Not A Dream?

He felt cold. A sensation as if a snake made out of ice was crawling all over his body assailed him.

“Argh!” He opened his eyes slowly and found himself in a sea of plastic and scattered garbage.

His head felt like it would burst open. His body felt as heavy as a soaked log. As a result, he had to apply twice the effort he usually would to prop his body up.

He noticed a black notebook on his side. It brought back memories of last night.

“I guess I drank a bit too much.” He stared at the notebook for a long while before finally standing on his own two legs.

He felt dizzy. He went to the washroom to wake himself up.

He prepared a bowl of kitsune udon that he had brought from the convenience store. With a glass of water and a hot bowl of udon, he sat once again at his desk.

He had already finished the show he had wanted to watch, so now he was left with nothing. Racking his brain to think of something to watch while he ate, he booted up his computer. The old computer took more than a minute to open properly.

When the homescreen was finally open, he noticed something unusual.

His email showed a ton of notifications. He read the number in red displayed on the right corner of the blue email icon.

“238?”

It was weird. Why would he get so many notifications out of nowhere? He remembered that there was nothing here yesterday. There was nothing there, even the day before yesterday. And the day before that. He traced his memory back to the last time he got so many notifications. It led him to the days when he published his debut novel.

Wary, he double-clicked on the icon.

What he saw there shocked the living daylights out of him.

They were messages. Tons of texts with emojis and exclamation marks, and hearts. He clicked on the one he had received seconds ago.

It read as follows:

“I read Kaito-sensei’s new short story. Saviour Satan. The sarcastic jab at our politicians and lawmakers had me  howling!!”

Another one read as follows:

“I went back to read Delusional Distress. It reminded me of how fresh, raw, and invigorating the prose was. No writer in this modern age has such amazingly flowing prose! Made me fall in love all over again!”

His inbox was flooded with texts filled with praise. They were reading his debut work again. They were loving the first work that he had poured his heart and soul into again. It was not just his debut work. His newer short stories that nobody had liked and nobody had even read were getting recognition.

It was sudden. It was unexpected. Like the world had shifted overnight.

The first time he put out Delusional Distress, he knew that there was a possibility that people would not receive it well. He was a newcomer. A no-name. Even then, there was a tiny corner in his heart where he hoped that there would at least be somebody who might slightly like it or an aspect of it.

That can’t be said for the short stories he had written. He had already expected people to bombard it with negative reviews and dissatisfaction. The only surprise was that they did not even care to read it. Even that did not feel much of a surprise once he sat down and thought about it.

However, all of that was changing right now. Something had happened. Something unforeseen. Something fortunate.

Maybe a popular streamer or YouTuber read one of his short stories and posted a video on how they liked it. That started a chain reaction, and now everybody else who read the book after that video thought the same.

He did not know the reason. That was just an assumption he had made.

A feeling that he had forgotten long ago started coursing in his veins. He could feel it: the excitement. He felt alive again.

A thought suddenly struck him.

He ran to his closet and found the cleanest fit he had. He quickly changed into a washed blue jeans and a clear white t-shirt. He brushed his teeth and went out of his room.

It felt different. It was the first time in years that he had stepped out of his cave, not out of necessity, but out of his desires. The sun that used to glare at him now was showering him with a dazzling glow. It felt as if the white of his t-shirt was reflecting the sun’s light a thousandfold, turning him into a bright star.

He walked down the stairs and onto the road, a spring in his step. He had a destination in mind.

At a brisk pace, he made his way to where the convenience store was located. He passed the cafe. He came to a stop before the bookstore. 

The bookstore he dreaded looking at. However, he did not hesitate today. He looked across the transparent window pane. Deliberately and decisively. His pupils dilated in elation as he took in the view spread in front of him.

Delusional Distress.

He could see that title clearly. After all, it was there in a big, blue banner. Right in the middle. At the center of attraction. The number of books was five times more than the other books displayed there. People were gathering around his book. They were buying it in droves.

He felt as if he was transported to the day when his book had become a sensational hit. It all felt like a dream. He pinched himself to make sure it was not. Sure enough, it was not a dream. It was all real. A deja vu. It was actually happening. Once again, right in front of his eyes.

He felt something warm trickle down his cheeks. Before he had realized it, he had started crying. It was from joy. Anyone who saw him could tell it at a glance.

He stood there. Dazed and in a trance. He felt happy.

How long had it been since he had been this happy? Since he had felt this alive.

It was a miracle. That was the only way to describe what was happening around him. Having gone unnoticed and criticized for four years, and now this. He felt like he would explode from this feeling of fulfillment.

Wiping his tears with his hands, he went inside the convenience store washroom. He washed his face. He felt bad just using their washroom and decided to buy something.

The candy he had not been able to eat. He carried a packet and went to the checkout. Hana was there.

“Did something nice happen to you?” She asked, eyeing him.

“You could tell?”

“Anyone who looks at you now will probably say the same thing.”

He did not deny it. He could not deny it. It was true after all. Something nice had happened to him recently. Something nice after what had felt like so many years.

He had abandoned all hope. He was sure that he would spend the rest of his life rotting in his cell until his death. But a ray of hope had shone down on him. On him who had given up on his dreams and his life. He now felt like living again. He now felt like putting pen to paper again.

“I guess so.” He replied, scratching his cheek awkwardly.

“I am amazed how you can stay so happy when the world has gone nuts.”

“Well, you can’t let the world determine your mood. Otherwise, you would always be miserable."

“That’s …. so true.” The girl said, with a smile as if his words struck a chord with her.

What a line! Almost as if I were a great writer!

The feeling that he was a writer, that he could write and move people with his words, was reinforced in him.

If it were an anime, he would probably have a wing spread out behind him right now.

He was the happiest person in the world at this moment. And he wholeheartedly believed it.

Humming a tune from a song he had heard long ago, he made his way back to his apartment.

He sat down at his desk and opened his emails.

He opened the packet of candy. He popped one in his mouth. The mixture of sweet and spicy had not waned one bit from the last time he had them.

The glow from his laptop was not the only thing illuminating his face today. The curtains were open and the windows too. The light from the sun was blessing him, and the windwas  carrying him to heights he had never been before.

Filled with bliss, he started responding to all the emails one by one. Messages of thank you filled his sent section. It felt redundant saying the same thing again and again, but it made him happy.

He spent an hour or two making sure that he responded to every single comment.

While he was responding to them, he got even more emails.

“This is gonna be hard responding to every single one.” But he did not feel one bit troubled.

He diligently responded to every single person until he felt tired.

He looked at the icon, and it showed 135 unread emails.

“I will respond to the rest tomorrow.”

He felt like going out to eat today. He grabbed his purse and went to the ramen shop in the shopping district just a station away.

He ate his first bowl of tonkatsu ramen after what felt like an eternity. Fulfilled and satisfied, he got back home, chugged a beer, and went back to sleep.

Tomorrow was going to be a long day. He still had so many emails to respond to.

It was the first time in years, he had gone to sleep with a positive tomorrow waiting for him.

*

Tomorrow had arrived.

The first thing he did after he woke up was sit at his desk.

It was 135 before he went to sleep yesterday. It was probably somewhere close to 200 today.

“My shoulders will be stiff for sure.” He said, as he swung his arms to prepare himself for a long hour of relentless typing.

He waited for his old laptop to boot up. It took slightly more than a minute for his homescreen to load.

However, the red unread emails he had expected were not there.

None of the emails he had received yesterday were there at all.