The End of a Dreamer

1

Hello. Welcome to 「The Library」. This place may be called a library but there's only one story here, yet it covers the expanse of countless books. It's a story about a boy and then a man, called 'Kim Dokja', his life and the story he treasured, lived and then died for, over and over again. I have a feeling this is about me but I have never left The Library nor do I know how. And even if I did, why would I want to? I've been here since before I can remember but I do know this is my safe space and it was made just for me. Here I am protected. Here I am free from... something. I don't know what but my gut tells me I'm safer not knowing. Ignorance is bliss after all.

It's just me and a story here, alone. I'll sit and read this story all alone. Every day, every moment is spent reading this book. I've read it countless times, it's the same plotlines, same characters, but I also experience it differently each time. Occasionally, new books appear. They cover the same storyline with slight differences but I read them all the same. I wonder, why write the same story over and over again. For what purpose? What do you gain from it? Who are you writing for? And why do I still read them every time?

Sometimes I feel like someone's calling me. Sometimes it's the voice of a young boy, sometimes a young girl, other times it's of a woman or two, occasionally of a soft-spoken man. The rarest voice is deep, smooth. A voice I imagine to be fit for the protagonist. Sometimes I look around The Library, just to see if I'm not alone, but find nothing else there, just shelves and shelves of books. I'm fine being alone, used to it. So, why does my heart ache whenever those voices come back?

The voices have been getting louder lately and they always sound so sad. I hear bits and pieces of what they did that day, how they're doing, and... how much they miss me. I don't understand, how can you miss someone you've never met? Then again, I feel a familiarity with whoever these people are. Hearing them brings a warmth to my heart I don't know how to label. It's nice... and terrifying. I can't help but think they'll be disappointed if they ever meet me.

I've started to see images of people in my dreams. The same people I keep hearing. A young girl with long, brown hair. A boy with an extreme love for insects. A short, narcissistic woman with a beauty mark. A woman with a sword and a fiery spirit. A man built like a bear yet as obedient as a puppy. A man whose beauty could mock the gods and a personality that simultaneously both irritates me and makes my heart soar. When their visages appear in my dreams I feel like I'm looking at a family and a painful loneliness engulfs me when I wake up by myself.

There's never been an entrance or exit to The Library. It has always just been endless rows of shelves and books. That is until today. Today, there's a door. A huge door with no handle or knob to open it. It does not budge, no matter if I push or pull on it the door remains steadfast and unwavering. Instinctively I know, when this door opens it will be the end of this 'me' and this place. 'I' will cease to exist and The Library will disappear along with 'me'. The dream will end. I can't decide if that knowledge scares or excites me more. On one hand. it is something new, something different from these walls and a story I already know better than myself. On the other, it means leaving this place meant to protect me, to keep me safe. However, something tells me that when the time comes, I won't have a choice but to walk through it. For now, the time for this door to open has not come yet. For now, I wait.

Slowly, little by little the door has begun to open. Sometimes by centimeters, others by millimeters. Beyond is darkness. An inky black that will swallow me whole, an abyss that calls for me. Not yet. I can't leave yet, though I don't know why.

It's time. The voices were quiet but there is still a force calling to me through the door. The space beyond the door frame is still pitch black, thick and viscous. Breath in... Breath out. I reach out, fingertips touch the space beyond and it clings like glue, unwilling to let go. I guess this is the universe's way of telling me there's no going back. I submerge myself into the darkness and fall unconscious.

The sounds of yelling and steady beeping are the first things I hear. Blinking open my eyes, I'm briefly blinded by bright light. As my eyes adjust, something crashes into me and squeezes me tight. And then another and another and another. I stare at these now familiar faces, whom I've seen in my dreams so many times before, and now, hearing their voices, I remember who they are. They are my family. People who loved me, people who treasured me enough to walk into the cold flames of hell and stick the middle finger up at an ending they did not want. They brought me back, they brought me home. No longer am I a lonely god nor a wishful dreamer. I'm just a reader, I am Kim Dokja.