Ending

a writing by Paul Butters

I’m safely tucked up in bed now. So frail. When I think how fat I used to be. But I’m very, very old. Might even die tonight, in my sleep. Can hear the wind howling outside.

It’s not such a bad place this. The carers look after me well. If I’m lucky they will wheel me into the garden again tomorrow. Hope that wind dies down and the sun shines. Where am I? Can’t recall the name. This Dim Enta thing. So tired now. So tired…

“And wake!”

What? Where am I? On my back! Ceiling. Face! Doctor Sanders!”

“It’s over, Krol, welcome back.”

I remember. Doctor Sanders. I’ve been hypnotised, regressed to a former life. Lived that whole life! And now I’m awake!

Me: “Did I just die there?”

Dr. Sanders: “Yes Krol, in your sleep. Or at least the person you were died in his sleep… But did you get the full life experience this time?”

Me: “Just about, Bob. I can remember back to being about three. My parents, our little dog, a baby sister. Playing with a wooden train or something that you could ride in. But it seems I died in my sleep…”

Bob: “How far back in time was this?”

Me: “I was born mid-twentieth century, not long after the Second World War…”

Bob: “Fascinating. Better get you into Debriefing, before you forget it all.”

Me: “Yeah. It sure was a long life. Lots of history for you. I can’t get over that that was me!”

Bob: “You’ll soon adjust, Krol.”

Me: “That Death thing was scary, Bob. I was afraid of ‘dying’, as they called it, for most of my life. Thank goodness we found a cure.”

Bob: “Yes Krol, things were really rough back then. But come on, let’s get that report of yours done…”

Paul Butters

© PB 13\6\2018.

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