Phantasmagoria

15-Dreon

              I jerk awake, as if I had fallen from somewhere high and bounced back. I try to calm my breathing as an image of someone holding my hand emerges. I hold my head down as it thumped, its pain bearable but continuous.

Nothing seems to be different. I eye the entourage of columns across the main building. The poorly sloped steps birthed to students skimming through their thick glasses buried in thick stacks of paper, sophomores chortling over conversations I will never hear, and punks rapping rhythms I will never know. They will then be replaced by somebody else. And then by somebody else, with different thoughts, different rhythms, and different stories to tell. And so on. And yet, no matter how different the conversations may be, or how many people I come across with every day, everything seemed to be so consistent, like stagnant water withered on the ground.

I pull my hood closer to my face as I pace towards Philosophy.

"Alright everybody. You have half an hour to finish your essay. You may start."

I study the writing on the board. Why do you deserve to die? It was too easy. I clutch the pen in my hand and start scribbling the mess in my head.

It was a question so many people had given answers to without being asked. I am useless. I have no purpose. I am a bad person. I am a failure. I deserve to die. I want to die. Death feeds on our weaknesses. It is always patiently waiting for us to succumb to it. Sometimes I wonder what happens if I end this.

We live to die. We are born with death on our tails. I could go on with a million reasons of why I deserved death, but it was who I am supposed to be. A dying man. Always.

"Drei, you okay?" Cheese looks at me with worry. It was only then that I realized that I was holding my head down again.

"Yeah. How about you? Are you alright?"

She crosses her legs on the table and looks at me in nonchalance.

"Yeah huh. Turns out, the seven weeks thing I had with Ryan was not even real at all. I think I might have been faking it too, you know. So yeah." She assures. "Anyway, turn around." She commands. I turn and see nothing out of the ordinary. I look back in confusion.

"Miley's checking you out. Go." She pushes me and I struggle to keep my balance. I scratch my nape as I try to flash a smile at Miley, who, apparently was checking me out.

"Hey, handsome." Miley caresses my chest, down to my stomach. She looks farther down before she captures my eyes. She leans in and whispers to my ear which sent me tingles. "5 PM. meet me at the parking lot." Her voice was full of air, the sound one makes before falling asleep from a tiring day. She turns around, leaving me dumbfounded.

I feel Cheese wrap an arm on my shoulders as she giggles. "Congratulations. Today's devirginization day." She says in her high-pitched singsong voice. She pats my back and yanks me towards Gym.

"Burke, my man!" Tony flashes a boyish grin when he saw me. He waves before returning to his teammates for the huddle.

They were playing basketball and somehow, Cheese had convinced me to skip Earth Science to support him. Flynn didn't want to skip History.

Cheese screams as Tony had his fifth three-point shot during the second quarter. Her voice was lost on the wave of the cheerful chaos, loud and electrifying. I didn't care much about sports so I remain quiet, convincing myself to focus on the game. The noise is deafening and I could almost feel my eardrums bursting and my head hurting like a thousand needles pricking it.

It is in times like this when the world was so alive that I feel so detached. As if I am a third person from afar witnessing someone else's story. Although ironically, this is the same time when I am very much aware of my existence. It haunts me.

I try to remember the girl who held my hand in the dream. Her hands were soft, yet her eyes screamed boldness and warmth. Just when I thought I caught a grasp of what she looked like, her image fades away, like grains of sand slipping from my fingers.

It was almost five when I stand a few meters away from the parking lot, contemplating if I should submit to whatever society asks me to. Or whatever Flynn asked me to. I am ready to go home but it felt bad to ditch somebody. Even if it were Miley Stalls.

I stroll towards the lot and waited for almost half an hour. I stare at the setting sun and marvel at the pink and orange blur that seem to go darker every minute. When no one arrived, I drove home. Miley Stalls did not want me after all.

It's weird how I am not panicking as much as I thought I would when I stopped remembering my dreams. Perhaps Tony was right. Maybe Life is finally giving me the element of surprise.

I hold my head down to ease the throbbing on my head.

"You okay, honey?"

"Yes, mom."

Her eyes stretched a pool of motherly concern. I know that she is fighting the urge to squeeze me some answers but she is kind enough to remain silent.

I creep into my room and snatch a pencil and a sketchbook. I draw the girl's eyes slowly in agonizing intricacy, copying from a faint image I had in mind.