Evening Ghosts

The evening was cold and rainy as I sat in front of our PC. My eyes rapidly moved across the long line of images and letters. I could not believe that such a thing was even humanly possible. “How could anyone dream consciously?” I asked myself. It was practically impossible. The topic of lucid dreaming had piqued my interest so greatly that I began to obsess over facts regarding it.

                My curiosity was so great that I eventually decided to see for myself if the facts that I had read so far were true. I thought that if all went well I could dream about potatoes all night and if not then I could just dream normally. The instructions that I found in the internet told me that all I had to do was close my eyes and lay perfectly still until I slipped into the dreaming state. “That sounds easy enough,” I thought to myself. And so that night I turned off the lights, closed my eyes, and waited. Nothing happened.

                I wondered what I had done wrong. I lied perfectly still. I did everything perfectly. Night after night I tried yet there were no results. In the end I gave up.

                One night, I went to bed while I was very exhausted. I couldn’t even bring myself to move. I lay perfectly still, looking like a dead person. My breathing slowed and I waited for my mind to fill with nonsensical dreams. Unfortunately, that did not happen.

                I was aware that I had not fallen completely asleep. I knew that I was dreaming yet I could not seem to move or do anything I wished. I could see a small figure sitting at the end of my bed. It was a little boy of about five years old. He was staring at me and saying something that I could not understand.

                I should have been frightened. I should have panicked like a trapped bunny yet even though the boy was strange I felt calm. I tried to smile at him. I think he smiled back. Then I woke up.

                The bright light of morning was streaming into my window and I knew I was almost late for school. I tried to concentrate on preparing for school but I was unable to keep the little boy from bugging my mind. The little boy had even replaced my obsession with potatoes.  He annoyed me so much that I decided to try lucid dreaming once more.

                I smiled to myself as I slipped into a conscious dreaming state. I could see the little boy at the foot of my bed once again. He did not seem so dark and mysterious anymore. I could vaguely make out his facial features now. He had beautiful brown eyes and black hair. He was smiling sweetly at me.

                I smiled back as I tried to get up. I was still unable to move. I sighed and tried to ask him the question that had been bugging me all day. “Who are you?”

                He tried to reply but his voice would not be heard. “What?” I asked again. He frowned and tried again yet I heard nothing. He looked dejected and I felt guilty for asking him such a question. Then I heard a knock at my door and I went back to the world of the conscious.

                I tried to speak to that little boy every evening and, although we were unable to communicate in words, we became friends. Eventually I was able to move freely during my dreaming state and we played games and drew pictures. I began to develop a feeling of attachment to this nameless boy. I looked forward to seeing him in my dreams every evening and laughing quietly at his silliness. And then came the night that I dreaded most.

                The room was empty that night. I looked under my bed and inside my closet yet I could not find him. I called for him yet he never came. I was heartbroken. My little ghost boy was gone.

                In the morning I told my mother of the dreams I had been having and the little boy that I saw. She asked me to describe the little boy’s face. I saw the look of shock and then worry in her face as I told her. “What’s wrong?” I asked. “Nothing,” she replied and she continued to cook breakfast.

                “He might have been your little brother,” she said under her breath. I laughed. I was the youngest child of the family. That was impossible. Impossible.

                I still wonder where that little boy had gone and why he had left my dreams so suddenly. I often wonder why my mother had told me he was my brother and why I wished to believe her. I often miss that little boy and pray to see him again. After all, he was my little ghost boy.