My Dream Story

It happened to be that I was just a normal person, I would not usually call someone this, but this was "normal" in every sense of the word. I was just one of the vast millions traveling somewhere, when I suddenly had the urge just to stop, and see where I was. I realized that I was in a deserted city, with the only other person that had stopped trudging like the endless others, and it was her.

She looked perfect, the example of beauty, there like a pillar of reason in an endless sea of confusion, unexpected, yet she had kind of aura around her that made you feel that she held everything together and that if she wasn't there, there would be nothing. Yet, for all of her beauty and wisdom, she was unhappy. She knew something that should not be known by anyone or anything, something so terrible it went beyond words. She knew when the end would come, not only for herself but for everyone around her. She had confronted death once and bested it, only to become death itself.

There was something else, much worse than knowing the deaths of all people, that she cold feel, but not know. It is like the primal fear inherent in all things that could be considered aware. That pure and unaltered fear that only can develop with the fear of millennia, that grows, matures, and the unadulterated fear that all beings will eventually try to forget. It is hidden from their knowledge that fear is undying, no matter how deep you bury it, it will always be there, pulsing and waiting. She knew this fear, but couldn't force herself to look ahead and see what it was. Her instincts, her primal fear told her that to know this would destroy her, dismantle the very fiber of her being. This she knew, but she also understood the importance of deception. What would happen if deaths prey saw that death itself was scared? How can fear itself, the same primal urge that drove us on for millennia, be in mortal terror? It had completely overridden all of her gut feelings and contradicted the millions of years of trial and error, the eons and eons of unchecked fear, the centuries upon centuries of trembling and cowering in the presence of the unknown.

And then she spotted me, looking, wondering, and silently asking; what is wrong? This question, despite all of her experiences and knowledge, was all but possible to answer. She knew all things that would concern any other human or otherwise, but this had put her in a quagmire that might have been a labyrinth with no exit. She had unquestionable knowing, until it came to herself. She had only sought to comfort others, but at the price of herself. She had become one of the martyrs that she had come to hat so much in her past life, but when you are presented with the knowledge, you can either choose to save yourself, or comfort the others for whom salvation is impossible. She chose the path of those who would selflessly sacrifice themselves to become the slight butt between their concept of the catacombs of mystery and the harsh bluntness of true reality. Life is the constant battle between understanding and censoring, to know all without boundaries would crush all thought, and bring up the only incorruptible sense, and that is the one and only primal fear.

She said to me in the gentlest possible voice "I do not know, nor I do think I could handle the cruel indifference