Dr. Slim's House

After a near-fatal car crash, a very injured delinquent, Patrick Hull, wakes up in the guest room of Dr. Maurice Slim, who promises to take care of him until he is ready to leave. Once in Dr. Slim's house, however, strange things start to happen to Patrick and, just as he begins to trust Dr. Slim, he starts to doubt his situation.

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5. 5. Second Dream

Last night I had another freaky dream. Only, this time, I was older; only a little younger than I am as I write this. This memory was only vaguely familiar, though, and, if I hadn't dreamed it, I wouldn't have remembered it all that well.

It was the morning of the day I left the gang. You know, the gang that I mentioned beating me up before the car crash? Well, that happened because I left, and in this dream I remembered that morning. I was standing in a subway station, waiting for my train to come and scoffing at my surroundings. I'm very cynical - it probably comes through in the way I've written in here - and there isn't much that doesn't get on my nerves. When I was six years old I- sorry, I'm getting off topic. I do that pretty often, too.

Anyway, I was at the run-down old subway station near where I used to hang out, shaking my head at the graffiti that managed to cover nearly every inch of the walls. I don't think it would have made me much happier had the graffiti not been there, though, because I'm the kind of guy who can always complain. I'd probably get annoyed at how dull the walls would look without it. I'd rather be happy, but so much of the world just seems to aggravate me like crazy, and from there it doesn't take much to grind my gears. It wouldn't bother you, though, my anger. I'm not one of those guys who needs everyone to know about it, honestly I'd rather keep it to myself, but things have a way of getting to me, you know?   

As I was saying, the graffiti used to make me really mad when I had to look at it back then. There were a couple of occasions I can remember where I really considered painting over the walls myself, but I didn't care enough to spend the money I had on paint.  If I'd had more money I would have done it, though. I'm a pretty generous, love-thy-neighbor kind of guy. Well, in this dream I had the money. I had the paint, too, but what I'd lost was the part of me that wanted the graffiti gone. Suddenly, it was beautiful.

The way the bright colors had been layered and the way the spray paint had run out in places, giving flecks of the wall space to breathe and be appreciated among the art. I loved it. I didn't want to look away. It really made me realize how incredible the Earth is. Even now, when natural landscapes and fields have been replaced by dirty subways, the world has not lost its beauty. It has simply found new ways of showing it.

The train was late as well. That had really put me in a bad mood back then. But in this dream I was thankful.

I don't know why all these feelings were so lost on me when I lived these moments the first time, but if I never get out of Slim's house, I'll remember them differently. I'll see the beauty in every ugly moment I ever lived, and I'll appreciate the world a little more each time I do it. I promise. I'll appreciate the hell out of it. 

I woke up and it was morning. Early, too. I felt refreshed by every ray of light and I felt no pain in my right leg anymore. The painkillers were on my bedside table but I didn't feel like taking them. Besides, Slim was nowhere to be seen and I couldn't hear him close by. I figure I'll take them quickly when I hear the door start to creak.

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