The Dream of Tranquility
Me, Myself, and Her (Episode-IV)
'The Dream of Tranquility'
"Let's go back to the core," I asked apologetically in an attempt to distract her from my previous cockiness.
"Ok." She answered with a hint of discontent.
"Shall I begin now?" I continued to be apologetic.
"Yes. The core. You mean the depression core, of course." She uttered in a professional tone. I hated it.
"Yes Doctor." I emphasized so I can savor her brief giggle. "Where do you want me to start this time?"
"Uhhh. Tell me about something recent."
"Fine. I had a surgery, do you remember when I cancelled that appointment?" I waited for her nod. "It was the moment I got my conscious back after anesthesia. It was all blurry. Two people were speaking to me at once. I briefly responded. Though my thoughts are what I desire to share. My feelings as you rather call. I was disappointed."
"Disappointed?" She followed up with perplexity; as usual.
I nodded. "Yes. Disappointed. I was still there; alive."
She placed her soft palm over her angelic lips. Was she trying to hide her sadness? Her nervousness was so revealing. She was an inept therapist.
"I had it inside me. A light in the end of the tunnel. An uncharacteristic hope. An enlightening dark wish. That this was the end. I was not ready to recover. To wake up again. To face it again."
"Face it? What is it?"
"Disappointment. Misery. This abyss of nothingness we call life."
She shook her head in irritation.
"That's how I feel. That's how I think. I will tell you another story. A year ago, I woke up mid-sleep with a very fast heart rate. I had a chest pain as well. My breathing was not regular. My first thought was instinctive: to survive. I held my phone and began to google the symptoms until it stroke me. My second thought was more elaborate; deeper. I followed the latter. I laid there not moving and waiting for it."
"It?" She wondered again. This time in denial, perhaps.
"It. My deepest wish: Death, the calm fantasy; The dream of tranquility. Alas, it did not come. Another disappointment."
She placed her palms on my hands. I felt their heat and delicateness. I felt.. life! But I hate life! I pulled my hands abruptly in anger.
I barked "What do you want? Don't you ever feel pity for me! Don't you dare!" My voice was loud. She looked around in fear. I scared her. I scared her delightful existence. She was too fragile to be in contact with someone like me, or like myself. I promptly apologized.
"May I continue? Please. Don't be scared!" I mumbled in a calm voice. My serene tone was impossible to turn down.
She nodded skeptically.
"What's wrong with desiring death? Why are people so frightened from an inevitable event? I do wish it. I do crave it. When I board a plane, as soon as there is turbulence, something inside me wants it to get worse. I don't panic when I notice the survival mania around me. Instead, I close my eyes and wait for it. I pray for it; to myself. When I hear an unusual noise, I stay still. I shut my eyes and wait for it. Do you know what is more sad than that?"
"What?" She murmured in a shattered voice. She was struggling to keep her tears for herself.
"It did not come. It never answered my prayers. I am not greedy; I do not demand many responses. Just once. All I want is once."
"Please." She was begging me to stop though she could not say it.
"I am going to buy a gun, and I will keep it safe."
"No please." She was urging me.
"It is physical pain that I cannot handle. Orwell was right when he wrote that physical pain is the worst. I had pain and I went to the hospital. Nothing is worth than suffering through pain. Nothing. The gun will be my 911, my emergency room. If my dream does not cease to ignore my prayers. I will put myself to sleep. I am not going to linger for long."
"Please. I beg you." Her tears escaped her blue eyes. Her charming face was flaming. Her delicate hands were shaking.
I couldn't resist anymore. I stopped. I placed my right rough palm on her hands. I used my left hand to guide her chin up. I looked straight into her dreamy eyes. And that's when I noticed it. A glance of another dream of tranquility. This one was full of life; in contrast.
"Ok." She answered with a hint of discontent.
"Shall I begin now?" I continued to be apologetic.
"Yes. The core. You mean the depression core, of course." She uttered in a professional tone. I hated it.
"Yes Doctor." I emphasized so I can savor her brief giggle. "Where do you want me to start this time?"
"Uhhh. Tell me about something recent."
"Fine. I had a surgery, do you remember when I cancelled that appointment?" I waited for her nod. "It was the moment I got my conscious back after anesthesia. It was all blurry. Two people were speaking to me at once. I briefly responded. Though my thoughts are what I desire to share. My feelings as you rather call. I was disappointed."
"Disappointed?" She followed up with perplexity; as usual.
I nodded. "Yes. Disappointed. I was still there; alive."
She placed her soft palm over her angelic lips. Was she trying to hide her sadness? Her nervousness was so revealing. She was an inept therapist.
"I had it inside me. A light in the end of the tunnel. An uncharacteristic hope. An enlightening dark wish. That this was the end. I was not ready to recover. To wake up again. To face it again."
"Face it? What is it?"
"Disappointment. Misery. This abyss of nothingness we call life."
She shook her head in irritation.
"That's how I feel. That's how I think. I will tell you another story. A year ago, I woke up mid-sleep with a very fast heart rate. I had a chest pain as well. My breathing was not regular. My first thought was instinctive: to survive. I held my phone and began to google the symptoms until it stroke me. My second thought was more elaborate; deeper. I followed the latter. I laid there not moving and waiting for it."
"It?" She wondered again. This time in denial, perhaps.
"It. My deepest wish: Death, the calm fantasy; The dream of tranquility. Alas, it did not come. Another disappointment."
She placed her palms on my hands. I felt their heat and delicateness. I felt.. life! But I hate life! I pulled my hands abruptly in anger.
I barked "What do you want? Don't you ever feel pity for me! Don't you dare!" My voice was loud. She looked around in fear. I scared her. I scared her delightful existence. She was too fragile to be in contact with someone like me, or like myself. I promptly apologized.
"May I continue? Please. Don't be scared!" I mumbled in a calm voice. My serene tone was impossible to turn down.
She nodded skeptically.
"What's wrong with desiring death? Why are people so frightened from an inevitable event? I do wish it. I do crave it. When I board a plane, as soon as there is turbulence, something inside me wants it to get worse. I don't panic when I notice the survival mania around me. Instead, I close my eyes and wait for it. I pray for it; to myself. When I hear an unusual noise, I stay still. I shut my eyes and wait for it. Do you know what is more sad than that?"
"What?" She murmured in a shattered voice. She was struggling to keep her tears for herself.
"It did not come. It never answered my prayers. I am not greedy; I do not demand many responses. Just once. All I want is once."
"Please." She was begging me to stop though she could not say it.
"I am going to buy a gun, and I will keep it safe."
"No please." She was urging me.
"It is physical pain that I cannot handle. Orwell was right when he wrote that physical pain is the worst. I had pain and I went to the hospital. Nothing is worth than suffering through pain. Nothing. The gun will be my 911, my emergency room. If my dream does not cease to ignore my prayers. I will put myself to sleep. I am not going to linger for long."
"Please. I beg you." Her tears escaped her blue eyes. Her charming face was flaming. Her delicate hands were shaking.
I couldn't resist anymore. I stopped. I placed my right rough palm on her hands. I used my left hand to guide her chin up. I looked straight into her dreamy eyes. And that's when I noticed it. A glance of another dream of tranquility. This one was full of life; in contrast.
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