Most people do not
believe in reincarnation. I guess prior to the whole experience I did not
either. Although, I wish this was not the case.
It all started in my sophomore year in college. I decided to take a psychohistory class.People warned me that the professor was a bit off, but none elaborated in full detail.
On the first day of class, he took a strange liking to me. He stared at me with his empty green eyes as he lectured the class. It was as if he suspected me of committing some kind of crime; like he could somehow look into my thoughts. I rarely gave off bad impressions due to my charismatic personality. I have dirty blonde hair and an all too modest build.
I am the kind of guy that could be categorized as one of the popular kids, although I didn’t act it. I’ve seen some other kids who are as high up on the food chain as me do some sadistic shit. For almost two minutes that fucking weirdo stared at me. His glare sent shivers down my back. It felt like my little gimp of a brother had thrown ice cubes down my shirt. It felt as if a century had passed before he finally came to… A few months went by without incident. I was having a hard time with all my class work, but I was still managing to keep up my GPA-That was until I volunteered to be put under hypnosis for him to analyze my dreams. I normally didn’t volunteer for things like this but when he offered extra credit I leaped like a frog on his way to his next meal. I slowly made my way to the front of the class and took a seat. After, what must have been close to an hour, I rose to consciousness.
The only thing I remembered was a beautiful carnation. It was surreal, and it was breathtakingly graceful. My professor had written everything I said on a piece of paper, he gave me a bit of a look and gave it to me when he dismissed us. I couldn’t be bothered to actually read it over and shoved it carelessly into my bag and headed off to my organic chemistry class.
I got home pretty late that night, as I decided to go out and do some drinking with the guys. Most of my friends were football players and I always tagged along with them to their victory parties. After stumbling to my apartment I reached into my pocket for my keys, in a half-hearted attempt to get in my own bed. No less than 10 minutes went by as I struggled to open the mischievous gimmick before me.
It wasn’t until after my door was opened that I remembered I still had that paper in my bag. I decided I’d give it a look over before I caught some Z’s… After what could only have been a moment or two of analyzing it, my heart sunk like the Titanic. Apparently I described a scene in which I ate someone… A man, with dark hair and an innocent face. The thought of such a heinous atrocity left me with a bad taste in my mouth. I crumpled up the paper and tossed it to the floor. I layed down and made myself comfortable… The next morning I couldn’t get the scene out of my head. The thought of ripping off a human being’s flesh with nothing but my teeth as he cried for mercy, was unsettling to say the least. I glared at the paper and pondered its meaning the rest of the day. Why the fuck would I say something like this? I’ve never intentionally done anyone any wrong in my entire existence. The only thing I could think to say was why. I sobbed for hours. I really couldn’t shake this.
I decided to visit my professor and ask his opinion on the matter. I knocked on the door to his office and waited promptly. When he laid his filthy green eyes on me he instantly frowned. “What the fuck does this mean?” I said abruptly, holding up that wretched paper. He allowed me in and explained to me that it was most likely symbolic, and that I shouldn’t worry about it, but I could tell by the way he was looking at me he knew something. I tried feeling him out for anything else but he wouldn’t budge. I decided my only options are torturing it out of him or I’m on my own. I peregrinated around the dark, poignant streets alone, pondering the wickedness of my subconscious. In an odd way, I felt myself growing darker. It was almost as if this whole experience made me into some kind of a… demon. I felt Satan bastardizing my soul as I gazed into the abyss that was my hollow husk of a heart. I walked what felt like miles to the middle of nowhere. I had absolutely no clue of my location. This realization struck me like thunder, and would have normally left me unnerved; but I was just too apathetic to care at this point. To add insult to injury, I was starving beyond description. I seldom ate in an attempt to cut corners, but in retrospect that was probably the worst decision I could have made…
My stomach growled like a wild beast. When I finally arrived at the first sign of civilization, I saw a dark figure. I squinted my eyes in an attempt to make out their features as I marched closer and closer. When I saw his face I immediately recognized him. The realization hit me like a sharp rock to the back of the head. In that instance I knew, whatever I had experienced in class was not my subconscious telling me something; it was a prediction of the future. The very idea made me cringe with disgust, but I couldn’t control myself. It felt as if I was watching Lucifer himself take control of my being. I took a large bite of flesh out of his neck. In agony and rebellion, he screamed, but I was much stronger than he. It wasn’t before long that he was dead and I could enjoy my meal in peace. I rubbed my stomach and heard myself chuckle afterward. It was at this point that I had come to fully comprehend what exactly had taken place here. I wept with what humanity I had left when I laid my eyes on the disfigured carnation on the ground.