Teenage Dreamer

Date written: 2nd December 2004

Some things in life are strange. One strange thing that everyone experiences is the phenomena of dreaming. It's not a mental disorder, but in some concepts can seem like one. It certainly is one of life's most peculiar light shows.

This story is one person's journey through adolescence. They are normal in every possible way; they go to school, go out with friends, live in a suburban neighbourhood. This is no normal adolescent story though; three years of their life can be told in three swift, bold alternate realities.

The small room was dull. The only decoration was a dab of paint here and there and some old wallpaper that couldn't be torn off. In the way of furniture it was basic; lime green curtains that had aged with the times, a wooden desk giving refuge to a lonely lamp and a medium sized bed (to fit one). He walked in, taking off his sweater and counting the seconds in his mind. Closing the curtains and switching on the lamp gave the almost decrepit room a feeling it had never experienced. In some aspects, the feeling was eerie, but otherwise it was frighteningly romantic. As if a daily job for him he pulled out bouquet of roses and began sprinkling them across the bed. The pink shade of the petals was shone on by the light of the lamp. This is when she walked in, as if this was an exercise for her too. Collapsing on the bed, he knew what he had to do; he gave her the most passionate kiss that could exist. The tenderness was projected by the twilight stimulating the room and the wonderful though that it would last forever.

The area was strange. It was almost indescribable. Almost completely white, one could not tell if it was a room or a vast wasteland. He tried his basic abilities; running (he could not do this as it seemed his legs were extremely heavy), breathing (he seemed to only be able to breathe heavily) and viewing (his vision was increasingly blurry). He shouted which for no apparent reason gave birth to a large painting on the floor. It was himself, shouting. As he stumbled around, the area became more coloured. This apparently affected him in ways we cannot imagine. Screaming at the new colours appearing he fell to the floor in a mixture of laughter and insane screaming. He had a small fit on the ground but nobody will hear and nobody will help. He didn't deserve this infinite depression but now it's started, it will never end.

Murder is very important to some people. The preparation, the crime, the punishment. When someone is stopping you from achieving something, it can feel glorious. He felt this same way when he was holding his rusty knife to another man's neck. Using his fingers, he could feel the man swallow his own air in desperation. He hated this man. The man he had at the tip of his knife. He took a moment to taste his own sweat; it was delicious. The man's face was starting to give in, releasing its precious blood from slashes, likely to be made by the knife previously. He started feeling nervous; should he kill him? Why? He knew why. To get what he wanted. Thinking this over he had no hesitation but to simply plunge his knife through the man's entire mouth. Molar to molar.

Some things in life are strange. One strange thing that everyone experiences is the phenomena of dreaming. It's not a mental disorder, but in some concepts can seem like one. It certainly is one of life's most peculiar light shows.