This is a short story (not so short I think =p) written using my rusty writing skill within less than 2 days. Wooo~ The basis of this short story is the dream I had during my state of confusion...while trying to get over Eriksoniian's 6th stage. +_+
Warning to those who only like love stories: This story is quite philosophical, revolving around the issue of our daily lives. Enjoy~
THE ENCOUNTER
In my long sleep last night, I wandered through an untamed world – full of delusions and wonders; where unachievable hopes and fantasies seemingly become reality – a place known to others as dream.
In that untamed world as I walked slowly yet attentively, I saw faces of people I met in the past – faces of joy I missed so much, faces of sorrow I pity; and faces I almost forgotten as they dwell in the unreachable part of my past. I tried to start a conversation with them but my greetings seemed ignored. I was vexed and perplexed but I kept my composure still – what’s the point of losing it anyway? – and I gave it another try. This time, I tried to lay my right hand on the left shoulder of this person whose face resembles my cousin who had passed away years ago. Surprisingly, my warm hand never touched her shoulder (in fact, it went through her body) but I, somehow, felt the coldness presence around her making my whole body shuddered. I backed off few steps behind. Only now I realized that these faces I see right in front of my eyes are not real; only the reflection of my unconscious mind.
While I was about to walk away from the crowd of “faces I knew best”, among those faces, I saw two faces I never expected to see in the crowd – to be existed there, to be more precise. The two figures, from afar, seemed to wear faces like mine. And they smiled to me – I know, they were smiling to me. I gasped as they moved away from the crowd…because they are now sauntering towards this figure stood like an abandoned tower. Paralyzed, I could not even lift a finger to give them a cue to stop and they, they approached me with a constant speed, with a curve on their faces. I threw my fear away as I know I have to confront them sooner or later – but of course I wished to confront them later.
As they reached my side, they threw their both arms wide open with a greeting in a language I never heard before yet I resolved to understand every word they uttered. They greeted me: “O thou whom our presence coincideth thine! Welcome, welcome, welcome…” Their descending voices echoed unstoppably in my head – for a second, I thought my head would explode. I stared at them right into their eyes – one at a time – to make them go away, or at the very least, to make them introduce themselves appropriately. I had no fear of them anymore; I wanted to talk to them, in fact, but my voice seemed stuck in my throat. I felt like screaming but I couldn’t. And their faces seemed to reflect a smirk due to my helplessness…
One of them approached my side. He walked around me slowly but persistent; with his pompous eyes fixed firmly on my temple. I do not know where I gained the strength or whether the spell cast unto me had vanished, but I was able to point him a question: Who are you?
The dark figure approached from my back with his lips an inch away from my left ear. He whispered slowly but determined, “I am you”. Now I could see his face much clearly – his face is exactly like mine but well-shaven and with no scar nor emotions reflected on that face. The man, he was dressed in a very sophisticated clothing, ones I had never seen before. His body was wrapped in a beautifully ironed bluish velvet tuxedo with a pair of slacks of the same colour and material. His shoes – they are of black leather, gleaming majestically like a reflection shown on still water. And on top of his head, an exquisite hat made of leather – I suppose it is because I don’t know how to describe the material – was placed magnificently. And there is something about him made me tremble with inferiority. I squirmed intensely to free myself but I couldn’t. As if understood by the expression shown on my face, the man chuckled mildly before he said, “I am your Mind, if that answer pleases your query.”
Astounded, I flinched.
“Come. Take my hand,” he offered me his right hand with a cold smile on his lips. “Let me take you to a place you belong to!” Out of control, my hand is reaching for his and as my hand touches his, I could feel my body sinking slowly into the ground. I panicked and struggled to free myself but Mind convinced me not to worry. He said that the place is down there.
Throughout our ‘sinking’, Mind told me about our first encounter which, of course, I couldn’t remember because I was only nine at that time. He described how I met him when I was in the middle of confusion, a crucial time when I need to reason deeply and make my first decision whether or not to skip standard four and proceed to standard five. He said, it was the first decision my parents let me decide myself. I could not remember the event in such detail as described by him but I could now understand how important his existence to me. Our conversation went on, revolving around the many choices and decisions I have made – of which I was very proud of and of which I regretted the most. I could not remember how long it takes for us to reach (to sink to, to be more precise) the “place I belong to”.
This place where I belong to (as Mind said) is actually a place where all my decisions made, reside. It is a place of reminiscence – of my past, whether I remember or not, I could always find them here. There, I saw my mom struggling against death during my birth (which I always wished to watch this event because my dad had not recorded it). There, I saw myself striving to make my first baby-step on this earth at the age of three (this one, my mom always told me how slow I was to make my first step). There, I saw myself sulking when my parents let my youngest brother wins every time we fought for toys (this one is kind of blurry to me though). There, also, I saw myself crying during the funeral of my beloved cousin who had been a close academic rival to me. Without myself realising, there were warm droplets of water started to well up in my eyes. Mind looked at me with pleasure. Maybe he was satisfied with my reaction to this place where I belong to. I am now thinking, maybe, maybe this is the place where I belong.
Now, Mind is looking at me with a serious expression on his face. He asked whether or not I like this place and whether I want to stay there for all my life. I said I’d love to stay there because this place reminds me about how much other people care about me, because I feel loved here. But I could not dwell in the past, I refused softly, because I still have my unknown future awaits me out there – a life I want to venture and to love.
Upon hearing my answer, vexed, Mind shouted to me with anger: “You are free to be loved but you don’t deserve to love! Never!”
Perplexed, I was able to dispute him with a strength I don’t know where I have gained from: “Why shouldn’t I deserve to love if others are free to love?”
Mind laughed vigorously as if he had lost his mind. I felt warm blood starting to rise up to my ears. Mind pointed his fingers at me and said, “Look at yourself, midget! Do you think of yourself deserve to love others? Don’t make me laugh…”
I was confused but trying to answer when a shrilling voice intervened from nowhere: Stop it, Mind! Leave him alone. He deserves to love. Out of sudden, I realised that my body has returned to the place where I first met the two persons. And now, the other person who greeted me together with Mind is next to me. He was smiling to me with contentment. His face (as I have mentioned earlier) resembles mine but there is something different about the face. Maybe his eyes, I guessed. His eyes filled with unfulfilled lust and greed. Those eyes made my whole body trembled with fear. I examined him thoroughly (and vice versa): He wore an unbuttoned black jacket made of fine leather with no shirt inside; and a pair of black trousers of the same material. The design like Mind’s, of ones I had never before seen. And his head was wrapped stylishly with a black bandana with reddish stripes across his head. Yes, you deserve to love, he said while his extraordinarily long tongue was licking my left cheek. I felt like as if my stomach was forced to burst out from my mouth.
“Who are you?” I blurted out the question. “Don’t tell me you are me…”
He sniggered. “I didn’t tell you…but you guessed it right. Mine name is Desire. I am here to take you to the place you long to be…” And he offered me his left hand. My hand was reaching for even though I forced them not to; and in the struggle, I threw him a brief question:
“What do you mean by the place I long to be?”
He just laughed and grabbed my hand. “You’ll know when we reach there…let’s soar amongst the sky!” Somehow, I felt my body’s weight decreasing and became lighter – as much a feather would weigh on ones hand. Out of my control, my body floated in the air – as my hand in Desire’s – and our body soared slowly yet steadily. Before I could say anything, Desire pointed me a question whether or not I remember my first desire for anything. I said no, I cannot remember. He laughed quietly before he described to me about our first meeting, the first time when I had a very strong desire for something – to know more about people of my opposite gender, about girls – when I was fifteen (yes, I was a late-bloomer, poor me). My cheeks turned to red. Yes, now I remember.
After quite a long conversation with Desire (which I could not remember how long as I have grown fonder towards his lively speeches), we stopped on a very huge chunk of cloud. On the first glance, I saw nothing but emptiness on the vast cloud-field. I wondered, what is it with this place that able to make me longing for it? As if he could read my mind (or my expressions maybe) with his devilish eyes, he said: “Here is the place, and there – that is the Castle of All Desires – the place where you always long to be in.” And I examined the castle from afar, while walking towards this “place where I long to be”.
As we reached the white castle, Desire opened the main door for me the way a valet would do. I thanked Desire as he offered me to come in. From the outside, the Castle of All Desire looked as if it was made of something soft and fragile – vulnerable – like house made of cookies in Hansel and Gretel. But from the inside, the castle was actually made of something like white marble, reflecting gleams of light every time the sun shines on it. Only now I realised that it was not that warm even though the sky-field was located very close to the scorching sun, in fact, it was very cooling inside the white castle. To my surprise (because I have only then realised), every desire one has inside will be aroused greatly when one is inside the castle – which I laughed to myself since I wondered why the castle was named as Castle of All Desire in the first place.
“I guess you’ve guessed it right why this place was named with its name,” Desire smiled, again, with contentment. I was astounded. Is this guy a mind reader? I shook the thought out of my mind. No, it can’t be. It was his evil eyes, I reminded myself. While I was examining every inch of the vast yet empty castle, Desire asked me a question: “Could you see them?” I stared at him questionably. See what? I wondered. “Your desire’s still not strong enough…” he sniggered.
As I looked around, trying to find “the things I couldn’t see because my desire was not strong enough”, images of my past, against the solid wall, slowly becoming real to my restless eyes. On the wall in front of me, I saw the event Desire described when we were soaring towards this castle – my first strong desire to know girls when I was fifteen (which made my whole face turn red immediately the moment I watch it). On my left, I saw myself craving for a fuelled control car when I was seven which I never had (because my dad never allowed me to have one). On my right, I saw myself struggling amongst books and notes when I was fourteen because I wanted so badly to show my parents of my worth in academics (and yes, I earned straight A’s for Lower Certificate Examination). As I craned my head, I saw myself crying in the shower after knowing the fact that the girl I liked since high school already had a partner. It was when I eighteen. I laughed to myself as these reminiscence played in front of my eyes. Yes, this is where all my desires – from the past and for the future – reside. This is the place where my hopeful desires, my lustful desires; and my unfulfilled desires reside. Yes, this is the place where I really long to be in as it reminded me of the fact that I always am free to love the things I love. But here, I don’t feel loved…
“No, no, no…not so fast, kiddo,” Desire was staring at me intensely. “Have I told you that you can be loved here? No, I didn’t because you don’t deserve to be loved. You can only love…not be loved!” And he laughed vigorously until his whole body shook. Vexed and perplexed, again, I yelled back at him:
“I thought you can be trusted, Desire!” My whole body had shaken. “I trusted you because you said that I am free to love…”
He sniggered, again. He walked around me. His strong feet stomping against the white marble floor. “Yes, I said so. But I never mentioned about being loved! You’re damn funny, kiddo…” Upon hearing his answer, I fell onto my weakening feet. I sobbed helplessly there. I felt all alone there. At the moment, I felt like as if the whole world was closing in on me, wanting to engulf me into the world of emptiness. I felt lost, hapless and helpless…
Stop crying, son. A soft seasoned voice, coming from nowhere, was trying to comfort me. But I never looked up for the voice. No, not another deceit, I chanted to myself repeatedly. I was not ready for another blow of deceitful truth. I cupped my wet face in my shaking hands. Not another deceit.
Suddenly, a wrinkled but warm hand touched my cold cheeks, wiping away my tears. Panicked, I kept myself a stone – not trying to move nor trying to look up for the person who had wiped away my tears. Not another deceit, I continued the chanting in a very low voice.
“My son, this is no deceit,” the ancient voice tried to comfort me again. “Open your heart, child. Try to see with the eyes of your heart. Don’t give in to hatred – it mutilates you from inside. Never give in to lust – it consumes you inconsiderately.” Somehow, the words uttered by the voice gave a healing effect to my heart. I wanted to trust again…but I was too afraid of the fact being betrayed once again.
“Let your heart to trust and to love again, son; and open your heart to feel loved again. Listen to your heart, child.” I dared myself to look up for this voice, wanting to know who this person actually is. I was surprised to see myself in a very vast place – pure white and with no boundary, no walls – spread as far as the eyes could reach. In fact, beyond what the eyes could reach. And before me, a figure wrapped in a reddish garment with a hood covering his head – an ancient kind of garb, I suppose – was watching me emphatically. He seemed as if he was sharing the inner pain I suffered from anger and betrayal. He smiled to me. His smile – his face contained the maternal love and care one always feel comfortable to lay one’s eyes on. I tried to ask who he is and what he had plotted against me but the questions – all of them – stuck in my throat.
The old man in ancient garb (whom I now realised that his face also resembles mine but seasoned – wiser I’d rather say) is now offering his both hands to me. Even though my body fought against it, my hands were reaching out for his. Somehow his ancient hands felt so warm…and comfortable. I stopped my struggle, letting myself to be taken by this man whose name I did not know or where he wanted to take me to. I have been deceived once and another deceit and betrayal won’t hurt that much, I whispered to myself.
This ancient man, with a maternal smile on his lips, tried to assure me not to be afraid. He said, he was taking me to the place I came from – a place neither I belong to nor longing to be there. His words of promise made me wondering, what kind of place neither I belong to nor longing to be there? My wandering thoughts were pulled back to the ground when the old man suddenly asked me whether I believe in my mind or in my desire. I didn’t answer his question though but we continued walking. Again, this old man asked me whether or not I remember meeting him before. I said no, I never met him before. He only smiled and we continued walking. Once more he asked me a weird question – whether or not I remember when was the first time I believed in a total stranger but I left his question, again, unanswered; and we continued walking until I could see a very huge threshold (with carvings of letters of the ancient, I supposed) made of gold. I gasped at its size and beauty but the old man only smiled at me.
“Here we are,” the words suddenly out of his mouth after long silence. “Behind this golden door is the place you came from. The place neither you belong to nor you belong to be in.” I was stupefied.
The old man smiled again before he said, “This is no deceit, child. Behind this door is the place you came from – the real world, the reality. I said it’s not the place you belong to because you belong to God’s side, not there and not here. And the place you long to be in, it’s in God’s love and presence. Not here nor there.”
After giving me a very warm embrace (which I always missed now), he stepped few steps aback. The maternal smile permanently curved on his face. “Go. Go to your place behind this golden threshold, my son. The world needs you now. And one advice before you leave this world – as we might not see each other ever again though we are so close – is that, whenever your mind tormenting you with decisions you cannot make; and when your desire runs wild out of your control, always listen to your heart. It will lead you to the right path…” I only nodded to his last advice.
Before I stepped my right leg to the world behind the golden door, I turned back for one last time and asked, “Who are you, old man?”
“I am you, my son. I am your Heart.”
![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small}
