Chapter 9 - -CHAPTER 6: IT'S JUST A BURNING MEMORY-

Soon, I woke up, on my own bed, in my own room, the way I remembered. I realized I was back at home, my real home. The alarm blared, and the fan was blowing. But when I felt the blankets and the mattress, it felt off and not even real. This was a dream inside a dream. I stood up from my bed and looked around my room. I felt tall, not short anymore. My footsteps were big & louder, not gentle & small. My clothes were already on. "Hello?" I called out, "Is somebody there?" No one called back, and the house was silent. I exited my room, everything looked normal, but it was missing something… My parents. Where were they? I went to the living room, and nobody was there, but the TV was on. The TV, though, showed static. I went to the kitchen, and there was a coffee stain on the floor… where did that come from? The kitchen was very clean and organized, which was a rare thing in my household. Then, I went to the hallway, still lined up with pictures of me when I was younger, but my parents were replaced by silhouettes in all of these photos. Those people weren't my parents… I was still curious whether someone was here or not, so I went to my parents' bedroom… they weren't here, and their beds were neatly done, and so was the room. The flowers looked… off. It was wilted, stems too thin, and there were only a few flowers in that really weirdly shaped vase. The vase was black, pitch black. I slightly ran my finger on the smooth surface of the vase, as if I was putting my finger inside the empty void, and the vase acted dramatically. It threw itself at the wall, shattering into smooth china, water, and flowers. I fell to the floor at that sudden reaction. Why the hell did that happen? I just slightly touched it, and it reacted as if I had a disease. This was my home. Why is it rejecting me? I stood up, walked out of the room, and then to the bathroom. The bathroom, just like the kitchen, was neatly organized and cleaned. I looked at myself in the mirror, it was me, the true me, a 16-year-old boy with eye bags, and still rocking that low taper mullet haircut… that was me. But, it felt like I was staring at… nothing. It also felt like I was staring at a memory burning like paper. I can't recognize myself anymore, I don't know who I am… Who even am I now? A 6-year-old boy who is pure and innocent, a boy who smiled at Ms. C's comforting voice, a boy who is oblivious to the world around him? Yes… That's me. No, no, it isn't. Then, the mirror slowly became cloudy. I tried to rub it off, but it won't work. Then, I heard a voice, from my mother, my real mother. "Tim?" Mom called out, and I replied, "Mom?" But Mom didn't respond, almost as if.. She's waiting. I came out of the bathroom, and there stood a figure in the hallway. It looked like the figure from school, except.. It copied me. It has my body, my clothes, hair like mine, fingers that can curl in cold just like mine. But, its face was still covered by the white 2D circle, with a question mark in the middle. It spoke but in static, though it felt understandable. "W̸h̶y̴ ̷d̵o̶ ̸y̴o̸u̴ ̷k̸e̶e̸p̷ ̴r̶e̴m̶e̶m̵b̷e̵r̸i̴n̷g̶..?" It asked me. "A̵r̴e̵n̸'̴t̸ ̶y̷o̸u̷ ̶h̷a̸p̴p̷y̶ ̴w̴h̵e̴r̴e̶ ̴y̸o̶u̵ ̷b̵e̶l̶o̶n̵g̴.̶.̵?" It just stood there, staring at me. "I am happy here," I replied, "But I shouldn't let go of my parents, they were the only ones that loved me…" The figure didn't show emotion and stood still. The figure then replied, "S̵t̵o̵p̵ ̵r̷e̶m̷e̷m̴b̸e̷r̶i̵n̷g̶ ̷t̴h̷i̴n̶g̸s̸ ̵t̴h̸a̷t̵ ̶y̷o̶u̷ ̶s̵h̶o̵u̸l̴d̴n̶'̵t̶.̵ ̷T̸h̴i̶s̵ ̸i̵s̵ ̵E̸d̶e̶n̶ ̶a̷f̵t̵e̶r̸ ̵a̸l̵l̸.̶.̷.̸ ̷I̸s̷n̷'̵t̴ ̷i̵t̵?" The figure tilted its head. I slowly nodded, maybe I was just worrying too much, I should relax, this is a new life, I should forget about them. Maybe… they're holding me back. "Yeah… I suppose," I agreed. "Y̵e̷s̵.̸.̶.̵ ̷f̸o̶r̵g̵e̶t̴ ̶i̸t̸.̸.̵.̷ ̵." The figure admired me, then pointed towards the door in the living room. I walked towards the door… and opened it. I was amazed by what I saw. It was a peaceful forest with large mushrooms, then it transitions to tall buildings above the clouds, with trains floating and travelling along as if they were on rails, then, a hallway with white walls, the ground as its floor, and the windows showing the clouds & sun, next was the calming beach, and another space of calmness, over and over. Finally, the eternal suburbia, M̸̳͆y̸̜͎̎ ̵͉͝h̶̖̰̑͂ò̶̟ṁ̵̻̟ĕ̷̫͆. I stepped out of the house and looked around. I turned around and saw the figure, and the house is now gone. "W̴̘͉̒̈́ë̸͇̭́̏l̸͚̲̈́͊c̵͔̲̔̓ȏ̶͓m̴͎̓̉e̴͉̬̔̓.̸͕͈̆̄.̴̣͑.̴̹̍͂ ̴̼̏H̷̼͈̓ó̴̺̆ṃ̶͚͊̅e̸̊̊," The figure spoke to me in a soft tone this time. I sighed, "Yeah… This is my home now…" Then, I gasped as I shot my eyes wide awake. I was back in my little car-themed room, still small and short, just like I wanted to be… a kid. I breathed a sigh of relief. It was just a dream in a dream… Wait, that rolls off my tongue a bit. Then, someone knocked on the door of my room. "Tim? Are you awake?" My 'mom' - no.. it was my mom, even if she's just a dream, she's always been my mom. Was she? "Yes, I'm awake," I replied. My mom opens the door and comes in with a glass of milk. She puts the milk on top of the drawer and crouches beside me. "Why are you awake, honey?" My mom asked. "Oh.. I had a nightmare. It was scary," I answered. My mom tilts her head and rubs my shoulder. "Oh, honey.. Nightmares are quite scary, aren't they? Don't worry, it's just a dream," She comforted me. How ironic to call it a dream, we're already in one, no.. this is reality, right? My mom grabs the warm glass of milk and hands it to me. "Here," Mom told me, "This should help you sleep better." I gently took the warm glass and drank it. "Thanks, Mom," I thanked. This time, the word "Mom" wasn't forced anymore… I just really wanted to say it. She was really like a mother to me. Mom smiled (I think…) and left the room. "Good night, Tim…" She said in a motherly tone. I continued drinking the warm milk and put it aside. That sleep was already about to kick in… The milk was really calming. I lay back down and fell asleep. My parents, my grandfather, Reality… It's just a burning memory.