incendiarystory (![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} incendiarystory) wrote,@ 2004-12-09 13:04:00 |
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Why Sleep When I'll Only Dream - CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE
CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE
Two Halves Come Together To Make A Whole
"Emily wake up, it was just a bad dream."
She heard Scott's voice through the haze that she was feeling. She looked up into his face from his shoulder and realized that it was morning. "Where are we?" she asked. She looked at Scott and wondered if they were in Chicago at his apartment and the entirety of her experiences in the past seven weeks had been one long nightmare.
"Emily, we're in Berlin at the hostel," he said softly.
Emily picked her head up and looked to her left and right. She saw the Australians sleeping peacefully at the other side of the room and realized that she was in Scott's room. She remembered it was of her own free volition that she had gotten here. She remembered everything. And that in itself killed the feeling of calm that had built up inside of her. She wished the entire experience in Europe had been a dream.
Those few moments where she didn't realize where she was each morning in Europe seemed to be her only salvation. As she woke up, she didn't remember who she was or where she was or what she had gone though. She felt normal, she felt like her old self. But as soon as she began to recall all the puzzle pieces that made up her life, it felt as though she was descending into darkness again. And, that was the sensation that was happening at this very moment.
This ritual of her mind seemed to even be the case when she awoke from a nightmare. This time she imagined herself tied to a chair with a gag in her mouth. Her hands were tied behind the chair with a rope that she could not see. Everyone she knew was in the room against the opposite wall staring at her. They were pointing and asking questions to her like she was being interrogated. But she couldn't understand their voices, they were all muffled and distorted. When she couldn't speak, they all began to point at her, Sandra and Scott and nearly everyone that she came into contact with. Even the priest was there, his face as she had imagined it behind the grating. She wanted to answer them but she couldn't even if she had tried. The last thing she remembered was punching against the back of the chair trying to break free. Trying to find her voice again to answer them.
Looking at Scott, still lying down beneath her, she realized that he was rubbing his chest. She knew what she had done. When in her dream, she had felt the hardness of the chair against her hands as she punched at it with two fists tied together at the wrists, she had actually been feeling Scott's chest not give way beneath her.
She had committed violence again. She wanted to run again. She looked at Scott feeling her eyes widen. "Did I hurt you?" she asked.
"Emily, no you didn't. I'm fine," he replied still in his quiet voice. He stood up and stretched his arms above his head. Then putting them down at his sides said, "so are you ready for another day on the town this morning?"
Emily didn't know what she was ready for. She thought back to the day before and remembered how Scott had made her feel. While she felt safe with him and around him, although she wondered why the reverse was the case while he stood there rubbing his chest, he hadn't said anything to calm her.
He had, however, convinced her that she wasn't a burden to him.
"Can we go to church first?"
"If you really want to," Scott said, "but you know you can't hide in there forever this morning. Eventually you have to come out and see the daylight again. What are you going to do, become a nun?"
Emily had actually thought about this very option. She had thought about going back into the Champagne region of France that she had passed through on the way to Berlin and giving her life to the church. Knowing that Scott would just question her as to why, she left this thought to herself.
They had ended up in the church where Emily had given confession in the morning before. Scott had been hesitant at first saying, "you know I don't believe in all of this," spreading his hands around. He had been raised Catholic too but Emily had never even heard him mention many things remotely spiritual in the entire time she knew him. She had realized that he was the region that she had stopped going to church when they had moved in together. At first she had tried to take him along as she went every Sunday morning, but he would always stay home and watch television instead. Eventually she just stopped going because with him she had found her own peace on Sunday morning.
She was amazed that in the evening before Scott had actually gone up to the altar at the front of the church and lit a candle with her. She was even more amazed that he knew all the words to all the prayers. Although he didn't seem to say them with the same feelings as she did.
That was the feeling that she was getting off of Scott the entire evening before. They had stopped at a little pin booth near Checkpoint Charlie on the way back to the train and he had seemingly admired all of the pins with hammers and sickles on them. He had pointed out all the ones to Emily that he probably thought she would like. But she could barely look at them anymore after seeing what living under that sign had caused.
He hadn't convinced her of anything different in their time together in East Berlin. All she could see was still squalor to her. But there was something about how hard he tried to convince her that made her see how one could take some pleasure in their surroundings. She was just unable to see it herself and that just worried her more.
"We don't have to go to church," Emily said, "if you don't want to."
"If it will make you feel better," Scott replied, "I want to."
The two of them went to the church downtown. Scott had stood in the back near the door as Emily lit candles in the front and crossed herself as she said another prayer for serenity.
After they had gone to the church the night before, they had gone back to the hostel where the Australians were seemingly waiting for Scott. They greeted the two of them with a loud round of cheers when they had walked through the door together. Ian, the tall one, had clapped Scott on the shoulder and said, "that's a mate."
Emily had gone along with the group and actually found herself enjoying the experience a little bit. But she still felt outside of what was occurring. And, she especially hated how they insulted Scott with his being oblivious to it.
As they walked down the street, Emily said to Scott, "why do you hang out with those guys?"
Scott looked at her and said, "I don't understand the question. They're a good group of blokes."
"They insult you all the time," Emily said to Scott hoping that he wouldn't take too much offense, "I mean, even I get the gist of what a 'poofer' is. They're calling you gay."
"I know that Emily," Scott said, "but it's just how they talk to each other, it's just their way of communication. If anything, I think it's a sign of affection. But, not in that way. Although, maybe..."
Scott smiled at her.
"But why would you associate with a group of people like that? I mean, none of my friends would ever say mean things about each other, at least to each other's faces, like that. Well, except for Sandra."
She hated saying the name by this point. Everything bad in her life seemed to have happened because of Sandra. And now that she knew that Sandra had been lying about Scott to try to get her to hate him, it hurt even more when the name came up.
"That's just how guys talk, Emily. Can we please not talk about Sandra?"
"I'm sorry," Emily said, "it's just that as much of a bitch as she was to me, I worry about her. I worry about everybody. I want to be there for everybody. I wonder what she's doing in France right now? But you're right, I'm much happier without her."
She wondered if Scott thought, "if this is Emily without Sandra around, I'm afraid to see what Emily was like with her around." The pause seemed just about right.
Emily realized they were walking with no set location. She straightened her skirt and said to Scott, "where do you want to go today?"
Scott responded, "my plane home leaves the morning after tomorrow. And I can't leave Berlin without seeing the wall, can I?"
"Scott," Emily replied, "I've already seen the wall. I went to the East Side Gallery and you're not missing anything. One side of the wall is stark white except for gang tags and the other is murals. You don't even like murals."
"There's another section of the wall still up though, Emily," Scott said to her, "this anti-violence group bought 200 meters of the wall, roped it off, and plan on building a museum next to it about the brutality of the SS, Gestapo, and Soviet regimes. They call it the 'Topography of Terror.' It's supposed to be the last 200 meters of the wall still standing as it originally did."
A train ride back to the Mitte section of the former East Berlin later and she and Scott stood at the wall.
"Look at this Scott," she said pointing to a line that went through a shopping center and over its parking spaces, "you can actually see where the wall once stood." Scott looked over and smiled at her. Over his shoulder, she could see the wall, cut off from tourists with a rope and warnings in many languages. Beyond that lay a huge construction area where the group was building their museum.
Emily actually felt something stirring inside. She straddled one foot on one side of the small brick line and the other foot on the other. She felt rejuvenated standing on both sides of the former Berlin like a child might. She realized that the two halves of the city could be put back together again, with nothing more than a small reminder they had once been separated. Unlike all of the other reminders of Berlin, this one didn't seem like separation, but instead just a border. Two halves of one parking space that used to be in two separate countries, she thought. A smile crossed her face.
Scott walked over and hugged her. "Let me go get a camera from one of those little stores we passed," he said. "This is a moment that you're going to want to remember."
Maybe she could survive on her own after all. She hadn't felt as good as she had standing in that parking space during the day since she had spent that day alone in Paris before that horrible night fell.
Chapter Word Count: 1869
Daily Word Count: 7818
Total Word Count: 88374
"Emily wake up, it was just a bad dream."
She heard Scott's voice through the haze that she was feeling. She looked up into his face from his shoulder and realized that it was morning. "Where are we?" she asked. She looked at Scott and wondered if they were in Chicago at his apartment and the entirety of her experiences in the past seven weeks had been one long nightmare.
"Emily, we're in Berlin at the hostel," he said softly.
Emily picked her head up and looked to her left and right. She saw the Australians sleeping peacefully at the other side of the room and realized that she was in Scott's room. She remembered it was of her own free volition that she had gotten here. She remembered everything. And that in itself killed the feeling of calm that had built up inside of her. She wished the entire experience in Europe had been a dream.
Those few moments where she didn't realize where she was each morning in Europe seemed to be her only salvation. As she woke up, she didn't remember who she was or where she was or what she had gone though. She felt normal, she felt like her old self. But as soon as she began to recall all the puzzle pieces that made up her life, it felt as though she was descending into darkness again. And, that was the sensation that was happening at this very moment.
This ritual of her mind seemed to even be the case when she awoke from a nightmare. This time she imagined herself tied to a chair with a gag in her mouth. Her hands were tied behind the chair with a rope that she could not see. Everyone she knew was in the room against the opposite wall staring at her. They were pointing and asking questions to her like she was being interrogated. But she couldn't understand their voices, they were all muffled and distorted. When she couldn't speak, they all began to point at her, Sandra and Scott and nearly everyone that she came into contact with. Even the priest was there, his face as she had imagined it behind the grating. She wanted to answer them but she couldn't even if she had tried. The last thing she remembered was punching against the back of the chair trying to break free. Trying to find her voice again to answer them.
Looking at Scott, still lying down beneath her, she realized that he was rubbing his chest. She knew what she had done. When in her dream, she had felt the hardness of the chair against her hands as she punched at it with two fists tied together at the wrists, she had actually been feeling Scott's chest not give way beneath her.
She had committed violence again. She wanted to run again. She looked at Scott feeling her eyes widen. "Did I hurt you?" she asked.
"Emily, no you didn't. I'm fine," he replied still in his quiet voice. He stood up and stretched his arms above his head. Then putting them down at his sides said, "so are you ready for another day on the town this morning?"
Emily didn't know what she was ready for. She thought back to the day before and remembered how Scott had made her feel. While she felt safe with him and around him, although she wondered why the reverse was the case while he stood there rubbing his chest, he hadn't said anything to calm her.
He had, however, convinced her that she wasn't a burden to him.
"Can we go to church first?"
"If you really want to," Scott said, "but you know you can't hide in there forever this morning. Eventually you have to come out and see the daylight again. What are you going to do, become a nun?"
Emily had actually thought about this very option. She had thought about going back into the Champagne region of France that she had passed through on the way to Berlin and giving her life to the church. Knowing that Scott would just question her as to why, she left this thought to herself.
They had ended up in the church where Emily had given confession in the morning before. Scott had been hesitant at first saying, "you know I don't believe in all of this," spreading his hands around. He had been raised Catholic too but Emily had never even heard him mention many things remotely spiritual in the entire time she knew him. She had realized that he was the region that she had stopped going to church when they had moved in together. At first she had tried to take him along as she went every Sunday morning, but he would always stay home and watch television instead. Eventually she just stopped going because with him she had found her own peace on Sunday morning.
She was amazed that in the evening before Scott had actually gone up to the altar at the front of the church and lit a candle with her. She was even more amazed that he knew all the words to all the prayers. Although he didn't seem to say them with the same feelings as she did.
That was the feeling that she was getting off of Scott the entire evening before. They had stopped at a little pin booth near Checkpoint Charlie on the way back to the train and he had seemingly admired all of the pins with hammers and sickles on them. He had pointed out all the ones to Emily that he probably thought she would like. But she could barely look at them anymore after seeing what living under that sign had caused.
He hadn't convinced her of anything different in their time together in East Berlin. All she could see was still squalor to her. But there was something about how hard he tried to convince her that made her see how one could take some pleasure in their surroundings. She was just unable to see it herself and that just worried her more.
"We don't have to go to church," Emily said, "if you don't want to."
"If it will make you feel better," Scott replied, "I want to."
The two of them went to the church downtown. Scott had stood in the back near the door as Emily lit candles in the front and crossed herself as she said another prayer for serenity.
After they had gone to the church the night before, they had gone back to the hostel where the Australians were seemingly waiting for Scott. They greeted the two of them with a loud round of cheers when they had walked through the door together. Ian, the tall one, had clapped Scott on the shoulder and said, "that's a mate."
Emily had gone along with the group and actually found herself enjoying the experience a little bit. But she still felt outside of what was occurring. And, she especially hated how they insulted Scott with his being oblivious to it.
As they walked down the street, Emily said to Scott, "why do you hang out with those guys?"
Scott looked at her and said, "I don't understand the question. They're a good group of blokes."
"They insult you all the time," Emily said to Scott hoping that he wouldn't take too much offense, "I mean, even I get the gist of what a 'poofer' is. They're calling you gay."
"I know that Emily," Scott said, "but it's just how they talk to each other, it's just their way of communication. If anything, I think it's a sign of affection. But, not in that way. Although, maybe..."
Scott smiled at her.
"But why would you associate with a group of people like that? I mean, none of my friends would ever say mean things about each other, at least to each other's faces, like that. Well, except for Sandra."
She hated saying the name by this point. Everything bad in her life seemed to have happened because of Sandra. And now that she knew that Sandra had been lying about Scott to try to get her to hate him, it hurt even more when the name came up.
"That's just how guys talk, Emily. Can we please not talk about Sandra?"
"I'm sorry," Emily said, "it's just that as much of a bitch as she was to me, I worry about her. I worry about everybody. I want to be there for everybody. I wonder what she's doing in France right now? But you're right, I'm much happier without her."
She wondered if Scott thought, "if this is Emily without Sandra around, I'm afraid to see what Emily was like with her around." The pause seemed just about right.
Emily realized they were walking with no set location. She straightened her skirt and said to Scott, "where do you want to go today?"
Scott responded, "my plane home leaves the morning after tomorrow. And I can't leave Berlin without seeing the wall, can I?"
"Scott," Emily replied, "I've already seen the wall. I went to the East Side Gallery and you're not missing anything. One side of the wall is stark white except for gang tags and the other is murals. You don't even like murals."
"There's another section of the wall still up though, Emily," Scott said to her, "this anti-violence group bought 200 meters of the wall, roped it off, and plan on building a museum next to it about the brutality of the SS, Gestapo, and Soviet regimes. They call it the 'Topography of Terror.' It's supposed to be the last 200 meters of the wall still standing as it originally did."
A train ride back to the Mitte section of the former East Berlin later and she and Scott stood at the wall.
"Look at this Scott," she said pointing to a line that went through a shopping center and over its parking spaces, "you can actually see where the wall once stood." Scott looked over and smiled at her. Over his shoulder, she could see the wall, cut off from tourists with a rope and warnings in many languages. Beyond that lay a huge construction area where the group was building their museum.
Emily actually felt something stirring inside. She straddled one foot on one side of the small brick line and the other foot on the other. She felt rejuvenated standing on both sides of the former Berlin like a child might. She realized that the two halves of the city could be put back together again, with nothing more than a small reminder they had once been separated. Unlike all of the other reminders of Berlin, this one didn't seem like separation, but instead just a border. Two halves of one parking space that used to be in two separate countries, she thought. A smile crossed her face.
Scott walked over and hugged her. "Let me go get a camera from one of those little stores we passed," he said. "This is a moment that you're going to want to remember."
Maybe she could survive on her own after all. She hadn't felt as good as she had standing in that parking space during the day since she had spent that day alone in Paris before that horrible night fell.
Chapter Word Count: 1869
Daily Word Count: 7818
Total Word Count: 88374
