Thursday, May 14, 2015

I Wish I Could - Short Story

"So, when did you start having nightmares?"
"I don't know. Probably two years or so."
"How did it start?"
"It started out as nightmares. Extremely vivid ones. It developed into some sort of insomnia, and I ended up sleeping only two hours a day. Because I've been afraid of the nightmares."
"How vivid were they?"
"ARE. They are. So vivid to the point that...I now even doubt that you are a real person."
"Ok, I see."

The doctor then take some notes on his rather expensive-looking black leather notebook.
"I need you to tell me now, what do you think the genuine reason of you having all those nightmares is?"

I try to hold the urge to throw out the noodles I had for lunch, as I feel this sickening butterfly crawling up my gut, the same butterfly that always tries to climb out whenever I remember or try to remember things. I try to find my balance, inhale and exhale a big one, looking at the doctor very tensely, unconsciously clenching my fists too tight that they might get cramped afterwards.

"I wish I could."

I feel my own face reacts to the words that I just say. It sags down, along with the revelation of my desperate attempt to heal.

I wish I could.

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