EPTI was hanging out at a friend’s flat playing Super Smash Bros when a there was a knock on the door. Since I wasn’t playing at that moment, I jumped up from the couch and went to open the door. It was probably one of our friends coming to join the Smash fest, I thought. I opened the door and was met by a slightly bulky man with a short black beard, black rowdy hair and glasses. I recognized him as the film director of a few successful movies that had released these past ten years. He was clad in a black shirt, blue jeans and a beige long coat.
Before I could greet him, he spoke up:
“I’ll give you 200 dollars if you come with me right now, without telling anyone, and watch my new movie with me.”
“Done!” I said. I liked the guy’s movies and wouldn’t need the money to hang out with him. I easily forgot my friends back at the couch playing Super Smash.
We left the apartment building and headed out on to the street. He led the way around the corner and pointed to a two-seated go-kart.
Sweet, a go-kart! He read my mind and he said “Pretty rad, isn’t it?”
The going was painfully slow. We couldn’t have gone faster than ten kilometers per hour. I was slightly disappointed.
“We’re stopping by a friend for a few moments,” he explained.
We pulled up near an apartment complex and jumped out of the vehicle. We entered the building, took the elevator to the third floor and walked straight in through a door, without knocking. The room inside had pale white walls, meticulously polished marble floor and white curtains blocking the view to the next room. The Director hung his coat on a white coat hanger to our left. Without saying a word, The Director passed the white curtains in to the next room, leaving me in the small vestibule. Not having a coat to hang, I followed The Director.
The next room was much like the small vestibule in design; white walls, white marble floor, white curtains. The walls were lined with cabinets and drawers, all white. In the middle of the room stood a round table, this white as well. I had the feeling of this being a hospital. The same second I thought this, two short girls entered through a white curtain in the right wall, one blonde and one brunette. They were dressed in white scrubs with small white caps on their heads. The caps had red crosses on them. The contrast of red in a scene of white was strong. So this is a hospital.
The brunette exchanged greetings with The Director while the blonde stared open-mouthed at me.
“Hi,” I said awkwardly. The girl was beautiful and I wondered briefly if I had snot on my face. Before I could make sure, she managed to get a hold of herself and speak.
“You’re one of the Bibbit Gang, aren’t you?” she said with disbelief in her voice.
“Um… The Bibbit Gang?” I asked bewildered. I had never heard of this gang. The young girl dug her hand into a pocket and pulled up a smartphone. She typed something on the phone while walking up to me. The screen showed a video of one of my friends sliding down a paved hill with his longboard. The video sped up as he rode on past the foot of the hill, turning into a small spot on the horizon within seconds. Next: a stage. On it: me. I remembered the moment in time that the video displayed when I saw it. It was a strange feeling of déjà vu and panic. Was I going mad? How could I forget this?
“Yes, I’m with the Bibbit Gang,” I said to her.
“I knew it! I’m a big fan of yours. This video of you doing this sketch of…”. I didn’t listen. I drifted off, thinking of the past. The more I thought of the Bibbit Gang, the more memories unlocked in my mind. How could I ever forget this?
After what could’ve been a minute or an hour, I snapped out of my trance by a pat on my shoulder. The Director’s face smiled at me and he pointed to the exit. I turned towards the door, still bewildered from the forgotten memories. We took our leave without a good bye to the girls. As The Director took his coat off his hanger, I thought that the girls couldn’t possibly be doctors or even nurses. They were much too young. I pondered over this as we left the apartment, took the elevator down to ground level and rode off in The Director’s go-kart.
“Drink this.”
I took the vial in my hand and looked at it. It was small, two mouthfuls at most. The clear glass showed a brown-yellow liquid inside – almost like whiskey –with small, white chunks floating up towards the mouth and then down again. The movement of the chunks was hypnotizing and I stared at it for what must have been ten minutes. I looked up at the director. “What is it?”
“You’ll like it,” he smiled. I leaned in closer to him and whispered to him. Nobody would’ve heard with the windows of the metro train open anyways, but it was natural for me to make sure no one else heard this kind of conversation.
“I’ll be moving to Japan in a few weeks and I want a clear head before the trip. If this is some kind of drug, then no, thank you.”
“You need not worry,” he said, still smiling. He took another vial, identical to the one I held in my hand, from a pocket of his coat and downed it in a single gulp. I looked at my vial again, unscrewed the cork and downed it. It tasted bitter, like black tea without sugar. I felt warmth in my throat and belly as it went down, again as whiskey.
The train rocked and the deafening sound of breaks against rails came in through the open window. It stopped at the platform and people stepped out of the train. A lot fewer came aboard, sitting down at available seats. An old lady with a shopping trolley filled with junk sat down next to me. She smelled awful and I realized she was homeless. I glanced at her and noticed that the dirt on her face, her missing teeth and her unwashed hair hid her true age. I guessed that she was in her forties. Now that I had a real look at her, I recognized her as the local bum in my hometown.
As the conductor came to check the passengers’ tickets, the old lady started rambling. I could only hear a few words, something about only wanting to do something and never meant to do this or that. I realized the rambling was directed at me when I smelled her foul breath. My left palm itched as I looked at her and was met with sad eyes and a mouth drooping like a bulldog’s. The conductor came to our set of seats. I showed him my ticket and the instrument in his hand flashed green. The same happened when the conductor checked The Director’s ticket and the ticket of the well-dressed man next to The Director. The conductor turned to lady homeless, took her ticket and scanned it with his handheld machine. The instrument flashed red and the conductor gave the homeless lady her ticket back.
“You are not authorized to sit in a red zone,” he said with a stern face. What?! Red zone? I looked up and saw a red line of tape running along the floor and up the walls, enclosing our seats. I had never seen this before, and I ride this train every day for work. Something strange is going on. Where was I anyway? Panic gripped me again, like a hand at my throat. Was I going mad?
Eventually the conductor dragged the homeless lady away from our seats and The Director got up at the same time. He walked to the doors of the train and waited for the train to stop at the platform. He stepped out of the train on to the platform. I followed him. He said nothing as he led the way up some stairs and out in the night air.
A go-kart was parked right in front of us in the street. How many go-karts did this guy have? As we came closer, I saw that it was the same go-kart as we had used earlier that evening. How did it get here? And why did we take the metro instead of riding the go-kart all the way here? My left palm itched as I felt my phone vibrate in my pocket. It was my friend; the one I thought would stand on the other side of the door, ready to get his ass kicked in Super Smash Bros.
“Where the hell are you? I thought you were going to get your ass kicked in Smash tonight.”
It took me a few seconds to get my thoughts together and remember that I was indeed supposed to be hanging out with my friends tonight. “Yeah, sorry… I’m with The Director. We’re off to see his new movie.” What was his name anyways?
“Who? What director? Listen man, I thought we were going to… just co…” Static took over our conversation. I saw The Director sitting in his go-kart, looking at me disapprovingly. I hurried over and took the passenger seat while dumping my phone back into my pocket.
All I could remember from the movie was that my left palm itched like crazy. If someone asked me what the movie was about, I wouldn’t know.
The Director took me back to the apartment complex where we’d met the young nurses. The ride in the go-kart was, again, painfully slow. How one could own a go-kart and ride slower than a golf cart amazed me. We followed the same procedure as earlier that evening; ride the elevator to the third floor, enter apartment without knocking, The Director hanging his coat on the white coat hanger.
The two young girls were sitting by the white, round table as we entered through the curtain. They’d changed clothes while we were at the movies. Instead of white scrubs, they were dressed in white tops with white skirts. They really like white, I thought as I took a seat at the table. Discussions about the movie and future projects ensued. I mostly listened, though I don’t remember much of was said. Again, my left palm itched like something I’ve never experienced.
I felt my skin burst in my left palm and a trickle of blood run along my hand. I looked down at the hand and felt a pang of nausea as I saw a thin worm writhing around in the gash my nails had dug from the scratching. It was a wonder that I didn’t feel any pain. I used the fingers of my other hand to grab the worm and try to pull it out. It was slick with blood and I couldn’t get a good grip. The worm broke in two and I threw the half worm down on the floor while digging my nails into my hand to get the rest of the worm out.
“I need help!” I called out. The two girls looked at me with horror and the brunette saw the worm I’d thrown at the floor.
“What the fuck are you doing?!” she screamed at me. “Don’t throw it on the floor you moron!”
I managed to get the other half of the worm out of my hand and threw it on the floor as well. “I need help,” I exclaimed again while I got up and rushed to the cabinets along the walls. I threw open cabinet doors and slid drawers all the way out so that all manner of things fell on the floor. “How can you call this a hospital without having proper equipment? Where’s the antibiotics?” Why antibiotics? I looked from the two girls to The Director. The girls sat with open mouths and looked as horrified as I felt. The Director put on a cold face.
I felt a tickle in my left palm and panic consumed me as I saw a second worm squirming in my open cut. The cut was deep enough for me to see my bone, but still I felt no pain. I opened my right hand and let out a moan as I saw thin, black lines moving underneath my skin. I looked up at The Director. He smiled.
+ Show Spoiler +
This is a dramatized version of a nasty ass dream I had last night.
