Lucid Dreams

The Box

Cole is mentally losing his shit. One thought of random helplessness after another, when suddenly the silhouette speaks yet again. "We were together for a little but then I died next to you.”

The silhouette begins changing its entire form, from darkness to a being brighter than the surface of the sun in his little ten by ten bedroom.

Cole has now officially lost it emotionally, waterfalls of tears streaming down his face, “It can’t be you… It just... can’t be…How?”

The silhouette has taken shape of what appears to be the outline of a young man, going from a black shadow to that of a luminous being.

As Cole’s eyes slowly come into focus and adjust to the new light, he notices that he feels like he is now looking into a mirror, looking at himself… except for that birthmark, the facial mark he saw in that picture. The picture that was in the box…

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Cole was 11 years old when his father finally informed him about his mother’s passing. He was always curious and so would ask his dad for stories and pictures all the time.

Every single time like clockwork they would make a trip to the basement to gather a few things. Dad had piles of stuff. A few of mom’s dressy outfits that were his favorites, wedding stuff, stuff he had given to her and that she had given him over their 20-year marriage. So many great times and memories to talk about.

But one thing was sure, I always noticed the box that sat next to all the mementos of mom.

The very first time ever going down there, dad said to leave this box alone… never gave a reason… didn’t have to… he was extremely stern and the energy and vibes he gave off scared me back into my childhood, so I had left it alone.

Afterwards father would always avoid it and try to pay it no attention, but every single time we went down there I would catch his side glance and every time it ended with a single tear streaming from his right eye.

I grew more and more curious as the years went on. Until I was finally of age to stay home myself and waited for my father to leave the house.

I went through that box. It was just a birth certificate, death certificate, and a few baby toys. How is a few pieces of paper and some baby toys such a forbidden fucking thing!?

I looked closer at the birth certificate, had the name “Kyle”, same last name as me… “I have a brother!?” I look at the birthday, the same birthday!? “That can’t be right, so I have a twin!?”

Pulled the death certificate to my face quickly, as if going through forbidden files at a police station with no time left to spare. Same person, hmm, and he died the same day of birth… “So, my mother and twin brother both died that day? Wait… what is that?”

Under the death certificate was a photo of two babies, he recognized the one as himself because he had this lame pink and blue hat on just like all the other baby photos he had seen of himself. But the other one…

“So, this is my brother?” There lied a lifeless purple body of an infant that had a large birthmark across his face…

In the corner of the box something caught my eye, was what seemed like a dim reflection off of a piece of aluminum. A small mysterious metal like trinket with the engravings “MTA” on it and attached were some kind of instructions.

I had so many questions about all of this and so much going through my mind, but I would never dare say anything to my father about any of it. Obviously he has never gotten over it and has simply been just living with it and not bothering looking through these things anymore judging by the dust.

So, I ended up taking the trinket, left that paper full of words behind. And took it everywhere to feel like I had a piece of my twin brother with me.