Dreams.
They're the only tangible memory of my human life that I possess.
Well, that's not true. I remember the accident.
The accident— now I can reflect on it with such clarity. It was my fault, of course. Everything always was.
I was a mere twenty years old at that point, still very young, very naïve. I can recall my appearance at the time. I had jet-black hair that hung to my shoulders and dark, olive-green eyes. I wanted to be an actor— I had such big aspirations for my future, and an even bigger ego to match it.
How foolish I was.
I was with Cora when it happened. Oh, my beautiful Cora… I miss her dearly. I can still picture her gorgeous, long, golden-blonde hair and stunning green eyes. That day, though, she was wearing sunglasses, and her hair was pulled up into a ponytail.
She was driving us somewhere. I cannot for the death of me remember where we were going, but I do remember that blissful feeling— like we were invincible. Cora was singing along to the radio, and she'd just reached over to turn up the volume, her gaze leaving the road in front of her for just one moment…
That's when I saw it.
I'd glimpsed the truck early enough. If I'd said something, I'd have been saved. But no, in my shock, I choked on my words, my mouth moving but no sound coming out.
Finally, finally Cora looked up, and what had been lyrics flowing from her mouth turned to a scream.
The truck was coming at us. It would have hit us dead on, had Cora not turned left.
But she wasn't fast enough. The truck hit the passenger side of the vehicle— where I was seated.
On impact, my world went dark.
That's when the dreams started. I was knocked into a coma— a deep, deep sleep.
In my sleep, I could still sometimes reach the real world. I could hear the doctor's speculations about my health, I could hear Cora's sobs, I could hear my mother trying to decide whether or not to "pull the plug."
But even though that was reality, it felt far less real than my dreams.
The dreams I had in that coma— they were the most vivid, the most beautiful things I'd ever witnessed in my short life. Each one of them was a work of art.
In one recurring dream, I was the most famous actor in Hollywood. My name would be known throughout the country; everybody wanted to be me. I had enough money to buy us— Cora and I— our own private island. We would spend our days on the beach of the isle, watching the waves roll into the shore and knowing that we could live this way for the rest of our lives.
In a different dream, Cora and I would travel the world together. We'd spend a week or two in Venice, take a private cruise around the Grecian Isles, and stay a month in Istanbul before traveling through Australia and Japan. Every minute of our grand vacation would be filled with breathtaking splendor and adventure.
My favorite dream was that of marrying Cora, of our family. We would have three sons: Christopher, Joseph, and Austin. Another child would be on the way, this one a girl to be named Laura Lynn.
I suppose somewhere in my mind, I knew that these were all dreams. But that part of my mind was distant and unreachable. Besides, why should I wake up? What was there outside my false reality?
Cora's tears, doctors coming in and out of my room, my mother wondering if there was a chance I would ever wake up…
My mother, my dear mother. She was so frightened, so timid. She would never have the strength to kill me, even though it was apparent there were slim chances that I would ever wake up.
So there I lay, dreaming.
For twenty years.
Twenty years of drifting through my fantasies, my whimsies and wishes. Do you know what that's like? No, of course you don't. Nobody does, nobody ever will.
Outside was so… cold. So frightful, so lonely. As time passed, I came to fear the outside world, wanting only the dreams and delusions of the unnatural slumber of my coma.
I didn't want to ever wake up.
Cora was with me less and less; I believe she married some man and had kids. My mother came in regularly, until one day she… didn't.
Cora came in the next day, telling me that my mom had passed… they were dead, gone. In my sleep, I didn't really care. I only wanted her to leave, so I could return to my peaceful dreams.
"I… I'm so sorry," Cora said. "But… this is wrong. You've been sleeping twenty years. Your mother didn't have the nerve to do it, so I will."
The intensity in her voice drew me to listen.
"I'm… I'm having them take you off life support," Cora said, her voice ragged. "I think you'd agree with my decision, if you were awake. Besides, this way, you can be with your mother again. But… I'm so sorry this ever happened… so sorry…"
I'm going to die, I mused, the full gravity of the situation not quite hitting me.
And then it did.
No! I don't want to die! I can't leave the joy, the peace of my dreams!
I just want to sleep… I don't want to die…
For the first time in ten years, I tried to move, to wake up, to tell Cora not to kill me, just let me sleep…
Alas, I couldn't. I was going to die… that much was clear.
That night, they came in, and they turned off the machinery. My life as a human finally came to a close.
They robbed me of my dreams.
So it seems only suitable that now, as a ghost, I rob them of theirs.