“Sweet dreams, sweetie.”
“Sweet dreams, daddy.”
After kissing my daughter good night, I walked to the master bedroom, laid down beside my wife and fell asleep.
…
I opened my eyes and I saw the flames and then I smelled the scent of blood and smoke. I heard the battle cry and clash of metal.
I sat up and looked around. The sky was red and the ground was black, covered with rock and sand. Far away from where I was standing I could see a battlefield, where tens of thousands of soldiers in armor were sword fighting and killing each other. The soldiers on one side were dressed in black, while those on the other side were dressed in white.
I stopped paying attention to the battle in front of me and looked down on my own body instead. My black armor was coated with dried blood. With a dented shield in my left hand, and sword in my right, I was ready for battle.
“Welcome back, sir.” I heard a hoarse voice behind me.
I turned around and saw them, a squad of soldiers in black armor with shield and sword, standing there waiting for my orders.
I stared at them for a moment then nodded my acknowledgement and lead them onto the battlefield.
…
While stepping aside to dodge his blade, I pushed my shield hard against the white knight’s waist, causing him to lose balance. Just as he stepped back awkwardly trying to stabilize himself, a battle mace hit him from behind, denting his helmet. As the white knight fell down, I could see the last sign of life leaving his eyes.
How many had I actually killed? Ten, twenty or even Fifty? I had lost count long time ago. My wounds sting and I was too exhausted to hold my sword any longer. My throat was so dry that each breath felt like burning; even my sight became red because of all the blood that was spilling into my eyes.
But I loved this. I loved the battle, this fighting and killing. Each battle cry awoke me; each swing of the sword released me; and each clash of the armor revived me. All those negative emotions hidden deep inside me, all the depression, frustration and anger that built up over the years in my perfect normal life, were unleashed in all this killing and destruction.
I felt happy, I felt peaceful, and I felt alive.
Suddenly, something punched me hard in the chest. I looked down and saw a long golden arrow sticking out of my body. It was so bright that it hurt my eyes. I looked towards the sky, and that is when I saw her, an angel, with pure white wings.
A beautiful angel in elegant white armor was flying in the sky with a golden bow in her hands. As our eyes met, she put another arrow at her bow and aimed at me. I knew I was too weak to dodge her arrow, but at least I could drag her to death with me; or at least wound her. With all the strength that was left in my body, I threw my sword toward that slim figure in the sky.
The second arrow hit me right in the chest again, pushing me down on the ground. The pain and the darkness consumed me fast, as all the life escaped me through my wounds. Before I fell into deep sleep again, my last thoughts were:
“So they send an angel to get rid of me this time? I should feel honored. I’m really a devil now.”
Then, the darkness came.
…
I opened my eyes and I saw the sunlight peeking through the curtains in the bedroom window. Then I smelled the scent of coffee and toast and I heard the sound of a TV and child laughing.
I got out of bed and walked downstairs to the kitchen. My wife was feeding our daughter Lily breakfast. I poured myself a cup of coffee, picked up a piece of toast and joined them.
“Honey, can you go to Costco this morning to order the birthday cake for Lily’s birthday party? I've got to go the party place to confirm the date.” My wife asked.
“Sure.”
“While you are there, could you pick up some snack food, bottled water and some stuff for the party?”
“Sure. I will go right after I take a shower.”
…
Standing in front of the mirror naked, I examined my body. Not even a scar. Of course there was no scar. How could the wound in my dream from another world show in this life?
I looked at myself in the mirror and saw what other people saw: a white collar professional; a family guy with a wife and a child; a contributor to our society, work, family, marriage, kid, mortgage, therapy, just like any other ordinary guy living his peaceful life.
That is, until a few years ago that dream entered my world.
In my dream, I yearned for the smell of blood; I craved for the scream of desperation; I longed for destruction. Again and again I enter this dream, killing and being killed, death and rebirth.
I felt horrible at first, but each time after the dream, I felt released and happy. Each time when I was stressed, wanted to scream out in my life, I entered that dream at night and let the darkness in my heart take over. I felt good, I felt alive, and I felt balanced.
I felt I could finally breathe again.
“Sweet dreams, daddy.”
After kissing my daughter good night, I walked to the master bedroom, laid down beside my wife and fell asleep.
…
I opened my eyes and I saw the flames and then I smelled the scent of blood and smoke. I heard the battle cry and clash of metal.
I sat up and looked around. The sky was red and the ground was black, covered with rock and sand. Far away from where I was standing I could see a battlefield, where tens of thousands of soldiers in armor were sword fighting and killing each other. The soldiers on one side were dressed in black, while those on the other side were dressed in white.
I stopped paying attention to the battle in front of me and looked down on my own body instead. My black armor was coated with dried blood. With a dented shield in my left hand, and sword in my right, I was ready for battle.
“Welcome back, sir.” I heard a hoarse voice behind me.
I turned around and saw them, a squad of soldiers in black armor with shield and sword, standing there waiting for my orders.
I stared at them for a moment then nodded my acknowledgement and lead them onto the battlefield.
…
While stepping aside to dodge his blade, I pushed my shield hard against the white knight’s waist, causing him to lose balance. Just as he stepped back awkwardly trying to stabilize himself, a battle mace hit him from behind, denting his helmet. As the white knight fell down, I could see the last sign of life leaving his eyes.
How many had I actually killed? Ten, twenty or even Fifty? I had lost count long time ago. My wounds sting and I was too exhausted to hold my sword any longer. My throat was so dry that each breath felt like burning; even my sight became red because of all the blood that was spilling into my eyes.
But I loved this. I loved the battle, this fighting and killing. Each battle cry awoke me; each swing of the sword released me; and each clash of the armor revived me. All those negative emotions hidden deep inside me, all the depression, frustration and anger that built up over the years in my perfect normal life, were unleashed in all this killing and destruction.
I felt happy, I felt peaceful, and I felt alive.
Suddenly, something punched me hard in the chest. I looked down and saw a long golden arrow sticking out of my body. It was so bright that it hurt my eyes. I looked towards the sky, and that is when I saw her, an angel, with pure white wings.
A beautiful angel in elegant white armor was flying in the sky with a golden bow in her hands. As our eyes met, she put another arrow at her bow and aimed at me. I knew I was too weak to dodge her arrow, but at least I could drag her to death with me; or at least wound her. With all the strength that was left in my body, I threw my sword toward that slim figure in the sky.
The second arrow hit me right in the chest again, pushing me down on the ground. The pain and the darkness consumed me fast, as all the life escaped me through my wounds. Before I fell into deep sleep again, my last thoughts were:
“So they send an angel to get rid of me this time? I should feel honored. I’m really a devil now.”
Then, the darkness came.
…
I opened my eyes and I saw the sunlight peeking through the curtains in the bedroom window. Then I smelled the scent of coffee and toast and I heard the sound of a TV and child laughing.
I got out of bed and walked downstairs to the kitchen. My wife was feeding our daughter Lily breakfast. I poured myself a cup of coffee, picked up a piece of toast and joined them.
“Honey, can you go to Costco this morning to order the birthday cake for Lily’s birthday party? I've got to go the party place to confirm the date.” My wife asked.
“Sure.”
“While you are there, could you pick up some snack food, bottled water and some stuff for the party?”
“Sure. I will go right after I take a shower.”
…
Standing in front of the mirror naked, I examined my body. Not even a scar. Of course there was no scar. How could the wound in my dream from another world show in this life?
I looked at myself in the mirror and saw what other people saw: a white collar professional; a family guy with a wife and a child; a contributor to our society, work, family, marriage, kid, mortgage, therapy, just like any other ordinary guy living his peaceful life.
That is, until a few years ago that dream entered my world.
In my dream, I yearned for the smell of blood; I craved for the scream of desperation; I longed for destruction. Again and again I enter this dream, killing and being killed, death and rebirth.
I felt horrible at first, but each time after the dream, I felt released and happy. Each time when I was stressed, wanted to scream out in my life, I entered that dream at night and let the darkness in my heart take over. I felt good, I felt alive, and I felt balanced.
I felt I could finally breathe again.
