Life Time

Le Coucher de Soleil

I closed my door, and went to sleep, dreaming of two men in white that seemed to be talking about me. The last thing I heard them say was that the medicine, Dedisco, was taking more of a toll on Joe. I agreed, and then woke up.

Sometimes, I wonder that if I could see things through someone else’s eyes, be someone else for a day, if I could understand what it’s like to deal with me. If I could see myself through Joe’s eyes, I’d probably be thinking about how I’d just confessed my love and how she hadn’t believed me. I’d be thinking about how it wasn’t the Dedisco talking; it was me.

But, life works in funny ways, doesn’t it? We can’t change who we are, and we certainly can’t trade places, walk in another’s shoes, so to speak. Then again, life is different in my time. It’s different than yours. My world is, in the simplest of terms, ‘ahead’ of yours. 

Yes, you, the person reading this. You’re probably relaxing, reading this off of your computer or phone, or some technological thing that, in my time, we consider ancient and old. Not that it matters. It’s not like my problems, aside from not dying, are any different from yours.

I also sort of watch myself from above, I guess, sort of like an out-of-body experience, but not really. I look at myself, like I’m someone else, and I think, ‘Jeez, there’s so much more I could do. I’ve got potential. I’ve got all of these great qualities that I’ve never shown.’

I’m sure you’ve done the same thing, and that you’ve asked yourself this: Why?

The answer?

It’s not because you’re scared, it’s because you are your own brick wall. You stand in your own way.

In this case, my immune system wouldn’t adapt to the Dedisco like Joe’s had done, and I wasn’t falling head over heels in love with him. Beside the fact that Dedisco increased memory, I had come to the conclusion that Dedisco contacted your subconscious. Joe’s subconscious was different than his friends, and he was in love with me. My subconscious refused to adhere to Dedisco’s rules, and thus, I was left mostly normal in a totally abnormal place.Joe and I hardly talked anymore.

We had a few fleeting conversations, usually ending with Joe trying to convince me that he was telling the truth, and me refusing to listen. I went to sleep each night filled with guilt.

Imagine Demetrius from Shakespeare’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream combined with Romeo from Romeo and Juliet, and a pinch of Mercutio, Romeo’s best friend, for humor and wit. With these three combined, you will get Joe. His love is devoted and mad, like Demetrius; he is proud and funny, like Mercutio; but the love between Joe and I is even more star-struck than that of Romeo and his beloved Juliet.

It’s sad, but true.

I can’t love Joe, not anymore. I feel terrible saying that, but there’s no way I can love him- or even ‘like’ him- without feeling like I’m giving into Dedisco, giving into the people that put Joe and I in this situation in the first place. I can’t give in, and if I do, that means that I’ve lost. The people that have put us here and changed Joe will win. I can’t let that happen.

The dreams with the men in white kept coming to me; each time, their conversation was different, but I couldn’t hear much. My name was often mention, and so was Joe’s, but those were about the only two things I remembered. Dedisco didn’t seem to help one remember dreams, unfortunately. The doses of Dedisco that Joe and I received increased gradually.

The cubes of sugar we munched on became sweeter, and we remembered the taste more vividly. We found that we could remember exact details of how the sugar tasted, how we moved, how we said something, or how we felt. Joe said he was starting to feel better; on the contrary, I was starting to feel worse. Each night, I would sit in my room with a migraine and a bought of dry heaves. I would have a fever, and there was nothing Joe could do to help. He tried giving me water, suggested I take an ice bath, or even sleep, but nothing worked.