The Fading Dream, Trihorus Septus [motivational books for women txt] 📗

The music filled in, playing softly and slowly. The relaxing tone would put anyone to a comfortable and deep sleep. The tone reached Edrik’s ears and tickled him a little before finally seeping into his head. The sudden influx of tone, like a baseball bat swung to a glass, shattered his dreamy and subconscious state. His consciousness emerged to the forefront, while his subconsciousness sank back into the dark. With his eyes still shut tight, he clumsily kicked his comforter away and sat up straight in his bed. Rubbing his eyes and stretching in his bed for a while more, he contemplated whether he should go back to sleep, just five more minutes. But as he cracked open his eyes a little and the dim light flooded in, he realised that something was different and that instantly rendered him wide awake.

    He squinted at the only source of light; a dark chocolate lamp to his left, which had a golden inlay finish on the body and an elegant amber royal shade which let golden rays illuminate the rest of the nightstand. In the faint amber light, he spared a glance at his bed, then at the bedspread; deep red in colour with parallel white lines running at its edge. It had a smooth texture and was very comfortable. His king sized bed was too big and empty, and his red comforter with cartoon graphics stitched onto it limply covered the rest of the bed. He was taking in as much as he could; observing every little detail and making mental notes.

    The designer, vanilla clad walls had colourful abstract patterns all over them and strongly emanated a profound sense of unfamiliarity. While the woody brown curtains obscured from him, a mysterious neighbourhood.

    Still perplexed and with his mind racing at high speeds, he got down from his bed. The marble flooring underneath was cold enough, prompting him to look for bedroom slippers. He hoped to find one pair near his bed and was delighted when he saw them parked on the dark floor, adjacent to the nightstand. He wore those feathery soft slippers and curiously headed towards the windows. He pulled the curtain away from one side and raised an eyebrow in bewilderment as he saw a big yard with trees and trimmed bushes. Across from the yard, was a street running parallel to the yard fence. The street was lined with a footpath, people walking on it in either direction, amidst the noise of car engines and blaring horns.

    His room was on the first floor and from up there, he could see the whole yard below. He stood there for a few more moments and stared out obliviously before he caught the sight of a man who was busy trimming some bushes on the perimeter of the yard. Edrik was eyeing him up, he could see his long grey beard hanging shabbily from his chin, but he couldn’t look at his face since it was turned towards the bushes. As the man turned to leave, he noticed the boy watching him carefully from the window. The man threw just one gaze at Edrik; his prominent cheekbones and aged face, paired with those dark hawky eyes and furrowed eyebrows made him look extremely grumpy. Edrik immediately ducked below, as if to save himself from the man’s piercing gaze and hurriedly put back the curtain over the window.

    After snapping back, he turned to take a look at the whole room. There was a door in the front and a door to the left. He headed towards the door which was to his left, and as he firmly gripped the cold doorknob, he anticipated it to open to a bathroom. Aha!

    The door opened and Edrik stood in awe and wide-eyed as he saw the huge and luxurious bathroom complete with a big bathtub with Jacuzzi, which was placed in one end on a slab of stone, beautifully carved and painted with abstract graphics. There was a stylish modern sink protruding from a wall on the opposite end. The walls were tiled with a forest theme and had several wooden shelves jutting out with potted plants. The flooring was entirely natural stone, all of which made it look as if the bathroom was in the middle of a forest. Never in his life had he seen a bathroom as grand and luxurious as this one. And while he was excited, he had in his heart, deep somewhere a little sense of mystery and obscurity due to all that had happened since morning.

    A TV set was mounted on the wall, away from the bathroom door and in front of the bed. Below it on a flattop desk was the music system.

    As he laid his eyes on the music player, it clicked him that he had left it playing all that while, and at once he tiptoed to the device and switched it off. It was a temporary relief, as soon silence fell all around him and battled against the chaos of his own thoughts for dominance. Gradually, the silence faded and lost to the noise of his thoughts, which prevailed and filled the silent room. There were so many thoughts popping in his head simultaneously that he couldn’t comprehend even one. He felt overwhelmed due to all the new stimuli he was exposed to, and to come back to sanity, he felt the urge to cut excessive stimuli.

    “The lamp!” he exclaimed sternly and rushed to turn it off. Now that he had turned off the music and the unnecessary light, he took a moment to calm down.

    The walnut coloured cupboard lining the room, a couple of feet away from the nightstand, gave the aroma you would expect from an ancient cupboard and beside it was a nice bookshelf, which stored some colourful books packed with rich knowledge. Edrik muddled with some books until he picked up a picture book which had a short note penned on its first page which read, ‘I hope you like it’  followed by a smiley. Edrik held the book firmly in his hands and began browsing it. He had no intention of reading it; he skimmed through the entire book only hoping that it might bring back some memory attached to it. It was a failed attempt, the book felt new and he also didn’t know who had penned the note. He placed the book back on the shelf, trying hard to recall if he had ever seen anything like it, or if he even wished it all.

    Nothing in this room fit his imagination; his dream room wasn’t anything like this. He retried harder to recall and re-visualize, but he couldn’t trace his path back to answer how he had reached there. He had no memory from before and he could only go back as far as the same morning when he woke up.

    Where in the world am I?

    After pondering so much, he did come to a certain conclusion, that he had neither seen the vanilla walls nor any of the fancy luxuries here; ever before in his life. His train of deep thought was suddenly halted by a soft knock on the dark door of his room. Who could it be?

    “Time to wake up, Master,” permeated the words politely from the other side of the dark door.

    “I have milk and breakfast for you!” added the man, speaking very gently.

Edrik panicked at first, for he didn’t know how to react. But later, his stomach gave the final judgement; it growled with hunger and begged for his attention. Also, the aroma seeping into the room from the other end of the door only made his empty belly growl more furiously and impatient like a little child crying to be fed something.

    “Yes, come in,” he said, rather hesitantly.

    He sat by his bed anxiously and watched as the doorknob slowly twisted, followed by the door being swung open. He still wasn’t sure where he was, or even who he really was. He considered asking the man about himself or about this place, but later changed his mind and settled on having his breakfast as the highest on the list of his priorities.   

    The old man entered with a gentleman’s smile spread across his wrinkled face and had his grey hair nicely gelled to one side. He was a man of fair complexion with keen light brown eyes capable of piercing right through disguises. Well-built and still strong enough, he definitely must have been a man you’d not like to mess with, during his youth. He carried himself confidently, taking long strides suiting his stature. Edrik’s eyes were fixated on the tray he was carrying with him and noticed a silver badge on the pocket of his black tuxedo, which read ‘Mr Whitman’.

    Mr Whitman gestured towards the little foldable desk at the side of the bed which Edrik hadn’t noticed earlier. Edrik reached for it and pulled it out, positioning it in front of him. He waited as Mr Whitman, arranged his breakfast in front of him and turned the TV on to a cartoon channel. Before leaving, he smiled at Edrik and told him that he would be back after a while.

    “Yes, thank you,” murmured Edrik, wondering if it was the right thing to say.

    Mr Whitman left with pacing steps and gently closed the door behind him.

    Edrik took one good look at his breakfast; a glass of milk, an omelette and a piece of pastry cake to savour. It looked so tantalizing that he started salivating and couldn’t wait to taste everything. Grrrrrrrrr! Went his stomach again, wanting him to stop thinking and to begin feeding it.

    From the way Mr Whitman had treated Edrik, forced him to believe that the man somehow knew him, and he did fit in that place very well. The thing that bothered him though, was that he didn’t know how or why he had no memory of anyone or anything else. He pondered why everyone seemed to act like he was a part of their reality and lives when he felt so misplaced and completely unaccustomed to any these people. He still was not sure who everyone was or how he had gotten there. His mind was full of questions; why don’t I remember how I got to this room. Why don’t I have memories of any other day but today? Why do they all know me, but I don’t.

He wanted answers; he desperately wanted to know what was going on. His best move, for now, he thought was to go with the flow for the time being. He had some confidence and optimism within him that he would discover it all later.

There must be a way or an explanation. I will find it soon.

    Edrik didn’t notice but Mr Whitman had already entered the room.

    “Master, have you completed your breakfast?”

    “Yes, I’m done. You may take the plate.”

    “Sure, sir.”

    Mr Whitman leaned forward and grabbed the tray from Edrik’s table. He took the glass and dishes and positioned them in the centre of the tray. Looking at Edrik, he said, “Master, your mother asked me to let you know that she wishes to meet you in a while. She wants you to get ready and meet her down.”

    “My mother?” Edrik sounded a little lost and puzzled; something which Mr Whitman noticed. With the tray, he turned and left the room.

    Okay, he thought to himself, but he felt sad. He again tried to recall but oddly enough, he had no memories of his mother or even who she was or how she looked. He felt utterly helpless and agitated, he broke into sobs. He wanted his mother, he wanted to