Wednesday, February 21, 2007

The scene began in the back alley of a diner. It was nighttime but you couldn’t really tell except by looking at the sky; the alley seemed to be well lit. Right in front of me, two people were in the midst of a heated argument. One of them, a rugged, full bearded, disheveled looking Sly Stallone and the other seemed to be the owner of the diner. After a brief period of defending himself from the constant verbal attacks of the owner implicating him of being a has-been boxer, Stallone starts to walk off.

The next second I’m walking down the same path he was feeling the same anger in my heart that he probably did when a guy comes out of nowhere and tells me that my wife is in the hospital in a coma and that the child birth has suffered complications. At that moment I’m confused. My mind is trying to remember – am I still with her or have we broken up? Do I go visit her in the hospital? Does she want me to visit her? Battling these questions in my mind, I walk on and before long end up on the front steps of a derelict apartment block. The street seems to be completely dark save for the solitary bare bulb hanging above the steps streaming a small circle of light, almost like a spotlight on the floor.

I then hear footsteps from up the small flight of stairs and a man emerges into the light. He’s wearing a shabby overcoat and a cloth cap on his head. The shadow of his hat obscures his face, making it in no way discernable. He looks at me kneeling behind a car parked on the street beyond the curb, just out of reach of the light and calls out to me.

“Hey! What’re you doin’ there?”

I look towards him, a dense cocktail of fear and excitement building up inside me, like I was anticipating something big that was supposed to happen and had no idea what it would be.

“It’s the night of the revolution!” I hiss in return. My heart begins to pound louder with the growing silence enveloping the air all around, but my heart is silent. I can feel my chest thump, but without any sound, almost as if scared into silence.

“Then how come it’s so silent?” The voice slices through the silence almost making me jump. It’s the man in the overcoat. He’s still standing there possibly wondering what I’m actually doing.

A slow smile spreads through my face, some kind of energy building up inside of me, the kind of energy that comes from not only suddenly finding your purpose but also being presented with the opportunity to fulfill it.

“Because it’s a silent revolution”, I hiss back again and in an instant I leap up, lunge at the man and in one gruesome move twist his head a full 180 degrees. Before he falls to the ground, like a deranged madman, with a sick smile on his face, I begin running up the flight of stairs. I hear a soft thump behind me somewhere in the back and start laughing. Silently. Like I am suddenly part of a mime. I might as well have been; everything around me is shades of black, white and yellow.

I run up several flights without stopping once, that grin plastered on my face, only stopping once I reach the top floor where I find myself in a corridor, a really long one, opening out into the nothingness outside on one side and bound by a wall housing a long row of doors on the other. One of the doors is open and it’s dark inside. A figure walks out of the open door, a human figure. The grin from my face disappears. My eyes were accustomed to seeing in the dark by then but I cannot see this person. All I see is a black form. At once it seems natural and yet unnatural.

“What’s going on?” he asks. His voice is so serene, so mellifluous, so calming that I try to imitate this peace in mine. “It’s a silent revolution!” I whisper out and immediately look out toward the open barren sky and start slowly singing “Silent night… Holy night…” and while I do not know the words of the actual song, I sing a verse relevant to the coming of the revolution. The melody I sing is haunting; it is the only sound in the atmosphere. The air is still, no leaves rustle, no soul stirs. It sounds like …..

Then a voice again begins “Silent night…. Holy night…”. It is the man behind me and how beautifully he sings it! How rich is his voice! Yet he sings it meekly, the song is supposed to be haunting in its melody, asserting an uncertainty through minimalism of sound; it was the anthem of the revolution. Oh joy! I have found my kin! I have found my family! Someone I can trust, love…. And then realization hits me.

I turn around and I know I must embrace this man and so in one grand gesture I hold out my arms and start toward him. He too raises his arm and in less than a second, he’s clasped me in his arms, tighter…. Tighter!…… TIGHTER!! His claws dig into my back when I realize, this is Satan, the devil, this is the father of the revolution and I know about it! I must pay with my life!! His grip suffocates me while his claws dig further into my flesh…. I feel my blood flowing down my back in multiple streams and slowly, I feel myself losing consciousness!... slowly I feel myself slipping away further… and further! … and further!!.... without any control!… without any power to change it! … slipping away!… AND SUDDENLY… I’m back in the real world!… on my bed! … I’m awake but slowly losing consciousness!… again slipping away!! … into sleep or death I cannot tell!… And in one final gesture I muster all my might!… I MUST WAKE UP!!

I sit up at once on my bed, my feet numb, my fingers numb, both from the cold, yet a bead of sweat makes its way slowly down the side of my face. It was just a nightmare…

1 comment:

KC said...
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