Remember that you must die PART THREE

Photo by Joel Overbeck on Unsplash

Remember that you must die PART THREE

By

Roman Scott

May 3rd, I would like to stress to you that I absolutely hate it when people want to tell me about their dreams. They are usually some sort of really deeply felt emotion or fear which is rooted inside the person who is telling you the dream. When they are like; What does it mean? There is no possible way for me to know, I’m not in your head. If you don’t know it means that you don’t know yourself that well. Or not willing to acknowledge your own feelings. I tell you all of that because I’m about to tell you my dream. Lol. Another reason is that I have never been prone to nightmares. The dream seemed to be coming not from my mind. But outside of myself. Like it was someone else‘s dream I had stumbled into. I am French, but I dreamed of an American fair, I have never been to an American fair. I woke up on a grey barren floor. I came to my senses and discovered I was in a hall of mirrors. I was wearing my nightgown, my arms were bare and my hair fell across my shoulders. All around me, my reflection hundreds of times. I stood. I put my hands out in front of me. I didn’t want to run into the mirror. I came face to face with my reflection, life-size. I stared. I became enamored, stuck, I couldn’t look away. It reminded me of the myth of Narcissus. He was led to a pool where he fell in love with his reflection, once he realized that it was only a reflection and that his love could never be requited, he killed himself in despair. I stood there what seemed like forever. I began to realize that my reflection was not me. This filled me with dread because what did this doppelganger want with me? Why was she hunting me? Wasn’t her name Rene? It also filled me with longing. I loved her. She was so beautiful. I wanted to forever be by her side. My reflection blinked, I hadn’t. I took three steps back. My reflection looked troubled, she clearly didn’t want to upset me. She tilted her head to the right. Smiled sweetly and beckoned with her left hand to come back, as I lover might. Her right palm touched the glass. She was stuck in there. A caged animal. A beautiful creature. As I went to her, arms outstretched. I began to see a red glow from nowhere, then I woke up. A car passed by me just inches away. They honked. I was outside, standing in the crosswalk at lincoln way and ninth ave. The red was the traffic light that was indicating that I should not walk. It was the middle of the night, in San Francisco. I had forgotten I was on vacation. I had gone sleepwalking for ten blocks. Luckily, I had only gone in a straight line in one direction. When I arrived back at the Airbnb the front door was wide open. My husband hadn’t woken up. I took a shower and washed my dirty feet.

I didn’t tell Louis about my midnight excursion. He might be tempted to cut the vacation short. I didn’t want to do that. There is a lot more to experience here. We had just finished the symphony and we were calling a Lyft waiting just to the side of the building. A homeless woman was sitting on the ground leaning just against the wall, legs splayed outwards… There were so many destitute people in this city. I asked Louis if he had any money. He reached in his wallet and gave me a five-dollar bill. “Maam,” I said. I wanted her to see what I was doing, I didn’t want to frighten her. She grabbed my wrist suddenly, the old woman had uncanny strength. I dropped the five and tried to get away from her.

“Get rid of it, it doesn’t belong to you.” She said.

“What?” I said.

“It’s not safe!” She said.

Louis grabbed the woman and pulled her hand off. The Old Woman looked at them as if for the first time. She picked up the fallen five-dollar bill which had fallen in her lap.

“Thank you.” She said.

I’m holding the coin in my hand now. Is this what she meant? I flipped it. The coin? Remember that you must die/ Nemesis. This coin was a debt paid to the ferryman of the dead. But there is no way that its real. The coin came to me, I have to know if it is genuine. I just can’t let it go.

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