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Dream…
Define dream…
It is said to be a mental experience undergone during human sleep, made up of a joint succession of thoughts, images, and sensations. But then the following distinct interpretations drift apart, depending on the divergent points of view.
Is it the visual manifestation of an old, lingering, underlying desire - a childhood fantasy or a teenage daydream? Maybe not that, but simply a period of time left for the imagination of a person’s subconscious to take flight. Or could it also be an undercover precognition? Seeing a cherished ambition or ideal come to life would also consist of a dream, right?
Those were the sorts of questions that came to his mind after looking down the window to an immense and never-ending fog hovering over the ground below. His hands tightly gripped its threshold, as if to prevent him from falling at the sight before his eyes.
Stumbling back a few steps, his lower body bounced off the bed and sat down.
His eyes scrutinized the room. A familiar and simple environment, but which he couldn’t exactly recall. Besides that, he had no remembrance of the time preceding his arrival. At this unbelievable situation, his mind quickly wandered towards the only plausible explanation: a dream - an irrational space where only the situation at hand possibly mattered and where he could not remember anything.
However, there was naught he could do to clear his doubts or confirm his suspicions, so all that was left to do was to stroll in circles inside that minuscule compartment and contemplate the dreary scenery reflected in his eyes. Thinking of a way to break out was also an available option - he knew that - but, he had long ago learned to circulate with the world’s flow (had he never tried so hard to repress it?) and with no recollection of a reason to do so, that urged him to sit down and ponder on a way to escape, he laid once again on the same bed to which he woke up in… the following morning?
(“Wake up… Please, wake up!” A helpless plea resounded in the emptiness of the dark, heard by no one, not even the one it was directed to…)
There was no night or day, only an eternal white light emanated from the outside, brightening the indoors. Realising this fact, his expression distorted only slightly - unusual for his person (but did he remember that?). His body moved towards the window, and this previous complexion softened at the new addition to the landscape - five barren peaks peaks culminated beyond the fog, some with their summit covered in snow, others with only small, green bushes all over it. It was a truly fantastic sight, although incapable of surging any memories.
Done with his day, the bed greeted him again, again and again. And every time he came up to the window, something new would appear - first, an open and wide desolate field, then it was the turn for many buildings to make an appearance, and lastly, a training ground sprouted in its middle. Many slices and cuts were there embroidered, going against the persistent passage of time. But, no matter how he looked at it, it could only bring forth a feeling of warmth and proximity - as if he’d been there before and was somehow connected to that place.
(“...Get well soon.” Though the voice was no louder than a mumble, the eyes pierced the air like a knife, trying to get their message of hopefulness and ache across realities.
“Kiik! Kiiiiik!” The cries of a marten also revealed the despair felt by humans.
“It’s already been four days. Why are you not waking up god dammit?!” A shout coming from the one despairing physician filled the room, prolonged in time alongside multiple shrieks muffled by a wet pillow.
This inexplicable situation was too much for them to handle - Wasn’t his the back they always looked up to and thought to be impenetrable and unfaltering?)
And then one day, after awaking once again in the selfsame bed as in every previous “days”, with a completely worn-out expression, he rose from it and his body carried on the same routine as before. Dull eyes stared into the distance, barely unchanging if not for a new colourful addition - a single plum blossom tree, from which pinkish buds sprouted, bringing life to the desolate fog.
That had instantly become, by far, the most enticing detail in that realm to him up until that moment. He went to stretch his hand in an attempt to touch it or at least get closer, but thankfully, he soon became aware of the danger, realising that, the moment he went beyond the limit, his destiny was to fall into the thick fog and most likely disappear into nothingness.
But despite this, his eyes still glimmered with a sliver of discontent, a thread of hope that someday, the window would cease to exist and he'd be able to reach out and feel the trees and leave's texture with his own hands.
And so, for hours on end, a pair of eyes stared incessantly at the scenery, indulging in the pleasure brought upon by such a sight. And as if having heard his previous wish, the plum tree in the distance let go of one of its many blossoms, which fluttered relentlessly until it arrived in his grasp, hand moving forward to hold it.
His face wore a pleased expression, his upper lips curled ever so slightly, with a tender glint to his eyes as they gazed longingly at the soft and delicate petal in his hand.
A drop of water left the corners of his eyes, sliding down his face, leaving behind a wet trace, darker than his actual skin color. But he did nothing to stop them. He just let them flow. Without even knowing he was crying, he just allowed the tears to roll down until they decided to cease, and he eventually fell asleep, still by the window, and his face still damp.
(“I knew you wanted to be at the forefront to protect all of us, but you were supposed to come back. We were supposed to be there by your side, aiding you in battle. Just why did you have to rush ahead without alerting anyone, as if you were ready to risk your life and leave us all behind?!” …Had it been his desire all along, or maybe an instinct that appeared at the last minute, in order to prevent any meaningless bloodshed or to protect the ones he had grown to be fond of?)
His eyes drifted open, greeted by the lonesome and still blurry landscape first things first - he then noticed to have fallen asleep by the window.
‘What is new today?’ He wondered with utmost curiosity after the events of the past day.
As his vision regained focus, he was startled as what was before distant, now appeared so close. But, …what exactly was new?
The plum trees and countless structures once there were still installed over the same terrain, with no distinguishable changes. He glanced a little more around until his eyes met with something so huge that he was ashamed to not have noticed it before.
There stood what seemed to be a gate that covered the entirety of the mountain's entrance. On its doors, there were nice carvings of plum blossoms on the luxurious red wood.
His vision moved up, meeting with an odd signboard. One of its halves was shining clean, the burgundy colour fading into a lighter shade of red.
But that was just the flange. What took the highlight was a greyish signboard with white characters neatly written in its centre.
‘ 大華山派 ’ - The Great Mount Hua Sect
‘Hah.
Mount Hua.
The Great Mount Hua Sect.
It really is the Mount Hua Sect…
Mine, Sahyungs and Sajils’ sect.
.
.
.
Home .’
And without realising, his eyes never leaving the sight of his so beloved sect's signboard, as he now remembered everything.
But it was too late.
His gaze may have been stuck and fixed on one particular point of the scenery, but his body was falling incessantly.
So, again… What are dreams?
Probably a reflection of the things one yearns for the most - maybe even their regrets and fears in nightmares.
But in the tightrope between life and death, the most alluring is needed in order to attract the soul - a sweet mirage is always more pleasant and, therefore, more tempting, harder to break out of.
After the last impossible and unbeatable test was over, his mind was engulfed in the countless pleas and silenced cries of the last nights and days.
He recalled the very first moment an elder picked him up by the sect's gate, the kindness and teachings of his Sect Leader Sahyung, and also his death by the Hundred Thousand Mountain Range.
He remembered his surprise at the discovery of Mount Hua sect's condition, the long-lasting recovery process, the kids he taught with so much care (?) and resilience, and the great memories that came from the many journeys and drinking parties gone through together.
But he also didn't forget the decisive event that led to this outcome - his single gruesome death alongside the slashing of Chun Ma's neck.
Looking back, the ones he referred to as ‘kids’ must have been truly devastated.
However, they ought to know that nothing in this world lasts forever. Just like how there is no celebration in the world that doesn't come to an end, this man's soul should also meet its rightful end after having completed his duties, free of regrets.
His lips curled once again at the mental image of their expressions as he lay down in a medical bed, unresponsive then, now, and forever.
‘Silly children… Survive well and don't let my passing drag you down.’
And, with that, the feeble pulse and breathing finally ceased to exist after many nights and days.
And, as it was embraced by the dense, white fog, the frazzled and aged soul, after a lengthy and tedious journey, finally got to rest in peace, free from all regrets, cleared after finishing his second life…
All that was left behind was an empty room and a window, from where light, wind, and fog came in and flooded the remains, as if annihilating all traces of a soul’s presence there, waiting for the next one to come.