See You in My Dreams

1.

It was just another day. In the breakfast table, my mother said, “Did you hear? The boy who lived next door, who was in the same class as you, was found dead this morning.”

My heart skipped a beat. I asked, “How?”

“Suicide case, according to police.”

I could barely eat anything more after that. I didn't even know that boy. Maybe saw his face one or two times while passing by, that was all. Then why was the news of his passing hurting me this much? Actually, death news always comes with a shock. Or maybe it was the fact that he committed suicide that shocked me more. I never imagined someone I knew doing it.

He weighed on my mind all day. What was hurting him so much that drove him to that point? Did he have depression? My heart ached at the thought of him. The strange thing was, up until yesterday I didn't even know him, but today I was unable to focus on my daily life because of him.

He was probably lonely up until yesterday. But today, a lot of people who knew him and who didn't, would gather around him or talk about him, maybe even shed some tears for him. Not a single one was there to stop him when he made that drastic decision. Now their empty condolences would not do any good for him.

After tossing and turning in my bed for hours, I finally fell asleep that night. And I dreamt.

When I woke up in the morning next day, the feelings from that dream still lingered in my heart.

The dream was so vivid that I remembered every trivial detail even after waking up. Unlike my usual haphazard dreams, it was as if everything that happened in the dream was actually real. It was natural for something that you’ve been thinking about to appear in dream, but that dream was...different.

The dream was about the boy who passed away yesterday.

* * *

I was sitting alone when I saw someone coming towards me. When he got closer, I recognized him. I remembered his face from the funeral.

He was wearing a grey hoodie, and his hairs were messy. He sat by me. For a long time, we sat in silence.

He was the one who started the conversation, “Beautiful view, isn’t it?”

“Hmm.”

“I come here when I need to clear my head.”

I looked around. I didn't know this place and I didn't remember coming here before.

“What place is this?” I asked him.

“It’s 3 kilometres west from the city. You should go there someday.”

2.

I dreamt of him again the next night. And the night after that, and after that...it continued, like a series. And all of those dreams were vivid like the first one.

He kept silent most of the time. When I asked him something, only then he would answer.

I asked him about his life. From what he told me, his life was nothing much different from an ordinary university student. He liked reading and disliked socializing. He didn't have any close friends.

Waking up, I would wonder whether the things that he told me were really true or just a product of my imagination.

There was only one way to find out, and that was to talk to someone who knew him in real life. But during daytime, I rarely thought of him since I was so busy with my life. After the initial wave of shock, I could’ve just forgotten about him. But thanks to the dreams, he was still on my mind.

There was one question that lingered in my mind but I could never ask.

One day, I decided to ask my mother if she knew something.

“Mom,” I said in the breakfast table, “you know, the boy next door who passed away...can you tell me about him?”

“Well, how can I know about him? I doubt whether even his mom knew him well. You know, boys of your age are like that, secretive. You are like that too.”

“Hmm...but I supposed since you’re friends with his mom, maybe his mom told you something about him since moms love to brag about their sons to their next-door neighbour friends...”

My mother seemed to be thinking about my question.

“I don't remember anything much, really. I wasn’t that close to his mom to begin with.”

I gave up. And I forgot about him soon after, until night came and I dreamt of him again.

* * *

“Did you have depression?” the question escaped my lips.

“No,” he said, “I mean, not clinically. I did feel depressed from time to time, but who doesn’t.”

Then why...

“I know what you are thinking,” he said, as if he could sense my silent question, “I will answer you someday. But not today.” With those words, he let out a sigh.

3.

The next day, I met two boys on my way to university. While passing them by, I heard snippets of their conversation.

“I still wonder why on earth he did this.”

“He never looked like someone who could do something like this...I just don't understand.”

I wondered whether they were talking about my late neighbour. We went to the same university but studied different subjects, so we never crossed path even in university. If they did talk about him, then their question is my question too. Why? And, why did he choose me of all people to have conversations with?

Maybe it was because of the fact that I didn't know him. Sometimes, you feel more comfortable sharing your secrets with a stranger than with someone you know.

* * *

“Are you thinking about something?” I felt weird asking him that. How could someone who was no longer alive possibly think about something?

“Do you know what’s it like to cherish a dream, only to have it shattered?”

“Dream? I never had any to begin with. That doesn’t mean I am aimless, though, I do have a goal that I want to reach. But if I lose it unfortunately, I will just have to find another one.”

“Find another one...huh, how easy that sounds. Wish I could think that simply.”

“Hey, it isn’t that easy.” I tried to assure him, “You will feel lost and frustrated at first. Pressures from parents won’t leave you alone, either. But life goes on. If you lose your way, you have to find a new one unless you reach a dead end.”

“To me, every other way except for the one I decided to walk on was dead end. So when I lost that way, I didn't have any other choice but giving up at the middle of the road.”

“How were you so sure that the road you decided on was ‘your way’? Maybe the way you choose wasn’t originally meant to be yours?”

“It’s totally pointless talking about it now.”

After a moment of silence, he spoke again.

“You know, it pierced my heart when those adults said that our generation is a lost generation, or something like that.”

“I heard that a lot too, but I just brushed it off and forgot afterwards.”

“I feel stabbed every time I heard that, honestly. Sometimes I just felt like I shouldn’t have been born in the first place...”

“Hey, but our parents who are saying that now, they must’ve heard it from their parents too.”

“I was just too tired, you know. Constant fight with realism and idealism... I was too exhausted from living like that every day. It was suffocating, leaving me with no room for breathing...”

I couldn’t say anything.

He suddenly hugged me and started crying.

“I just wished someone would’ve told me that it was okay, that it was normal to go through this at my age...but none of the people around me could think straight, you know. They were way too complex, and I was afraid to turn out to be a shitty adult like them...I was afraid, I was afraid of growing up...”

I guessed that was the answer to my question.

I hugged him back.

Waking up, I discovered that my cheeks were wet with tears.

4.

He never appeared in my dreams after that.

I didn't believe in dreams before. I mean, dreams are dreams, they are just illusions created by our brains that had nothing to do with reality.

But this series of dreams made me wonder. Why did he repeatedly appear in my dreams and why were those dreams so vivid? Could it be that he wanted to tell me something through these dreams? Who knows.

He probably had no one to share his burdens and thoughts with, and he had something that he wanted to be known to someone. Something he couldn’t tell anyone when he was alive. Once he let it all out, he stopped appearing.

Or probably it was because I wanted to know so badly why he did what he did, and his death hurt me in subconscious level. Maybe the whole thing was just something in my head.

I went to meet his family one day. They didn't welcome me with open arms, since a lot of people bothered them ever since his death. I didn't tell them about my dream, I just made up some excuse. I wanted to know about him better, though I already knew a part of him that probably no one else knew...

Maybe out of sheer curiosity, or maybe for a reality check, I searched for the place that I saw in my dreams with him. And I discovered that a place like that did exist.

I went there on the first anniversary of his death.

Sitting there alone, I thought of him. I couldn’t understand people like him. Maybe I never would. I would forget him someday, probably. But then again, he must have wanted me to remember him. I still wonder, why me of all people to whom he chose to confide in?

There are some questions that you will not find the answer of, even if you pass a lifetime. For now, all I can do is to grant his unspoken wish – to save his untold story and pass it on.