The feet raced past me. They were gliding. A swift breeze travelled upstream to my face. It took a swing and whipped me with its baring teeth and claws: the coldness. As my eyes released themselves from the trance of the feet, I stared at the feet’s owner. The male looked terrified. He glanced back behind his rugby-built shoulder, but not at me. I was invisible, just a visitor. He peered back at another person, who seemed to be chasing him. The chaser had a gun rattling on his belt. He shot at the sky, tearing a cloud into shreds, making it fall to the ground. It scared the wits out of the male, who was a white male child, about twelve years of age. The boy stepped into a puddle of water and fell, tripped, stumbled, and finally landed on his face, hitting the ground with an impact. The murderer, as I now call him, took a knife out, kept running, and reached the fallen boy who seemed pinned to the ground. He stopped and put his boot on the boy to hold him down. He hesitated; thinking for many seconds, and took a box out in replace of the knife. I saw a sigh of relief from the boy, who thought it was going to be a painful end of his life. The murderer pasted the box on the boy and left, casually strolling away. The boy tried to get up, but the box weighed him down. A ticking sound echoed the collapsed walls of the Earth. I then realized the box was a bomb. The boy realized it was a bomb too late. I tried to warn the boy, but no sound came from my invisible mouth. And the box exploded with a flash.

I awoke. My dream ended.
Hello. To whoever is reading this, I start this life journal with my name. I am John Lavrinje. I create this diary to tell a normal story of my life. My life is a definite path. Lately, I have dreamed somewhat soothing dreams, but every once in a while I get nightmares. These nightmares are similar to the ones described above, where I am a shadow and spectator.
I will first say that I am socially incorrect. I stand in the corner, as an outsider. No bullies, no drama, no friends, but just watching. I do not have a poor family, nor a wrecked family. I live perfectly fine with two very well educated brothers, who are fraternal twins. I am not going through depression, nor have a mental-state. I just see the world and life in general, differently. I believe humans were accidentally created. So I just want to live on being what humans were supposed to be: quiet “things” that do not matter. Life has no meaning, according to me. I do not think we should have lived, or evolved. So, I just wait in the corner, like we are supposed to do.

School hits me hard the next morning. I take the breakfast and swallow it whole. Reality finally came. I believe the dreams were the only thing humans got right. Dreams are my reality, and I love them, besides the one with “scary images.” My mom, Elaine, and dad, Youri, know about how I think, but have not yet discovered this journal, and have not been exposed to my secrets I possess in here. They just leave me alone, but still care for me. They try. But I stay back, and still watch.

The bus comes. I sit in alone in one seat. It left. And I reach school. As simple as that. School was a Stoichiometry Test and a Linear Algebra Unit 4 Test. Yes, I am pretty smart. I can’t stop my genes, so of course I do achieve pretty high standards among the academics, but despise recognition for performing at a high level. Yet I am still socially misplaced. By three o’clock, I quickly left the grounds of school, headed for the bus, and five minutes afterwards, sat in the corner of the 28000 square foot house of my father’s, working on this journal.

I dreamt again. A good dream arose: The dream was similar to all others. I was famous, popular, and wealthy. Truthfully, the only reason I said I view life differently is because when I was young, my family treated me well, cared for me. But I had one terrible dream at two years of age, which changed my life. I try to be normal and turn back to the original ways and live my life to the fullest, but something makes me stop; yet I do not know what the hindrance is. The only time I do experience how I really want to live is in my dreams.
Anyhow, my dream was the same as the last weekdays, and the weeks before that, all except the ones that were nightmares; like the one the day before. I was King. I told everyone in the world what to do and how to do it; how to function. I was not unruly, not unethical, and not in any way rude. I was generous, helping the others do their best. I was idolized.

But the sound of the shower awoke me. My brother, Kiame, was on cue of taking a shower: 5:15 am. The night was over, Friday was starting. I woke, looked around from shoulder to shoulder, and stood. I took a step outside my blue colored, Earth-decorated, room by opening the door. I looked at the closed bathroom and heard a groan. The bathroom door opened. And Kiame was not there.


There was a shadow against the wall of the shower. I opened the shower door and nobody stood. I looked around, trying to see what the cause of that shadow was. I finally got my answer. A black-cloaked creature stood behind me. I screamed as I turned. The black-cloak covered the creature’s body, but its horrifying presence terrified me. I rushed past him, tried the door, but the handle just broke. I took the broom out of the small closet, banged the creature on the head, but it just stood.

Its mind entered mine, and it spoke with complete control.

Give me the burden to hold your past. And let go of this old life of yours. Present the new future. Live a new life. One chance was not enough. And I give you the second. Release yourself from the pain and enter a new one.

My mind started to ache. I yelled in pain. But the creature continued:

This is a solemn request. You may choose to accept. Begin a new future, generation, LIFE. And become a new person: whatever you desire.

It extended a non-human hand. I tried to process what was being given. I was being given a new life. I could be what I desire. My life could be new. It could be what I wanted. I could let go of what keeps holding me back. It was a start. I extended my hand as well. And it took my arm.



I woke up the following day. I went down to breakfast, and my family greeted me. They congratulated me on my… what was it? Well, whatever it was, I smiled. Going to school was an ease as well. Everybody talked to me, crowded me, and wanted to be friends with me. I WAS POPULAR. I reached home seven hours later and there was a news station van outside. I entered and I heard a click. I was live on television. The news reporter questioned me. And I answered. My NEW life began.

Everyday was something new. I got several awards. Weeks passed in a breeze and I grew smarter, more popular, and FAMOUS. One day was particularly interesting. I was going to my house and took a shortcut through an alley. As I walked, a boy passed me. He was running. A few seconds later, I heard a gunshot. I ran to the nearest building and stood on the ground, looking through one of the windows. A larger man ran down the street after the boy. The boy looked around, frantically. The boy tripped and the man reached him. And there was an explosion.


I awoke in a hospital, many people crowding around me, sighing a sign of relief as I woke. My parents, Elaine and Youri, explained the event. The man placed a bomb on the boy, and he died. I was near the event, so I got a minor injury in my leg. I was trying to formulate some thoughts, and realized that this had been a dream.

After I was released, another event happened, and seconds later, the Queen knighted me. This was another event that had been a dream. Months passed, and I again met in a fatal incident, which had been another dream. Soon, my dreams started to appear more frequently. As I reached 15 years old, I realized my new life was my DREAM world. I tried to dream “good” things, but every night was a nightmare. And every real day was that same dream. Things went downhill for not only me, but also for everyone around me. I tried to stop, but nothing worked.

And I finally broke my dream world one day. I went to my half-destroyed school, and told all news stations to come.

“Hello the People of the World. I talk to every one of you today to discuss the events that happened over the years. Many difficult things happened for everybody, and every night, I try to stop it. I try to dream of good things to overcome these fears. But nothing works. I am here today to give my last word. IN LIFE, YOU ONLY GET ONE CHANCE, BUT IF YOU USE THAT CHANCE WELL, ONE CHANCE IS JUST ENOUGH. And I have not used either of my chances well.”

I plan to leave the world. I do not have a place here. Dreams and reality need to stay separate. And all I did was bring destruction. I say goodbye to whoever is reading this. I hope, one day, that you will realize what I mean in this story of mine. Remember me as a TEACHER.