I have, over time, written many short stories,"Short-Shorts" as they are call by some, and by request I am putting them together into one collection for my readers; I will be adding to it as time allows. Love, peace, and freedom. Olan
"Who would believe reality is not permanent, rather it flutters like a butterfly into the storm," Thurman continues writing..., "and I am disappearing molecule-by-molecule." He notes the date, March 20th 2017, in his diary, before he closes it and lays it on his nightstand. Next, he puts drops into his eyes, dons his C-PAP mask, turns off the light, and soon he is fast asleep lulled by the dull hum of his breathing machine. For him dreams are not as sharp as they were eight years ago, he figures it is his mind aging, not a flexible as it was, but tonight the dreams are clear and colorful. He is a teacher, a profession he long ago gave up. "This dream is noteworthy," he says to himself. "I have gone through several REM cycles, I should have switched dreams several times, but I am still a teacher, and the sun is still low in the sky." In this dream world, Thurman is married, and he and his wife have settled into this small community, but something is not quite right. That is usually the thing about dreams, but something is always out of place. This time the sun is out of place, and it is always low on the horizon. This dream is not a one in one out adventure, but it is lasting years. The sun stays the same, it never sets and it never rises; it just circles.
"Where am I?" Thurman ponders. "It is not the arctic, but they have night, well night for at least sixty days a year. Maybe I am not on Earth, maybe this is a different world. I remember the trip up here, but I don't have a wife; I am single. This woman is much like my second and first wife combined. She looks like my second wife, but is a teacher like my first wife. I will have to enter this dream into my dream diary." Gently, he slips back into slower brainwaves but the dream continues. As his brain nears alpha waves he continues his thoughts, "Interesting. I'm still here, and the years are passing quickly now. Hmm...no snow. It's definitely not Earth. I don't interact with people. They are just there. I am more an observer than an inhabitant. The sun keeps circling 360 degrees, and I'm feeling dizzy. This is a strange dream, indeed. Maybe I am on a planet whose orbit is tidal locked, and I am living in a habitable zone, and the sun is always low, because I am on the border between night and day and the planet is tilted ninety degrees, like one of the Trappist-1 planets. I live here, but why don't I remember this place, this world, or this solar system? I only remember my Earth." Thurman knows soon he will slip into deeper brainwaves, perhaps this time he will dream a different dream, but he doesn't. As he nears alpha brainwaves, he is still in the same world. "I can't slip into the life of the person on this world, I can't make him me, and I can only observe time at an accelerated rate. How many years have I been here?" he asks. "All I can do is end the dream and wake up."
Finally, Thurman awakes. He flips on the light on the nightstand, opens his diary to write down his dream when he sees his entry from last night. Suddenly, he is wide awake. The words he wrote last night now read, "I am a sea; filled one raindrop at a time. Reality is not immobile, for it grows inside me."
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