The Real WorldMature

This is real. I can feel it. Maybe only this is real. Maybe I have just woken up from a bad dream that extended to what was 33 years of my miserable existence in this vessel. Never have I felt more alive than now. Whatever comes next, I’m ready for it.

Devoid of all the pain and physical senses, and leaving once and for all this five feet and eight inches of the bruised, battered and bleeding body that for so long housed me, I’m hurled into the wind. Who am I? What am I? I have no physical composition, no DNA. I’m nothing, and I’m one with everything.  

It reminds me of the Space Mountain ride in Disney World when I was twelve – strapped onto a single seat, blasted into the blackness of space and passing through shooting stars, satellites and planets, twisting and turning along the way and screaming in sheer excitement.  That’s what it feels like, except that this ride lasts much longer and many times faster; unlike anything I, or you as well I’m sure, have experienced before. You will know what I’m talking about when your time comes, I promise.

I pass through the tunnel, the busy streets of London and the quiet farmlands of Lincolnshire, transcending the boundaries of space and time.

I’m at a hospital crying aloud, my body so tiny and greasy, a high pitched shriek from the top of my tiny lungs, out of the fear of being brought out to the world so bright, vast and strange; the fear of facing it all alone; that I’m not ready yet. My crying stops as warm hands scoop me up.

The first time when, as a kid, I discover that my grandpa is Santa, and grandpa’s death soon after.. I think that was when I lost my innocence, losing Santa and grandpa at the same time.

My first kiss my first love at high school.. My suspension from college, and graduation soon after..

My first heartbreak.. The night in prison for that drunken brawl..  The job from which I’m fired..

I’m at the cemetery now. There is my father who said that I would amount to nothing in life. For once, he was right. He is crying, and so is my poor mother, inconsolably so.

There is my once-best friend Adam with his wife and my once-girlfriend, Amy. She is crying too – probably more due to remorse than grief. Sandeep, my old college buddy is there as well, as are the many of my acquaintances.

“He was so full of life” Someone says, which I find ironical. Everyone offers their eulogies telling all the great things about me. Isn’t it amazing how, once you’re dead, people have nothing but good things to say about you, none of which you get to hear when you’re around?

It’s time to let go of the past; to start afresh. I’m whisked elsewhere, into the oblivion. No pain. No worries. Nothingness. How long has it been? Hours? Days? Weeks? Months? I can’t say. It is neither Dante’s Inferno, nor the Pearly Gates of Heaven - just Earth, from a different dimension.

And then, like the genie being sucked back into Aladdin’s lamp, a sudden force whisks me in, into something dark and fleshy, as I begin to drift into unconsciousness. Is this when I’m supposed to forget all about my past life?

The End

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