Lucidate (c)-make things appear or clearer.

For the hidden power contest


3. Hidden Power


‘C-H-three-C-O-O-H  plus  C-two-H-five-O-H  gives  C-H-three-C-O-O-C-two-H-five  and  water…’

Honking of cars. “Consiga su zumbido sangriento coche lejos de los mios, que idiota!” Someone screams-faintly heard.

‘If you want my future forget my past,

If you wanna get with me better make it fast…’ The radio is shouting loudly.

Faint scent of coke, pizza, liquor and cigarettes fills my nose. I can feel myself now.

I purr sleepily trying, hoping to soak up the comfort of my cosy bedroom yet I can’t. Strangely, I…my clothes are dripping wet. The frosty metal car plate lies placidly on my lap. Nevertheless, my mind is clearer now. I slowly open my eyes and look above. The seemingly real ceiling of the car reminds me it was all but an extraordinary dream. I pull out my hands and let them run over the cottony casing of the ceiling. My fingers are coated with blood but it’s not mine.

I recall going on a date with stranger-asking him crazy questions and then…I believe I was about be obliterated by a notorious criminal all before I awoke myself with a jolt. I suppose that’s how dreams are, aren’t they?

I quickly look around and find myself in an alien car. How did I get here? I remember spending time reading the chemistry equations in my home before I snoozed off.

I turn to the driver’s seat hoping to see the Spaniard’s face. Instead I stare at a bespectacled guy-almost as old as me, wearing a Doraemon shirt and black trousers-which are too sopping damp, unconscious rather asleep. He’s wheezing; I guess he’s having difficulty in breathing.

I shift a little and try to wake him up.

“Listen, wake up,” I say softly trying not alarm him or scare him.

He opens his clear, blue eyes with a start. He looks ahead, still puffing for air.

He looks out the window and asks, “How did I get here?” He turns back and after I gaze into his deep blue eyes, I realise….

“Adam, is it?” I ask him trying very hard to remember my dream.

He shuffles back-startled. “Who are you? How do you know me?”

Silence. I stare at him with surprise. He was the one? I was with him in my dream…and yet, I don’t even know him. But how did he get here?

I notice a speck of dirt on his wet face and attempt to wipe it off.

“Blood,” he says.

 I had forgotten about it. “It’s not mine.”

“Neither mine,” he replies.

Quietness fills the void again and even the song behind has died away. We try to grasp what is happening.

“I was taking a nap in my house…and now, I’m in this mess,” he says glimpsing at the pizza leftovers.

I look around.

He springs up. “I…I have no idea. I was sleeping and…then in the middle of my sleep, I felt someone pulling me and the next thing I know, I’m in this mysterious car sitting, almost unconscious…” he says in a serious tone. He looks down and continues, “Drowning before…then I see you.” His voice hints some tension. “You brought me here.”

I look up with shock.

“I don’t even know who you are…” Don’t hit the panic button.  “Yes, you brought me here. Or…did you do that?”

Can I do that? I remember holding onto him in my weird dream and yet I can’t believe that I can bring him here like that.

I peep out and see the car driver arguing with some truck driver.

Tik! The sound forces me to turn left.

 The door swings open and to my astonishment, I see…a person…a woman sitting in front of me. Her plain clothes contain ugly blotches of blood. Her eyes are swollen and one of them-black. Her body is literally battered. She is pale, weak and thin. She is injured and needs medical attention and yet…she leaves a cold effect on me. Her face seems beyond recognition.

She hands me bottle of water.

Adam turns back. “Who is she?” he whispers- definitely whacked out by her appearance.

“Oh!” She opens her mouth to speak. I observe her keenly. Her clothes look normal yet her injured visage vaguely reminds me of a gone neighbour.

“Do you need help?” I ask sounding helpful but with an air of caution.

“Not as much as you,” she tells me in an eerie way.

I’ve definitely heard this voice before. The clothes are bloody-with a reason. Her pale-recently blurred in the news channels, was the talk of the town. She was wounded-mortally. And there is a perfectly good reason behind it.

“What the hell?” The Spanish driver screams as he looks down at his car. He turns ahead and eyes Adam, me and this horribly disfigured woman suspiciously. “Who are you? And how did you…?” He falls back with astonishment.

I slowly reach for Adam’s mild yet robust hand. Awkward.

Did I do it? Bringing people from my dreams to reality didn’t seem so surprising to me now for I had other things to worry about.

My grip over his hand tightens.

Not a ghost.

I had been talking to Julianne Riley’s corpse.


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