Chapter 2 – The Dream


He woke up in his own bed, drenched in cold sweat. He felt that he was burning up. The window was a bit open like every other night. He never felt at ease without fresh air. The images from the dream was still lingering in his mind. He, himself, was not fully awake but was drifting somewhere between reality and the dream.

“What’s bothering you?” – asked the big old Oak. It had only a few leaves left. He could barely make out the tree in the dark, but he could feel that the Oak was there. It was as real as any other tree that he had ever seen. Stars were shining above his head but he could not even make out the land on which he was standing. He could only see the stars and the silhouette of the old tree. The moon was no where to be seen.

How can the moon exist in a world where the Sun has abandoned you?

“The wall.” – he replied cautiously, as if too scared to hear his own voice in the dark.

“Do you see it?” – he asked interrupting the silence that existed for a brief moment between the tree and himself.

“No I don’t see it.” – the Oak replied. Its voice calm and deep.

“But I can feel it. Just like I can’t see you but I can feel your existence, I can feel the opaque wall. It’s real. It’s the reason I’m dying, don’t you see that? I’m a tree, I need the Sun more than you do.”

“Its real then. But why is it happening to only us?” – he asked. His voice strained with  doubts and anxiety.

“I don’t know that yet. But I can tell you something that I know. You and I are not that different Kafka.” – the Oak took a long pause.

“What do you mean by that?” – he asked more confused now than before.

How could the tree, possibly know his name?

“I’m merely your reflection and you are mine. Do you think, we, all living being, have our own individual existence? We all are connected to each other in someway. But it can happen that the connection between two living being is much stronger than any other connections that they have and when it happens they begin to share similar fate or destiny. ”

A brief pause followed. Kafka felt that he was burning up from inside.

“Every little choice that you make in your life – is it really that you’re making the choices or do the choices make you? Have you ever thought that why do you like certain characters from movies, books or even in real life more than the other characters? Is it because you find similarities between your life and their lives or your life begins to resemble their’s, beginning from the moment when you decide to like these characters?”

A longer pause followed along with a cool summer breeze. Kafka stood there in silence. He had more questions than ever before but he did not ask a single one.

“I’m your favorite tree. Or at least I used to be your favorite tree. You spent your childhood days playing around me.”

Kafka remembered. This was the same old oak that was there behind the summer house that Kafka’s father had to sell to pay a bad loan when Kafka was only 12. He spent his first twelve summers in that house.

It was now dying. Because it could not get the Sun.

Kafka felt a lump in his throat and a sharp pain in his chest. He felt that his eyes were tearing up and he felt that he could break down in tears at any moment.

But he could not cry.

Probably it would be easier if he could cry his hearts out but he just could not. He was nauseating and his heart started to beat irregularly.

“I wish I could cry. I would feel much better If I could cry.” – whispered Kafka.

“You can’t. You’re my reflection and I’m yours. Trees don’t cry Kafka.” – the Oak replied, its voice calmer than ever.

“Don’t look for the Sun Kafka. I will not survive without it, but you will. Look for warmth, look inside.”

A cool breeze blew through the branches of the dying tree, making it sound like the old Oak sighed. Kafka felt like he was sinking, he was slipping into the same darkness from which he rose.

Kafka woke up in his bed, drenched in cold sweat.

***

(…..to be continued)

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Chapter 1 – The Wall


Imagine one day waking up and finding out that there is no Sun for you.

Yes, it means that there is no Sun for you and you only .

The Sun has risen and it has lit up the whole world. Like always. Like the infinite number of days that were there before you existed and the infinite number of days that will come even when you cease to exist, but its not there for you anymore.

Your vision has been blurred by an opaque wall through which you can still observe what is going on around you and when you do, you can come to only one conclusion – rest of the world is going on like everything is fine. Its only you who has been abandoned by the Sun. The wall around your vision is only opaque and not pitch black as if just to remind you – it’s only you who is missing out the Sun.

Everyone else is doing just fine.

You find your way to go through life. You establish a routine which helps you to go through it, but it never helps you to get used used to your colorless life. You start wondering if its the same for a gold fish living in a fish bowl, since its vision of the world through the glass must be distorted.

Does it ever get used to it?

Does it establish a routine inside the bowl it’s living in and go on with life like you do?

Does it keep on living with a constant discomfort and endless unanswered questions?

But gold fishes do not speak. You start speaking less too.

The people around you, they don’t see the wall.  But if you communicate to them for long, they understand that there is something off about you. So you don’t. You understand that the opaque wall exists only around your vision and not around their’s. As if it’s not real, as if it’s a disease.

For the first time in your life, you hope that you have a disease. Since some diseases are curable. May be there will be a way to cure your disease too.

Even if it’s not a disease, you hope that one day, some day, you will get your Sun back. Your world will be colorful and vibrant again, like it once was. May be one fine morning you will wake up and there will be a sunlit world before your eyes and that day you will know that you have been forgiven and the wall has vanished.

You keep yourself tied to your routines. You keep your conversations short and simple. You no longer make real connections to people. If you sense that there is someone who is trying to connect to you, you withdraw. You bury yourself in your own world, in your own scent.

Yet you live in your world, in your blurred down, colorless world with one hope that one day, someday, everything will be fine. Time passes in minutes and in days. Your will decays along with your body and soul. But the hope in you, remains.

So does the opaque wall.

***

(To Be Continued…)