Holding on my knife, I trudge myself to the caravan, the sore bones, especially for my neck, hit me all over the body with friction after having them endure a bad, thoughtless rest.
My nerves aren't getting better either, they want to scream from the continuing pain from having me tirelessly move around my body to collect the things I would need to survive in the future and they groan when other than the knife, I do not take anything else, even the tent, while the perpetrator for my bones would have been a useful alternative for rest.
With one of the containers filled up by water and half of the cookies eaten for brunch (or is it breakfast, I need a clock soon), the bones are finally put to rest on the warm soft bed, carried away by a hidden driver to the next afterlife, their screams faded for now.
I do not scream not because I want to prepare sooner, even though it is the most optimal move compared staying there screaming over the top with my lungs, not wanting to play the hapless fool in the movies just like what I did the last time. I do not scream because I want my work to be done silently, even though there is no one there to complain about my work ethic or me being an attention seeker.
There is a real, but stupid reason for me to find an actual time to lie on the bed, not doing anything but silently gather my thoughts. Despite the bad sleep for my body, I have a dream that I want to remember and without a pen to write on my collected papers, I want to savor this moment to remind myself that I am human, a living being, a soul, a person who you might have once met before in person, stories or online.
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I remember my dream that starts off waking up from my bed, my bed of cartoonish shapes and sizes in my mood. But instead of feeling happy thinking it is just a dream, I just mechanically walk down the stairs and see my mother. I greet her, she responds with scolding me for not boiling the water and spending too much time on the computer yesterday. I respond by filling up my water bottle and then going back to my room while she goes on drinking her recently brewed coffee.
At my room, I turn my computer to surf the net until I'm either bored from looking at the same daily content with only slight changes every week. Usually, this continues for an entire day if I'm not going out with my family, do some hobbies that I quit 3 days later, some small meal breaks or them asking me about things I don't want to care about.
When watching one of the videos, a scene of a schoolyard drags my attention closer to the screen and before I know it, I am at the schoolyard, where I graduated years ago. I am now watching some students play basketball while some other students cheering their favorite player on. One of the spectators notices my arrival in semi-casual pajamas of T-shirt and short pants, asking me to introduce myself.
"Oh, um. My name is ----, my age is twe--- oh I mean about twelve going to thirteen. Eh, shouldn't this conversation is just between the two of us? Why are there more people, I'm not really that interesting, well my clothes may be unique, compared to the basketball match where one of them is going to score a point or two in fact. Wait, why is he not scoring, why are they not playing, why are you not talking, why are you all looking at me? Th--there's a fish over there, look over there, LOOK!"
Their many eyes soon, not even responding to other things, all focused on me. Unprepared to address that many creepy people at once, I soon run away from there, but the eyes are still there looking at me from every side of the building. Eventually, I escape to a room where I can lock my presence from them. I vaguely remember toilet stall before the location change.
Soon, I am outside a street, where I see cars waiting for the next green light to resume their drive. I look at the left and I see a bakery at the end. The rows of stores are at a close place to my home, a walking distance for me. When I calm myself and set my sight to walk back home, flowers of different shapes and colors suddenly burst from the storefronts and the cars parked beside me, even if some of the transportation are lorries or the stores are mechanical shops, when I accidentally grab one of the flowers while trying to run as fast as possible, the touch is undeniably plastic.
With the flowers starting to overwhelm my movements and eventually sight, time passes until I feel something warm. I get up and see I am seeing a campfire, me making an actual circle with some vaguely recognizable faces, talking about what they are grateful in their life.
Some says their father, some says their mother, some even says their siblings. All of them have then give an incident that makes them grateful to them in the future. Eventually, the question, asked by a big figure at two o'clock, arrives to me.
I...hesitated with the question, far longer than some other people who needs 2 seconds max to answer theirs. He prods me again, I shamefully answers my bed, because I don't have a good night rest since participating in this particular camp. He prods me to ask about my family, my friends or someone I have a crush on. I hesistated, because my bed is the only thing right now that makes the most sense to me.
And I'm back at the caravan's bed again, lying down to see the white ceiling above me.
The caravan is moving without any signs of slowing down, so there might be a distance before my next location.
Is this a punishment for me fear of people? Or is this a haven for me? Is this why there is no one there to guide me in this place? I feel even if there are people I still won't able to connect with people. But I would like some answers for this place, even if it's a little.
I reach out to the ceiling to both of my arms, both hands making the knuckle shapes 3 times, I can see the bones are quite well-rested now.
Still, I strangely like this place. If I fully know the rules of this place, I may just fully live here. Work, eat and sleep. All without the complications of mankind. But it will be a tough choice if I eventually discover a way out, between comfort and independence.
With this I rest for a second time without even facing my first task of the day, this time for my mind until the caravan starts moving slowly.