Preplanned Discussion
I was convinced that thininkg about someone before falling asleep, would make me dream about them. For this had happened to me quite a few times in my life. I once spent a night speaking with Harry Potter. Another time, I got to talk to Frodo and Sam. I even got to hang out with my imaginary boyfriend. Turns out, he’s not nearly as cool as I thought he was. But sometimes I can’t control what I think about. If I accidentally imagine someone like Bane, I’m forced to dream about him even if I try to think of someone else. I’ve learned that the forces of fear pull much harder then pleasure. Tonight, however, I’m letting my mind take control. I want to tell those bad guys what I really think. I’m surprised, nonetheless, when an image of Adolf Hitler’s smug face takes shape in my head. But I’m more than ready to have a disccusion with him. I lay down and close my eyes, quickly rehearsing what I’m going to say before drifting off to sleep.
The bed creaks and I open my eyes. Immediately, I see the very famous Adolf Hitler sitting where all the characters I dream of end up: On the edge of my bed, just out of reach of my feet.
“Hello, Hitler,” I sneer, moving to sit upright. “A pleasure you could join me this fine evening.” Hitler’s whole body is as white as a sheet and he looks like a ghost. Probably because I couldn’t picture him very well.
“Yes. I very fine evening it is.” He says casually.
Ugh, just as nasty as I thought. “You,” I say, pointing a finger at him. “How could you do this? How could you kill so many people?”
Hitler sighs. “Do you people ever think to ask my side of the story? Of course not. Because the victors write the stories the way they see it. They never think to ask me what really happened.”
“There’s nothing you can say to excuse your actions. It’s murder, Hitler. Murder. And when you kill someone, you can’t bring them back. It’s permanent.” My eyes grow moist as I picture all those innocent people’s deaths. “You are discusting.” I mutter.
Hitler frowns. “What a pity. I am far too exhausted to continue with this conversation.”
I scoff. “I can’t believe that after all you did, you’re still just thinking about yourself. Do you even know how many people lost their lives? Their families?” I shake my head, scooting farther away. “Never mind. I’d feel better knowing you didn’t count them all.”
“Oh, come on. What is it going to take to get some respect?”
That’s when rage overcomes me and I can’t help but grab my pillow and whip it at him. Of course, the pillow just melts right through him like nothing is there, but I can’t believe that after everything he’d done, he still expected to recieve any amount of respect. I take control and bring myself back out of my dream. Hopefully, he’d think about what I’d said, because I never want to do that again.