#008 echoes of forgotten dreams 📬
short story challenge 2024
Heeey, hope you’re doing great today :)
Here’s another story for you to chill with at the end of this week. Enjoy!
Echoes of forgotten dreams
On my way to work, I stop at the supermarket to buy myself a doughnut. It’s one of the little joys I have found here over the years.
It’s not only incredible in every sense of the word, but it also gives me stability. Purpose.
Because – I like to imagine – if someday I failed to turn up at the store in the morning, would there be another person in this world who would have the idea to wake up so early and buy a cherry-flavoured doughnut fresh out of the oven in a town like this? And if not, how can I accept the fact that there will be no one left here to enjoy them, to tell the world:
“I may be the only one, but I cherish this. Thank you for creating it, even if only for me.”
From these paragraphs only, I suppose you have already started to craft a picture of my life, presuming it’s all but eventful. And I don’t mind, really. You can presume all you want. I used to be in your place once – assuming, judging, not understanding… I hope it’ll pass for you, like it did for me.
After buying the doughnut, I don’t do much. I sit down with it and watch the sunrise from the dirty window of my old car. The jam melts sweetly on my tongue, and the sunlight warms my face. I turn on the radio, and they play a new song from the local student band. The wheel is sticky with icing, and a memory comes, of how I used to want to be in a band once.
It wasn’t that long ago, I think, but at the same time, maybe it was. Sometimes I still like to believe I’m young, but then I look in the mirror and see all the years gone by on my creased face…
I try not to look in the mirror too often. It makes me think of things I would not care to think about otherwise.
When the last crumbs disappear in my mouth, I crumple the paper bag and turn the key. It’s time to go.
The road is busy for this time of the day, but I don’t mind. I’m always leaving early, just in case, just in case. I can’t afford to lose my job, even if I wanted to. Which I don’t. Although sometimes I wonder what would happen if I just…
But I shouldn’t. I’m a postman, and people need postmen. What would happen if all people left their jobs just because?
The music’s still ringing, and I find my fingers curiously tapping the beat on the wheel. I stop them. I don’t know what it is in today that makes my old thoughts come back like that. They usually go by fast. Today they don’t. Today they stick, almost like that icing at my fingertips, almost like that.
I arrive at the office still earlier than I ought to. I like it that way. I can go to the canteen when nobody’s there yet, and make myself coffee. Black, with sugar and milk. I sip it in front of the window till my shift starts.
When the alarm rings in my pocket, I stand up and take the used cup with me. I wash it carefully, careful not to think about too many things. I pick my thoughts one by one and throw out all the cunning ones right with the napkin and two ripped sugar packets.
I am where I’m supposed to be. I am who I am meant to be.
I go to the room next door and sort the mail for today. I greet my colleague, Tim, then another one, Betty, and today it’s us three against the world. I take the car and estimate to be back in two hours. Betty takes the bike and says she’ll be back in three. Tim stays and takes the reception. It’s Wednesday, and on Wednesdays, not many people come for more of us to stay.
I’m back on the streets again, behind the wheel of the post car this time. The sun is well up in the sky now, and everyone’s moving slower, not in a hurry to go to work. All the people who had to are already there.
I move slowly, too. I breathe in the peaceful hum of the engine and the air coming through the half-opened window. In the morning, it is not warm enough to enjoy the breeze coming from outside. Now, it’s perfect.
I stop here and there, moving as the addresses tell me to. A few minutes pass, I hear a bird, a new song comes on, I stop. One song, then two. A child passing through the street. Then another stop.
And so the day passes, and I can notice it passing just through the decreasing number of letters alone. I don’t need another measure – why would I?
I used to be less patient, less calm. I used to always be in a hurry, always with a new thing to focus on. And, oh, the time used to pass so relentlessly, so carelessly. I used to worry about every single thing, back when I had all these dreams, anyway. I remember…
Oh, I don’t know. I don’t know if I should say it now.
I might, maybe, only a little. Now that I already half started…
I used to learn a lot. Study. I used to want to be the best in class. The best in the world if I had anything to say about it.
I used to want to swim. Competitively, fast. Be the best there is.
I used to want to be married. To my love, Allie. An exceptional girl she was. Sharp as a knife, that one. She was the one who was the best in class.
I used to want to live in the city, then in the countryside. Then in the city again. Then again, the countryside. I could never figure that one out.
I used to want to dive, too, but the height… Anyway, it wasn’t much of a serious dream, that one.
I used to want so many things, all of them shiny and beautiful, each of them grander and more ambitious. But all it did was leave me sticky and breathless.
There is one last letter to deliver, for one named Elisabeth Carson.
I arrive at the given address and look around. There is no mailbox.
In such cases, we can leave the letters on the ground if the weather allows it. And this one does – it’s as hot and bright as ever at this time of the year. There was a time when I would leave it there, waiting on the grass for someone to pick it up. There was a time when I would rush. God knows why. God knows where. Today, I won’t, though. Why would I? I have all the time in the world.
I leave the car and go up to the front gate. It’s simple but beautiful, black with rusty ornaments shining in the sun.
I press the doorbell one time, then the second. For a moment, there is no sound. When I press the third time, though, a rumble comes from within the house. Another moment, and she is in front of me – Elisabeth, as I suspect.
“Good afternoon, Ma’am. It appears that I have a letter for you,” I say and hand her the envelope. She smiles – as wide as I had ever seen anyone smile.
“Oh, what a kind man you are,” she exclaims and reaches out her wrinkled hand to pat mine. “Most of my letters end up on the lawn, you see. There, right in the front. And I am so old, oh, I barely have the strength to pick them up anymore. I really should install a mailbox someday, but…” She waves her hand and laughs at something only she herself knows. “Well, that is a story for another time. Thank you for the letter, really. I have been waiting for it,” she adds and smiles again. Warmly, gently. I smile back.
“My pleasure, Ma’am”, I answer and bow slightly towards her. Then go back to the car.
On the way to the office, I keep hearing her voice.
Oh, what a kind man you are.
The words ring and echo in my head, stumbling and mixing, losing their meaning, becoming a new meaning.
You see, all these dreams are tricky things. Little devils.
You think you have them, but, in the end, they have you. You chase them, run, but you can never see them for what they are. Not until it’s too late, anyway. In the end, they are never enough. In the end, you are never enough.
But if you are patient instead – if you live the way you feel is right – the meaning will find you, always.
The dreams, or rather the deceptive fantasies – they come back occasionally. They always do. On slow, warm days like this one. Reappear with the right song and a strong enough cup of coffee.
But you should not dwell on these might have beens, is what I’ve found. No matter what, you need to look at what’s already here. In most cases, it is more than you could ever imagine asking for.
And, when you’re ready, when you’re present, the right dreams will find you again.
This was such a tough piece to edit. I started with one idea, and as I kept writing, it started changing and growing into something completely different…
Well, let’s just say it was not easy to come back to it today. I spent hours trying to figure out which perspective would work best for the story and how to shape the other parts to fit the narrative… I went through a complete rewrite, but I think it was worth it in the end. I hope you think so too :)
If you have any comments, feel free to share.
Thank you for being here!
See you next week <3