Long Destination
Day 1: The Beginning
My birthday was not to be remembered.
I cannot even seek the fact that sometimes I even forget the day of my birth. I
remember nothing, like most babies do in their early age. My family was small,
and so was my mind. Raised and settled in a happy family, my childhood was a
blurry memory of innocence. I’m still innocent.
I never forgot my first two desiring
moments, when I became so open-minded. Nothing buy beauty, dark or bright, was
shown to me by fate. The first memory, a day where I was dressed in a flower dress,
hair pinned by bows and ribbons, taken out on such a nice weather day. The flowers
and birds were blossoming, and the play areas surrounding my home were opened
for a new ride. I however, had always thought I had experienced autumn. The season
of fresh beginnings, where leave piles were made, and the scenery around nature
made it so lovely. But I never experienced it.
My mother had once hung such a
picture on the front door of our home. I caught a glimpse, and my first lack of
memory was in held.
The picture
was a photograph, was I positive that it was real? No. It wasn’t taken by
anyone I know, but a rather very lucky human being who experienced such autumn.
What I saw, took my breath away.
Sunrise nearly at perfect reflections
towards the trees. Old trees with orange and yellow leaves falling and surrounding
the scene, with a bright path to walk towards the light. A quote was written
below, which I had forgotten, but to which this day it did not matter to me. The
picture showed true autumn, true fall and true destiny to where I wanted to
belong. However, I failed to mistaken the sight of reality verses imagination. For
to this time, I know deep somewhere in the back of my mind, that there was no bench.
Nowhere for someone to sit, for someone to share places with. This destination
was meant to be gone to alone.
That was a wonderful moment of my
childhood however, to have an imaginary place to want to be. I had no journey,
no authority of how to get there, and was almost certain that it wasn’t even
real. Yet by the age of nearly four, my mind was raped by a simple dream. The dream
also had a light, a dark one, a very faded one with no purpose. No nightmares
existed, so the dream became reality. I haunted myself to thinking of very deep
dark thoughts by the age of four, to fill in the ending of the unfinished
dream.
To this very
day.
My bed, place to sleep back then,
was at an apartment building on the sixth floor, a tiny room shared with either
one of my parents, who took turns sleeping near me. I had a bed on the ground,
barely laid in a crib for years, surrounded by a dozen pillows and stuff
animals the size of me. My blanket numbers were only limited to one, which was
fine because warmth was the last I needed.
My dream that night, horrifying as
it seems, was beautiful for me.
A dark
demon, a woman demon, her eyes bright but her intentions were mean. She lived
across my apartment, the window parallel to our view. Her beauty did not exist,
until she transformed into a stunning naked woman, who showed nothing but her
sun-shine hair, facing me. The night was dark, and thunder rolled loudly. There
was a bridge to her window, yet no entrance to walk through. I looked outside
the window, and saw her, facing me, no eyes nor face appearance, but her hair
turned pale. Lighting flashed, and screeches were around me. Someone was next
to me, on the bed, looking outside with me. I don’t remember who, but she
looked out, screamed, and turned into a frightening sight.
I looked out again. The window, was
closed. The ground however, covered with monsters. Roaring monsters, ready to
get me. Why wasn’t I in fear? Because the dream ended, with another
continuation, several years later.
I woke up, assuming
nothing. Less than a year later, I moved to a new apartment one or two blocks
away. To this day it is my home. Right now typing this, is the room in that
dream. The bed I was sitting on to stare out the window, is now my bed, just
facing another direction. The window is wide, but bars are held for safety. I always
looked out, and diagonally to me, is a small mirror to a bathroom, lights
always on, sounds screeching, but no sight. Loud confusion and noises pop in my
head, but nobody shows up. I do know though, that it wasn’t a dream.
This has nothing to do with the
dream. It has to do with me. After all, we cannot make-up people in our dreams.
In real life though? I’m not so sure.
~The Beginning, Part 1
