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The Kindly Invisible Man, part 2
There was a loud bang. And afterwards, everything turned black. Everything around him seemed wet until he realized that he was sweating like a leaky heater. His breathing went fast but it took a while until his brain got the idea that there wasn’t much oxygen left.
Finally, he kicked back the blanket that had covered him entirely.
Breathes in – breathes out.
Then he opened his eyes. Blinked. And noticed that he was in his bedroom. In his bed while there was already a bright day happening on the other side of the window.
For a moment he simply wasn’t unable to connect his latest memories with his current situation. He tried to remember. About the theatre. About his job. The conversation. The other conversation.
The horribly spectacular sunset.
Until he realized that all of that just had been a dream. Well, it had to be. Because if his latest memories weren’t a dream, then what was that? What was his state he was in at the moment?
Darren Myles looked down on his hands, turned them around, tweaked his skin.
It hurt. And this was the sweetest feeling Darren ever had the fortune to feel. He laid back down on his bed and felt tears of relief leaving his eyes.
One hour later he was standing backstage at the theatre on his control panel, dusting every single LED with loving passion, as if it was the best and most enjoyable work possible. He had been a little late, so the director had to put on the most needed lights. But fortunately enough, the performance only started in about another hour. So, today’s audience wouldn’t notice that something had been different before.
During the performance, Darren had his little monitor by his side. It belonged to the theatre’s older equipment, so its screen only showed very little people in black, grey and white nuances. And also of his lights and smoke he only got an idea from what it should be, not how it actually was seen by the spectators. It was the curse of the control panel’s position. But he should really demand for at least a better screen.
Darren actually smiled at this thought. Because it didn’t really matter. He knew what he had to do. He knew how the lights and the smoke effected the play and certain scenes. He was able to do it even if he’d be blind.
Still, it would be nice to watch the effects in their all brightness or darkness and beauty. It would also help Darren to make it even better next time. But...
Finally, he kicked back the blanket that had covered him entirely.
Breathes in – breathes out.
Then he opened his eyes. Blinked. And noticed that he was in his bedroom. In his bed while there was already a bright day happening on the other side of the window.
For a moment he simply wasn’t unable to connect his latest memories with his current situation. He tried to remember. About the theatre. About his job. The conversation. The other conversation.
The horribly spectacular sunset.
Until he realized that all of that just had been a dream. Well, it had to be. Because if his latest memories weren’t a dream, then what was that? What was his state he was in at the moment?
Darren Myles looked down on his hands, turned them around, tweaked his skin.
It hurt. And this was the sweetest feeling Darren ever had the fortune to feel. He laid back down on his bed and felt tears of relief leaving his eyes.
One hour later he was standing backstage at the theatre on his control panel, dusting every single LED with loving passion, as if it was the best and most enjoyable work possible. He had been a little late, so the director had to put on the most needed lights. But fortunately enough, the performance only started in about another hour. So, today’s audience wouldn’t notice that something had been different before.
During the performance, Darren had his little monitor by his side. It belonged to the theatre’s older equipment, so its screen only showed very little people in black, grey and white nuances. And also of his lights and smoke he only got an idea from what it should be, not how it actually was seen by the spectators. It was the curse of the control panel’s position. But he should really demand for at least a better screen.
Darren actually smiled at this thought. Because it didn’t really matter. He knew what he had to do. He knew how the lights and the smoke effected the play and certain scenes. He was able to do it even if he’d be blind.
Still, it would be nice to watch the effects in their all brightness or darkness and beauty. It would also help Darren to make it even better next time. But...
