Letters You Will Never Read

It Scares Me

Is it a dream or a memory?

You told me that the world was ours. That of all people, I had real worth: a spark of the essence of eternity - the dissolvant of percieved reality, you said.

We sat down to dinner, and you took away the silverware. You threw it on the floor and held our napkins to a candle, lighting the centerpiece for a more "appropriate" display.

"Why?" I demanded to know.

You drank your wine all in one swig, and said, "Don't let your habits blind you; just think how grand the world can be without these uninspired parameters." You scooped up the pasta and ate it off your hand, licking your fingers clean. "It's difficult at first; the truth creates more possibilities than one can comfortably recognize... but don't be afraid."

It seemed distasteful, but your look was so earnest. I reached into the warm food on my plate and grabbed a handful up, feeling like an unmannered child as I consumed it. It was a slow, strange process. As I ate you continued your lecture.

"The world is full of short-sighted people and unnecessary rules that only serve to confuse the true values of existence. To find the truth, the average person must face a maze which, to you or me, is built of such breakable fibers that the only obstacle lies in quickly wiping every barrier out. Then... then, we see clearly."

I finished my plate of food and quietly listened.

"That look on your face is to be expected. It's difficult not to rush you into this, but you have to be strong for me. Please, say you will try."

I looked at the tomato sauce spilled across the pure white tablecloth. In a steady tone I said, "What you are asking is that I destroy every convention of thought, ideal, and properness. That I lose all basis of rationality... that I lose myself in the limbo of nothingness."

"Not nothing - everything."

"But why?"

You placed your sticky hand on mine, "Because," You said softly, leaning towards me over the ashes of our centerpiece. "When you see it, it will be the most beautiful thing you have ever seen. I see it, and it is incredible -- sharp and clear and dazzling as the night sky; terrifying and pure -- but so cold. When you see the stars, do you not feel alone?"

"I don't know if I can do it," my voice is too quiet, but you are listening. "You've always been farther from the maze than I; you can't possibly understand what it has done for me. I would be powerless without the walls I've built; I need them."

Your smile is warm and you reply in an equally soft tone, "But you will have all the power in the world." In your deep, dark eyes I sense a distant accusation. I fight a haunted chill as you go on  - "We will build all the walls. Just think: we will build them. You must trust me; you are like me in this way."

My gaze drifts back to our connected hands. I have nothing to say; not that I can find words for...

"You and I will be gods."

"Carson, no." I pull my hand away from yours, realizing in an overwhelming moment that you have gone insane. "Don't do this to me; wherever you are, you have to come back. Come back to me, Carson: don't pull me into the darkness."

Slowly, you rise out of your seat. "You know it is far too late for that," You say coldly, "You will see eternity...

You will find me."

 

 

It's not all fact, but it's not all dream either. It's just that I've dreamed it so many times over that I'm forgetting how much of this is not from our conversation on graduation night. I don't recall you being so demanding, in reality.

But I know you when I hear you speak. I cannot find anything here that is not fully you.

I must be insane; that's impossible. Impossibilities are dangerous.

It isn't your typical nightmare, but it frightens me.