The Only Dream.

The Only Dream.

A Story by Kevin K.

Sometimes we meet a man and find a monster. Sometimes we meet a monster and find a man. |Taken from my personal dream journal.|

I was standing in a field, a never ending sea of pale green grass. My eyes were fixated on a towering, tin windmill. The 7 pitch black, crude metal propellers sucking in my sight as It spun at a steady pace, almost quickly. Strange, I never felt the wind pushing against me, not even slightly. The tower Itself was set against the falling sun. Waves of orange with light red scars splitting across the  roaring horizon. I didn't look away until my eyes started to dry.
 When I re-opened my eyes a half second later, I realized there was a small humble ranch, only so many meters away from the windmill, but something also caught my eye. There was what looked like a person, leaning over the porch railing facing me. Then that figure made a simple movement with their arm. "Come over here." And I more than anything at the time wanted to. So I started what seemed like an extremely long walk to the figure. Finally I made it to the steps leading to the porch. I lifted my head to meet my host, when my body stiffened at the sight of... Him? Her? No. It.
For it lacked all the things we see on normal people, a face, skin, eyes, everything. It was like a cloud of smoke in a black suit made of year round wool. Darker shades of gray, almost black but not quite were outlining key appendages of a human form, though I knew It was far from human. Then It did something that set my paralysis back a few moments more. It spoke. "Please come inside, it's been to long since I had a guest." It's voice was stoic and monotone, but there was a quiet, delayed echo that shrouded the voice's pitch, making me think of a ghost even more.
 I regained control of my body and hesitated. Did I really want to follow that thing? The answer was yes. With all of my fear intact, my natural curiosity broke through my survival instinct like a curse. It didn't matter to me at the time though, I wanted to meet something unpredictable and unheard of. I followed the ghostly figure into his home. To my surprise the interior matched the exterior almost like it was the home to an elderly couple. A Victorian home is what better describes it.
My host led me to the living room, itself taking a seat on a rich, burgundy Victorian armchair. I made my way to the leather sofa across from it. Then It reached out it's hand obviously for a formal handshake. I again hesitated, only for a moment to ponder, if could actually grasp his hand. So I lifted my hand and brought it above the lacquered coffee table to his hand. To my amazement I could shake it's hand but I couldn't feel it. I even tried squeezing it's hand for a moment but it was all for not. It was like trying to squeeze solid air.
"Do you mind me asking your name?" I stared at it's head for a brief second, and noticed what seemed like a raised brow, the other being forced down. It seems like It, could morph the smoke into simple facial expressions.
I meekly state. "My name is Kevin". Another expression this time small dimples raised against fresh cheeks and a long, curved indentation between the chin and halfway up its face, an inch away from where the nose should be. A smile. Maybe it could make more than simple expressions. The expression disappeared, literally off It''s face.
"Please excuse my manners, its been to long." It leaned back into the wall of burgundy comfort.
"I got rid of my name, along with my identity thousands of years ago." It's smile was back. I was utterly baffled.  Thousands of years? What is this thing? How do you get rid of your name and your identity?
"I was like you once, so very long ago, but you people, gave a new name, and identity with it."  The smile  on it's face was gone again. I find my voice coming from nowhere, my curiosity getting the better of me again.
 "So, what did 'my people' name you?" I said, with a new found confidence and a little irritation. It  stared at me, with it's dark gray profile smoke was slowly rising and disappearing from the top of it's  head, as it had been when I first caught glimpse at It. A good, long moment about 6 seconds of It staring at me went by, before it finally spoke.
My confidence died at birth. My fear broke though my curse. All of my curiosity couldn't pull me out of this speechless state.
It looked down, the smile was fainter and smaller than before.
"Don't be scared, I don't have a scythe, or a never ending list with your name on it."
"Heh, I don't even have a pale horse to ride around on." 
I relax, only a little. I couldn't stop the questions racing through my head faster than raindrops hitting the ground.
Then Death asked a question. No. The question.
"Do you want to know the meaning of life?"
My Adam's apple bringing a single word up to my mouth like an elevator. I quickly said.
His smile grew bigger. 
"So do I."
Then something in the distance made a familiar noise. I felt my like my time was near in this realm. I couldn't leave without a few more answers.
"How did you become death?"
"I refused to die."
"Things were simpler then. People didn't die so easily, and when it was my time I refused to leave the land of the living."
The noise was getting louder, but slowly.
I think Death knew this, so he spoke a little faster.
"I made a deal..."
"With the devil?" I cut him off.
"With God, as humans we had more power back then. Only because God was gentler with us."
"What deal did you make?"
"Not a very good one, you see god was fed up with me at that time. I was lazy, Ate and drank a lot, hoarded my things from my neighbors, fought with others, was ungrateful for what I had and always wanted other's things, and I couldn't keep myself away from other's wives. Then, then I defied God himself.
"The seven deadly sins?"
"Indeed, although the deal was to give up my name, identity and all memory of me for the  immortality, away from heaven or purgatory or hell.
"Why didn't you go to hell in the first place?"
"I became immortal, before I could die a sinner."
The noise was getting louder it seemed to shake everything around me.
"I'm just the coward, who became the ideal."
His head was staring at the ground and he didn't even flinch at the earthquake around us.
"Real death, is when everyone, and everything knows what you are..."

RING! RING! RING! RING! RING! The noise was so loud I thought it was piercing through my eardrums, until it went quiet, for only a moment.

"...but nobody remembers. Who you were."

I awake at the sound of my cellphone, body stiff. I take the battery out of my phone, and reach for the dream journal I keep under my pillow. I walk over to my desk and begun writing.

© 2011 Kevin K.

Author's Note

Kevin K.
My punctuation is terrible (please try to bear through it). This story was recorded in my Dream journal. (sorry little thing).
As soon as I awoke.
It was kind of hard referring the figure to 'it' all the time even though it resembled more of a "he."

Image by: Cristiano-Siqueira.

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Great story. i like it.

Posted 12 Years Ago

1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

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Added on May 31, 2011
Last Updated on June 3, 2011
Tags: Dream, Lucid, Death, Strange, Imagination, Unexpected, Windmill, Ranch, Scary, God, Religion, Weird, Smoke, Victorian, Meaning, morals, seven, deadly, sins


Kevin K.
Kevin K.

Chicago, IL

I am very much a novice in every sense of the word. I just started writing a little poetry and I want to see how I can improve my writing. Tips are always welcome and appreciated. .. more..