Is Nash sane'

A dark storm out of the blue had broken out miraculously on the day I was turning Ninety-Four. My big long sleep had ended almost 5 decades ago. I was in that part of my life where I couldn’t confirm nor deny the events that I experienced during that peculiar interval of time. The biggest regret of my life was not telling someone about the occurrences that intervened during my sleep; I thought to myself “How much more do I have to live? Have I still got some moments left to tell someone; what were the things that I endured at the age of a mere toddler?”

The storm was raging so badly that I couldn’t even hear the sound of the party-poppers that my grand-children were playing with as a celebration of another delusional year that I had utterly lived. I had only one grand-son among my 5 grand-daughters, the one I always resembled myself with. He was too a loner and the barer of a bizarre imagination just like his grandfather. He used to tell me on daily basis about the boys and girls who used their clever average minds to bully him, but unlike me he used those opportunities to his strength and was constantly trying to fill the lack of confidence that I always thought he had gotten from me.

To be honest, I was getting quite irritated from all the noise that was surrounding me at the moment. I just stood up and thought to sit on my rocking chair in the porch of my son’s house, even though he said;

“Dad! Would I ever live to see a day that you would enjoy?”

I just brushed him casually and went to the porch where my chair was creaking due to the heavy wind. I sat there thinking about the rain that was moving in all directions, “Why is everything dependent on something?” the droplets all combined are shaking due to the wind that is giving them a path. “Why can’t they make their own way?”

My eyes from which I could barely see turned toward the clouds that were stumbling into one another making deafening sounds that would make the Earth crumble with horror. A ray of lightening then struck followed by a horrendous ear-splitting sound, of which I was scared since my childhood so I quickly covered my ears. My grandson who was standing behind me leaning with the half closed door said,

“Why are you afraid? Nash, it is just a storm”

I looked back and said;

“Well look who it is, my dearest son. Come and have a seat with your good old grandpa.”

And without any hesitation he quickly crawled up my lap and said;

“What are you afraid of? Grandpa,” to which I replied with a smirk on my face;

“Do you have some time that you would like to spend with your grandfather?” with a humble smile on his keen face he said;

“I am only Ten grandpa and it’s your birthday, I have all the time in the world for you because you are my only true friend.” I laughed and said,

“Well that is correct but if you want people to treat you normally, you have to find friends beside me” to which he said;

“But I really don’t want friends, I have seen a lot of my fellows backstabbing their friends, saying horrible things behind their backs” patting him on the head I said,

“Yes! That is true and I also made the same mistake, but you must do your part so that the slate stays even” he curiously replied;

“What was your childhood like? Grandpa”.

That’s when I thought why must I live the last years or days of my life with regret? I need someone with the same vivid flair that I had in my days. With feelings I couldn’t even understand at the time I said to my grandson;

“Would you like to hear a story? Blake” and it was like a wide stream of joy had been sprayed on his pale face, with resting his body on my shoulder he said,

“Nobody has ever asked me that question, yes! I would love to hear a story, Nash”.

Well I kind of knew that this will be his answer, but then I began to sweat a little bit because trying to remember all those things that weren’t real due to which I got the awesome title of “Delusional or Mad”. Reliving the same moment is hard, otherwise it wouldn’t be fun telling Blake about everything. But I surely thought to myself “Should I tell him every bit of detail?” what If I get depressed, I don’t want him to get obsessed or think that his grandfather is making this all up. Well it wouldn’t be the first time that someone will think that”. I just hope things don’t get too much tense, and I don’t want Blake to run away from my lap; because after Aaron I haven’t talked to anyone about the things that I felt. Amidst this cloud of thoughts that was sitting upon my head, Blake said:

“Are you there old man? Please tell me your story I wouldn’t say a single word about this to anyone”.

“Oh! I know I can trust you little boy” I replied; to which he said with a grin:

“Well then why are you getting all pale and sweaty grandpa?”

“Remembering those affairs can get pretty rough for a person my age, It was a very long time ago boy; you wouldn’t expect me to get a premonition out of nowhere” making an excuse I replied.

“Please! Would you just tell me the story Nash, I am getting impatient” Blake replied all hasty. I scolded him a bit, and I told him that being brisk wouldn’t get him anywhere. Well of-course! I didn’t want him to turn up like me, it was my uncharted love for him.

“Child this behavior is not going to get you anywhere, so remember to remain calm even in dilemmas that you think will devour you like the fire that clenches all life out of an oak tree”.

Sometimes I wish that I didn’t had that Anthropophobia, so my life wouldn’t be deviated by the track that I was always set to follow. It’s just absurd that why was I like that, I get it I was afraid to conclude anything but still I didn’t deserved those mishaps. I was just a claustrophobic boy, living on the edge because I didn’t get the normal, homely love that everyone deserves, even if I was quite cut off from rest of the world. But that’s not my fault, I mean if I was born normal, born in a loving ornery family like this beautiful young lad Blake (who was destined to be my grandson), with a delusional grandfather to tell him close to sci-fi, fantasy stories about his life which I think would later turn me in a joke like the rest of the cannibalized world did, but I mean I felt we had some things in common and the huge intrinsic reason, ‘You all know by now that I didn’t want to die without telling anyone that I was as crazy as it can get when I was a bit wee older than Blake.

I picked a yellow dandelion off my patio which was doing waltz due to the gale which was accompanied by the rain-storm I told you about earlier. Blake with his eyeballs bulged out gazing at me waiting impatiently to hear enraptured words out of my mouth. I am so embarrassed, like a child I said,

“Would you like to hear some words that your grandfather has written along his clueless life?”

“Why, of-course grandpa, I would love to hear some poetry.” He said hastily.

“The sins we do,

Haunt us is our sleep,

This hamartia is thrilling to bare sometimes,

Seeing ones love severed brutally,

This odd art is rather cruel,

Why life in our dreams is inchoate?”

I knew he wouldn’t understand a word, because he was too small, as small as the teeniest star in the sky but still could be seen among the lustrous gleaming sea of lights; it stays quite in the corner with light of its own not being dependent upon anything else. Blake suddenly said,

“What does inchoate mean grandpa?”

“Inchoate is a very strong addition among the lexicon” I said.

“Well I don’t know that it means… can you explain me with an example Nash? Blake said with a rather questioning face.

“Do you dream? My dear boy” I asked.

“Everyone dreams grandpa, they can be a little frightening sometimes but yeah I dream too” he said with an upright face.

“Inchoate is a word that defines ones dreams Blake, in a dream you can be someone who can fly, or someone who can lift the tallest buildings in the world, but something like that just cannot be utterly done in the real world that’s why we needed a word to describe the exact profanity of our hallucinatory premonitions that we call dreams, in simple words a dream is irregular and cannot be real that’s why we use inchoate referring to something that is not regularly formed. Did you understand” with a smiling face I said,

“ohh, That’s why I can talk to people and lights that I haven’t met and seen in the real world” he said.

“Yes! Boy. But I’m going to tell you a secret,’ I whispered in his year, “The only reality that you’ll ever get to enjoy will be in your dreams, because the hearts of the normal are just too full too loathed, people like you and me won’t ever be able to lift them because ours are just too light.” I said, looking upon the sky that was starting to get clear and the gale once trying to bring wrath was becoming as light and soothing as a feather touching my old wrinkly skin.

“So shall we begin thy story mate?” I asked the dear boy sitting eagerly on my lap. With a smile that just cannot be described came upon his little face, with which he said,

“We shall!”