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Mighty Jacksparrow is an Earth-based sub-intergalactic blogger who enjoys writing and in the same time entertaining his ever-amusing will-kill-to-read fans with sensationally hilarious and at times dramatic musings. This blog offers endless ideas and results; they might be charming most of the times but could be offending in some others. Therefore, it is always noble to remind that if you enjoy the pieces, carry on reading, but if they upset you, do quietly leave like the evening breeze and not like exploding diarrhea, which exactly what you will look like if you ever lose it on me. Enjoy! :D

Wednesday, December 22, 2010

The Dream


There was always this one dream.

She wiped her sweating face with her sweating palms. She realized that it was still raining outside when she turned her head and looked through the wet window panes. Yellowish glow from the streetlights dimly lit her room. And there she was in her bed, sweating and gasping for air as she drowned in her own in fears. As she tried to calm down, she degraded into sobbing tears. Her shoulder moved simultaneously as she sobbed, filling the dark, small room with her wailing cries alternately with the rain tapping on the roof outdoor. Her messed up long, wavy hair fell onto her shoulder naturally, covering her downward face entirely. From the glimpse of those shadowy yellowish glow, there were visible drops of tears continuously falling down from her plump rosy cheeks. She bit her lips slowly as she closed her eyes shut in frustrations.

It was always that same damn dream, again.


* * *

She sat at the usual place where he used to sit with her while having their coffees together over endless heartwarming stories and shared laughters. It was always the happiest moment of her life. But today she's sitting at the table alone with no one in the chair opposite of hers, and the only things that occupied her that lovely evening were the sound of breaking waves from the sea, the warm salty breeze blowing slowly onto her and a cup of her most favorite coffee. And of course, the empty seat right in front of her. This caused her to contemplate. 

It has been two years since he left her.

And it has been two years too that she suffered from despair, disappointments and frustrations from his sudden flight. It was a very simple breakup, actually, but she got it all bad by herself. Come to think of it, it wasn't the breakup that cost her this endless depression, but how the breakup happened that made it stick in her mind like metal rivet does to a metal sheet. She revisited this only one memory that's left which stabbed her straight to her heart each time she did. 

It was a real heartless event. 

As she recalled the event, she was taken aback for a bit from the intensity of the memory. It was at this same place that he left her without a word. It was almost at the same time and condition she was currently at. No words were spoken. It was a really pleasant date as she could remember. He was being very gentle and nice as usual. They shared a handful amount of pleasing stories and shared another lot of laughters over their cups of coffee. And then after a long while as she decided to depart with him, she told him that she loved him, also, just like usual. But it went without a reply. Instead all she got was that cold expression on his face for some time before he stood up and left without a single word.

Just like that.

Up until that day she still thought about why it happened. She didn't exactly know where he was after that, and it wasn't her intention too to find him back, mainly due to the shock he gave to her when he did his unexplained maneuver. She left her hanging, and this cost her more than just her days but also her nights. Since the day it happened, for almost everyday she experienced the same dream - about him and her during their happier days - only to wake up in the middle of the night sweating and depressed from her own reality check. They were devastating, tiring and as to add more insult to the injury, they were unreal. She was tired of crying, and she was tired of wailing, of everything. She wanted an end to it. There has to be an end to it. 

There must be an end to it. 

But she still loved him, though. Secretly she had been supplying him his favorite coffee beans every now and then when he made orders through the phone. At least he never knew that she was a staff at the only coffee tavern  in town, the only place where his favorite coffee beans can be purchased. She had been doing this since before she knew him, and it was only recently around some weeks back that she realized the person she was talking to on the phone regarding coffee beans purchase all these times was him all along. But she decided to send him his last order yesterday before she quitted the job since she couldn't take it anymore of those heartbreaks she had each time she listened to his voice. It was a special brew packet of fresh coffee beans that she sent him anyway - a mix of Costa Rican black, robusta, arabica and mild south beans, along with a handful of deadly nightshade berries and castor beans - two of the most poisonous fruits known to mankind. A bit of a memorable gift, she thought, and she hope he wouldn't realize the malty taste the coffee will give due to the castor beans, at least not when he is still able to make emergency phone calls as his main organ system shuts down one after another. After all, there has to be an end for everything, including her dreams. There must be an end to it. 

And that night she told to herself that, it was almost time to put an end to it.


* * *

It didn't happen.

The dream, the same heartbreaking dream still occurred to her despite the sleeping pills, meditations, psychiatric consultations and even a few visits to that cheating shrink somewhere in the uptown. She has tried everything, and everything didn't work. She cried in her bed still, still shocked from the reoccurring dream. She was disappointed that despite her endless efforts to forget that bastard he still was there lingering in her mind. Was it just a subconscious mindplay? Or was it a signal? Signal that suggested that he too was thinking of her? But he has another lady by his side already, or at least that was what she was told. So what exactly was all the dreams? Why the hell he stayed in her mind, what the hell for? She must have been gotten out of her mind, she thought. 

So be it.

She got out of her bed and dashed to the house entrance and opened the door. She ran into the rain to only one location she had always frequented - the cafe where he left her - a mere kilometer away. The road was wet and she ran barefooted through the rain in her pajama. There was nothing else in her mind but to burn the cafe down along with the table she had always been with him, along with her unforgettable memories. She held the red sling bag, a present from him, that she had on the bedside table closely to her body to make sure that the lighters and the petrol won't get wet from the rain. And she cried all the way. She has gotten out of her own mind, in search for an eternal solace that never will come. 

When she reached the beach side cafe, it was dark and empty, close for business. She ran up the wooden staircase to the patio where the memorable table was. A few more steps to the table and she lost control of her legs and slipped forward.

The last thing she was was the edge of the metal table coming straight in her way.


* * *

What a weird dream, she said.

She just woke up from a terrible dream about herself not being able to sleep for two years from the breakup she had with that bastard sometime ago. It was totally depressing and confusing when she thought about it. Depressing because she died in that dream from that head-on collision with the metal table, and confusing because in the dream it was him that left her, while the real thing was that she was the one who left him. It was as if the dream switched her role with his. 

What a weird dream.

Not wanting to be bothered anymore that fine morning, she got out of bed and to her kitchen to make some quick breakfast. On the way to the kitchen she turned on the TV with the volume muted. At the kitchen she fixed the curtain so that sunlight entered the kitchen at a higher intensity to warm up the cold morning surrounding. She made a set of toast and spread some chocolate paste on it and flipped it around. She poured herself a cup of her favorite coffee from her automatic coffee brewer and went to the living hall for the TV. 

As she approached the TV, the news was on. She looked at the news anchor lady reading the news and tried to capture word from lip reading. She couldn't catch any so she just watched the news and nodded her head as if she understood. She bit into her toast and drank her coffee. Wow, she said to herself, even the coffee tasted funny this morning. It couldn't be spoiled because she only received it yesterday. She drank it up anyway. 

And then a footage came in. It was a person lying dead on some wooden floor due to a 'slip and fall accident' as shown on the screen below the footage. She stopped munching. That figure in wet pajama seemed to be so familiar to her. Even the place where they found the dead body seemed to be perfectly familiar. It was the cafe where she used to go with her ex boyfriend - the one she called the bastard for no particular reason despite his efforts to loving her endlessly, the bastard whom she left without a single word spoken long ago, the bastard who she played his heart with just for the fun of it. And that bag they found next to the body, wasn't that the same red sling bag she gave him as a birthday present before? Wait, she paused and tried to think, she tried to relate something to something. And at the same time the footage showed a small portrait photo of what appeared to be the person who was found dead at the cafe this morning, seeding a terrifying horror right into her mind.



The guy was him.


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