Under the Crimson Sunset (a Nigerian Romance story)

Dave found himself in a vast white space with mirrors everywhere. It was an infinity of his reflection in the mirror. As he stood in the middle of the empty vastness, the mirrors hovered over his head, each reflection staring down at him and speaking into his head.

"Who are you?"

"You're me, aren't you?"

"You aren't human, you're a beast!"

"Let me help you"

Each reflection ended its sentence with a hysterical laughter that reverberated in his brain. Dave clutched his head tightly in his two palm, shut his eyes firmly and let out a yell loud enough that the infinity crumbled. Then he saw himself on a cliff. Down below, the wave and the tide of the turbulent ocean hit against the foot of the cliff. As he looked, he saw a motionless body lying at the foot of the cliff. He almost freaked out when he saw that the body was his younger self when he was seventeen. He knew his headphones and his sneakers. Out of fear, he gasped and turned around on the cliff to run away. He came in contact with another person staring at him. The person's head had blood trickling down to the nape of his head. Dave became more terrific when he saw that the person's two arms were twisted to the back from the elbow. He wanted to scream when the person said, "I am you. You are me. We are one." The person gave a sinister smile which escalated to loud laughter that filled the whole atmosphere. Dave began to run away; he ran as fast as his legs could carry him. The laughter echoed more in the forest as he ran. He kept muttering, "help me. Someone help me" as he bolted away.

Then he heard a soft knock. He opened his eyes abruptly; beads of sweat were woven on his forehead while some trickled down to his ears and his neck. He heard the knock again. He sat up slowly to catch his breath. He heaved heavily and approached the door. He opened and saw Dr. Theresa, his mentor's wife. He went to sit on the edge of his bed while she walked in. The woman, with a blonde skin and hair tied into a bun, appeared petite but with sunken eyes from tears of mourning her husband.

"Hi."

Dave nodded, beads of sweat melted into each other and rolled down his forehead. He stared blankly at her.

"Same nightmare?" He nodded. She continued, "I figured as much when I heard your scream." That was when he realized he screamed out from his dream. Dr. Theresa sat beside him on the bed and held his left shoulder. Dave heaved as he rubbed his palm on his face.

Same dream, same question. Who was he? His identity remained under question mark to him. Memories of his younger self often flash through his head like movies he watched previous night. To him, those memories were like nightmare. He had asked his therapist about it. She told him it was just a dream and it'd eventually let him be. But each time he looked at the mirror, who he was always came in series of question marks. That was his Pandora's box.

"Why do I feel like you don't want me to know something?" He looked at her.

Truly, Dr. Theresa didn't want him to be aware of some things about himself. Since after the incident when he was seventeen, she knew everything would come back to him. Sometimes, Retrograde Amnesia can be transient; however his own case had been for over seven years. As his therapist, his father specifically pleaded with her to ensure he didn't regain his memory of the awful incidents, for his own good. Weighing it differently, Dr. Theresa knew if he regained those memories, he might remember who he was and might create a violent typhoon in his serene life journey.

"What makes you think I am?" She swallowed hard before replying him.

"Well, because it's always written all over your face each time you assure me they're just dreams. Doc, what have you been hiding?"

She took her hand off his shoulder, stood up and approached the window. Outside, the trees sat still in Earth's belly, the breeze tickled the leaves a little bit and they giggled in rustles. Guests, friends and families had left after the funeral, so that explained the silent backyard. If her husband had been alive, on a time like this, he'd be in the garden, tilling, weeding and harvesting. Now that he was dead, the responsibility of the garden laid on her childrens' shoulders. She looked back at Dave and smiled wryily, "even if i was hidinh anything, whatever that might be, why don't you trust me and hope I'll tell you when the time is right?"

"Do you know since when I've started having this nightmare? When I was twenty, four years ago. When I told you about it, you said it's eventually dissipate. It's been four years, Doc, I've been trusting you that you'd tell me when time's right. When will the time be right? Till the dream consumes me?"

Dr. Theresa looked back at him. Her sunken eyes filled with pity, "Dave, you remember your first time as my patient? You remember what brought you to me?"

"I've said it several times, I don't remember why I became your patient, I only remember my dad bringing me here against my pleas."

"You were brought here when you were fifteen, you had something called Bipolar Disorder and had caused havoc in your family..."

Dave blinked blankly at her. '"Bipolar what?"

"I'm not supposed to be tell you this but you need answers. Only your family, my husband and I know about it. This story exceeds what I'm saying. When you were seventeen, you had an accident which caused amnesia..."

This was becoming unbearable for Dave. His jaw dropped as he tried to comprehend what he just heard. Everything was coming too fast and he doubted if this was the answers he yearned for. Dr. Theresa attempted to continue when they heard a ruffled rumble from the other room. Dave gave her a bewildered look.

"Ohh, I just remembered now. Dorcas came when you were asleep. I totally forgot to tell you when I came in."

"Dorcas? What's she doing here?"

"She came to pay me a condolence visit in the morning and decided to stay back till nightfall when she heard you were around."

They heard a glass shattering and water splashing. Both of them dashed to the door and flung it open. Dorcas was there, at the entrance of the kitchen, shattered glass cup and water splashed in an amoeba shape. She looked up and saw them.

"Oh oh. I'm so sorry Doc, I didn't know my grip wasn't tight. Hope it wasn't a special cup?"

Dr. Theresa hastily approached her, smiling. "Dorcas, you're still as clumsy as ever. It's just an ordinary cup, nothing special."

Dorcas exhaled, "oh, thank goodness. I actually thought I had broken a special cup." Then her gaze got averted to Dave's figure at the entrance. They stared at each other for a while before she cleared her throat and assisted Doc with the cleaning. Dave went back into the room and closed the door. He sat on the bed to process what his therapist just said. He knew he'd hear more about it once Dorcas leaves.

He heard a soft knock. He already knew who it was.

"Come in." He said feebly.