TOO YOUNG TO BE SO SAD(ECCEDENTESIAST)

TWELVE

I had a lengthy dream, one where everything seemed ordinary.

In this dream, my life was typical, with my mom, Izzy, and dad by my side. We all lived near the beach, enjoying ourselves and acting like carefree children.

I was completely engrossed in witnessing the genuine and sometimes cheesy love between my parents, their love for us kids, and their love for each other.

I often asked my mom about how she met someone like my dad, and she would gladly recount the story to me and Izzy repeatedly, without any hesitation. It was a love story I yearned to experience for myself.

My joy knew no bounds in this dream. I could laugh wholeheartedly and play with Izzy with all my heart.

I found myself in a world free from wounds, where sorrow was nonexistent, and love flowed abundantly. It was a world untouched by pills and devoid of fear. A truly comforting place.

I didn't want it to end; I yearned to stay in that place where I had found solace.

This world had been my longed-for sanctuary, a realm for which I had prayed earnestly. I watched my mom sing her cherished hymn to us while I danced with Izzy, who couldn't contain her giggles and leaps.

Dad chimed in with his endearing, croaky voice, making us burst into laughter and teasing him about it. Mom, who adored everything about him, cheered him on as we kids playfully mocked his unique voice.

Then, everything began to fade away—happy Izzy, singing dad, the people around us, and even the houses. Mom walked up to me, gently caressed my cheeks, and nodded reassuringly. I silently pleaded with my eyes for her not to let go. I didn't want to return to that other place.

She continued nodding reassuringly as her figure slowly dissolved.

My eyes snapped open, and I was greeted by a throbbing headache that coursed through my entire body, leaving me feeling as if I had been beaten and then miraculously revived.

I struggled to make sense of the blurry figures moving around me. A piercing, high-pitched sound pierced my ears and rattled my brain. I attempted to cover my ears, but my efforts were in vain; all I could manage to move were my legs.

A brighter light invaded my vision before I heard the first faint voice, "Crystal!"

The noise began to recede, and my surroundings gradually came into focus. "If you can hear me, please move your fingers," a voice instructed.

I complied, moving my fingers as directed.

As I surveyed my surroundings, I realized I was in what appeared to be a hospital, surrounded by blurry figures who were doctors.

I couldn't help but wonder how unwell I must have been for the entire hospital staff to gather around and care for me.

Lying there motionless, I observed the doctors going about their tasks, speaking to each other in hushed tones. My vision seemed intact, but my hearing was compromised.

After what felt like an eternity, a familiar figure approached me, muttering softly and embracing me tightly, tears streaming down his face. I had never witnessed a man cry so readily before.

As his face became recognizable, I mustered the strength to call out his name, "George," only to realize that I couldn't hear me.

He spoke, but all I could manage to say was, "I can't hear you!"

The realization hit me like a wave—I had lost my hearing. I kept shouting, "I can't hear you!" at the top of my lungs. George attempted to soothe me, but his efforts were in vain. The doctors reappeared and administered something that plunged me back into slumber.