Monday, February 21, 2011

Adventures of Dead Man - Scene 2: Dream?

"Say what?" I said in an inexplicably British accent.

"Your death," he repeated softly.

"I do not feel dead. I feel, well, great!"

"Yes. Regardless, you are, in fact, dead…at least for now. Technically." He smiled again.

"You're playing with my head," I accused, starting to feel petulant.

"I am telling you the truth, one layer at a time, because I know you. I know you very well."

"How's that? Granted you look familiar, but I can't quite place the voice or the face. Or the teeth."

"Patience, my friend. Trust me."

"Is this Heaven, then?" I asked.

"Why do you ask? I mean specifically, not generally. I tell you you're dead and you ask if this is Heaven, which makes sense, of course. But what specific detail caused you to ask now?"

I thought about it for a bit, inclined to answer flippantly because petulance demands either flippancy. Or pouting, and I was too old to pout.

"No glasses," I said. But as I answered, so did he, exactly in unison. The same response, in the same tone. He even pointed at my eyes, just like I was.

"Told you I knew you," he said. "And, no. I am not 'playing you.'" Which is exactly what I was thinking.

"Your back doesn't hurt, either, which is the second reason you asked about Heaven," he continued.

"My back always hurts," I replied, pouting.

"But it doesn't now, because you're dead. And you would have said something about it, but now you won't because I just did, and you hate to play into people's expectations. It makes you feel like a puppet."

"I don't think I like you," I said.

"But you do!"

Damn that smile! Could you even say damn in Heaven?

"It's not exactly a common exclamation, but it's been heard on occasion."

"Now you're answering my thoughts, too? That's not polite."

"No. I suppose not. But it continues to make my point, so you can begin to trust me. Because you'll need to."

"What point? That you know me."

"Yes, exactly!"