Eleven Journeys

Keys to the Penthouse

The story you are about to read is based on a vivid dream I had this morning, remembered immediately upon waking. Every detail—the Doctor, the towering medical building, the decontamination machine, the blanket, and the keys—are exactly as I experienced them in the dream. I am convinced that this dream is intrinsically connected to Chapter 26 of my book. The interpretations and symbolisms I've woven into the narrative are products of my early morning reflections and were not elements of the dream itself.

July 20th, 2024

Once upon a time, in a city full of whispers and shadows, there was a man named Oliver. He was constantly told by everyone he encountered that he was not well, that he was sick. These assertions, filled with concern and pity, gnawed at his soul, making him question his very existence.
One fateful day, as he wandered through a bustling marketplace, Oliver crossed paths with an old acquaintance named Dr. Emmanuel, the owner of a prestigious medical center. Emmanuel, with a warm and inviting smile, suggested Oliver come to his office for a thorough health examination. Desperate for answers, Oliver accepted the offer.
When he arrived at the medical center, he found himself in the lobby of a towering building. The directory on the wall indicated that Emmanuel's office was on the top floor—the penthouse, the pinnacle of the building. The entire structure was dedicated to medical facilities, but the top floor stood out as the most prominent and outstanding.
However, before anyone could enter the top floor, there was a special machine in the middle of the lobby. This machine, crafted by renowned scientists known to Emmanuel, was designed to decontaminate anyone from any infectious and contagious ills before reaching the top floor.
Oliver approached the machine and stepped inside, but it remained inert, its power off. He wandered about the lobby, hoping to find someone who could assist him, but the place was eerily deserted. Hours passed, and finally, employees appeared behind the front desk. He approached them, and they promptly turned on the decontamination machine. Oliver entered, feeling a strange mixture of anticipation and dread. The machine hummed to life, enveloping him in a cleansing light.
Emerging from the machine, Oliver felt lighter, as if a burden had been lifted. He took the elevator to the top floor. When the doors opened, he was startled to find himself naked, with only a flimsy blanket to cover him. He fidgeted constantly, trying to keep the blanket in place, but every now and then, parts of his body were exposed, drawing curious glances from the people he passed.
As he navigated through the maze of rooms, he noticed his hands were full of keys—hundreds of them. They were heavy and unwieldy, slipping through his fingers despite his desperate attempts to hold on to them all. Amidst his struggle, he spotted an empty medical bag discarded in a nearby trash can. He retrieved the bag, placing all the keys inside, and continued on his way.
Eventually, he reached the waiting room. It was filled with others who, like him, seemed to be waiting for something, someone. The hours dragged on, and Oliver watched as no one seemed to be called, no one seemed to be helped. The anticipation turned to doubt, and he wondered if he would ever see Emmanuel again.
The waiting room was a cacophony of murmurs and sighs, a place where time seemed to stretch endlessly. Oliver looked at the keys in the bag, each one representing a possibility, a potential solution to his predicament. But the bag weighed him down, a constant reminder of the burdens he carried.
In this place of limbo, Oliver began to reflect. The blanket, his constant struggle to cover himself, symbolized his vulnerability and the façade he maintained to hide his perceived flaws. The keys, numerous and varied, represented the myriad of answers and paths he had sought, each one a potential cure for his ailment. The waiting room, filled with people like him, was a testament to the shared human condition—the search for healing, the longing for answers, and the patient endurance in the face of uncertainty.
As he waited, Oliver realized that perhaps the journey itself, the process of introspection and the understanding he gained along the way, was as crucial as the destination. And in that moment of clarity, he felt a sense of peace wash over him, a quiet acceptance of the unknown.
And so, Oliver continued to wait, not with desperation, but with a newfound patience, hoping that when the time came, he would finally understand the true nature of his journey and the wisdom it held.