8 Why was I playing with disaster?

It all started two weeks earlier. A filmstrip of memories flashed through my mind in the smallest details:

It was a hot night. It was awfully heavy, as always during the rainy season. I felt electricity buzzing in the air. I sat near a tree, as was my habit every night, after a reconnaissance lap around the encampment and, surprisingly, I fell asleep. I thought back to the dream which I had...

A camera was filming a theater scene. In the background was a velvet curtain, heavy, dusty, and a deep red color. One spot light illuminated the left side of the stage. A low table, practically invisible, was placed on the right. Changing its intensity, the spot light took a softer hue and turned slowly to the right and froze on an extremely white hand - the scene was as black as ink - which came out of nowhere. The hand was not just lying on the table as I thought. Cleverly, it crawled until it rose up with something indescribable between the fingers. Then it approached a face that I could not distinguish. I realized that the hand was maneuvering toward the face.

In front of my eyes, the scene seemed to be growing; or was it me who was approaching closer? I no longer knew. It soon filled the whole space of my vision. But I couldn't see what it was because of how it was positioned. It was somewhat angled. I turned my head when the face had made an unexpected movement. It had approached the thing to see it better, and I was fascinated by this movement, hoping to find out of what that face was like. I felt my senses awaken at once. The tracker hidden inside me was in his element, and a breathless race had started. My irises changed color, the pupils stretched. I tried to track down a scent, known or unknown, but at least something! Some detail that could help me, but there was nothing. There was no smell.

I looked back to the face...

It leaned forward to the right just when the hand had turned the thing between it fingers, and my eyes froze on the image they had discovered. My eyes left the face and settled on the thing. I identified colors, shapes, and a vibration - it was a picture! I continued to get closer to it, spying on it – yes, it was a picture! I saw a face in the picture. I scanned the details. I was anxious to find out what it was. I was suddenly in a hurry. The time was almost over and I had to discover the essence of this dream. Miraculously, I found myself looking directly to the picture.

"The face does not interest you," a voice said to me. "The photo, the picture, look at the picture!"

The distance decreased and as if by magic time stopped for a second, and the image filled my field of vision, carrying me beyond. I no longer existed in this small space where it all began, I was transported elsewhere in the rain, and my hair was wet and long. It was me in this picture! My face was as happy as I had ever seen it before. I felt a tingling, a burning. I tried to locate the source of this new feeling - it was my right arm. It was hanging down. My hand was jealously embracing another hand. Our fingers intertwined such as two lovers. I was holding someone else's hand. I wanted to find out more, but the dream hand folded the picture in half and kicked me out of the frame. Only my image stood in the foreground. I felt anger rising in me, and I turned to see who dared to make such a decision. Surprise! There was no one. I heard a merry laugh and a pair of gray eyes glared at me for a split second. An unknown fragrance sprinkled me, burned my nostrils, and the scent of amber had a taste that my tongue kept preciously. The hall was empty now. The spot light went out and I awoke.

The feeling of déjà vu I had was so strong that I could not distinguish between reality and dream. This dream was so deep, so real, and with my eyes open I searched for this scene in my environment. But I saw only the shadows of the forest, the twenty foot high trees and a moonlight ray illuminating a branch.

It looked like a silver arm pointing to the Old Continent. This strange feeling was not foreign to me.

The dream bothered me less than before, when they came only from memories of a past that I could not change. A past I had learned to live with because it was in my nature. At the time, that was the right choice.

This is not as difficult period of time, I said to myself, remembering - I did not know how many times I had had the same dream!

"It makes you a little uncomfortable. It will not last forever. You shall find yourself, and you will continue the life you have chosen—" my conscience said.

"You think? You believe you are still the same as you were forty years ago. Do you realize that this life has clouded your vision? But look up! Stop telling yourself that everything is fine!"

Certainly, an unknown part of me wanted to destroy everything. Apparently, I was really dangerous now.

"I am in control." I muttered and I shook my fists.

"You do not control anything at all, it's gotten worse over the past two weeks, and your mood has not changed. You make an effort, but you can't do it. You have to consider the reality! Before this happened to you, without realizing it, you were already tired of your life here. Doing the same things over and over prevented you from noticing the change that occurred in you. Change your lifestyle—"

I listened. Nothing. Silence. A vacuum. This vacuum clearly meant that the conversation was over. It was ridiculous to take unnecessary risks.

I had to see the Colonel. I could not continue on this path. I sighed quietly and jumped to the ground. Reluctantly, I made my way to the military command offices.