(I'm going to accept that this short Author's Note thing is inevitable. Just a quick note to some of the people who have left reviews (in addition to THANK YOU!)... Ed won't show up in the story for a while, but I promise there is a good reason for that. I was actually considering adding a short chapter in here about him because it's about the only other place it'll fit, but it's not written yet so if it appears... I'll tell you. And this is the last chapter in first person (actually I can't guarantee that, I haven't written the entire ending yet). Don't worry if you don't "get" this chapter, it's not supposed to make sense until later, anyway. And I will shamefully admit that a small part of it was actually based on the dream I had the night before I wrote it (and it's not the part you think, either)... This is short too, so another chapter's probably going up tonight as well.)
I'm walking down the street, but no one here speaks my language. They haggle and bargain, that much is fairly obvious. Random faces in the crowd look familiar, but that's all. No one makes eye contact with me. It's like I'm not there at all; a ghost walking among them. A passing man with a bushel of apples seems to glance at me. He smiles a smile only I am meant to see. I don't know how I know this. He nods, letting me know I'm on the right track. He's happy to know that I'm looking, but though I'm in the right place I'm in the wrong place at the same time. I don't know how I know this, either. What I'm looking for is here, but I don't know that I'm looking for it. He's not home, either. None of us are, anymore. He seems to communicate hundreds of emotions and ideas all at once to me, and I am briefly overwhelmed. He's satisfied though, so I am too. I fade out. The vision fades to black. I am vaguely aware that I'm dreaming, but I push the thought away for fear of waking up. It's not often that my dreams are this calm.
Suddenly I'm floating through the darkness, disembodied but still there. I'm dressed in all blue, but it's not my uniform. Others drift past in other colours. I don't know them at all. They look determined, but only outwardly so. An act. To what possible end, I wonder? They look at me expectantly. Unlike before, they can see me now, and they see me as one of them. Am I only determined on the outside? They leave on separate animals. A horse appears for me, a shade of blue so dark it's almost black. I ride it away, not even bothering to question it. I go with the flow. It's a rare thing, but I am quiescent. Maybe apathetic. It doesn't matter, though. I ride out, and the world fades to black again.
It goes from black to grey. I'm still in blue, but this time it really is my military uniform. I curiously check the epaulettes, but my dream keeps me from seeing them. I am inside a building; grey walls grow up on all sides, extending far into the distance. The room is impossibly large, but finitely small at the same time. Somehow, a small city is built into it. It's grey as well. There are few people here, and many of the small buildings are falling apart. I look behind me. There are stairs leading to a small dark exit. Where I came in, I assume. No use going back that way. A few of my staff appear behind me. They've always been there, though I also know they weren't there before. They say nothing, just stand behind me. I look up. The ceiling is falling in. The world within this building is being crushed as it caves in. Everything is still grey. Out in the ruins I can see the outline of my friend – a ghost now, dressed in his old uniform, only now it is totally black, and shows his newer rank. And though I would have believed it before I know now that at least that part isn't true. Apparently I've already engraved that fact into my subconscious. We watch, transfixed. A mother and her child huddle in the ruins as larger parts of the ceiling begin to fall. Their skin is brown; their eyes red. I don't need to have this dream again. The guilt returns to me, though it was never truly gone. I stand at the edge of the stairs, helpless. I blame myself for the falling ceiling. It was my mind that created it, after all. My fault. I watch, staring on as the situation gets more precarious. The ghost of my friend moves and huddles over the two of them, protecting them. They can't see him, but they know what he's doing. Maybe they can sense him. He's always been like this. I silently thank him. The world fades out again.
It's white this time. Pure white. Nothingness. The end of all things, and here I am. I feel that there is an impending judgement. I wait. It starts with echoing questions from all directions. What good have I done? I don't know. What use have I been? Some, I hope. I've done what I could! My own conviction surprises me. The self-doubt rises out of me. It feels good to get it out. I hope it stays away. The whiteness is broken by the outline of a large black door. It looms in front of me. I've seen it before. This time the doors are shut tight, but a small amount of light creeps out from the bottom. Maybe it's from the whiteness around me. The door doesn't seem to be the type to have any light behind it. The doors open a crack. Eyes stare out at me, and things fade out to black again.
A flash of the city market again. The man from before looks concerned, then he's gone again and I'm alone floating in the darkness in blue. This time it's still the uniform. It's like I live in it. The kids fly by again on their animals, but they're slightly different this time. Green, yellow, black, even pink. Bringing up the rear is one dressed in red. He alone looks familiar. He is older, but he is still himself. His look alone is of true determination. Instead of an animal, he rides a rocket. His expression is almost wild. He too is close to what he wants, but he too is looking in the wrong place. Launching himself off towards the sun. He should know better than to fly towards the sun again. I stand and watch as he flies off into the distance again. The rocket explodes just before it is out of sight. It has the feeling of a premonition. My dreams never include premonitions, though. I discount it. I know now for sure that I'm dreaming, and nothing will allow me to forget it and keep sleeping. Brightness eats at the edge of the black, but this time I know it's only sunlight coming in through the open windows. It must be morning. I wake up. Stretch. I haven't felt this awake in years. I feel like one of those happy-go-lucky optimistic morning people that I'd spent so many years hating.