I always wake up from the same dream... over and over again. It couldn't be a fragment of my memory. The place was all wrong. A whole city was suspended above the sea with massively powerful turbines right underneath it.
The city was constantly humming, a low whisper of vibrato enveloped the every corner and street. The people, were always busy moving here and there with their own mobile equipment. Some used elongated flat boards that floated above the ground as they zoomed in a fast-paced manner. Some were using boots that produces air bursts, propelling them from one place to another . There were also a lot of sleek cars racing past the air just above the buildings. On the streets, I could see a lot of people moving with various devices, they were always moving, never staying in one place, never touching the ground. The city was so bright. It felt so real, I could feel the warm glare from the sun, smell the cool and salty breeze from the sea below, and hear the low frequency of a lot of various devices as they blitzed pass me frequently.
In that dream, I was someone. Someone with a lot of friends. People surrounded me as I travelled from a tall gate to a huge castle-like building with a lot of teenagers like me. Even though I was with a lot of people, I felt oddly agitated and displeased. I was looking for something. I couldn't find it. Until, someone instructed us to get it line as we boarded an ancient-looking train that seemed to jump out right from the 18th century, powered by steam. It felt jarring to see it in the midst of people floating and zooming with advanced hoverboards and propelling jet-boots. We must be traveling to some far-away place.
I would always sit in a cabin with someone. He would always talk to me, revelling in unknown tales that I couldn't grasp. And, like always, I would feel cold as I stared at the sparkling sea right below us. My agitation was fading away as the distance lengthened from the city. I would rub my arms, hoping for warmth. Without fail, someone else would always give me his jacket. He was always there, laughing with his friends as he handed me his own jacket. He would then smile at me and say something as he gently wrapped me with his own jacket and then promptly leaving. I couldn't remember what he said. But I would always stand just a few moments later and start to follow him just to return his jacket. But, I couldn't return it. He would always disappear in a crowd as if he was never there.
Suddenly, the train changed into a library. I would look for a book and someone would hand it over to me. It was him again. Before I could even thank him, he would be called back by his friends. The library changed into a classroom, he would then be seated beside me. He would gently explain the things discussed by the professor. I would softly laugh at him, because we both knew I understood everything, even without his explanation. But I did not stop him. He was happy.
In every dream he was always there, always providing me something I would need. But then, at the end of every dream, I would always find myself sitting on a bench facing the sunset-tinged sea. He would always sit beside me a few moments later. I could feel his loneliness and regret as he sat silently. I would wait for him to speak, for I had nothing to say. I knew it was the end. His voice would break as he slowly grasp my cold hands. His hands were trembling and colder to touch. I wanted to say something, to ease his pain, to relieve him from his torment. Like always, I couldn't. My voice was sealed. My throat clogged with a lump of pain that I couldn't remove. I would try everything to just say a single word. Until I would take a deep breath preparing to scream out loud...and I gasped waking up to my reality. Tears dripping from my eyes, confused as to why I would dream of him so vividly and yet I couldn't remember his face. It left me feeling confused and broken, as if I had forgotten a very important part of me. I would tell myself, "Just a dream. Just a dream. Just a figment of imagination. Just a dream."
I always wake up from the same dream ... over and over again. It couldn't be a fragment of my memory. The place was all wrong. A whole city suspended above the sea with powerful turbines right underneath it, just couldn't possibly exist in this world. But then I would always ask myself, who was he?