a dream writtened down

i was a brilliant, well loved film actor in his early 30's.
after a premier of one of my latest film in Taiwan, i talked to the audience on the spur of moment and told them i'll be forever gone in the industry.
my agent came and reverted my speech and pulled me over and asked me why.
without saying much, i left the theatre, depressed.
i was walking around the streets, there are so many kinds of food and entertainment, but nothing interests me.
all i could think about was different ways to end my pathetic life.

took an elevator up an old tall building, and saw a port near by.
before going there, a couple youngsters were skateboarding and saw me.
"jump! jump! jump! come on, do it, old man!" was what they were encouraging.
when i was ready to take the plunge, my agent showed up some way behind and one of the boys slipped down the edge.
i hurriedly look for the stairs and went to grab him before he made his way down to hell.
"u weren't ready to die, see? u saved him because u treasure life still." said my agent.
"i saved him because... just leave me alone." was my reply.

now i'm at the port. my agent was walking alongside trying to figure out the reason of my depression.
while we were watching some people setting up their inflatable float boat, a man mugged and killed a person from not too far away.
he ran toward us and i grabbed him.
after some short thinking, i've decided to take him out for a dive into the waters.
we sank and sank and sank...

when i woke, i was at a hospital bed.
an inspector spoke to me on the left while his partner looked out the window at the far right. it was eerily quiet - i was used to reporters outside the door waiting for an interview. guess they haven't got wind of this yet.
i was so disappointed that i'm still alive. at that point, i told him the reason.
i had a wife with child, whose lives i accidentally took away. in deep sorrow, i suffocated my first child of 5 years to eternal slumber.
the next logical step would be taking my own life.
sobbing weakly on the bed, i slowly looked towards the inspector eyeing the surgical knife next to him.
after a few minutes, he helped me slit my wrist.
damn inspector, too weak a cut and not deep enough. made me wait for a slow departure.

when i woke once more, i was at home.
long stitches, yet another unsuccessful attempt.
this time i was surrounded by men from the family. men who only wanted to use my fame to get what they want.
yet there is a young man in the midst. his father asks, "can u help out my boy? he has talents. boy, show ur uncle."
i was reluctant to help, but my hands were already gesturing corrections.

then i woke.
i am now a freelance violist who just woke from a dream about a depressed suicidal actor.
all i could think about is how hungry i am because it's way passed my lunch time.

- the end -