I am the Trout

The orchard was in bloom. Old life emerged from its cold, bare slumber, once again in bloom under the clear, blue sky. New life blossomed from the soft, fertile ground. Among the new life was a young tree, no taller than a metre stick, claimed by a blue bird as its favourite resting spot. All was well.

In the blink of an eye, the young tree and the blue bird found themselves on the ground towered over by a large ram. The ram could not stand still, its head moving frantically as its eyes scanned the environment looking for anything familiar. Behind the ram lay a trail of broken trees, dry ground, and smokey grey clouds in the sky. All was not well.

***

Reading it over a second time, it made as much sense as it did the first time around, which is to say that it didn't. At least it wasn’t sleep paralysis, he thought, I’m tired of that demon sitting on my chest. He made a mental note to himself to re-read his dream again in the evening. Once I’m actually awake, he reminded himself. Might as well see if I can find a new mattress and some pillows, he added, massaging his neck.

Closing his little black notebook, he ran his fingers across the comically bent spine and the distinct scratches on the cover. Of the 240 pages, about half of them had been filled with dreams that he’s had, dreams that were ineffable. Strange things they are, dreams. Many believe them to be messages from our higher selves, while others believe that dreams are simply images created by the electrical impulses in our brains. Nonetheless, David found that they made for entertaining reads. Reading through yesterday’s dream for example, he apparently dreamt that 20 chickens wearing graduation caps brought him baskets full of eggs.

Speaking of chickens and eggs, he thought, I forgot to call dad yesterday. He could feel himself forgetting how his father’s voice sounded. Before he moved out, they rarely spoke on the phone unless one of them forgot to buy the milk. Now, he was in the city and living for himself, but he certainly missed his previous life.

He’d just finished ravaging through his breakfast when he heard his mail slot open, followed by the sound of an envelope hitting the floor. Picking it up, he frowned in confusion. “Dad?” he asked, wondering what it could be that warranted a letter rather than a call as he pulled out whatever was inside. He felt his breakfast coming back up as tears welled up in his eyes. Every thought in his mind disappeared, leaving absolutely nothing inside. On the outside however, his fingers instinctively dialed a phone number without him realizing.

“Hello-“

“Twenty. Thousand. Dollars,” he interrupted. “Dad, are you crazy?”

“We’re not, we’re your parents and we love you,” responded the delicate voice of a woman. “That money is going to do you more good than it would to old folks like us.”

He felt his body fill with shock and confusion, “Who are you? Where’s my dad?” he demanded.

A brief moment of silence befell them. “I’m your mother, dear,” she finally let out.

Mother? he thought. Of course he has a mother! “Yeah, sorry mom. I’m just-“

“You’re surprised and you’re in shock, I completely understand-“

“There he is!” bellowed a deep voice. “Surprise son! Your mother and I wanted to surprise you with a little housewarming gift. Don’t spend it all on the liquor cabinet!”

Maybe it was the nothingness that occupied his mind, but he remained speechless.

“Look, I know what you’re thinking. You want to give the money back,” continued his dad. “But the Kriegers are taking good care of us. We owe them a debt of gratitude, and frankly speaking so should you. Just go to the Imperial Bank around the corner this afternoon and deposit the money. There’s some paperwork you’ll need to sign but it’s all just legal jargon so don’t even worry about it.”

He barely heard anything after the mention of the name. Krieger. The Krieger family owned the farm his parents worked on, that he worked on, including their living quarters. Thoughts slowly began to form in his once blank mind.

“That’s not,” he murmured. “That’s not what I was thinking. At all- hey, was that really mom? And why does Krieger own the farm? They’re not the ones working the land, you are! I am. At least, I was… before…”

The air felt congested and his chest felt compressed, as if the demon from his sleep paralysis returned. “Dad?”

He heard a series of unclear voices followed by a sigh. “This isn’t working. Let’s start over.”

***

The waters were still on this day. Beneath the emerald surface, the trout swam in bliss, unaware of the world upstairs. This was its home, where it was born, and where it will die. But a trout doesn’t concern itself with such thoughts. Swim swim swim. That is all the trout needs.

Trouble, however, brewed when the ripples began to show across the surface of the water. Suddenly, the trout found itself ripped from the water and thrown into another world. Literally thrown. The trout, however, could not fly and found itself among the rough, dry ground. The trout missed the water.

The trout was forced to grow lungs, and after what felt like ages, the trout grew feet. The trout eventually grew wings and began flying on its own. By the time the trout joined the birds in the sky, it would never again concern itself with thoughts of water. Fly fly fly. That is all this trout needs.

***

“I’m so confused,” he muttered as he finished writing the last sentence. The only other dreams that made him confused were his experiences with sleep paralysis, he could swear he stepped outside of his body sometimes. They’re not really dreams though, he thought. He made a mental note to himself to re-read his dream in the evening. Once I’m actually awake, he reminded himself. Might as well see where I can find some new pillows, he added, massaging his neck.

As he wolfed down his breakfast, he read through some of the dreams in his notebook. Once, he dreamt that he had gone on a treasure hunt with the mascot for one of his favourite childhood chocolates, the Kinder Surprise Eggman. He and the Eggman searched high and low, across the Seven Seas and back in search of the spot marked “X.” Once they had found and dug up the treasure chest, he secretly wished for anything but a puzzle. As fate would have it, they found a puzzle. He hated getting them with his chocolate as a 5 year-old, and he hated getting them now, as a-

“As a,” he repeated out loud, “as a...”

Just then, he heard the mail slot open followed by the sound of an envelope hitting the floor. Curiosity overwhelmed his confusion, and he walked over to the door. Scholarships Canada, he thought, nice. His throat closed at the sight of what he pulled out, but only temporarily. Without a single thought running through his mind, he let out a series of celebratory screams as tears fell from his face. He tried reading the full document, but it was hard to focus. The words danced around the page, joining him in his celebration.

Instinctively, he called his father who picked up to the sound of wild noises and crying. “Son? Are you there? Are you okay?”

“Dad! I did it, I won the scholarship!” he finally managed to let out. “Twenty! Thousand! Dollars!”

“Oh my God, Marlene, David won a university scholarship for $20,000!”

As she screeched with joy on the other end of the line, he stopped to ask himself, who’s Marlene?

“Oh my God, we’re so proud of you, honey!” exclaimed Marlene.

He felt fortunate he wasn’t seeing them face to face, otherwise he’d have to explain his perplexed face. “Uhm, thanks Marlene. Can you put my dad back on the phone?”

“Ex-cuse me?” she retorted, insulted. “Just because you’re starting college doesn’t mean you can treat me like a nobody. I AM your mother!”

“College?” he stopped breathing and stood up straight, ignoring everything else Marlene just said. “No, I’m going to university. Yeah, the University of-”

As his eyes darted back and forth across the room, his mind beginning to fog, he didn’t pay any thought to the shuffling noises on the phone.

“Great going Marlene, this is why I do the talking. He had a better relationship with his dad. Alright, let’s start over.”

***

The coldness of the weight abruptly awoke him. Not again, he thought, staring at the grey demon nonchalantly sitting on his chest. He couldn’t be sure, but he could almost swear that the creature was reading his notebook. It seemed to be speaking to someone across from them in a nasally voice, with a hint of amusement.

“He dreamt of a flying fish,” it said. “I think the poor kid’s losing it.”

“Good,” responded a deep, resonant voice. “That means he’s malleable, like clay. We can mold him into whatever, whoever the hell we need. And right now, we need-Krieger needs someone who will just sign the damn contract.”

The deep voice let out a deep sigh before continuing. “He has the same fight in him his dad did. And Marlene? She’s useless! I don’t know what they were thinking, he never knew his mom so why would he care about her?”

The demon put his notebook back under his pillow before getting up and walking away, out of his field of vision. Ugly thing, he thought. The sounds of machines whirring, pens clicking, and papers rustling echoed throughout the room, distorted in how he perceived them. He felt himself slipping from his body, as if his whole being was held together by poor stitching. He fought to keep himself together, afraid of what would happen if he stepped outside. What would he see?

“When the biggest real estate tycoon hires you to acquire some farmland, you listen to their ideas, even when they’re horrible,” remarked the nasally voice.

“And until he signs it away, we’re just as much a group of prisoners as he is.”

His adrenaline-fuelled paralytic panic attack was rudely interrupted by another demon’s face invading his field of view, unaware of his consciousness.

“So are we doing the inheritance now?”

“Yup. Chuck, start writing the script and bring it to me for approval. We’re looking at a distant relative from another country who left him twenty grand. He can’t remember them since he last saw them as a baby. Yadda yadda yadda, ‘loving’ relationship with his parents, etcetera etcetera. Record, then loop. Done.”

He drifted back into darkness, soon to forget everything he may or may not have heard, not knowing this wasn’t the first time.

***

A beautiful wooden doll rested atop a bare shelf. Its eyes were a clear hazel brown, contrasted by its jet black hair. The paint looked fresh, as if it had been painted just this morning. It looked peaceful. It looked happy.

The top half of the doll was suddenly lifted, and a smaller, yet nearly identical doll jumped out standing beside the taller one. The paint looked new, but not as new, as if it had been painted yesterday. It still looked peaceful. It still looked happy.

This process would repeat until a long row of dolls were left. The newest, smallest doll was almost unrecognizable compared to the first doll. The paint wasn’t nearly as refined, nor detailed. In an instant, the rest of the dolls crumbled to dust, making this peculiar doll the last of its kind. Was it peaceful? Was it happy? No one could tell.

***

“I give up,” he muttered. He made a mental note to himself to re-read his dream in the evening. Once I’m actually awake, he reminded himself.