- Joined
- Dec 12, 2007
- Location
- California
This is a continuation of the same series started with "Necessity" and "Sweet Dreams" - this one, however, contains no inappropriate content. This one's also been published in print before.
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I feel like I can’t feel anymore, as if every motion I make is just the preconceived function of an automaton without a purpose, pointlessly doing what’s expected of me without regard to its consequences or merit, not wondering why or how but only doing and doing, step after step, stroke after stroke, contraction and relaxation followed by another and repeated again. My life is a scratched disc stuck on repeat for a few seconds, then allowed to move forward, only to be stopped and repeated again needlessly and frustratingly, decidedly torturous and blissfully thoughtless. Every thought is naught but a fading memory, and every touch is as if it were through a blanket, every look as through a frosty window, every smile like icy rain on my heart. Is this any way to exist?
Finally, the droning voice of my teacher ceases and my unfocused eyes blankly stare at him as he turns his back to us and starts to erase the white board, forever extirpating the information that it once contained, never again to be repeated or shown in the same way, and I missed it. Strangely, though, I am not bothered. I get up, and mindlessly walk out of the door and begin my slow promenade toward the school gate, getting ready to go home and sleep. Sleep; what a wonderful thought. For the first time today, my mind snaps to attention at the idea, and I think about how truly splendid it would be turn my mind off and sleep, dream, and finally live. Only in sleep may I find solace and reprieve from this bland existence, where I find myself floating away from pain and into a fond ocean of the past, and I bathe myself in good memories. I most often find myself thinking of him.
The car is locked. Of course, I shouldn’t have expected anything else, but somehow I did, and so when I pulled the handle and nothing happened, I swore. Nobody heard, but nonetheless, I swore. I unlocked the car and got in, and found myself frozen, for in my thoughts about going to sleep, I saw a reflection in my rear view mirror, a phantom for only a tenth of a second, but enough time to rip a hole in my already scarred heart. His momentary appearance was enough to start me trembling, and it was only after several minutes of heavy breathing that I was able to return myself to normal, and then I started my car and began to drive. My conscious drifted away as I drove, and I entered autopilot as I thought about the vessel of escape that awaited me after I walked through my door.
The light ahead of me turned yellow but I didn’t care: I slammed my foot to the floor and I made the light. At that point, however, I became acutely aware of my own mortality and continued to drive aware of my surroundings for the remainder of my drive.
As I pulled into my driveway, my heart began to race from sheer excitement, and I could envision my bed waiting for me, neatly made, the sheets folded back from one corner as if I was to be tucked in at any moment. I fumbled with my keys to open my front door, and I threw it upon without thinking and it slammed into the entryway wall. My mother looked up from the paper at me from the room adjacent to the entryway, her eyes focused on me as I closed the door far more gently than I had opened it, and raised an eye brow when I looked at her and gave a small wince of a smile, a shadow of something from a long time ago. After a moment of impassioned staring, she smiled back and then went back to her paper. Thankful, I briskly walked to my room and dropped my backpack to the carpet with a soft thud, and looked to my vestige of happiness: messy, covered in clothes, the sheets wadded up, my bed was exactly as I had left it that morning in my haste to get to school on time. My face unchanging, I popped off my shoes, my feet rejoicing silently at their liberation, and I crawled onto the bed, and stretched my legs to the end of the bed and after a moment’s hesitation, I laid my head down onto my pillow and closed my eyes. I breathed a deep, controlled, full breath, and as it was released, I felt that pre-sleep feeling where my brain tingled, sounds faded, and my eyes seemed to cement shut. I did it again, and felt myself ripped from my room, and landed gleefully in a park at the age of six.
The air was cool and the sky grey, just like we loved it. Around me were the sounds of other children and their fathers, laughing innocently and gleefully, not thinking about the possibility that it could all evaporate one day, not worried about it all disappearing as a mirage does when you approach it, desperately in need of water. I felt a light pressure on the small of my back, and in an instant I was soaring, and then a moment later I was falling back to earth, and was going up, and as I went down again I felt the pressure, and in uncontrollable ecstasy I giggled and said, “higher, daddy!”
“Higher? You’ll fly off into outer space if I push any harder, Markeroni.”
I giggled again, and said, “Stop, stop, I wanna get off.” I had expected a tug at the chain, but instead on my next descent I felt his arms wrap around my tummy, and I was floating for a moment and the world spun, and below me I saw his beaming face. My face contorted into a smile, and another ecstatic laugh escaped from me, and I said, “I love you daddy.”
His face formed a small smirk, and he pulled my tiny body close to him, hugged me tightly, and whispered, “I love you too buddy, and I’ll always be your daddy, no matter how old you get.”
“I’ll never be as old as you, daddy!”
He hugged me tighter, “Of course.” He set me down and I took his hand as we started walking toward the big slide. He hoisted me up to the highest step he could, and I bravely ascended the rest of the way, and when I got to the top I peered over the side and looked at him smiling at me looking at him.
“I’m coming down now!” I called, and I put my feet out in front of me, and pushed off. I slid slowly at first and eventually was going very fast, and when I thought for sure I would be going too fast, I reached the bottom of the slide and flew off the bottom, and as I crashed onto the ground I erupted with laughter. My dad ran over to me and scooped me up and held me upside down, and I started screaming and laughing at the same time. “Daddy put me down,” I said after a minute, and he flipped me right side up and planted my feet on the sand. “Come on daddy, let’s go home.” I grabbed his hand and tugged him a little, and he led me to our car. As the car drove off I left myself, and became my present self and watched as my memory faded, and then I became conscious in my bed.
I sat up and looked around, and then fell back against the pillow and sighed, deep and loudly. I closed my eyes for a moment, and then when I opened them I was overwhelmed by the disorder of my stucco ceiling. After a moment, I started to see shapes, and the first thing I saw was a slide, and then some swings, and then finally his face. I slammed my eyes shut and squeezed them.
As I squeezed my eyelid, I felt a lump well up in my throat, and after a moment I could not swallow it and I let out a gasping sob, and immediately, I lost control. Not interested in attracting the attention of my mother, I turned over quickly and began to cry heavily into my pillow. Each sob ached more and more in my side, a snowball of anguish and pain, until finally I forced myself to breathe deeply, and after about ten minutes of arduous effort, I finally reduced my paroxysms of grief to tiny whimpers of despair. Exhausted, I looked one last time at the ceiling and saw him smiling at me, and then I closed my eyes and fell asleep again.
“Welcome home.” I smiled, and rolled over in my sleep.
© Nick Dineen, 2009
===============================================
Sand
By: Nick Dineen
By: Nick Dineen
I feel like I can’t feel anymore, as if every motion I make is just the preconceived function of an automaton without a purpose, pointlessly doing what’s expected of me without regard to its consequences or merit, not wondering why or how but only doing and doing, step after step, stroke after stroke, contraction and relaxation followed by another and repeated again. My life is a scratched disc stuck on repeat for a few seconds, then allowed to move forward, only to be stopped and repeated again needlessly and frustratingly, decidedly torturous and blissfully thoughtless. Every thought is naught but a fading memory, and every touch is as if it were through a blanket, every look as through a frosty window, every smile like icy rain on my heart. Is this any way to exist?
Finally, the droning voice of my teacher ceases and my unfocused eyes blankly stare at him as he turns his back to us and starts to erase the white board, forever extirpating the information that it once contained, never again to be repeated or shown in the same way, and I missed it. Strangely, though, I am not bothered. I get up, and mindlessly walk out of the door and begin my slow promenade toward the school gate, getting ready to go home and sleep. Sleep; what a wonderful thought. For the first time today, my mind snaps to attention at the idea, and I think about how truly splendid it would be turn my mind off and sleep, dream, and finally live. Only in sleep may I find solace and reprieve from this bland existence, where I find myself floating away from pain and into a fond ocean of the past, and I bathe myself in good memories. I most often find myself thinking of him.
The car is locked. Of course, I shouldn’t have expected anything else, but somehow I did, and so when I pulled the handle and nothing happened, I swore. Nobody heard, but nonetheless, I swore. I unlocked the car and got in, and found myself frozen, for in my thoughts about going to sleep, I saw a reflection in my rear view mirror, a phantom for only a tenth of a second, but enough time to rip a hole in my already scarred heart. His momentary appearance was enough to start me trembling, and it was only after several minutes of heavy breathing that I was able to return myself to normal, and then I started my car and began to drive. My conscious drifted away as I drove, and I entered autopilot as I thought about the vessel of escape that awaited me after I walked through my door.
The light ahead of me turned yellow but I didn’t care: I slammed my foot to the floor and I made the light. At that point, however, I became acutely aware of my own mortality and continued to drive aware of my surroundings for the remainder of my drive.
As I pulled into my driveway, my heart began to race from sheer excitement, and I could envision my bed waiting for me, neatly made, the sheets folded back from one corner as if I was to be tucked in at any moment. I fumbled with my keys to open my front door, and I threw it upon without thinking and it slammed into the entryway wall. My mother looked up from the paper at me from the room adjacent to the entryway, her eyes focused on me as I closed the door far more gently than I had opened it, and raised an eye brow when I looked at her and gave a small wince of a smile, a shadow of something from a long time ago. After a moment of impassioned staring, she smiled back and then went back to her paper. Thankful, I briskly walked to my room and dropped my backpack to the carpet with a soft thud, and looked to my vestige of happiness: messy, covered in clothes, the sheets wadded up, my bed was exactly as I had left it that morning in my haste to get to school on time. My face unchanging, I popped off my shoes, my feet rejoicing silently at their liberation, and I crawled onto the bed, and stretched my legs to the end of the bed and after a moment’s hesitation, I laid my head down onto my pillow and closed my eyes. I breathed a deep, controlled, full breath, and as it was released, I felt that pre-sleep feeling where my brain tingled, sounds faded, and my eyes seemed to cement shut. I did it again, and felt myself ripped from my room, and landed gleefully in a park at the age of six.
The air was cool and the sky grey, just like we loved it. Around me were the sounds of other children and their fathers, laughing innocently and gleefully, not thinking about the possibility that it could all evaporate one day, not worried about it all disappearing as a mirage does when you approach it, desperately in need of water. I felt a light pressure on the small of my back, and in an instant I was soaring, and then a moment later I was falling back to earth, and was going up, and as I went down again I felt the pressure, and in uncontrollable ecstasy I giggled and said, “higher, daddy!”
“Higher? You’ll fly off into outer space if I push any harder, Markeroni.”
I giggled again, and said, “Stop, stop, I wanna get off.” I had expected a tug at the chain, but instead on my next descent I felt his arms wrap around my tummy, and I was floating for a moment and the world spun, and below me I saw his beaming face. My face contorted into a smile, and another ecstatic laugh escaped from me, and I said, “I love you daddy.”
His face formed a small smirk, and he pulled my tiny body close to him, hugged me tightly, and whispered, “I love you too buddy, and I’ll always be your daddy, no matter how old you get.”
“I’ll never be as old as you, daddy!”
He hugged me tighter, “Of course.” He set me down and I took his hand as we started walking toward the big slide. He hoisted me up to the highest step he could, and I bravely ascended the rest of the way, and when I got to the top I peered over the side and looked at him smiling at me looking at him.
“I’m coming down now!” I called, and I put my feet out in front of me, and pushed off. I slid slowly at first and eventually was going very fast, and when I thought for sure I would be going too fast, I reached the bottom of the slide and flew off the bottom, and as I crashed onto the ground I erupted with laughter. My dad ran over to me and scooped me up and held me upside down, and I started screaming and laughing at the same time. “Daddy put me down,” I said after a minute, and he flipped me right side up and planted my feet on the sand. “Come on daddy, let’s go home.” I grabbed his hand and tugged him a little, and he led me to our car. As the car drove off I left myself, and became my present self and watched as my memory faded, and then I became conscious in my bed.
I sat up and looked around, and then fell back against the pillow and sighed, deep and loudly. I closed my eyes for a moment, and then when I opened them I was overwhelmed by the disorder of my stucco ceiling. After a moment, I started to see shapes, and the first thing I saw was a slide, and then some swings, and then finally his face. I slammed my eyes shut and squeezed them.
As I squeezed my eyelid, I felt a lump well up in my throat, and after a moment I could not swallow it and I let out a gasping sob, and immediately, I lost control. Not interested in attracting the attention of my mother, I turned over quickly and began to cry heavily into my pillow. Each sob ached more and more in my side, a snowball of anguish and pain, until finally I forced myself to breathe deeply, and after about ten minutes of arduous effort, I finally reduced my paroxysms of grief to tiny whimpers of despair. Exhausted, I looked one last time at the ceiling and saw him smiling at me, and then I closed my eyes and fell asleep again.
“Welcome home.” I smiled, and rolled over in my sleep.
© Nick Dineen, 2009
