DDO Olympics: Storytelling Prelims

Chapter 4: Waking up in a Dream I woke up lying on the arc again. I was hyperventilating as I sat up, but I was able to speak. All I could think to say was, "Oh God, oh God, oh God." I reached up to my head and started to pull on my hairdos I racked my brain with questions. I let out an ear-piercing scream that was amplified by the walls. I closed my eyes and out my head between my knees. I don't know how long I sat like that. It could've been days for all I would know. Nothing made sense here anyway. One moment I was passing out because I was getting raped by a psychopath while I was getting my organs removed. The next moment I'm lying on an arc in this God forsaken room still intact. I hadn't realized that I was crying. I'd numbed to any sort of display of emotion when this place began its torture on my mind. I whispered through my tears, "Why is this happening to me?" "What's happening to you?" I heard a voice say. It was a shaky voice that was more than welcome right now. As long as it wasn't one of my torturers. I slowly turned my head to see who the voice came from. The walls were almost completely destroyed. There was a large hole in the wall, although it was still covered in wire mesh. Behind it stood a man dressed like a gentleman. He had a top hat and wire frame glasses that actually suited him quite nicely. He was wearing a three piece, pinstripe suit with a clean black bow tie on. His dress shoes were shining in contrast to the dirty floor they were on. He held a can in one hand and a pocket watch in another. "I..." I didn't know how to finish the sentence. Instead I resorted to asking, "Who are you?" "Does it really matter down here?" He asked raising his cane with a shaky hand. "It's not real anyway." He gave a crooked smile that didn't match his high class suit. "Don't listen to him," I heard from behind myself. It was an old voice that sounded like it had met a few cigarettes in its life. I turned to see an old man sitting on the floor of a room next to me. He was wearing what looked to be a potato sack over his torso, and he had torn cargo pants just below it. His hair was white and disheveled, and his facial hair was no better. "Who are you?" I asked him now. "Well, I'll agree with the mad man over there on one point," he replied slowly. "It doesn't matter." "What are you two talking about?" I asked back in surprise. "How does it not matter?" The mad man answered me, "Well if you ask him you'll get an answer different from mine. I've figured out none of this is real. Does anything make sense to you?" I grabbed my hair again at the thought of what happened and said, "No, hell no." "It can be explained," said the old man from behind me. In a more cheerful tone he added, "It can be worked out rationally." "And how's that working, old man?" He asked now talking to the old man instead of me. "What's the point in telling you?" He snapped back. "You'd just reject it." "Do either of you know what's going on?" I screamed at them. It was all I could think to do given the circumstances. The mad man put his cane through the wire mesh and poked my leg. I flinched, and he laughed at me. "Did you feel that?" He asked me as if there was some reason I shouldn't. I cautiously nodded my head, and he went on with his point, "So is this dream or reality?" "Reality," I answered cautiously. "How do you know it's not a dream?" "Well, I can see, hear and feel you." He threw his head back in such a laughter that his top hat fell onto the floor. He didn't seem to care. He leaned back toward me and continued his point, "Have you seen, heard and felt things in dreams?" "I suppose," I said trying to remember the last time I had a dream. He continued laughing and said, "Well, then how do you know this isn't the dream? Or how do you know that dream and reality are separate? How do know you exist at all?" He made his last point by poking me with his cane again. "Or you can be reasonable," I heard the voice of the old man again. "Maybe you're crazy," he said raising an eyebrow at me as I turned around. "Maybe you're on hallucigenics. Maybe everything you perceive to be happening is actually happening, and you're getting gaps in your memory from the blows you've taken to the head. Have you considered that?" "Some of it, yeah," I said with a little surety. "Good," he said pointing a steady finger at the other man continuing with, "At least you're not like the mad man." "I'm not mad," said the mad mad stepping up to lean on the wire mesh, which didn't seem to have barbed wire this time around. "I'm enlightened," he said sternly to the old man. "You're a fool. You just want to feel smarter than me. That's why you wear that ridiculous outfit," he said with a spray of spit coming out as he bit off the sentence. "You make your outsides look nice, but inside you're a mess. At least I don't try to hide it." I wanted to speak, but neither of the two looked like they remembered I was here. I started to think about my situation again, and it hurt. I pulled my hair and close my eyes. I screamed again, and the room sounded different. I stood up and quickly examined the rooms. Exactly as it was when I got here. The mad man and old man were gone. "Come back!" I yelled at the walls. "Come back now!" I cried again and leaned on my arc for support. "Jonathan! Old man! Mad man!" I yelled desperately. I started to think about what everyone was talking about. It was all about me? What did that mean? I couldn't figure out anything from it. It was just a useless phrase. I wasn't that important anyway. How did they expect me to just start understanding? Or we're they even real? Now I sounded like Mad Man. I looked around the room for something to get a hold of. I just wanted something that made sense. The only thing that made sense was the arc. That didn't change, but not even the walls made sense. They seemed to change on a whim. I just had to wait until my torment came back full force.