Short Story: Chapter 1

1.

‘’I once had a dream. I can vaguely remember it. It was quite simple in terms of visuals. I dreamed I was a swan. I could see the other swans flying off, probably heading towards the south. It was near a beach and I could see the sun setting. The sky was reflecting its orange colors on the surface water. It was nothing spectacular, but it was a memorable scene. Anyhow, the interesting part is what came next. So, I dreamed I was a swan and I was ready to take off and fly to the south or something. I spread my wings, I elevated and soon enough I was flying. I tried to catch up, seeing how the other swans were ahead of me, so I tried my best to fly as fast as I could. It was hard for me to catch up with them, my arms were doing their best to keep up with the rest, but I felt quite heavy. I could feel I was running out of breath, but no matter how hard I was trying, I couldn’t seem to catch up with the rest. The other swans were way ahead of me at that point, I could see them as a small white dots against the pink orange sky. I looked down and saw the sea underneath me. The coast wasn’t too far away. At this point I was wondering what I should do. Flying didn’t seem to bring me any further and I didn’t want to get too far away from the coast. I suddenly felt something warm on my arms – well, wings in this case – and looked over to see what it was. A red spot was covering my right wing and was slowly spreading. As you can imagine, I was freaking the fuck out. I don’t know how to swim in real life and neither can I in my dream, so I was terrified beyond belief and I tried to quickly get back to the coast. I saw the beach coming closer, My heart was racing, but I still couldn’t feel the pain of whatever it was that caused me to bleed. I assume it is, because our mind can’t dream beyond our experiences. I can’t dream what it feels like to be on acid either. Either way, what I’m trying to say, I can’t imagine what it feels like to experience that type of pain, thank goodness, so neither could I in my dream. Where was I? Oh yeah, I had landed on the coast and I could see the other swans had left me. That was the first disappointment I experienced in the dream, the second is what I’m going to tell you now. For some reason I went closer to the water to take a look at myself. I was struck by intense grief.  Maybe not grief, I admit that’s a bit too farfetched, but I sure was disappointed as hell. I looked into the water and saw my own reflection. Me, Charli, not the swan. Meaning, I was human. Isn’t it weird how I felt disappointed over it?’’

‘’I wouldn’t know,’’ I replied honestly.

She was looking annoyed.

‘’Maybe it means you just enjoy being an animal more than being human,’’ I joked to lighten the mood.

She looked at me, or rather through me, as she was trying to formulate her thoughts.

‘’No,’’ she said ‘’I don’t think you quite understand.’’

She was reaching for her lighter. She put a cigarette in her mouth, but didn’t lit it. It was dangling from the corner of her mouth, while she nibbled on it. We were sitting in my room, on my bed. I was laying on my bed listening to Charli’s story, while she was balancing on the edge of the bed like some monkey. The room was dark, there were some books scattered on the floor. On the table were two cups of ramen noodles, there was music playing from the record player, but none of us were listening to it. The smell of burned ashes mixed with the noodles, but I couldn’t care to open a window.

Both of us were used to this chaos anyway, so I rarely bothered.

‘’Then enlighten me,’’ I said.

‘’Sure, as I always do,’’ she said in her distinct high pitched voice, that didn’t match her smoking habits. ‘’You see, the whole problem is, that you can never think beyond what you perceive on a daily basis. Step out of that stupid linear thinking and try to think in metaphors, will you?’’

I chuckled. ‘’So? Who says I’m not? It’s not like metaphors exist beyond the physical reality,’’ I replied. ‘’Even worse, dear. They’re based on reality. A metaphor is when you use one word to clarify another word. For example, when I call you a monkey, what I’m really saying isn’t beyond the physical reality. A monkey is real. You are real. I just want to use the first to express something. Words are all based on and exist within reality.’’ I said.

She rolled her eyes and sighed. I was waiting for her to say something, but instead she waved her hand, as if she was erasing everything I said.

‘’Sure, whatever. All I wanted to say was you should just try to see a deeper meaning in my dream. I think my subconsciousness is trying to tell me something, but I need you to listen to me. To give feedback like some sort of therapist, so I can understand what it is I’m trying to tell myself. Can I give my interpretation on it?’’

I nodded. ‘’Sure. Continue, please.’’

‘’I’ve read somewhere, that we express our deepest desires in dreams. Even in ancient Greek times people referred to it as a demonic state, in which you are in touch with yourself in a spiritual sense. I’m quite eager to believe that, to be honest. I don’t think it’s a demonic state of course, I would rather say, that I don’t think we humans understand ourselves as well as we think we do. I think dreams give an excellent access towards understanding ourselves better. It has its difficulties though. Feeling and understanding are two different things, if you get what I mean. I wouldn’t know how to convert on into the other. I felt something in my dream. It’s hard for me to explain the sensation I was talking about earlier, but I would call it disappointment. I was looking into the water and there I was. Not the swan, that could fly across the world, towards to sunset, but plain old human me. The odd thing is this though. Why did I feel disappointed, if I could feel that my wing was bleeding earlier? I had already lost my ability to fly, so why does it matter?. Whether I had turned back into being human or not, I couldn’t fly anyway. Yet, I am sure I would definitely not have felt that disappointment, had I seen the swan in my reflection instead of myself.’’

She nodded her head firmly and lit her cigarette. I sat up and looked at her.

‘’What do you think it means? Anything significant?’’ I asked.

‘’Well, obviously. I sense my inner self is trying to tell me something, that the me, that’s talking to you right now, can’t express,’’ she said. She let herself slide onto the bed and sat next to me. I gave her the ashtray that was laying on the ground. I could see the lipstick marks on the tip of her cigarette. She walked over to the record player and changed the record to something more melodic. It was a tune by the Beatles. I wasn’t a fan of them, but I didn’t hate them, as long as they weren’t playing anything too upbeat. I couldn’t stand that for more than a few seconds before turning it off.

Luckily, she hadn’t chosen one of those.

I didn’t know what to say. I wasn’t unfamiliar with these moments. They were actually quite comment. One of these moments, where she again felt she had discovered something unknown. I was always cautious at these types of moments. There always seemed to be one reaction that she was expecting you should give her. Which one she wanted, was like picking a lottery ticket. I had no idea what she wanted to hear. Back in the days, when we had just met, we would often have arguments.

Well, better said. Charli would always have arguments with me. She would be very happy and enthusiastic about something new she had discovered, eager to tell me about it as quickly as possible, only to find me reacting quite coolly to it or rejecting her thoughts all together.

I didn’t do it, because I wanted to upset her of course. I just can’t help being the way I am and neither can she. My parents had sometimes worried about my interaction with other people, seeing how I would rarely show any emotional investment. That didn’t mean that I didn’t care, I just had my own way of showing it. That could perfectly be without getting too emotional about it. Emotions, in my humble opinion, were only necessary to show us what it is that we care for. Once we understand that, it’s perfectly rational to let go of them. Hanging on to emotions would only cause us to make irrational statements and further the problem instead of solving it. Charli was the complete opposite however. She was easily moved by anything that sparked her interest. Whether it was art, literature, poetry or philosophy, she would always experience it within the frame of the emotion it gave her.

‘’Not feeling equals to not connecting,’’ she would say.

The same principle also applied to her own ideas.

Whenever she did come with new discoveries, she would always tell me. It was either in literature, where she thought she had found a new interpretation on a writer, that I knew was too farfetched.

I have always been an honest person, especially when it came down to friendship. I was always honest to her, but I knew she didn’t always take my honesty too well.

It sometimes damaged her ego, even though I would say that having an ego in the first place brings nothing, but disappointment to begin with. She would often reaffirm this statement, but getting upset over my honesty.

However, I could not force her to change her ways, neither did I want to do so. I was fine with the way she was, it made her who she was, even though it did make her delusional from time to time.

‘’I think I’m just misunderstood,’’ she would say, ‘’you know how every era has one those great thinkers, that no one cares for, until they die and suddenly they’re all that? I don’t want to claim, I’m one of those. That would be rather selfish, but I can sympathize with them. I can understand what it feels like when someone just doesn’t get you. It has to do with the way people in our time perceive the notion of truth. Truth exists within human consciousness, not beyond us. We can only understand truth, as truth-to-us. We are just stuck in a paradigm, in which I lack the opportunity to showcase my thoughts, but I can feel it’s there. I can feel it in my skin, in the way it all connects on a higher level, beyond common reasoning. Do you get what I mean?’’ she would say things like this, while smiling widely and moving her arms around theatrically.

In the beginning I would often reply no. I truly didn’t see how any of what she said made any sense. I would sometimes ask her to write her thoughts as short statements and then give them to me, so I could process them, but that she would get upset every time I asked her, claiming I had ruined her moment, so after I while I gave up and just nodded, hoping I could understand her by listening to the bits and pieces that made sense to me.

I was waiting for her to say something. Instead she stood in front of the mirror reapplying her lipstick and fixing her hair. She curled her bangs away from her eyes and checked for lipstick stains on her teeth.

I was looking at her reflection from behind. She saw I was looking at her and gave me a faint smile. I smiled back.

Charli was quite pretty, if you took time to look at her. She was petite appearance wise, which she would try to compensate by dressing up as a tomboy. Her hair was quite short with bangs covering her icy blue eyes. She had some freckles that emphasized her child-like face. She didn’t like the way she looked though.

‘’If I could have it my way, I would look like a sixty year old rock star covered in tattoos.’’ 

I suspect that’s also the reason she started smoking, but when I asked her about it, she said it was because it was what would help her relax her nerves, which I could understand as well. A lot of people do find her pretty, when they first meet her, but that quickly changes once she opens her mouth.

Charli seems to have two sides to her. The one she shows me and the one she shows the world. The one she shows to me is what I would describe as dreamy. Always gazing into a distance, as she let her thoughts flow. The other was where she was constantly frowning. I sometimes wonder if her face gets tired from frowning so much. I also wonder if she will develop wrinkles that will make her face appear like that permanently once she’s older. It would be a shame, but I forget that once her face relaxes and she looks satisfied, knowing there’s someone in the world who is listening to her. As you might guess, it’s one of the reasons she doesn’t get along with people. They don’t quite understand her. I think she’s aware, that I don’t understand her either sometimes, but I try to make a conscious effort. It’s hard to explain what drew me into her, but I think it’s the same reason some people just get a kick from doing drugs or throwing themselves off cliffs. It has to do with wanting to see the unknown. Or perhaps it’s a way of me of escaping the world towards the nonsensical.

Either way, what made her distant from other people, brought her closer to me. For that reason I was happy she disliked other people, which meant she and I were quite close. She was witty and bursting with energy, whereas I was always listening and understanding. Which made us into an amazing duo.

I’ve known Charli for quite a while now. She’s twenty-five and I’m twenty-nine years old. I believe I met her when she had just left her English degree to become a poet. She was twenty years old at the time.

Charli was a difficult person to begin with. Whenever she felt she was being restricted she would do anything to break out of it.

She had applied for an English degree and without any difficulties had passed every exam. I was sometimes a bit uncomfortable towards her arrogant behavior, but hearing how well she did in college, I could understand it.

Her parents had mixed feelings about Charli. Her mother was a teacher in primary school. She had a nervous laugh and her skirt always covered her knees. I could rarely hear the differences in their voices. Both of them were high pitched and theatrical, although Charli had a rougher vocabulary than her mother.

Her father was an architect, I’ve only seen him once when I had to pick up Charli, after she had told them she had quit her English degree. Her father was a tiny guy with disappearing hair and a mouth that looked like a straight line. He had big eyes that constantly looked teary-eyed. Even without knowing the man, you would instantly feel sorry for whatever has happened to him in his life.

Charli was quite merciless however. She often mentions her parents as a throw away statement to emphasis how boring the world is. I always just nod and try to change the subject. Her parents seemed like good people and I could understand their sentiments, when they did not know what to do with Charli seeing how she rarely went to lectures and spent most of her days hanging all over town writing poetry. It was even more difficult, seeing how her grades showed the opposite of her behavior. They couldn’t tell her what to do, nor felt they had the authority to do so. The thunder really struck however, when she randomly decided one day that she was wasting away the good years of her life and wanted to dedicate it to becoming an artist. At the time it was a poet, but over years she has tried many things, so I’ll stick to calling her an artist.

Her parents weren’t really angry, I think they were too soft hearted to experience any of such emotions. Instead her father just sighed, stood up and walked out of the room. Her mother was trying not to show any tears, while laughing nervously. Charli called me to pick her up, once she told them and so I did.

Her father didn’t say anything to me, her mother whispered that I should look after her.

That was the last time she saw her parents, even though she still reminds me of them every now and then when her mood is down.

‘’The problem is not that I’m different. The problem is that they are turning it into a problem,’’ she told me when I asked her how she was feeling about it.

After that she would spend most of her days with me, but besides that, she worked in several cafés in an attempt to pay her rent.

She was happy, she claimed. But I sometimes wonder if that was the case.

‘’I could be off way worse,’’ she said, ‘’at least we have each other.’’

I could not agree more with that last thought.

As I was saying earlier, Charli and I met when she was nineteen. She was still in college at that time, but would drop out not too soon after.

We had met at a bus stop. I was busy reading a book some German thinker, when she approached me. She was walkking passed me, wearing an oversized leather jacket, as she was smoking and said:

‘’Is that Schopenhauer?’’

I looked up from my book and saw this small dwarf. She was wearing a big black scarf, a dark blue hoodie and combat boots. The only thing that made her feminine was her distinct red lipstick that didn’t seem to match the rest of the outfit. Her nose was small compared to the rest of her face and when she talked I could see her teeth were a tiny bit too big for her mouth. It’s the reason she tries not to smile to this day, even though I loved the child-like innocence it brought to her normally gloomy expression.

I politely nodded. ‘’Die Wille als Welt und Vorstellung. He’s interesting.’’

‘’He sure is, although I don’t think he’s that extremely good. He was quite arrogant in my opinion. I mean, I would easily say that the only reason he became famous later on was, because people grew sick of idealism in that era, but that’s my opinion. I can elaborate on it for hours, but I don’t think you would quite get it. German idealism is hard to explain in the first place, so it’s quite pointless you’re reading this book, seeing how it’s a reaction to that. Suit yourself though, I’m no one to judge. I’m just warning you, before it turns into one big clusterfuck,’’ she said to me. Her cigarette was dangling from the corner of her red lips and she was sniffing before spitting on the sidewalk.

I was staring at her. I rarely feel uneasy at someone’s present, but I was quite baffled at the arrogance of this girl. I felt I was growing annoyed, but tried to remain polite.

‘’You know what. Maybe you’re right. I know little about him. I don’t think it is useful to read him after what you have told me.’’

I closed the book and handed it to her. ‘’Here. It’s useless for me anyway,’’ I said as I shrugged.

Her eyes widened in surprised. ‘’No, no. That’s not at all what I meant. I’m not trying to make you stop reading. I’m just trying to raise awareness. Sorry, if I came across as rude. I think more people should do what you’re doing,’’ her voice was high pitched and nasally. I could easily see her voicing a cartoon. The thought of that made me laugh and I could sense my mood getting better.

‘’Tell you what. How about you tell me all about it?’’

‘’Well, I don’t know,’’ she seemed to hesitate.

‘’Don’t worry, I’m not some creep. My name is K,’’ I said as I shook her hand.

‘’K? Is that your real name?’’ she asked me.

‘’It’s how I introduce myself to people, yes,’’ I replied, ‘’besides, what’s your name?’’

‘’Charli.’’

‘’Charli. Quite a boyish name. Or is that just what you go by on a daily basis?’’

‘’No, it’s my name sort of. It’s short for something else. You can probably guess what.’’

I looked at her, as she was scratching her head. I could sense she was feeling awkward, so I tried to lighten up the mood.

Before I could say anything I saw how her gaze drifted off into the distance, where she saw my bus coming.

I heard her curse. She took the book out of my hand and quickly scribbled some numbers on the first page with the same color red she had on her lips.

‘’Here, we’ll arrange something,’’ she said in her nasal voice.

I waved at her.

I didn’t hesitate that evening before calling the number she had given me. She didn’t pick up the first time, nor the second time. I left a voicemail the second time around. It didn’t take more than ten minutes before she called me back.

She said she often turned off her phone when she was busy writing a poem.

I asked her about her poetry and she happily read them to me.

I know little about poetry, I never understood why people wrote in the first place, when you could just say it clearly in normal statements.

Poetry seemed to only bring me further away from what the author was trying to convey. Even when Charli was reciting her poetry, I would just listen to what she was saying.

Later on, when I knew her much better, I had finally built up the courage to ask her what she meant.

She was understanding most of the time, as long as I didn’t keep asking too much.

‘’You’re ruining the moment,’’ was the sentence that made me stop asking any further.

At the time however, I was just listening to her, while she was reciting her poems without asking any questions. I slowly came to understand that that was the state Charli wanted to be left in. To me it was like looking at an art piece, so I felt humble knowing she was allowing me into her mind. I took her as she was and she gave herself fully to me.

A few day afterwards we met at a café. She mostly talked, I listened. I rarely talk, unless someone asks me something. It’s been like that since I was young. It’s pleasant, because it makes interactions with Charli easier. She can talk, I will listen.

The other times we met up was at my place. It didn’t take too long before I tried to sleep with her, but she declined both times I asked. After that, I never did again and I settled with the idea that we were friends.

She wasn’t sexy, but I wouldn’t have minded it if she had said yes. I’m quite easy on those things, but she clearly isn’t. Her reasons were somewhere along the lines of her not being able to separate sexual and romantic relationships from one another. She could only feel completely free and herself, if she didn’t get any feelings for me.

‘’It’s hard to explain, but I just sense that I can say whatever I when you’re my friend. As a romantic interest I can’t. I’d have to constantly try to keep you happy or at least not disappoint you. I can’t be bothered with such a burden.’’

I didn’t want to force her into anything of course, so I was fine with however things were, as long as we could talk to each other.

Now, I’m not the type to lie anyway, so whatever I’m writing down in this journal is true. Charli was arrogant, stuck up and egocentric. I could see why people would get annoyed at her presence. She had a sense a superiority, which wasn’t justified according to many people. She was pretty, but definitely not the prettiest girl in every room. She was quite clever, but she lacked majorly when it came to subjects outside her field. She had been bad at math, since she can remember. Instead of admitting to her lack of knowledge, she would instead blame the subject.

‘’The thing is, that the so-called science of today has brought us nothing humane. Sure, it’s made by humans, it functions well to some extent, if I give it benefit of the doubt, but in all honesty. Can it explain to me the most fundamental questions of human life? What does it mean to be good? What does it mean to be alive? What does it mean to be human? I can’t find that in science or math or whatever. And you want to know why? Because it’s all made up. Those so called perfect structures, that we think to see in reality, is one big lie we tell ourselves to keep ourselves busy from the real questions of life. Why, you ask? Because we don’t know how to answer them. Ah, fuck. There is no ‘’we’’. I should say ‘’they’’. They’ve got no fucking clue what they’re doing. They’re just keeping themselves busy, creating a false reality in which everything is nice and manageable. Let me tell you this, darling. Those people would not survive one day in the real world. They would not survive one second of suffering or pain. No, sir. They would grab their pills and numb it all away. And what when all of that is gone? What to do then? I’m telling you I’m onto something. I have no idea what and the world might not be ready for it, but I sense I should just flip the whole world over and give them something they might hate me for in the beginning, but they sure as hell will be kissing my feet, once they’ve come to appreciate it.’’

I had given her a faint smile, but didn’t reply.

‘’Speak from actions instead of potentials,’’ I had thought to myself.

Anyhow, I´m digressing. There´s a lot to say about Charli. I could talk endlessly about every little trait she had and what it meant to her, but that´s something that will happen along the way of my storytelling.

As I was saying, I didn´t say anything and was patiently waiting for her to continue her story.

She sat down next to me. ‘’I´ve been thinking actually. It´s hard to explain, but I had a feeling that my dream was correct. It´s a feeling I can´t really explain, but it came across quite well in that dream. Hm… How to put this into words,’’ she was looking at the ceiling and sighed.

‘’I´m listening,’’ I encouraged.

‘’My point is this. I´ve been feeling like this for a while. You know how I´m trying my best, right? I’m well read, I can write and understand complex thought. I’ve dedicated my life to giving something good to the world, but I feel like my wings have been cut off. Like I wasn’t meant for flying, even though the loss of those wings are meaningless, if I couldn’t fly afterwards anyway. Whether I’m a swan of human, doesn’t matter. Oddly enough, there is something that makes me laugh. Maybe you can feel it as well. For some reason one of the two is worse than the other. Can you guess which one?’’ she asked me.

I shrugged. ‘’I guess the swan.’’

‘’Why is that?’’ she asked me.

‘’Well, to me it seems the most logical. Not being able to do something you weren’t meant to do in the first place isn’t bad. Humans don’t have wings and can’t fly. A swan without wings would be like a human, who can’t speak. Lacking something essential, if you know what I mean,’’ I said.

She nodded. ‘’What you’re saying is quite correct, darling,’’ she smiled at me, ‘’but it does not explain the sensation I felt afterwards.’’

‘’The disappointment?’’

‘’Exactly. Why would a human feel disappointment over the fact that she can’t fly? As you said, we are not made for flying. It’s not essential to us.’’

‘’But you still did feel disappointment,’’ I frowned. I was quite confused, ‘’you see, that doesn’t make any sense to me.’’

She giggled. ‘’The funny part is, it’s perfectly sensible to me. It makes more sense than anything I have ever felt before. It’s most logical, if you ask me. I can tell you, this is exactly what I have been looking for all my life. This is exactly the trigger I needed, but could never put my finger on. It’s a paradox, but it makes so much sense. It’s brilliant,’’ she was laughing even harder.

‘’Then please, elaborate. I cannot follow.’’

‘’No, darling. I wonder whether I should. There are certain things in life that can’t be conveyed. It appears to you to be a paradox, which it is. I don’t think you can take that leap,’’ Charli lit another cigarette and had a big smirk on her face. Her arms were laying crossed over each other in a relaxed position and she was gazing into the distance complacently.

‘’What leap are you referring to?’’

‘’The leap of faith of course,’’ she replied. She inhaled deeply before she continued talking. ‘’You’re familiar with the Bible, aren’t you? The Old Testament that is.’’

I nodded.

‘’Then you know the story of Abraham and Isaac.’’

‘’Yes, he had to sacrifice his son to God to prove his faith.’’

‘’Exactly. Genesis 22 of the Old Testament. God asked Abraham to sacrifice his son Isaac to Him to prove his faith. God showed him the mountain he had to go to and he had to bring his son there. He let him carry the wood and followed him with a knife. When they reached the place, Isaac asked him where the lamb was, that he was told they would sacrifice to God. ‘’Don’t worry, my child,’’ he told him, ‘’God will take care of the lamb.’’ He laid Isaac onto the altar and was ready to pierce him with the knife, when suddenly an angel appeared and stopped him. Why? Because Abraham had proven himself to God. What God wanted was to see the amount of trust Abraham had in God, insomuch that he would neglect any rationality and throw himself into this immense faith, that what God wanted was good. Hence the term, leap of faith. Do you see what I’m getting at? Some things having significant meaning without us being able to explain them. They are weird phenomena, that just appear right to us. We can either reject them or we can take a leap of faith. You see?’’

I nodded thoughtfully. ‘’Yet, I do not understand how this relates to you dream. You dreamed you were disappointed over something that you could not achieve anyway as a human. Why is that?’’

‘’Because there was an endless beach I could walk over forever, not knowing where to go, when I had prepared myself to fly to the south,’’ she sighed.

‘’What does that mean?’’ I asked her.

She shook her head. ‘’I don’t know. I can’t quite understand it either. It’s just a sensation of failure. You want to be something, but can’t. Instead I’m running around in circles, wondering what to do with my life. I wish I could fly, metaphorically speaking. I want to go to the south. I want to tell my swan family that I too made it to the south and settle. Instead I can only walk over an endless beach. Every direction seems to be equally bad, every direction seems to be equally good. It’s a matter of choice, not fate.’’

Her mood had shifted towards mellow and gloomy. I could feel it as well and I felt some sadness in myself. I didn’t like it when she was like this.

‘’So, what are you going to do about it, eh? Sew some wings onto yourself?’’

‘’No, I’m trying to figure it out. Once I know, you will too,’’ she said as she rested her head on my shoulder. I stroked her hair and gave her a kiss on her cheek.

I didn’t know that would be the last time I would be holding her.