed, he opened his eyes again and checked the time on his phone ¡ª 20 minutes had already passed since he awoken.


    He always wondered why time moves so quickly during the early mornings. He could look it up online, but then again, what would the point of that would be? It was not like it would slow it down. No matter how he wished, there was no fairy or any miracle would arrive. Everything would be the same as always anyway.


    ("I need to get up.") He says to himself.


    But there was a familiar snag ¡ª something sitting on him that made that hard to do. He didn''t know what, but he could imagine it as an heavy and indescribable creature. Featureless. No color. Just a mass of almost nothing but also somehow weighed heavy. It lived within him. It loomed him.


    He laid on his abdomen when he slept, and when he tried to push himself up, it was exactly how he imagined it.


    ("This is why I hate mornings...")


    He really hated waking up. He hated he how felt wheneverhe wakes up. He hated the sounds of the alarm that drilled into his hears. He hated his appearance that him look and feel filthy. He despised and irritated by anything to do with the process of waking up. Despite this he loved sleep.


    Finally, albeit sluggishly, he rose from his bed. As he did so, he felt that there were weights on his back. His body felt so heavy, and his head felt like he had been bashed by a wooden club.


    ("Fuck, my head...") He caressed the back of his head as he sits on his bed, while also on the verge burying his head on the pillows.


    Despite sleeping for 8 hours, he somehow still felt tired. He always hated that feeling of the desire to sleep in the morning. Another item on the list to hating waking up.


    He felt utterly miserable as he sat on the bed as he tried to weather the morning headache dizziness. It didn''t always happen to him, but it was frequent rnough to make him despise waking along with many things.


    He looks to the time again, and more than 15 minutes had passed trying to get up from his bed. He felt kinda bad for taking that long to sleep, but at the same time ¡ª why should he care? If he slept long so what? He already felt awful waking up everytime. As long as he could wake up and be in time for something important. He didn''t wanna be a drag for others after all.


    *Bang* *Bang* *Bang*


    As his brain was waking up, there was a violent knocking on the door. His eyes widen in surprise that creature held his heart and nearly squeezing it. It was both terrifying and exasperating to hear it in the morning. He knew what he did wrong of course, but if that thing didn''t exist he wouldn''t have to be in this situation.


    "Julian! When the fuck are you gonna get up?!" He heard a way too familiar voice that he wished he didn''t hear. She tried to open the door, but of course it was locked.


    "And what did I tell you about locking doors?!"


    His fear mostly disappears, but it still held his heart. Instead, it was mostly replaced by irritation"Yeah I''m fuckin'' up! You don''t have to bang on my door!"


    ("It''s too early for this shit.")


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    He angrily pushes aside his blanket as he stood from his bed. He was still groggy as normal, but was coupled with headaches and feelings of anxiety. He didn''t like the feeling at all.


    He approached his closet and dressed. He wore his usual clothes ¡ª jeans, a black hoodie, and a shirt beneath. He wore nearly similar things everyday, and at this point, he never really cared anymore.


    He moved like a sloth as he walked to the bathroom. He only realized it recently that his shoulder felt heavy as if something was riding on his back. He didn''t know what. He doesn''t wanna know what. Perhaps afraid to know what it is.


    ("I''m not scared...") He spoke to himself.


    Regardless of what he felt, he couldn''t ignore it. He never will.


    He unlocks his door and he was greeted by a familiar hallway that he was tired of seeing it everytime he woke up. It was annoying. But there was nothing he could do about that.


    After all of that, he walks to the bathroom. It wasn''t exactly clean. It wasn''t that filthy either. There was unremovable gunk in between the white tiles on the floor. Alongside them, there was a faint brown stain on the tiles themselves which also can''t be removed. It didn''t look pleasant, but it was usable. It was the same for the rest of the house. The same for the rest of the decrepit town.


    Since he woke up so late, he had no time to shower. He smelled his armpits, there was a faint smell, but luckily, it wasn''t too bad.


    He looked at himself in the mirror and he was the same as he usually was. His black hair gotten longer ever since he stopped going to the barbers since last year and now it was long enough to tie into a tiny ponytail.


    He quickly brushed his teeth and washed his oily face, and went down the stairs. The air felt heavy, putting pressure on him on all sides, which was on top of having heavy shoulders. His eyes were gazing down, as usual.


    He left his house without saying a single word.


    Like the mood of the city, the sky was dark and cloudy. When he stepped outside, the breeze of polluted air hit his skin and nose. It was awful. He could feel how dirty the breezing air was. Just about every person in the city breathe and felt this air for so long now that it would be a shock to see a blue sky and fresh air.


    The neighborhood was just about the same, it was dirty. All of the houses were made of wood and in different levels of rotten. Their windows and doors were caged to prevent break-ins.


    The streets had many full trash cans and half-the-time, the wind would scatter and carry any garbage light enough for the wind to lift.


    In shorter words, the city was filthy and rotting.


    While walking, a feeling of irritation began to rise from the pits of his heart. He saw the streets everyday. He saw the same houses. He saw the same trees. He recognized the pattern of the conversations he had with his mom. The days were always so similiar to him. It was repetitive. The same things over and over. He was tired. But he wasn''t from which ones, or maybe even all of them. He wasn''t sure. Even if he picked, would it be the correct one? How will he know that?


    He had no idea. He was floating aimlessly in the abyss. Was there even a purpose? If so, where is it? There was nothing to look into in the first place. How could he look for something in a place where there is nothing?


    It bothered him that he had no drank any coffee when he woke up. If it not for the thing that sat on top of him. It was frustrating and harrowing to feel it following around. He wanted to show it to the others so they could help him deal with the thing. But... would they even comprehend the thing he was showing them? Would they find it terrifying?


    ("No, I''ll just burden them if I showed it, and my parents wouldn''t even understand or care.")


    After walking for a few minutes, the school came into view. It was the same old dreary establishment as like he had seen before. There was nothing special to see other than the fact that it was a prison with a child friendly masks that fool the intellectually degrading society. He felt like a slave here. Constantly trying to do task he didn''t want to do, but was forced to. At least, that was in his mind.


    He entered the school with the thing in toe. He didn''t even know what it was. It was a monster that for some reason wouldn''t leave him. But, given how much trouble and headaches it was giving him, it might as well be.


    He was met with a somewhat cramped hallway. There were many students standing around conversing or on their phones. All of them seemed to be squeezing every second of freedom they have before they enter the classroom and endure the utter boredom that would ensue.


    It was just like any other day, he puts on his earbuds to pass time in his classroom. He sat at the very back, preferably by the window side where he could stare outside as he dosed off.


    Like always, nothing changed. But behind him, something loomed. He didn''t even have to look behind him, but he knew it was there. He could barely understand it''s existence, but... he really wished it would go away. It was a drag. He couldn''t think straight with it around, but he didn''t know how to move it away. A simple push would not cut it.


    ("This is fucking hopeless...")


    He slumped in chair while listening to music ¡ª one of the few things that made him forget everything about the world. The hole on his chest burned as the thing stood behind him fanning it the flames. His heart felt like it was sinking in quicksand. His throat was dry as a desert and wrapped around by barbed wire.


    He wanted to be out of here, but he didn''t know how. He wanted to close his eyes forever. He wanted to sleep forever and never wake up again. It was awful, but it was also confusing.


    Where did it come from? He wanted to know. If he found out, he could maybe solve his problem. But how? He didn''t know how. He couldn''t even find some sort of comfort. He wanted it to end...