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Overview
Product Details
| ISBN-13: | 9781481744485 |
|---|---|
| Publisher: | AuthorHouse |
| Publication date: | 05/01/2013 |
| Pages: | 564 |
| Product dimensions: | 6.00(w) x 9.00(h) x 1.38(d) |
Read an Excerpt
The Man Who Dared To Dream
By Don F. Zullo
AuthorHouse
Copyright © 2013 Don F. ZulloAll rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4817-4449-2
Excerpt
CHAPTER 1
The Voice
TO HIM, IT SEEMED LIKE hours since he had fallen asleep. In reality, it had only been a matter of minutes. Suddenly, he heard a voice call to him,
"Old man!" Although he thought he had been awakened, his entire body felt heavy, and he could not move. Also, he was unable to open his eyes or speak. He heard his own voice ask,
"Who is there? Who is calling me?" Again, the voice called out,
"Old man!" The old man replied,
"I hear you. Who are you? I cannot see you. Where are you?" Still, the voice remained in the darkness, sounding as though in the distance.
"What do you want of me?" the old man asked. "Who are you?"
"I am of you!" the voice replied, as it came closer and became more clear.
"Wha—? What do you mean, of m..me?" the old man stuttered, as he blurted out his words.
The voice was ever so clear now.
"I am your entire being. I am your mind, your soul, and your conscience."
"Am I dead?" the old man asked. "Have I been condemned?" The old man was, at this moment, awakened. Shaking and clenching his blanket tightly about himself, he asked,
"What am I supposed to do? What is happening?"
There was no answer. And this time, the old man, being fully aware at the sound of his own voice, exclaimed,
"Oh my God!"
At this, his whole body trembled and he was truly in a complete state of fright from the experience. Once again, he exclaimed out loud,
"My God, what am I to do? Please help me!"
Tears streamed down his cheeks, blurring his vision, and dripped from the stubble on his chin. Never in his entire life had he had such an unexplainable and frightful experience.
The old man sat for a very long time, clinging tightly to the blanket, which now partially covered his head, keeping it tucked under his chin. The tears dried on his shaggy, unshaven face. He just sat there, very much confused, still somewhat in shock and disbelief. Yet at the same time, he tried to make some sense of it all. Never before had he had such an experience. Although he had many regrets throughout the years and feelings of guilt, nothing ever came close to this.
This had taken place around mid-morning. It was now late evening, and although the blinds were drawn, he could tell that the sun was starting to set. It would soon be nightfall. He rocked very gently, moving ever so slightly, looking around the room at his pictures. He focused on each of his children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren and even his nieces and nephews, whom he loved just as much.
The old man always was able to find peace and happiness in the faces of those that he held so very dearly in his heart. Every picture faced his chair. At a glance, the one he chose to look at would be in focus. Although he did not have much interaction or see them often, he felt they were always with him. Whenever he wished, the old man could pick out one of the pictures and immediately think of the memories associated with that particular one. He even would relive humorous moments that he'd had with the young ones at family gatherings.
At that moment, he smiled, and the twinkles in his eyes were due to tears of a different kind. These, the old man didn't mind at all. He not only welcomed such tears, but embraced them, along with the memories they offered.
Now the hour was getting late and because of the event that had taken place, it had been a long and traumatic day for the old man and he was very tired indeed. Making sure the door was locked and all else safe and secure, he made his way, to his bed. He always left a small light on, so he wouldn't trip on something if he got up in the middle of the night.
Although he was feeling somewhat more at ease, and was still trying to figure out the event that had taken place. Truly shaken by the experience, he was like a frightened animal, cowering, with nowhere to hide. Could it be possible? Am I truly everything that I have been told I am? Why? Why has it taken so many years for this to come to pass? Is this what I can expect for the rest of my life here on this Earth? Was that, really, me speaking to myself? His thoughts were circling in his head. How could this possibly be?
The thoughts were having an almost dizzying effect on the old man. Nothing in his memory at any time had been so vivid and relentless. It seemed at that moment he was on his own, for even prayer did not seem to have any power.
He tried to peer into the darkness of the corners of his mind, yet not truly wanting to see what might be lurking.
Am I hallucinating? Have I, finally, let my imagination get the best of me? The old man, lay there in semi-darkness pondering all these questions. He trembled, and he shook and he tossed and turned, as he tried to shake off these thoughts and these feelings that were so foreign to him.
He stood and walked around his bedroom, shaking his arms and head, trying to clear the thoughts and calm himself. He even went to his chair to sit, but that didn't seem to help. That only induced more thinking.
After a period of time, he returned to his bed. His mind already tired and his eyelids heavy, he gave in and slipped in a deep sleep.
The old man had been right about one thing, for sure. All through life, he had a vivid imagination. He had been told on many different occasions, that he was just a dreamer, wasting his life and that of those who supposedly loved him.
The Boy at the Brook
THE OLD MAN FINALLY FELT the serenity, as though drifting on a cloud. The only thought that passed through his mind was that of himself as a young child. Even in this sub conscious state, he smiled.
Suddenly, in the distance was a dim light, as though just before dawn. He found himself walking in a meadow. It seemed as though he'd known this place as a child. The old man could feel his heart beating, slightly harder. He could feel the joy of the place. It felt good, and he was happy at the sight of it all. The blue sky, the green grass of the meadow, and the trees and flowers were as he had never known them to be. This place held a beauty that was beyond words. The old man thought to himself, Did I truly die? Is this what heaven is?
The old man kept walking through the meadow in awe of its beauty. He, soon came to a small brook. The water was crystal clear, and the trickling sound of the running water was almost like music.
There was a very young boy sitting on a rock overlooking a small pool of water, which was part of the brook.
However, the water here was calm and not flowing, as was the rest of the brook.
The young boy looked very familiar to the old man. His young face was almost that of a girl—smooth and flawless, with very slight rosy cheeks. His blonde curly locks barely touched his ears. He was dressed in a white short-sleeved shirt, with blue velvet knee-length short pants. He also was wearing white socks, folded at the ankle, and brown shoes that were cut out on the sides and the front, much like sandals are made and secured by a strap and gold buckle.
The old man felt and immediate affection for the child. He wanted to approach the young boy and sit next to him, but the brook was between them. He waved to the child, smiling, and called out,
"Hello! What is your name?" The boy did not answer.
The old man said,
"I like your shoes. I had some just like them when I was about your age." The young boy still said nothing but pointed to the pool, as though gesturing for the old man to look. When the old man approached the pool and looked, his own reflection was that of the boy. At that, the old man fell to his knees in disbelief. The boy on the rock was gone, and the reflection was that of himself, as a young boy.
"Oh, God almighty!" exclaimed the old man, terrified and breathing heavily.
"What is happening? What does this mean?"
Sobbing loudly while covering his face with his hands, he bent over and pressed his face on the ground. His joy was shatter as he trembled violently, crying out of control. Again, he asked, "What does this mean? Please tell me!"
Suddenly, out of nowhere, a different voice proclaimed,
"It means that you are a very bad boy, stupid!" The voice was rough, loud and terrifying. The old man was afraid to uncover his face and look to see who was speaking. The voice spoke again and said,
"Look at your reflection. Open your eyes and look at what you are!"
When the old man finally found the nerve, he straightened somewhat and slowly uncovered his face.
"Oh no!" he exclaimed as he covered his face, once again. "This can't be!"
The voice, now very demanding said,
"Uncover your face and look at yourself! See what you are!"
What the old man saw was the other side of himself, his conscience. The boy was dressed the same and about the same age, but his brow was crooked. He had beady eyes, and his nose was pointed, as was his chin. This was truly an ugly, devilish sight.
"Why?" asked the old man. "Why am I being tormented now?"
"Do you remember these shoes?" the ugly boy asked. "Do you not remember how you embarrassed your mother? You, throwing a tantrum because you did not want the less expensive, more practical shoes. Everyone in the store was looking at you and your mother. Even the salesman was embarrassed."
The ugly boy continued his oration,
"You knew she didn't have the extra money and tried to tell you. But oh no, not selfish you. You still had to have these. And because of you, your mother could not afford to buy gloves for herself and went through the winter with her hands freezing because of you!"
At that, the old man fell flat on the ground, pounding his fists and crying, "I'm sorry Mommy! Please forgive me. I'm sorry!"
The old man was pounding his fists as hard as he could on his pillow. This caused him to wake up, still pleading loudly for forgiveness,
"Please forgive me! I'm sorry!"
Now the old man finally knew what had taken place and why. Was this to be his destiny for the rest of his time on this earth? Was this going to happen from now on, every time he closed his eyes to sleep? The old man truly was frightened and felt that he had already aged far beyond his already aged years.
He paced back and forth and up and down. It seemed his footsteps has touched every part of his small apartment. Dreary, weary and exhausted, his eyes were red and burning and his hands were trembling. He could do nothing to change the course of time. Even as he knelt and prayed, thoughts of peace and forgiveness were easily overpowered and pushed aside, as other thoughts crowded in, pushing and shoving, as in a crowded bus during the rush hour. And yet, as the darkness started to give way to daybreak, he was still awake, with no relief in sight.
For the most part of the next day, the old man sat in his chair, staring at the blank television screen. He just sat there with his hands folded together and his fingers interlocked rocking to the rhythm of the clock, tick-tock, tick-tock—almost in a trance-like state. He had no particular thoughts, just a blank stare.
Every now and then, he would wince as though a pain touched his heart. The very thought of how he must have hurt his own mother was a heavy weight on his heart, especially at such a young age. The only other emotion he would show was a simple sigh, once in a while.
The old man was feeling very tired and for the first time in a long time, he was depressed and sad. He just could not stop thinking of how realistic the dream had been. Surely, he thought to himself, This was a one-of-a-kind time thing.
Yet he could not help but wonder, Can the mind and conscience have such an influence that a person can actually relive an event in such a realistic manner? Will there be more like this? So he sat, pondered, and tried to put some logic to everything that had happened. He even prayed and tried to examine his life.
For the next few days, the old man wandered around his small apartment, not wanting to eat or do anything. He lay on his bed for hours, staring at the ceiling, until he would become restless and move back into his chair. This process seemed endless. Even though he was tired, sleep would not come easily, and only in very short spurts when it did. At this point, he was almost afraid of what might transpire, if he did fall asleep. The hours dragged on, day after day until one morning the old man woke up after a full night of sleep. Apparently, the old man had become so tired that he had totally passed out from the fatigue and stress of the dream.
This being the case, the old man felt rested and was in surprisingly good spirits. He decided that it would be a good thing to get out of the apartment for a change in his routine. Also, it looked to be a very nice day outside and perfect conditions for a stroll. There was a small park nearby, and the old man decided that the walk there would be good for him. After being confined to the apartment for so long a period, he felt the fresh air would be good also. He took a bath and shaved his face. This made him feel almost like a new person. He got dressed, and after putting on his walking shoes, he gathered up his hat and cane and went out for a leisurely morning in the park.
The Very First Encounter
WHILE WALKING, HE STARTED TO feel good. The fresh air and the smell of the trees boosted his spirits even more so. The old man thought to himself, This was such a good idea!
Eventually, he noticed a bird perched on the limb of a nearby tree. He thought it, somewhat strange that it was a little large for a simple blackbird. The bird was looking at him. It was moving its head from side to side, as though studying the old man.
The old man continue on his walk. Suddenly, he noticed the same bird was perched in front of him again looking as though it was studying him. The reason the old man knew it was the same bird was because it had a small tuft of white on its breast feathers. This seemed very odd, since it was a blackbird.
The old man decided to change direction and was now walking a little quicker. The bird then took flight, as though in pursuit. The old man changed direction again. The bird perched on a tree limb for an instant, looking at him. Then the bird took flight and flew away.
That's never happened before, the old man thought to himself. He actually felt unnerved by the bird and decided to call it a day and go home. He remembered hearing somewhere it was bad luck to have a blackbird stalk you. And with that thought he could not walk fast enough, in order to get home.
Just before he reached his building, dark clouds formed very quickly. The wind howled, thunder rumbled loudly, and the streaks of lightning lit up the sky everywhere. By the time he got into his apartment, his heart was pounding. He locked the door and fell back against it. His face was white with fear and the old man was shaking so hard, he barely made it to his chair and collapsed into it.
(Continues...)
Excerpted from The Man Who Dared To Dream by Don F. Zullo. Copyright © 2013 by Don F. Zullo. Excerpted by permission of AuthorHouse.
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