Disappear – Part 1
Posted by Peter Orwa, Junior
Sometimes I feel it would be easier to just disappear; to go to the stars and find a new world, my own little world I could call home. But it was never about me, and perhaps never will be.
Lately I’ve been haunted by a dream I had a while back. It’s been on my mind more than I’d like it to; more than I’d like to admit. There’s a certain ‘vividness’ that just doesn’t wane.
I had just met this girl, bright as the morning. You could see a fire that burned within her; the power that could change the world within her eyes. We talked. Or I l listened; can’t remember. What I do remember, is as I bid her farewell, as I raised my arm in a nonchalant wave, almost as to give a signal, a spear whizzed past my ear, and drove right through her chest, with such vigor that it flung her some paces back. Horror gripped me, so tight I could feel my heart struggling to beat within its slowly closing icy hands. My hair must have turned white.
I ran to her side. I wanted to save her. No, I had to save her. She was dying; the light, the power diminishing within her eyes. I had to save her. I’ve heard of this place before; a certain point when time seems to freeze, where there’s only you and something that must be done; you don’t really think about what’s possible or what’s impossible. There is only what you must do.
But it’s a dream. There has to be a way out, right? I left her side, as her friends, her family, her colleagues, began surrounding her, saying their goodbye’s. I wasn’t ready to say goodbye. Even she wasn’t ready to say goodbye. So much was unfinished. Untapped. I just had to save her.
I encountered an angel. Or maybe it was a sorceress. I didn’t care. All that mattered was whether she could do the job; whether she could bring her back to life. With conditions; not sure. But I didn’t care. She could save her. When the darkness encompasses you, you grab onto the first hand that reaches out, even if it’s the devil’s. I didn’t care. She could save her.
We got back, to people mourning and animating sorrow. I quickly led this ‘savior’ to her side, pulling her hand with a firm grip, all the while fighting back the tears that would flow on my outside, and the sheer devastation trying to sweep over my inside. We pushed through the crowd, and when we got there she had indeed died. Her body cold, her eyes empty. My eyes, well, my eyes gave in, bursting their banks, and the tears flowed freely, even though I had arrived with an answer. My savior gently put her hands on the girl’s forehead and he skin quickly regained its color. She sat up, alive. I’d gotten her back. People’s cries turned to jubilation, and the tears that were flowing had a new meaning.
The crowd thronged with even more intensity; it was so intense I had to step back. Perhaps I needed to recollect myself. She got hugs from her friends and family. Her smile. That smile that could illuminate even the darkest corners of the earth. She was alive. Such relief. Such sweet relief.
I wiped my tears, gathered up the little strength I had, and approached her. Her eyes had the same intensity. The same enchanting power. Yet, somehow they were different.
She looked at me. She saw me. But she didn’t know me.
She didn’t know me?
I felt out of place real quick. Very self-aware. Everyone was staring. No one was sure of what was happening. I wanted the ground to give way. And after a few minutes of awkwardness, she smiled to her family and requested that she be taken home. They obliged. They passed by my still standing figure, but if felt that they passed right through me, ripping away a part of me as they went. It did feel like I was significantly less than I was a few minutes ago.
I looked back, at least to catch a glimpse of those eyes one last time. She was alive. She was happy. She was smiling. She wanted nothing to do with me, but she was alright.
And I was okay with that.
I remember waking from that dream extremely puzzled, but I didn’t think much of it, until recently. It’s like it planted a seed, and now that seed is a full grown flower that’s just begging for attention.
Everytime I think about it I come to the same conclusion.
Sometimes I feel it could be easier to just disappear; to go to the stars and find a new world, my own little world I could call home. But it is never about me, and probably never will be.
About Peter Orwa, JuniorFreelance web designer. I started writing again though :)
Posted on October 29, 2018, in Uncategorized and tagged awkward, boy meets girl, chivalry, dream, dreams, girl, gutted, INFP, tryhard, trying too hard for friends. Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.