Nightmare

Nightmare

Cuneyd Suavi

Ever since my childhood, I have always disliked narrow spaces and avoided entering such places. When I grew older, I realized it was a mental illness, but I couldn’t overcome it.

And now, I have to stay in narrow spaces, regardless of whether I like it or not. They wrapped me up and placed me in a long coffin. I could well hear the talk of people around me and although my eyes were closed, I could somehow hear them

– “Poor man. He died so young although he had a lot to do.” They said.

Indeed, I left many of my tasks incomplete. For example, I didn’t set up a nice office for my son nor did I pay out the installments of the car and colour TV.

Establishing a new company wherein I would gather my friends was another dream which hadn’t  come true. Moreover, I wasn’t able to fix the problem of wood and coal, though winter was so close, neither did I have time to repair the roof which was leaking.

While I was pondering on my half-done jobs, I startled with a furious sound. This sound, as if coming out of a microphone, echoed in remotest places of my brain:

-Now, it is too late.

I said to myself:

-I wish it had never happened. I don’t know how that accident took place, although I was so good at driving.

While I was trying to remember what had happened, I realized that my friends had gathered around me and were trying to shut the cover of the coffin in which I was lying. Although I tried to scream and flutter to stop them, I could neither move nor yell.

After a short while, I was in utter darkness and turned my eyes to the light coming in through the woods of the coffin in horror:

– ” Oh my God! What’s going to happen next?” I sighed.

Being in great fear, I wasn’t able to think of anything. Meanwhile, my coffin was lifted on shoulders and they began to carry me away. I could judge by the sounds coming in, that it was raining and sound of the rainstorm mixed with my coffin’s rustling sound. We must be going to a mosque for the funeral. When I said mosque, I remembered that I never spared time for a prayer in the mosque which was so close to my house despite the invitations made five times a day. I had planned to start practicing the prayer and quit bad habits by the time I became fifty years old.

Had this accident not happened, I would have become a better man.

But the same familiar voice which I couldn’t figure out where it was coming from, said repeatedly:

– Now it is all over.

Soon the funeral was over and my coffin was once more lifted up on to shoulders.

When I was passing by the coffeehouse in our quarter, I heard the joyful laughter of my friends with whom I used to play cards, I said to myself:

– They must be unaware of my death.

When the sounds could no longer be heard, I realized that we were climbing up the hill which led to the cemetery. I could also see that raindrops were penetrating through the wood of my coffin and were wetting my shroud. Yet, I turned my ear to those who were talking outside. Some of my friends were discussing the recession in the market, while others were praising the achievements of the national team. One of those carrying my coffin whispered in the ear of the other walking by him:

– He has always been peevish; even to the day he died. We are soaked to the skin.

I couldn’t believe what I heard. Were they indeed my friends for whom I had sacrificed even my sleep.

When the trip was over, my coffin was grounded. The cover was opened and the arms that grasped my corpse put me down in a hollow at the bottom of which water was pooled.

I looked around from where I was lying:

– Oh my God. Isn’t it a grave? Why have I never imagined up to this moment that I would finally come to this place?

I could make no one hear my silent screams and felt that my friends were racing to cover my body with soil.

Once again, I was in sheer darkness and tried to pray with all my helplessness.

– “Lord” I said. “Give me another chance to become a servant you would be pleased with and I’ll change my grave to a Garden of Paradise.”

The same sound roared:

– It is too late now. All is over.

The sound of the ground thrown on the woods covering my grave sounded like thunder and shook all my soul.

With one last effort, I managed to open my eyes. I was lying in a comfortable bed in my room but was having a terrible nightmare. My doctor friend next door was trying to wake me up:

– “It is all over.” He kept on shouting. “You see you are alright now.”

When I sat up, I was all in sweat. It was as if I had given up twenty kilograms at once. There was a rainstorm outside which shook the whole house with thunder and lightning.

Trying to recover myself, I prayed to God:

-My Lord. Praise is to you by the number of atoms. What would I do, if you had not given me one more chance to become a good servant.

 .Source: Zafer Dergisi