The Four Course Meal

A lost look on his face, blood running down his cheeks. A knife in one hand and a fork in the other. Rare meat on a sizzling plate. He can no longer count the days, but he can count the meals. He has been held captive in a room, arms barred with hinges at the bottom, allowing him to move the food to his mouth, and legs restrained onto a cold metal chair, with a silver desk in front of him. The room is only big enough for him and the chair, no outside bodies are allowed to enter. He cannot scratch his neck, the metal links do not permit him. He can't look down, his neck is tightly fastened to the back of the chair, all he can see are his meals. Slabs of meat, nothing but meat, cooked in the same way over and over again. The only thing he can do is to wait and eat, hopefully his captor will release him.

The meals come one by one, on a sizzling plate, followed with a glass of wine. Different body parts, of the animals killed for his satiety. The ribs, the intestines, the heart, the lungs, the brains, the pancreas, the livers. He doesn't find anything wrong with what he's eating, just as long as he survives.

He's tired of looking for a way out, his legs have gone numb, his arms can't move in any other way. The only thing that let's him see the outside world is the little sliding window, where all his grub is slid in from. Open, close, open, close, that's all that he ever sees aside from his meals. There is always an equal amount of light outside, as there is inside the room. He counts the meals as if they were breakfast, lunch and dinner, and decides that each day is 3 meals, he sleeps after each and every single one of his meals.

He hears a voice outside his little room, telling him that one of the restraints will be removed today, a smile forms on his face as he realizes that it's one step closer to being free. A slit in the wall that was previously concealed appears in front of him, a bigger sliding window than the last. A man wearing a mask puts a sizzling plate on the desk.

He starts to think of the family he'll be able to go back to when he gets out. His two beautiful children, a boy named Harry, and a girl named Sally, his gorgeous wife, that had such a comforting smile, a jaw-dropping face, and extraordinary body named Lucy. The kind of family he felt like he never deserved, but loved unconditionally either way.

The captor removes the restraint from his neck, he can finally see everything more clearly, he sees that today his meal starts with the face of an animal. He looks more closely to see what animal it was, and as he looked intently at each of the faces he realized with such horror and despair, that he has been eating a three course meal. The faces looked at him in such a dreadful, and depressing manner. He felt a pain in his stomach as his eyes swelled up with anguish. He looked down to see why it had hurt so badly, only to see parts of himself missing. He cried to himself as he felt the need

"Lucy, Harry and Sally, a four course meal just for me."

Life is funny isn't it?

If you think about it how much of your life makes sense?

Try to string everything together, how could one event lead to the other? More importantly why have they strung together in the first place?

To me if your whole life if put together is like a coherent sentence, your life must suck, no joke, just going to put it out there none of those fancy words or sentences that make people think. Just plainly out there your life sucks. It's a cliche, a fraud, nothing should be make sense. That's because we're all supposed to find that little thing or rather big thing that can bring it all together.

In dreams, everything is just going, it all feels so real, but does it actually make any sense? Obviously not, we dream everyday and we wake up to reality, which in turn also makes absolutely no sense.

Who are we to decide whether the dream is the dream, while reality is actually reality? For all we know it we're awake in our dreams, and we're asleep in real life.

For those who are awake all night as I am, when you sleep when the sun is up, don't you think it's rather strange that we're awake while others are in the real world? It's weird to be talking about, but sometimes we should stop and just think.

Is reality, just a dream?