A Dreamer without a Dream - 1. A dreamer without a dream

A Dreamer Without A Dream

By W.L

If Life is a dream, how can the dreamer live without a dream?

 

How many hours? How many days? How many years? At first, I tried to keep track of time with the number of daily visits by Brian, then he stopped coming. I tried to figure it out with the maintenance guys, who come by every week, then they stopped coming. I can’t remember much, probably because the human brain was never meant to remember things over a hundred years without losing other memories. However, I can remember why I am here and who Brian was to me even if I sometimes forget my own name or the names of things in the memories. I can’t forget him even if I forget everything else.

The thought of Brian brings flashes of old memories, when the machine closes my eyelids and begins the brain stimulation. I remember:

 

(First Memory)

 

A small figure started appearing, it looked fragile, carrying something on its back; I think it was called a back pack. The being looked rather uncomfortable in his new surroundings, he had caught my attention with his odd yellow shirt.

 

Another taller and wider figure that I identified as “the teacher” began speaking, while it led the frail being forward, “Class, please say hello to Brian. He just moved here with his family from Vermont. Can each of you say something about Vermont?”

 

One voice said, “It is cold”

 

“There are cows” another spoke

 

When it came my turn, I said: “umm, it has Brian”

 

Brian blushed with an amazing glow of peach and rose.

 

The teacher corrected me: “Jaysen, Brian is no longer in Vermont, so the correct words would be that it had Brian, but the better way to say it is that Brian lived there.”

 

The sequence kept going until everyone had finished. Brian looked fatigued from all the attention that he had received from everyone about Vermont.

 

The teacher began: “Okay, now that we all shared what we know about Vermont, Brian can you tell everyone a little about you?”

 

Brian motioned slowly: “I…like to play on jungle gyms and slides.”

 

My first thought at that point was that we could play together during play time, later. I could show him my favorite way to go down the slides, on my tummy.

 

“Okay class, time to start group projects. Brian, why don’t you sit here with Todd, Jaysen, and Ben?”

 

I don’t remember much of the assignment or who else was in my group. My memory was focused on Brian. Time seemed to flow very rapidly in memory.

 

In mere moments, it was lunch time. Everyone began taking out metallic containers filled with food and other things. Everyone had food, except Brian, who had nothing.

 

“Brian, where’s your lunch box?” the teacher asked.

 

“I forgot to bring it,” Brian said softly.

 

The teacher frowned: “Brian, we do not offer lunch here for children. I will write a letter to your parents and make sure they know to pack a lunch for you tomorrow. We don’t have any food here.”

 

Brian looked completely miserable. My heart felt like it was being torn apart seeing him in such a state.

 

I went over toward Brian and the teacher, “Can I share my lunch with Brian?”

 

The teacher looked at me with a smile, “Yes, you can Jaysen. You will get a nice gold star for the day.”

 

Brian and I walked towards the table where everyone was eating. I took out my box and took out what I think was called a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Then, I took out an apple. Finally, I took out a juice box.

 

I made my offer to Brian, “Okay, Brian, you can have half the peanut butter and jelly sandwich. I’ll also give you half the juice box, too.”

 

“Thank you Jaysen”

 

“Call me Jay.”

 

We began eating. I started out on the apple and watched as Brian engulfed the entire half of sandwich in seconds. He looked over at my half of the sandwich with a wishful grin. I looked at him and could not resist his puppy dog eyes.

 

I pushed my half of the sandwich to him, “You owe me half a sandwich”

 

Brian shook his head, “No, I already ate half; I can’t take your half, too.”

 

“You’re not, the first half I gave to you, the next half you owe me.”

 

Brian smiled, “I owe you half a sandwich forever.”

 

(End of First Memory)

 

What is a debt? The idea of owing something to another person seems so simple. Yet, when you think about it more deeply, there is nothing simple about a debt. I mean half a sandwich is not something that you can base an entire lifetime on, or is it?

Brian didn’t need to owe me anything. I did it, because I felt like he needed help. The teacher could have done something for Brian, but I felt a distinct impression that the teacher had not wanted to share lunch with Brian. The teacher did not think about Brian’s needs, but I did. Why had I thought about him first before I thought about myself? I wanted to eat my sandwich and drink my juice, too. Then, I gave my entire sandwich to him without a second thought.

When I remembered this memory, I think of another word along with debt, love. Love brought out many levels of memories, but this one was the first:

 

(Second Memory)

 

In my memory, I had just opened my eyes to see a body wrapped in my arms. It felt warm and perfect to me, like nothing in the world mattered at that moment. I started looking at its attributes. I saw what my memories called hair on its top and what I called brown for an additional description. Then, my sight switched to what my memories called a face, which was roundly proportionate with a few blemishes that did not detract from its beauty. My focus moved to one portion of the face between a space bordering the hair, it was called the eyes, though they were closed. The eyes were dark blue, which seemed to pierce my thoughts as they began revealing themselves; peering into my soul as if it knew I was here watching it in the distant future.

 

I started caressing something, a dick; yes that’s what it was called. It felt very hard and long to me. That stirred the body in my arms to turn around.

 

“That was fun last night, Jay” it spoke in a barely audible way.

 

I started speaking as well, “Yeah, I thought I was the only one, who could handle six or seven sessions in one night, but you gave me a run for it, Bri.”

 

“Tell me why haven’t we ever done this? Like, we’ve been friends for years and we could have had all this fun.”

 

I felt a surge of emotion: “I was afraid you might say no to me, afraid we might get into a fight, afraid you might never want to see me again.”

 

Brian began to caress my dick in response: “Jay, we’ve been friends since kindergarten and we’ve never been afraid to share anything. I told you I was gay last night and I wouldn’t just accept some random guy in bed for a one night stand, except maybe Taylor Lautner, but you never have to hide your feelings from me. I love you man, and I thought that we’d never get to this point.”

 

I felt complete at that moment: “Thank you”

 

(End of Second Memory)

 

It felt good to be with Brian; it felt good to know that he was my friend and we were both similar. Why was I afraid in the first place? Why was I worried that something bad would happen between us?

Shorter thoughts and images flashed in my mind. Words like gay, loneliness, persecution, beating, and even death came to mind. There was something in me and Brian that people did not like, something they did not understand. It was something that we did with our dicks that made people afraid of us, but how could they be afraid of stuff we did with each other? How could they be hurt by it?

More thoughts began to flow into my mind. Being gay means loving someone of the same sex like Brian. Love isn’t wrong; it is probably the best thing that people can do with one another. I loved Brian, because of the passion his words brought out, the warmth his body created, and the joy his spirit brought to my life. However, there was something in opposition to love, hate.

Inside every person, there is the possibility to have both love and hate, but why do people hate instead of love. Maybe, they learned to hate from others out of fear for something that they just don’t understand. Maybe, they want to hate to not be discovered for the same things that they fight. Maybe, they just want to deny that there is love in this world to give their lives meaning without it. Through the actions of hate, we are bound to a cycle, until those with the courage of their convictions step forward and make a stand.

What is courage though? More images come to mind and more words: bravery, heroes, champions, and love. I feel a strong presence in the words of courage and love, but did I ever feel courage in my life?

My thoughts switched back to Brian as I began to feel some powerful memories fading with these new questions:

 

(Third Memory)

 

I was in a big room with many people. They were all sitting at what I think were called tables. I was sitting at one with a few people that I thought I knew as friends. A feeling was there, it was like fear, but different.

 

Brian breathless and fatigued had just sat down: “Jay, I came after I read your text. What’s up?”

 

I looked around the others at the table, who were staring at me with anticipation. I tried to open my mouth, but no words came out of them. I was afraid.

 

Brian noticed “Hey, Jay why are you so weird, tonight? Are the finals getting to you man?”

 

“Brian…We…you…umm…” I tried, but stuttered a response

 

The tension was building inside me and I kept looking over at the others. I was afraid of something that I had to say to Brian. I felt like I needed to do something, but couldn’t find the right words for it. There was something in my heart that was breaking apart.

 

In the momentary silence, Brian’s facial expression had changed dramatically. He looked nervous and pale. I think he thought I was about to tell him that I wanted to end our relationship. I could see the swelling tears in those dark blue eyes like the merciless waves of an ocean.

 

I tried to speak again: “Look Brian, we’ve been…umm… boyfriends for a long time and …umm…I really care about you…Uh….it’s like we’re about to graduate in another week…uh…I know my parents aren’t entirely supportive of us….Uh…I want you to know that I do care…”

 

Brian cut me off: “Are you breaking up with me?”

 

Brian began to sob. It was a really miserable moment. I could feel my heart aching and breaking with such a response. I wanted to yell at myself, but this was no longer me.

 

All I said was, “No.”

 

It did nothing to settle Brian down. I began to well up in tears too. Feelings of regret, stupidity, and self-loathing filled me. How could I have been so stupid as to say those things? How could I have not thought about the person that I loved and his reactions?

 

Then, suddenly a roar of sound came from somewhere and our attention switched to the group of guys at our table chanting something: “Ask him! Ask him! Ask him!”

 

More stares came at me from others in the room, I could remember the faces of everyone there, but could no longer put names next to those faces. I could remember that there was another group of people, who had gathered around me and Brian, surrounding us. I could remember the feeling that I had wanted everyone at the table to help me muster courage for something, but the others seemed to understand my desires on some level. Perhaps, my intentions were revealed by someone at the table.

 

A person from the side said: “If you don’t ask him, then I’ll have to take the stud off your hands.”

 

I mustered my courage: “Will you be my partner for life, Brian? I know I am not the best looking guy, I am really shy around people, and I probably don’t speak that well, but after we began our relationship, I knew you were the only one for me. I wanted to share our life together, not just as friends, boyfriends, or whatever our relationship is. I wanted this to be forever, no matter what happens.”

 

Brian blushed in shock as the tears in his eyes had subsided, “Jay, you’re the coolest guy I’ve ever met, and I am proud to be your boyfriend. I thought you were breaking up with me. I got scared, because I knew that you are the only guy I loved without question. I will accept as long as you do one thing.”

 

“I will do anything Bri.”

 

“Be yourself for as long as you live.”

 

(End of Third Memory)

 

That was courage; it isn’t something big and flashy, but just a simple act of accepting what you feel and what you want to tell the person who you love more than anything. When the word “courage” comes into my memory, I get blurry images of things that I know I never did and never could do, but this memory was what courage meant to me as I focused in on the words in connection with Brian. I know without my friends helping me, I would not have displayed the courage I did. I know courage was not something I could muster on my own without help.

You can talk a lot about courage through examples and stories, but true courage is something that you must discover on your own. When you overcome your fear of the unknown, stop lying to yourself, and end any denial of your reality, then you have courage. I feared Brian would not accept me more than a boyfriend with all my baggage. I wanted to lie to myself that it was not the right time to ask him as my parents might not accept us and we’re just starting our careers. I wanted to deny the fact that I could no longer live without him in my life. I hated myself for all those things and I know now that a part of me hated Brian, because I could not express my love completely to him. Fear had held me back from loving him, the way I wanted.

Did he ever know that I felt that way? Did he know that I could be scared? Did he ever know I could hate him?

Another memory came into focus; this one felt like it was from a time before I made my announcement to the world that I loved Brian:

 

(Fourth Memory)

 

I was moving as I saw things passing, but it wasn’t me who was moving. I felt like I was in a confined space, but it was natural to me. I could hear something echoing around me, I think it was called music. The thing, I was in, was called a car…yes, that is what they called it. There was something unsettling about the word “car”, but I felt that this was a natural environment for me.

 

Brian was next to me, doing something to change the music, which seemed to irritate me.

 

I began speaking: “Brian, pick a station already. It’s local radio. There’s only ten stations. Just pick one.”

 

Brian replied with an exacerbated tone: “Jay, there’s like only three stations that I like. Most of the others are political talk shows or country music stations. I just want to make sure that I’m not missing anything like the new Lady Gaga single.”

 

At that moment, my emotions were very sharp: “God, Bri, give it a rest. She’s going to either end up drugged up or pregnant by some asshole, like Britney Spears.”

 

Brian in an understanding and forgiving tone, said: “Sorry man, I know I should have charged my Iphone earlier and stuff. I guess I must be driving you nuts after spending fall semester in the same room.”

 

I softened a bit at the suggestion that he was the source of my issues: “It’s not you Bri, it’s awesome they let us choose our roommates and I’d rather have you than a playboy, who sexiles me for a girl.”

 

Brian placed a hand on my thigh, which caused my dick to enlarge. I could feel a surge of energy coursing through my body.

 

“He would never know what he was missing out on.”

 

He said nothing after that and did not change the radio station either. His hand never strayed far from my thigh. My thoughts drifted away from the menacing issues that had been plaguing me earlier and focused entirely on the joy of being with Brian.

 

It is strange that I could still feel the frustration in my memory with Brian over an incident that has long passed. Perhaps it is due to something else that brought this memory into focus.

 

I do not know how much time passed in reality, but it felt like an instant. In the next thought, I gazed at a structure that I knew as home. It was my home. I was no longer in the car anymore; I was outside with a large container in my hand.

 

Brian had also grabbed a big container, but it was more than he could bear alone: “Jay, can I get a hand with your box? I’m not your slave, you know, like I’d ever wear leather straps and a collar.”

 

I dropped the box I was carrying to give him a hand: “Come on, I bet you’d look great in leather,” I retorted,” I could put a leash on that collar and take you out for walks. If you were a good boy, I might even give you a treat.”

 

Brian smiled, “In your dreams, Jay. Besides, I’d be the one holding the leash.”

 

With a shift of weight toward Brian, he was knocked down to the ground. I tossed the box aside and pounced at him. Brian began to get up to respond in force, but I had pinned him down with the weight of my body. He was squirming as I had him held down. It felt like we had been doing this for years and it was natural for me or him to surprise one another in such a way. We knew that neither one of us would do something that the other did not want.

 

I asked him, “Do you give up?”

 

Brian grinned and without saying a word, lifted his head and placed his lips against mine. The feeling was powerful as I felt his hands beginning to move around my back and I did the same toward him. It was a kiss, something that people shared out of a deep sense of emotional attachment or longing.

 

When it ended, I started to smile, but I had caught a familiar figure in my eye that immediately ended our short spurt of lust. The figure was tall with a mildly round midsection and hair that seemed slightly white in places. I knew this figure as my father. Fear stirred in me as I did not know how to respond and Brian had shifted his gaze towards him. Brian’s expression matched mine.

 

With a scowl on his face, my father, without saying a word, turned back into the house. The only word that came into my mind at that moment was “Fuck”.

 

I stared at Brian with a scowl equal to my father’s own: “Why the fuck did you do that? I didn’t want him to find out like that. Did you think it was cool just to kiss me in front of my house like we were in our room or something?”

 

That was what I had been worried about during the trip back home. I wanted to tell my family about myself and Brian. My thoughts were jumbled, because I was trying to find the best way to tell them. I can no longer remember what I thought was the ideal setting, nor if I actually did come up with an ideal setting to reveal this knowledge. Instead, all my plans, all my half thought out schemes, and all my hopes were dashed away with a casual act of love by Brian.

 

Brian said only two remorseful words, “Sorry Jay”

 

Instead of comforting him, I just looked at him with utter disdain, “I think I should take you back to your house, I don’t think mom or dad will want you over for thanksgiving this year Bri.”

 

(End of Fourth Memory)

 

I was cruel to Brian, because I wanted to love him. Yet, I didn’t want to show it to my father. When I lashed out at Brian, I hated him for kissing me. Yet, when he did kiss me I wanted him to keep doing it forever. The only difference was the addition of my father. Yet, he’s not part of what Brian and I shared in our feelings for each other. How can he affect me like that?

Memories came about in my mind. They were only glimpses of memories; it felt like they were made somewhere deep in my past. It was not like the ones I experienced with Brian, they were intentionally pushed away in my mind, so their degradation was expected.

First, I saw myself being held up by my father as I squirmed into what seemed like a large body of water, I think it was called a bath tub. My father was holding my small body tightly, protecting it.

Then, I saw myself trying really hard to tie something; shoes, yes that’s what they’re called. My father saw me in distress and walked over to me and took my hands, which followed his motions.

The last glimpse of a memory was of me trying to toss a ball into an open net. I was still very small in comparison to the house and my father, who had not developed any gray hairs as of yet. He was encouraging me in efforts, no matter how many times I had failed before.

On some level, I wanted my father to still be the man in my memories; I wanted his protection, support, and encouragement. Yet, I knew he was not ready to accept Brian, seeing him as a foreign danger rather than an ally of his son. He could not bring himself to confront or hate me, like some might expect, but merely took a step back to the house, where, like my memories, glimpses of past joys could fill him. The most dangerous part of love and hate is not in the actions that one takes, but rather the apathy when one cannot bear to take any actions at all out of love. Just as my father could not bring himself to confront me with his issues over my love for Brian, I could not confront Brian with my issues with the coldness that my father exhibited towards us. It is irrational and foolish to act this way, but there is no logic in love.

After how I treated him, Brian could have left me for another guy without so many issues and fears. Why didn’t Brian ever choose to be with someone better than me? He knew I could have defended him in front of my father, but I didn’t. He knew I could be irrational, prone to tantrums, and show him less than the care he deserved. Yet, he still chose to be my partner.

Another memory came into focus as I tried to understand:

 

(Fifth Memory)

 

Immediately several emotions overwhelmed me, I felt nervous, scared, and desperate. I was inside my house with Brian. We were both dressed in strange things covering our entire body, which I think were called robes. Yes, that’s right, we had just graduated from college and we drove home together in my car again.

 

Brian with a reassuring look and his wonderful soft hands on my shoulder began to speak to me in a whisper, “Jay, are you nervous? Cause, I could be the one to start talking and see where things go from there. I know my mom was taking this pretty well and my dad already thinks of you as family.”

 

I shook my head and responded in an equal low tone, “Bri, your parents knew we were gay a long time ago and they had time to deal with it. Even your mom was making a joke the last time I was there that I had to start doing laundry if we kept ruining her sheets like that.”

 

Brian with a small smile, “She said that to you, why didn’t you tell me asshole? I thought telling her about us getting married would be rough on her, since she wanted grandkids so badly.”

 

“Not if I told her we would try to do in-vitro with your little swimmers after a few years, when we settle into our lives. Though to be honest, I told her if she wanted grandkids, I probably stand a better chance as I am quite certain your stuff doesn’t even have a tail.”

 

“Screw you!”

 

“Then, we’d never get kids.”

 

We both broke out in laughter, which surprised both my parents. They both stared at us with a strange expression.

 

“What’s so funny Jay?” My mother tried to ask in her usual calm manner.

 

I knew that the moment of truth was at hand, “Brian and I were talking about having kids in the future together. As a married couple…”

 

My father slumped back with unease at the revelation, but my mother nudged him slightly with her hand. She made a quick glance at Brian. It was not hostile. it was more of an appraisal like a mother would give to any potential mate. My father turned to face her, but she reassuringly patted him gently on his shoulders.

 

She had strength of expression that might not be strong in my mind or pervasive in my memories as my father’s actions, but I know that it was from her that I learned of subtlety in life.

 

My father began to speak, “Jay, I can’t say I approve of you two. I have been trying my best to understand why you feel this way. If I had a choice in the matter, I’d rather you had a girlfriend, but I don’t. I have taught you that a man makes his own way in life, both through choice and through what he was given by God. I am not an overly religious man, but I don’t think of homosexuality as something a life can be built on, Jay. I wanted you to have a normal life, and eventually a normal family. I am not so blind to reality that I believe what you feel is a choice, but I cannot bring myself to accept you two. I’ll leave it at that.”

 

He stood and walked away, but Brian was not content. He stood quickly. “Mr. Lewis, do you trust that I love Jaysen?”

 

The tension grew; I couldn’t understand Brian. My father had accepted us as a couple. Was that not enough? My father halted and turned, looking at Brian several times more deeply than my mother had. Brian stood his ground.

 

“I think Jay trusts you with his love and you trust him with his love in you. I trust you only to the extent that Jay does.”

 

(End of Fifth Memory)

 

Trust, what does it mean? How can my father place trust in something that does not concern him? As he said earlier, my love for Brian was my own, and not his to approve. If trust is based on personal choice and my father left his trust with me for Brian, then shouldn’t the application of trust be enough for acceptance. Unless, he wanted to make a choice, but he could not force me to accept it. If trust is a real thing, then why do people feel the need to enforce it upon one another?

Also, why did Brian bring up this issue? He could have accepted my father’s lack of expression as tacit approval as I had. Yet, he asked about my father’s trust in him. I know Brian loves me and I know I love him, shouldn’t that be enough? Maybe, I pushed Brian to commit to this meeting with my father, because I wanted his support despite all the issues. I wanted something that I knew was only a dream, but could not let it go. Was I just like my father?

When I think about the word “trust” along with either my father or Brian, I have no images to draw upon in my memory. The word trust for me is not merely the act of protection or love, there is more to it. The ancient memories of my father do not mean trust to me, nor do the memories of love with Brian. It is more a feeling. I trusted Brian and felt he trusted me. I trusted my father and I think he trusted me. Brian lived with my insecurities just as I did, because trust establishes a bond with each person. It is not perceivable, nor is it based on any one memory. It takes the collective experiences with another person to create trust.

Things like love and hate seems to flow with the word “trust”. Another word, I think it is called “betrayal” also enters my mind. “Betrayal” fills me with something much worse than fear. It draws the memory back into focus for why I am in the machine. I don’t want to remember this, but the memory has been invoked through this line of thought:

 

(Sixth memory)

 

I was driving another car; this one felt like it was better somehow, more comfortable. A long time has passed since the confrontation with my parents.

 

I began speaking to something in the car: “Brian, you got to put the Turkey into a preheated oven of 350 degrees, not 450, unless, you want us to eat burnt meat.”

 

Brian’s voice beamed out all around me: “Jay, I need your help or else the kid will start eating me. Why couldn’t you have skipped the meeting at the Cross Foundation?”

 

I responded: “Couldn’t be helped, we were welcoming a new researcher, you met him, and his name was Greg something.”

 

Another voice squeaked: “Daddy, I’m hungry. Poppa’s burning the birdie.”

 

I chuckled at the description of Brian’s cooking: “Izzy, are you helping Poppa?”

 

“Yes, daddy, but Poppa letting me be his saucy-er”

 

Another chuckle came from me as I heard those words. It felt so warm and comforting to hear him and Brian. My mind was thinking about a nice Thanksgiving meal, filled with happiness.

 

A sudden sound came from the same place the voices had and I heard Brian scream: “Fire, Izzy get out of the way!”

 

My attention was completely overtaken by that and I did not notice another car was rushing toward me at an erratic trajectory. My mind was absorbed by thoughts of my family.

 

“Are you guys alright?”

 

“Yes, we’re fine Jay; it was grease from the sausages that I was making. The fire is out.”

 

I breathed a sigh of relief. Then, I felt a sudden jolt followed by rapid movement, a sharp pain, and consciousness slipping away. The pain was unbearable, but I could not tell where it came from.

 

The last words I heard were from Brian: “Jay, what was that sound? Jay, stop messing around and get home soon”

 

I don’t know how long it was before I regained a type of consciousness. The first thought that came into my head was a blinding flash. I no longer felt any pain and I could hear voices from people around me. I could not open my eyes though.

 

“Do you think he can hear us?” It sounded like my mother’s soft voice, only more somber.

 

“I hope so,” my father’s voice added.

 

“You heard what the doctors said. I don’t want to believe it”

 

“Laura, he’s not dead. Look at the monitors, there is still hope.”

 

“Hope that somehow his brain connections will magically come back, or hope that his weakened heart valves will hold together? God, didn’t you just hear them, he has like five days to live.”

 

“They could be wrong…they could all be wrong. He’s not going to die…I’m not going to let him die.”

 

I heard footsteps in the room and Brian’s voice: “I’ve told Izzy the whole truth, he’s taking it pretty bad.”

 

“He’s your son, keep him quiet, so the doctors can work on Jay,” my father angrily responded.

 

My mother, more sympathetically said, “Brian, I can go and talk with Izzy.”

 

A few more footsteps sounded. Then, an uncomfortable silence settled in the room for what seemed like lifetimes.

 

My father began speaking: “There was a guy that came by earlier, he said he worked with Jay or something, and he might be able to help.”

 

Brian with a noticeable excitement in his voice began: “Really? I didn’t know they could do that? Can you tell me some details?”

 

My father in a voice of superiority: “He said that he could put Jay into a machine to extend his life indefinitely, it will supply his brain with electrical stimulation, allow oxygen to filter into his body, and even slow down his body to something called metabolic stasis.”

 

I heard Brian in a very dismissive and angry voice: “You’re talking about making him into a mummy. I heard the same thing from that guy Greg, too. I told him, hell no. You can’t force a person to live like that. Hell, it’s not even life. He would be only alive in the sense that he could hear and see you due to the short jolts of electricity that the machine provides to the brain. He won’t be able to talk, move, or even breath. Jay would never want to live a prisoner in his own body.”

 

My father coldly responded: “What the fuck do you know about what Jay wanted? The guy said that in few years, they might be able to find a cure for everything. Since his body will not fail, they will have time to fix everything about him. He can be walking, talking, and everything again. How can you deny him a chance at life?”

 

“There are no guarantees in this procedure or whether they can revive him. Plus, I know for a fact, he would not want to be your stuffed trophy inside a glass jar.”

 

I heard rumbling, then footsteps again.

 

My mother’s voice was soft: “Please both of you don’t do this.”

 

Brian’s voice pleaded, “Mrs. Lewis, I respect you and I know that despite everything, you understood how I felt for Jay. Please don’t let him do this to him. Jay doesn’t deserve this.”

 

My dad responded quickly, “I’m not going to back down on this Laura. I can’t let Jay’s life be destroyed by someone who won’t even consider taking the only chance he has to life. If I have to go to court, I will do it. Jay deserved better than you.”

 

Brian retorted angrily, “You’re not doing this for Jay’s benefit. You’re doing it, because you just don’t get it. Jay and I loved each other, we had a family together, and you weren’t part of it, because you couldn’t accept it. We’re no different than you and Mrs. Lewis; we have our ups and our downs. Jay beat himself up every day of his life trying to be like you, but he was nothing like you. He was better than you; he did not put his wishes ahead of his family.”

 

“You think, I’m the bad guy. Listen, I love my son with all my heart. When I found out he was gay, I could have been a bastard about it, but my love for him made sure I would never do anything to hurt him. All I wanted for him was to live a normal life, is it really wrong to want your son to live well? This country was founded on principles that held life to be absolute, an inalienable right. We’re a civilization based around life, not death”

 

“So what, you’re hiding behind the Declaration of independence? Jay would never have wanted to be kept alive indefinitely that’s not a right to life; it’s not even human to do that to someone. Jay had already made up his own future and destiny without you; he did not need you to plot it for him. Laura, please don’t let him do this, you got a right same him.”

 

My mother in a subdued voice answered, “Brian, I…don’t know what’s right in this situation. When they told me about Jay’s remaining time, I almost lost it. If there’s even a chance at life, I have to make that bet. I don’t want to do this to spite you, because I know you love him too, but he needs his chance.”

 

Brian replied in a morose tone: “I won’t let this happen, I’ll fight it.”

 

My father said only four words: “See you in Court.”

 

(End of Sixth Memory)

 

Did I want to die? I don’t think anyone would choose death if there was a chance at life, but I do feel betrayed at this moment. While trust had no memory attached to it. Betrayal is still bittersweet with this memory. I loved my father and I probably will never stop loving him, but living life only through memories of a past that has been fading away piece by piece. My mind only saw betrayal rather than hope. I could hold back my resentment for his decision, but if I were in his position, would I have really done as Brian said? Am I better than my father?

I don’t know what I would have done if I was given the same choices. When I thought Izzy and Brian were hurt at first, a million thoughts ran through my brain. I tried to imagine all the choices I could make and all the choices I needed to make, but in the end, I found myself at a complete loss. Perhaps, it is what betrayal really means, “Lost”. Given a choice of an illusion of life and a reality of death, can a human being resist a calling to life?

Yet, Brian did resist, he fought it without knowing what I would face. He didn’t want me to live without being able to interact with the world. He did not fear death, because he did not fear life. That’s why my father couldn’t let go of me and why Brian could. My father had never accepted life for me. He never acknowledged Brian, because he could not accept that I was in love with him, contrary to his own plans. He even hated Izzy, who might have been biologically Brian’s son, but whom I loved as my own flesh and blood. I know that my father wanted to protect me, but life should be lived, not preserved for memories.

One last memory comes to mind, when I think of Brian, which brings out an emotion stronger than any other that I have ever felt, but one that has no words or meanings assigned:

 

(Seventh Memory)

 

Brian had been coming almost daily after they placed me into the machine. He might have even visited me, when the machine closed my eyes and began brain stimulation to keep my physical mind operating. I could hear everything around me, but Brian rarely ever spoke. He just looked at me with longing and despair. At times, he came with Izzy, but he always seemed to arrive after my father leaves. Several times he tried to break open the machine with other objects, but he could not break the skin or even dent it.

 

This was the last of Brian’s visits.

 

He had arrived alone with a small pack of things.

 

First, he took out half a sandwich, “Jay, remember the PB&J that we shared in kindergarten? Well, here’s the half I owed you. I will never forget what I owed you.”

 

Next, he took out a picture, “Remember this? It was the night that you proposed to me in the student lounge. I knew it took all your courage to ask me. I will never forget that moment for as long as I live.”

 

The last thing he took out was my Iphone, “They pulled this out of the wreck. I will never forget your last words of worry and care.”

 

Another person entered the room; it wasn’t a maintenance person, because when Brian turned his head, his face began growing new shades of red.

 

“You asshole, how dare you come in here?” Brian told the stranger

 

“It wasn’t what I wanted,” the visitor replied

 

“Wasn’t it? You kept him alive and that was your only goal. You didn’t give crap about how he lived or who you would hurt. The world went to hell, because you did this. Jay’s family not only established precedent, they gave a powerful excuse to rescind gay rights for the last three decades. A “right to life” without liberty or happiness is no life at all, but that’s what the people of the world wants. I didn’t know they had the same stupid language in the UN declaration of Human Rights until a few months ago. It turns out Human Rights means that you must live by a certain set of rules or else, you’re treated as a criminal.”

 

The visitor shaking his head: “I offered everyone a chance for life. If you had just taken up my offer first and not have fought that legal battle with his parents, we would not be where we are today. Your actions created this mess.”

 

Brian took out something that caused the visitor to pause, “You never took responsibility for your actions. You blame other people for what happened. Why are you so selfish? I fought for Jay’s life as he wanted to live it, not what others would desire for him. You couldn’t let “no” stand; you had to go to his parents. It took one ruling, one vote, one challenge to destroy years of people’s lives. Isn’t it great? In a Democratic system, a little idea like bridging the Declaration of Independence’s principles with the language of the Fifth and Fourteenth amendments could lead to so much. Then, export it to apply to the UN rules and viola, you don’t need to outlaw homosexuality just strip its precepts down, until there’s nothing left. They took away Izzy, when he was in school the other day. He was my last lifeline, the last thing in this forsaken world that made any sense. I lost my family, because of your actions.”

 

“Look, put the gun away…I shouldn’t have started blaming you…look I am gay, too. I didn’t want this result either,” the visitor pleaded

 

Brian turned his face towards me and laughed, “Isn’t it ironic then, in the end, the tipping point was not religious zealots, social stigmas, nor political agendas. It was just one gay man, who placed his scientific pride above everyone else. You didn’t just want to make Jay an immortal, you wanted to make yourself one through his survival.”

 

“It can be fixed; everything that has gone wrong can be fixed. Your partner will be able to walk and breathe in a few years, when technology advances further. Your son will not be harmed; I already know someone is doing something. Please just give things time to settle.”

 

Brian smiled at me and placed the gun to his head, “Our time is finite, because only limits to infinity can make life worth living. I hope one day you learn this, Greg.”

 

Brian smiled and a sound echoed throughout the room. Brian’s limp body fell to the floor in a moment and my memories end.

 

(End of Seventh Memory)

 

Then, ultimately, there is death. The word has lost meaning in my mind. I think it once meant finality to existence as I knew it, but in my present state, I don’t know what death is anymore. Brian understood it very well, but in my mind, what he stood for was not death, it was life. Life is not based on something mechanical like breathing or walking, it is everything that we experience. To experience, you must be able to interact. Without interaction, there is no life, no hope, and no potential, but it is not death either.

Maybe, Brian had seen through something that I am only realizing now. Death is not the most frightening thing in the universe. Life and death intertwined in moments of reflection and transition. There is a connection between how we live our lives and how we reach the point of death. Whether we have good times or bad times, death adds meaning to all those experiences.

I have seen my life several times through my memories with Brian; I have lived a full life. Yes, I do have regrets and I do wish that things could have gone differently. Yet, I am glad to have been able to love, to hate, to show courage, to show cowardice, to be afraid, to hold trust, and to know betrayal.

Brian, I will hold you in my memories until my brain finally had forgotten everything and on that day, I will truly die as the last part of me that lives will cease to exist.

                

 

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