The Last Dream of a Dead Man

I’m going to be saying goodbye soon.

I’m already prepared and content with the end of it all. I just hope that everybody else in the world is too. It would be horrible to feel unfulfilled right before your time ends.

The new year approaches, which has always signified the change of mankind and the end of all things bad. Nobody knew it would actually mark the last time we would live on this planet.

A rumor went around the internet a few months ago about how the world was going to end and this year was the last. Obviously no one believed it, but that didn’t stop the rumor from gaining speed and heading off the rails.

Soon news stations, online blogs, and every social media platform you can think of was swarming with messages about how the new year will bring death for all. There wasn’t any evidence backing the suspicion, but it still planted a seed of worry in our minds. The scariest part to me was how the government didn’t even debunk it. Yeah, the news stations gave attention to it, but they never brought in government officials to deny the rumor. I guess that was the first time I truly thought that it might be real.

And honestly, I didn’t really care that it was.

I know my life wouldn’t have amounted to anything great. I have a midlife crisis every day of the week and no one there to comfort me. Disowned by my parents and too unflattering to gain any attraction, I watch every day as my life crumbles around me and I am helpless to stop it. It might sound pitiful and sad, but I spent the last couple of days sitting in my apartment and thinking of things I’ve always wanted to do before my death.

I came up with nothing.

I realized that there wasn’t really anything special I wanted to be. Yeah, it would’ve been cool to be someone famous, but come on, what would’ve been the chances an average guy like me became a celebrity? I was perfectly content with being a boring old plumber in this small town.

As a kid, I dreamed about being a superhero. Saving hundreds of lives with my special powers and quick thinking. It was obviously unrealistic, but thinking about how extraordinary my life could be made me so excited to live the following years. I thought that to have a good life, I had to be something out of this world. That excitement slowly disappeared over the decades until eventually when I dreamt, there was only nostalgia for my childhood innocence.

And that was alright. It is alright. I’m alright.

Sitting here at this awful bar in the middle of some invisible town, I weep.

Not for the regrets I have about my dull existence, but for the realization that I had lived a life.

It didn’t have to be some spectacle that everybody would remember, it just had to be mine.

And this life was mine.

All the people I met, all the work I’ve done, all the decisions and mistakes I’ve made. It was all mine.

I know I can’t be sad in a time like this. Even though this year is the last, it was a pretty decent year. Hell, even if it was a bad year, I’d still be feeling the same way because I never gave up, no matter how much I wanted to.

I’m so proud of never giving up and I’m proud that even though I have nobody, I can still rely on myself.

I have myself until the very last second of this year.

The people that used to be scattered throughout the bar at various tables are now huddled in the corner, staring at the countdown on the television screen. Instead of a big ball dropping this year, it's just a live feed of an empty news station with a timer displayed on the backdrop. There’s only a minute left.

A sudden feeling of sorrow enters my mind as I watch the numbers tick down. I’m sure everybody else feels it too because the crowd of patrons has shifted from silently murmuring to audibly crying with each other. I don’t judge them at all, I admire the ability to be comforted by other people. I guess I was just never given the opportunity to get used to that. Huddling with a group of strangers isn’t really how I want to spend my last minute, so I finish the last drop in my bottle and quietly place it on the counter.

I get up from the bar stool and start making my way towards the back door that I know leads into an isolated alleyway. On my way out, I pass a box of celebratory sparklers and a candle lighter on the edge of the bar counter. Not a single sparkler was taken from the box.

The back door creaks open as loudly as it can, but not one patron turns their head.

I stand in the darkness of the alleyway and take in the night breeze. I take a deep breath and light the sparkler in my hand, holding my arm out so I don’t get hit by any of the sparks.

The brick walls around me glow with a warm light, contrasting with the dark shadows that otherwise fill the scenery.

I hear the crowd inside the bar crying in their last seconds, but I focus on the sparkler.

An automated voice starts counting down the numbers, I’m assuming because the real newscasters left to be with their families. I hear the robotic voice hit twenty seconds left and my mouth forms into a weak smile.

Like I said before, I know I didn’t have to live a huge life after all. I’m pretty happy with where I am and who I ended up becoming.

Fifteen seconds left.

The tears falling down my face are illuminated by the yellow sparkler. I watch as the combustion slowly moves down the stick until it hits my fingertips.

Ten seconds.

As the sparkler dies I know it is time to say goodbye to the world.

The alleyway is enveloped in the shadows once more and I close my crying eyes, letting my mind comfort me for the last few seconds.

In my final moments, I don’t dream about being an extraordinary superhero saving the city. I don’t even dream about being some famous celebrity that is beloved by all.

I just dream about being me.

And that is enough.