The Dimensions/Part 2

She wakes up to him tugging upon her sleeve.

“Mommy! Mommy! I have to go to school soon. Where’s my lunch?”

“I…I…” She panics…”I think I it’s in the fridge, hold on.”

Sure enough it is. She doesn’t remember ever packing it though. She doesn’t even know his name yet. She thinks, what’s my name?

So many thoughts racing, their almost uncontrollable. He’s staring at her, as if he knows something is different about her. Children always know when things are off. It is as if intuition is at its peak at those ages.

He runs out the door, barely making the bus.

Now, time for some investigation. She runs upstairs, trying to find anything with a name on it. She has to know who she is, who they are, where she is, in order to answer questions later. Nothing makes sense and she is overwhelmed with only an afternoon to figure this out it seems.

She finds something. A filing cabinet of some fancy kind. After some ravaging she was able to find birth certificates. Apparently her name is Margaret, her son is Alvin, and her husband is Edward.

Really, Alvin? She thinks. Poor kid.

She is 32 years old, Edward is 34, and Alvin is 9. None of this makes sense to her. She feels she was older, but she can’t remember how old. Everything seems to be getting more difficult to remember from her previous life. Tears roll down her face. Jack, her real son, is no longer visible in her mind. She pretends to hug the floor as if it’s him but this only results in a prolonged anxiety spell. She knows this will solve nothing. She must figure out how to get back home and not forget everyone.

She reads on, finding out more and more about the family. Looking at photographs, drawings, mailings, anything she can use to gain information. It becomes less and less painful as she continues.

The door slams.

“Hunny!” Edward says.

“Yes, dear, I am in here.” Says Margaret.

“Did you make supper?”

She panics. “I’m so sorry. I failed to get anything done today.”

“Are you okay?” Edward asks.

“Yes, I’m fine. Just maybe a little bit of a flu coming on.”

“Okay, well, I guess me and the boy will go out to dinner. I’ll bring you something back my love. Please get some rest and be yourself again. I sure do miss your cooking.”

“I will. Thank you dear.”She says.

Finally, she’s alone again. Now, time to learn some recipes. The cookbook is extensive. Covered in flour and definitely used every day. She cannot imagine a woman cooking every single day but she gives it a chance. She picks something easy for tomorrow evening and hopes for the best.

Edward awakens her. “You fell asleep with the recipe book. How adorable.”

“Well, I wanted to make sure I was prepared for tomorrow.”

She sits with him, eats her dinner quietly, letting him talk about his day at work, who he had seen in town, and what new shoes he desires. She gathers more information and finds herself becoming intrigued the more he speaks. She starts to think hey this may not be that bad after all. His handsome, chiseled face radiates authenticity. Then she starts thinking of her own family again. Guilt rolls in. He kisses her. She feels his lips tug softly on hers then pull away even more gently. It was like nothing she felt before. So innocent. Her heart becomes weak as she looks in his eyes and she starts to feel as if she belongs here.

He holds her all night. Carefully caressing her body, memorizing every inch of her skin, so he can remember it forever. She does the same, barely sleeping all night.

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Just Some Thoughts….Just Some Feelings…

Without writers, you would have to memorize their thoughts as well as your own then somehow build upon it. Everything would have to be a conversation which no offense to people, wouldn’t always be beneficial. Have you ever had a conversation you wish could end almost right where it began? We all have. Well, imagine that happening everyday. Imagine there are no books, no history, nothing to build upon from the day you were born but you own thoughts. Wouldn’t it be insane? Would we all just stomp around and grunt like savages unable to communicate? Most likely. Maybe we would adapt and resort to sign language. Either way, I don’t really want to find out.

One thing is for sure now though, things are ever-changing with technology. People have been recording their perceptions and emotions for a long time through writing but now the audience is much larger due to technology. Information is not obtained through the local library anymore but rather a bunch of iffy sources you must weed through for the concrete source. There is an abundance of information. So much, it is almost overwhelming that a person can just look up a word or phrase and find out almost everything about it. It is beautiful as well as frightening. It can be frightening depending upon where you are in the world, who is in power, and what social impact you can have upon people around you with the information you obtained. As a consequence, those who speak from a concrete source against a general dominate opinion suffer at times. Think of all the artists right now being jailed or killed for free speech. Journalists are being hacked to death, jailed, and/or silenced. But what do we forget? You cannot silence a writer without taking all of his writing. You can take their life but if you don’t ┬áhave his/her hard drive or journal then good luck. You can kill a writer but their thoughts still transpire.

Sometimes I think to myself, “I cannot wait someday when those who lose power realize they have condemned their own future by silencing free speech.” It is sad in a sense but not surprising. People will think and feel the way they want to. If the general population in your country feels a certain way then odds are it is for a reason. You cannot blame social uprising on writers and/or the abundance of information out there, it has happened for thousands of years without it. Greed is usually the culprit of social uprising, not the words crafted against it. Rest in peace to those who died for unjust reasons, trying to protect our rights, whether it be the honest soldier, journalist, hard worker, or student. You are the people who keep the momentum going rather than stopping it.