Title: Dream Medicine
I woke up from the shaft of lights streaming through my window — white and blinding. It ached to get up, my head spinning like I was previously tossed inside a laundry machine to be tumbled dry. The pain was enough to cringe my teeth together, enough for me to vomit. I tried to fight it off with pressuring palms directly on my temples.
Water. I needed water.
I then realized I was still in my yesterday’s work clothes, all crumpled and awful smelling. Had I known I’d be sleeping straight right after “it,” I would’ve decided on a more comfy clothes. Had I guessed but my excitement got ahead of me.
Ah, but this was now a thing of the past. Almost forgotten. Bordering to ancient. Dreams now were “made” through series of inputs and demands, all concise and reoccurring in tiny intakes and manufactured from a large factory to small retails on malls. Their prices was so great that no normal salary man like myself could buy it in months. But, ah, all worth the money indeed.
One could have the same dream over and over again. Dream of the first experienced success, dream of a getaway that occurred two years ago or dream of deceased loved one. Just one pill, take it before sleeping and it would be an eight-hour blissful memories happening all over again.
And this excruciating headache thereafter. The bile was rising up on my throat though.
Still, my dream last night was the most beautiful thing though. I felt like wanting to be in there again. It didn’t matter the headache now… or the warning sign of the packaging that said, “Once a day or lose all your memory the next.” If I were to just drown myself to my dreams — good ones where I was the happiest and nothing was wrong — I wouldn’t need other memories.
9 more to go.