The Dream

Who am I? The question seared into his mind, forced by the devil himself. Surrounded by darkness, he could not focus; the screams were getting louder, getting closer. Suddenly an answer reached him. I was a Philosopher of Alexandria, an adviser to the king himself. NO! His mind was consistently deceitful to him. It continued to laugh at him, as he danced around Truth. He was lost, blind from everything. The darkness never left him. It cradled his very soul. Who am I?1

Finally, there was something there, in the distant dark. Something that gave him sight, gave him purpose again. The screams followed him as he ran to the object that birthed light in this everlasting world of…nothing. It was too far away. Covered in sweat, his marathon towards the unseen bliss continued. Wait! It was too obvious. I am Pheidippides, and I’ve met with the god Pan on Mount Parthenium. I have saved Athens from great destruction. 2

Suddenly the Light rushed after him. He was forced to stop, forced to his knees, gasping for air. The strength of the Light kept him paralyzed. At first it looked like the darkness was trying to protect the man, but it was only fighting to survive. The battle of Light versus Dark ended quickly. The Light was victorious. It started to shine brighter and brighter, bragging. The man was blind again, impaired by the boastful light. 3

The screams were still there, louder then anything any man had ever heard before. Gnawing, biting at his ears, the beautiful Sirens would not stop. The screams, why are there screams?... I have saved these men, why are they screaming?! Suddenly he knew. His mind was consistently deceitful to him. He was not the great Marathon runner, Pheidippies. He had never met the Greek god, Pan. He was nothing.4

The thought of being nothing weighed down on him. He was still ensnared, frozen in this void of time and space. Covered in sweat, the man watched as it fell from his body, but not alone. Blood started dripping off his body, from wounds he could not see. Endless streams of blood. Everything was infinite. 5

The nameless man was defeated by an enemy he could not see. All that was left for this man was nothing. He decided to come to terms with that. So he closed his eyes, and took control of this realization. Next he took control of his breathing again, steady big breaths. Small victories can raise any man’s morale. Suddenly there was a familiar smell in the distance. He kept his eyes closed; only focused on this memorable scent. He loved it. The man started to obsess over it. The scent was his, he did not know what it was, but he cherished it. The memory was there, shielded from him. Then in an instant the man realized what it was. Perfume… Helen?!6

He opened his eyes, overpowered by the scent of death.....