Mononucleosis—and Recovery Chapter 3

September approaches and that’s when I will be back on the bike. I have to tell you all that I am feeling good. Great in fact. I can sleep and that is a wonderful thing.

I had nightmares-- I’ve had these nightmares before. They contain a theme of exceptionally long-life but mechanically assisted.

The most vivid dream is that I’m trying to escape what seems to be the center of an old town. There’s a fountain with statues and water. The town has been long forgotten, and it is not my town or place of birth—I don’t even think it’s my county. A black car pulls up—it’s the car of a wealthy person. The person is a young woman dressed in black—and she is looking for me with some urgency. I know who she is—she is very much her mother’s daughter, or grand daughter or great grand daughter—or great great grand daughter—as there is a span of time so vast between her arrival and this moment. She has what appears to be body guards/goons. I am, or what ever I am, is desperately attempting to fade into the shadows. But I am mainly mechanical; lungs, arms, and legs—If I had a face it would show my fear. But it seems frozen in metal and plastic. My heart and mind have been tormented for a hundred years. It is me living inside, and I do move, but it is not with the speed I need to distance myself from her.

I am found this time—they have found me. I suddenly feel great shame and great heartache.

My clothes are of a ragged homeless man. But I am not decrepit or hunched over—and I do not feel old or ill. I am not a monster. My arms and legs are refined. They give me human form. They were made to be better than real. They don’t seem to operate too well at this moment. They were issued a very long time ago.

What she wants from me is something deep from my memory. I believe it could have been from a time when I was a young man and among her people. That was when I was without these scars. I have lived so very long—but I am not old and I am not dying.

Sometimes I feel like I have been captured and I’m being held and they’re watching. But they never asked me the question that the woman needs to know. Somehow I am able to elude her.

Freakin’ weird, mes amis!

Read Part I
Read Part II