What History Doesn't Know

More About Casper

I woke up in my bed feeling hot and sweaty. I wiped my body of all sweat. Looking at the time, it was 1 o'clock in the morning. Whoa. I was sleeping for about ten hours.

When I tried getting up, I noticed an arm was on me. It was Melanie. She was cuddled close to me with her arm on my chest. My bed was meant for only one person so she was sleeping close to me. I carefully placed her arm down and got out of bed to go to the bathroom.

As I was washing my face, I thought about my dreamless night. Thank goodness. Ten hours and still none of those crappy dreams where I was someone else.

I left the room leaving Melanie who was still sleeping soundly in my bed.

Outside, Eduardo was on my sofa in the living room snoring away with one foot on the armrest of the sofa. Then I noticed the empty plastic that once contained the loaf of bread I had just bought two days ago. " 'Free of my touch' yeah right." I mumbled.

I walked into the kitchen and made myself some hot chocolate hoping it would calm me down. Hot chocolate always soothed me.

But it didn't. Neither did the next cup. Or the next one. Or even the next one.

I rubbed my temples. Nothing was working for me. These dreams were going to drive me insane. The only dream I could remember clearly was the dream of me as Menessus at Troy.

Why didn't this Menessus appear in the internet? Was he just a figment of my imagination? Or was he some unknown person in ancient history that played a very vital role that no one noticed? Most horrifying of all, why does Cassandra look so much like Melanie?

These questions plagued my mind. I went to my phone to check for messages. Nothing. Not a word from Dr. Zachary. It can't be that hard to figure what's wrong with me. Unless...I have some new condition known to mankind that science has yet to find a cure to. I groaned. It seems I won't have proper rest for the next few weeks or even months.

I went to my room going in quietly so as to not wake Melanie up. I grabbed my music player and left the room. I switched on some opera music in another attempt to soothe myself. Ahhh...nothing beats opera music, I thought to myself. The raw voice of the singers helped me relax a little bit. They don't music like this anymore. Everybody in the world is too busy listening to either pop music or old rock music.

Pop music was a bit too overrated. It was all just about dancing these days. And the guys of pop music all seemed to have this certain type of hairstyle that they could flick to one side. I didn't get what was so cool about that but some girls seemed to think it was attractive. Luckily, my Melanie was not one of those girls. In fact, she was just crazy. She may a quiet bookworm at home, but she turned into this crazy, screaming fan girl at AC/DC's concerts. I guess that's what I like about her. She's never afraid to express herself.

Old rock music is great but it was a bit too wild for me. I preferred to listen to opera music. Listening to singers reach impossible notes always amazed me. Luciano Pavarotti was a favourite of mine. He was big man with big voice to match. I really wished he was still alive. I listened to him almost everyday. I also liked flamenco music. There was something so exotic about flamenco music that caught my attention. I was just so sexy to my ears. People think that France is sexy but I thought otherwise. France was romantic. It was Spain that was sexy.

I began listening to flamenco music at young age. My mom was of Spanish blood and was a big fan of Paco de Lucia. The guy was simply phenomenal. Luckily, the man was still alive so my hopes to meet him were still up. However, he might only be fluent speaking Spanish and it would definitely not be cool to bring my mom along to act as translator.

I switched my music player off and headed to the kitchen. That was when I began to feel weird. Oh no. Not again. My head started spinning again just like before in Dr. Zachary's office. I quickly sat down next to the dustbin to avoid hitting my head and also so I could puke into the dustbin if I needed to.

It began to feel hot. A lot hotter than when I woke up. The fan was on and the room was cool, but I started sweating. My vision started to fade to black. I turned to look Eduardo who was still sleeping on the sofa. What would he think of finding me on my kitchen floor unconscious? Who knows when that would be? My eyelids began to feel really heavy. Soon enough, my eyes closed. When I woke up, I wasn't in my kitchen anymore. I was in a cell on the wrong side of the bars.