*This was my first attempt at a full-length novel. Obviously it was never finished and quite frankly, I haven't re-read it all to determine if it was any good to begin with. Let me know how it is if anyone reads it all the way through. Thanks!
THE DREAM:
I follow this lady dressed in white down an empty street. There is no one on this street but had it not been a dream, the streets would have been crowded with people. People selling counterfeit merchandise, people buying counterfeit merchandise. People dealing and rambling on about their lives and other ordinary things but in my dream, the streets were bare. She’s not racing nor is she speeding along but it’s very hard for me to keep up. I would lose my breath rather quickly and at one point, I almost lose sight of her. It’s not as if she’s leading me on or guiding me anywhere but its her red shoes that grabs my attention and for whatever purpose, I pursue her like a drug sniffing dog chasing down a dealer.
I follow her to a narrow alleyway where she disappears. There are no other ways to leave this alley way but to go forward, so down the way I go. At this point, I forget about the red shoes and the lady the shoes were on. Nothing is on my mind but this alleyway that never seems to end. No matter how fast I run, the alley just doesn’t want to come to an exit. I see the end of the road, but I just can’t seem to get myself to it. I stop to reassess the situation. I’m in an alleyway that doesn’t end. I can’t turn back now and I’ve got to get out before the sun comes down because when the sun comes down, that’s when all the alley cats come out and I sure as hell didn’t want that to happen. What is it about the alley cats I don’t know, but in my dream, I’m deadly afraid of them. I’ve got to get out.
I hear a whisper. If I heard it again, I’d probably be able to make out the words but at this moment, I didn’t understand a word. All of a sudden, I realize what the whisper was. It was a combination. A set of numbers I can use to get myself out of this mess. I see a bag of trash that wants me to empty it. I open the bag and start throwing out its contents. I keep digging at the bag until I’m completely engulfed by it. It’s completely dark. “I am trapped in a garbage bag,” I tell myself. I fiddle around for a little bit when I realize a knob is underneath my bottom. I turn the knob and the bag is lifted and I can finally see light. As if everything that has just happened was no longer. I am standing in the midst of an expansive, everlasting field of grass. The sky is light blue and the sun is shining. I hear birds flying in the sky above and distant laughter of children playing in the playground. “I am in heaven” I mumble to myself. I’ve done myself well and made it to heaven. I proceed to move forward when I feel a slight tug at my feet. I try harder to move this time but the grip has tightened and I’m actually starting to feel pain. I look down to notice a vice on my foot with a series of numbers. It wants me to enter a combination of numbers. It’s obvious that the whisper I heard was telling me what the numbers are for this vice on my foot, but… I look around. I can’t seem to remember the numbers. I start to notice people out in the field. My mother is holding my brother by the hand as my dad sits by eating grapes. My old roommate and that one kid in high school who always did my homework, they’re there as well. And then I saw my girlfriend, but she was crying. I need to get to her and I try so hard but the harder I pull, the harder the vice clamps up. I cry out to her “hold on, I’ll be right there, I’ll be right there” but she can’t hear me. None of them can. The quiet breeze of the autumn wind swallows up my cries. I grab my leg and tug. Harder, harder but to no avail. I realize that I am stuck. Stuck in this moment, just being able to watch all my loved ones at a distance that I can’t do anything to help stop their suffering or to enjoy in their joy. I am stuck.
THIS IS NOT A DREAM:
I walk down the empty subway path and realize that I am living in the vision of the future presented so well to us in those old movies like “Total Recall,” “The Running Man,” “Blade Runner,” and any movie that was taken from a Philip K. Dick novel. Capitalism is at its full throttle and there is no turning back. The poor ravishes the streets and the underground while the rich buy expensive home systems that control the color of your wall and the amount of light that shines in through your window. Actually, that home system is not available yet but I’m sure they have the capability. Hell, they’ve cloned a dog named whatever, I’m sure they can change the color of your wall at a push of a button.
My vision gets blurred so I just close my eyes and float across this platform towards the end of the track so it’ll be easier for me to exit once I get home. This high has to stay just a little longer. It can’t go away now. I want to at least get home before I sober up. Because one thing about being sober, it makes it that much harder to deal with things. Your normal everyday things. For instance, my cell phone was stolen today. I was sitting in a coffee shop and had it right their on the table. I get up to get some sugar and bam, it’s gone. Now if I was sober, I’d be bugging out. No numbers, how is my girlfriend going to contact me? And the ridiculous price of a decent cell phone these days is just plain crazy. But remember, I am high. That means no worries, at least for the time being. Right now, all I’m concerned about is the large breasted black lady sitting in front of me and how the hell she got into that top. It just boggles my mind. I look around to see if anyone notices that I’m high. I see a couple talking to one another, they might know that I’m high. The Indian boy is telling his mother that I’m high, I’m sure of it. Those fucking Indians and their funny accents. Why do they cover up the stench of their convenient shops with the worse stench of those incense sticks? That’s another question that boggles my mind at this moment. Wait. Okay. Back to the large breasted black lady. Did I see a nipple pop out? Wait, I think the Indian boy, the breasted woman, and the couple are out to get me. Yeah, they realize that I’m high off my knocker and they want to get me arrested. The streets need a little cleaning they think to themselves. Fuck them. Fuck them all. Who are they to judge me? Okay, keep my cool. Be cool. Be cool. The train comes to a stop. It feels as though it’s been still for quiet some time now. Have they realized that I’m high? And maybe they alerted the police or something. No, that’s just my silliness talking now. Come on, think straight. Focus. Okay, we’re finally here, I’ve arrived at my stop.
AT HOME:
At home I realize that I’m still feeling the high. I hadn’t imagined that I’d feel it this long but I guess old crazy horse really came through for me this time. I haven’t been this bonkers in awhile. I feel the need to take a warm shower, so I throw my clothes off my body and turn on the water. At first the water is pretty cold but it gradually warms up. It takes a couple of minutes but it reaches its optimal warmness. This feels pretty good I think to myself. I don’t remember the last time I took a shower when I was high. Usually the last thing I want to do is do anything when I get home. I would just crash on the sofa or make my way into the bedroom and launch myself into hibernation until the morning alarm went off. But tomorrow is Saturday and tonight, I just want to take a warm shower before I throw myself into bed. I use the bar soap to clean all areas of my body when the image of the large breasted black lady pops into my mind. I try hard to lose the image but I find myself aroused. Fine, I’ll take care of myself before I fall asleep, and I’m high anyway. Might as well take advantage of the moment. I focus on her nipple. The nipple that almost slipped out of her top, but in my mind, they actually slip out. I try and picture the couple. The girl pushes her man aside and comes over to the black lady. She starts rubbing her leg against her breast. She has netted stockings on. The nipples go through the net and touches the skin of her leg. They both start to touch each other in different places. The black lady grabs the girl by the crouch and slides it back and forth. The girl rips open her blouse and touches herself until milk pours out of her breast. The black lady starts licking the milk off her chest. The black lady begins to rub her breast all over the girl’s. They start licking each other and then stops for a moment to invite me over. This whole time I’ve been beating myself off and by the time I step over to them, I’ve come. It’s not usually this short, I can assure you. Tonight was just a special night. And by special I mean that I was high off my ass and felt pretty damn good. I get out of the shower and grab a piece of tissue to pick up the little mess that I’ve made. I dry myself off and before I can put any clothes on, I find myself already in my bed underneath my sheets. Its very unusual for me to forget what happened two minutes before but like I said, tonight is a special night.
THE DREAM:
Dreams reoccur or do you just think they are reoccurring when they’re actually not? This dream I’ve dreamt before I’m sure of it. It’s the only dream where me and my girlfriend fuck all night. Good dream right? Well I usually dream of different girls. Models, actresses, hostess at a local restaurant, a friend, one of her friends, a random girl on the street, a pop singer, a porn star, usually a porn star but this dream, it was with my girlfriend. Now how silly is that? You can fuck your girlfriend anytime you want and when you finally sleep, you dream of fucking her as well.
The dream starts off with her standing by the ledge of our apartment building rooftop. Coming closer and closer to her, I realize she is standing there naked. She turns to me and says something to me in French. I’ve never been able to speak French nor has my girlfriend ever spoke French. I wasn’t sure if it was even French she was speaking but something let me know it was. I try to grab her but soon as I extend my arms, she leaps off the building. Now here is the part that gets a little strange. I jump after her and while I’m jumping down, I feel the urge to undress myself. I take all my clothes off and am able to grab my girlfriend. Why we haven’t hit the pavement is still a mystery. I hold her by the arms and bring her through one of the windows, into a bed which happens to be mine and we just fuck the whole night.
REALITY:
The truth is, I haven’t seen my girlfriend in some time now. We haven’t talked in over two weeks and I haven’t physically seen her in over a month. Sometimes I wonder if we are still a couple. I don’t remember us ever fighting over anything other than the time she got upset over me coming to pick her up from the station a little late. She’s not the type to hold a grudge and I really don’t think she’ll break up with me over a late pick up.
I try and take my mind off of her. I lie in bed and just listen to the empty silence. Listen carefully to the silence. It’s strange what you can pick up from absolutely nothing. If I had it my way, I’d just lay here all morning until the late afternoon. But you never have it your way. The phone rings and knowing the phone is in the kitchen I ignore it. At least I try to ignore it. I had forgotten to put the answering machine back on and now the phone is ringing for its tenth time. I stumble my way to the kitchen to pick up the phone. It’s the collection agency. They want to know why I haven’t paid my credit card bill in over three months and when I’d be able to pay it off in full. I curse a little, scream a little and tell them to fuck off. I have no money and no money to pay off some credit card bill that I don’t remember spending in the first place. I probably did spend it on something, but nothing that I can remember and that’s what makes me angry. Angry enough not to pay the bill. Who cares if it reflects my credit history. What do I need a credit history for any ways. Fuck it, I’m going to take a bath and go out to buy some records.
The reflection in the mirror is not mine. I look carefully and see the mess that has destroyed my complexion. I look like a slice of pizza that’s been through a radiator. I grab the soap and rinse my hands. I lather some foam up and start washing my face. My nose starts to bleed. I wonder why? This is what I say to myself:
Pain, where did you come form? I’ve had enough of this life. I’m stuck in a place that I never wanted to stay in. I want to climb out and make my way but I’m still here. Don’t cry for me, this is what I’ve become. A monster in my own rights. Not one with claws and bad texture skin but one that feels like he’s been through the radiator one too many times. Not one that goes through towns destroying silos and capital buildings but one that sleeps through storms and wonder how he never made it to Oz. That’s it, I’m a man who wants to leave Kansas. This is not my home, just my temporary residence. Help me oh lord, I’m a fallen man who wants deeply to get back up and do some good with his life. Oh this pain. Go away…
I REMEMBER…
I look in the mirror to shave and cannot recognize the man staring back at me. He looks familiar but something about him, the way he just feels like he’s not there any longer to which I don’t understand the meaning. This happens on occasion and then I jump back into my regular self, but this time, I truly didn’t know who the man on the other side of this glass was. And then he started to talk to me in a tone of voice that most resembled my father, only a decibel or two lower and much slower. Hell, I guess he wasn’t anything like my father after all. He started to mumble at first, but then I told him to speak proper and keep his chin up, it’s hard to speak to a man with his head down, the sound just hits the floor and dies.
“Speak to me boy.” The boy started to tell me stories. Stories of when I was young. The emotions I felt at a particular moment. A particular time in my life. I was young then, and I could hardly figure why I was feeling or thinking this way but now I can see. I was just too young to realize it then. I had been emotionally scarred. Not that a great tragedy had happen to me but the emotions of all six of my family members breaking down at the loss of my father was a great burden to handle.
See, my father was a workaholic. He had owned a contracting service that dealt in building homes and remodeling them. He probably had about 50 or 60 employees that worked directly underneath him and he took pride in what he had accomplished. A man with no degree from a poor family making it big by owning his own company to much success was something anyone could stand tall about. He worked hard. Sometimes fourteen, sixteen hours straight. Two or three jobs at a time and sometimes this went on for years. Once a job was finished, he would acquire a new contract and another one. He knew of nothing else. He rarely spent time with his family although, he always would say it was because of the family he had to work so hard. He did have a wife and five kids to take care of but we had been doing fine for so long, he could have stopped and just used the money he made from owning the business to support our family. But, he knew of no such thing. He could barely stay at home without being lead to his office to finish paper work on a new contract. That’s all he knew and it was this that eventually killed him. After 35 years of non-stop work, he had literally burned out and fell to the floor of our kitchen. Once we found out he had fallen, there was nothing that we could do but to watch as he turned into nothing more than a corpse. This is when everything went a little ballistic. Brother fighting brother, mother fighting sister. See, none of my brothers and sisters were that bright. Neither was my mother. They had for all their years, been riding out our father. Not to say that I wasn’t because I was. And being the youngest child I knew how to sustain my livelihood but my siblings, they were just ridiculous. Bank accounts, stocks, investments, properties, they were all up in the air and they were all fighting for space on that trampoline to try and grab it. So I just left.
When my trust fund matured, I had a good chunk of change. So I left everything. My family, my home, my childhood friends, my fiancé, everyone. I left everyone for a city called New York. Now its not that I left in the spur of the moment. I had thought about it. Put a lot of consideration to it. Weighed out the pros and cons and in the end, nothing really mattered. None of it. I just wanted a new life. This new life was going to bring me the joys of my youth again. The ones that were spent miserably watching my family be torn to shreds by this human trait called greed. A flaw I shall think, because greed is the single trait that will put to shame a person who is in the excess of it. I’m not just saying this because I was a victim to it at an early age. Since the dawn of man. Alexander the Great, Hitler, Mao, Michael Jordan, they were all victims of their own greed which in one shape or another, killed them.
I found a nice little studio in the meatpacking district and soon made friends with some local hipsters. Met them at a club called Juice and soon called it my home. Thursdays, Fridays, Saturdays were all spent at the club. For three years I did nothing but drink myself to sleep only to wake up the next morning for some lines of powder so I can drink again at night. One night I had managed to indulge myself with every drug known to man and not die of it. Coke, pot, meth, e, you name it, it was now in my blood streams rushing the energy to my brain which in turn was soon about to explode. Which brings me to the present state and why I can’t remember how I look like. My brain had been fried and I couldn’t remember. I don’t remember if I was white, black, yellow, pink, peach or orange and I sure as hell didn’t recognize that ugly face staring in front of me.
I filled the tub with hot water, got undressed and placed my body just so that the top of the water reached right below my eyes. I felt the heat rising through my skin and the alcohol just releasing its odor through the bubbles bursting at the surface of the water. I held my breath and sunk my entire body below the water and tried to stay submerged as long as I possibly could.
REALITY:
I began to sink. The water level kept rising and I felt as though I was sinking below the depths of the sea. I could have sworn I was still in my bathtub but the water was too expansive for that. I was not in my bathroom any more. The water forced its way inside my mouth and the bitter taste opened my mouth to swallow even more of the foul water. I had to focus. I began to swim around in the hopes of finding an exit. There was a small hole about twenty yards in front of me. I began to swim in that direction until I realized the hole was not a hole. It had led me astray and now I was gasping for air. I couldn’t make it any more. I’m sure I was going to drown in my own bathtub that had turned into a sea of foul water. I closed my eyes to say a final pray. Not a prayer of rescue but a prayer to allow my family to live in peace because that’s all I really wanted. For my family to realize that the family itself was more important than any amounts of money that our father had left behind. I began to drop lower and lower towards the bottom of the sea. The temperature began dropping as well as I felt a cold chill run through my back. I was just drifting now into the depths of my tub into territories unknown to man. It started to get darker and colder and I needed air. Everything just faded to black.
“Wake up, wake up” a voice whispered to me. It was a woman’s voice. Her voice was soft and delicate. A very feminine female voice. One that you can imagine hearing over a 900 number hotline or on some sex channel narration. One that just turns you on but just a notch or two more wholesome. Not Mrs. Beaver wholesome but more like um. Well, you’ve got the idea. This voice brought me to a semi awoken state of mind. Her touch topped it off and in about a ten count, I rubbed my eyes to see a Rita Hayward type standing right on top of me.
I didn’t remember ever meeting this girl. I don’t remember sleeping with this girl the night before. Who was she? Before I had the chance to ask who she was, I had fallen back to sleep.
THE DREAM:
This dream I suppose was a prequel to my dream about chasing the girl with the red shoes and why I was chasing her. See I was doing a little Christmas shopping when I saw a pair of shoes that would look perfect on my mother. She was a size seven and the lady at the register told me they were out of that size. I could have told them thank you and left but these shoes were no ordinary shoes. In this particular dream, these shoes were my mother’s ticket to heaven and I needed to buy them for her. I began to look around the store, just incase there was some lying around. And then out of the corner of my eyes, I see the girl. The girl with the red shoes. I look down at her feet and begin to visually measure the size of her feet. A perfect seven, just the size I needed. So I walk up to the girl and ask her if she’s willing to sell me those shoes. Of course she says no because that’s the only pair she owns. I tell her that I’d buy any pair of shoes in the store only if she sells me those shoes but she just shook her head and taunted me like a bully in the playground. Waving her index finger at me and just giving me the slightest of grins. Then she began to walk away from me and that’s how the whole chase began.
REALITY:
I wake up to Rita Hayward again. I don’t realize the bed that I’m in because I don’t think it’s actually my bed. “Hello” the voice calls out. She reaches over to put her hand on my face. “You’ve had a terrible accident I’m afraid.” “Daddy found you in the sewage lines and had to pull you out. None of us thought you were going to make it and so we brought you here, so that maybe you would be able to get some rest and possibly wake up.” “Where am I?” I questioned. No reply. “You’ve had a terrible accident, I would get some more rest” the voice whispered. Why didn’t you just take me to a hospital?” I asked. “What’s a hospital?” she answered. Now I must have been going a little mental here. “You know, a place where they take people that are sick” I responded. She must have been retarded or one of those special people. Although she looked absolutely normally. She was actually rather attractive, like I said, she looked like Rita Hayward. But she didn’t know what a hospital was. As a matter of fact, I wasn’t in Kansas anymore. This is what her explanation was.
THE CITY OF ROMAVANA
Romavana is an underground city. The people who live here are called Romavanians. The city was started some one hundred years ago. The people moved down here out of fear. Fear for their lives and the future of man. War was just around the corner and they sure as hell weren’t going to stay above ground. Who knew when the next nuclear head was going to be launched. Now some of the Romavanians also moved down here because of their disgust for the way their cities were being run. By the way society had changed so rapidly, it was just too hard for all of them to take it in. Now in my opinion, this would be called “running.” But to the Romavanians, this was the search for utopia. So out of all their frustration and anger, this city of Romavana was started miles and miles down from the surface of New York City.
So why haven’t I ever heard about this city? Well, I remember vaguely reading about it on the internet but for the most part, the government plays it off as some radicals playing in the sewage lines.
What they don’t know is that over the past one hundred years, they have developed a one hundred percent self sufficient environment and a society that is actually ten times more efficient than the one that we live in, above ground. Their political structure, their finances and resources, thousands of untapped energy producing strategies in a city that welcomes new ideas and left side thinking. A city that would be able to protect itself if a neighboring army ever did invade. But who would want to invade a city that lives underground? I mean, how pleasant is it to envision a city of people just shitting on top of your city?
(finish the city explanation later)
After Rita’s explanation of the city I had enough strength to get up and had her show me around. We walked in this self-enclosed city and she had shown me how much of the city operated. We talked about the various things that interested us. We talked about school, relationships, movies, music, books. All these things they had down here as well. In fact, they had a huge music scene. A lot of the first immigrants you can say were either big music fans or musicians in their own right. A lot of their music they had brought down with them and that goes the same for films. They had jazz, rock, hip-hop all that stuff that we use to listen to. Films by Fellini, Godard, Orson Welles were all here too. A lot of the things they did were similar because they had been brought down when they first came.
The city didn’t seem all that impressive at first. It seemed as though it ended five blocks down or where ever it seemed like the road would just end but that was just the start of the next “little city within the city.” There were many branches that extended itself to another smaller neighborhood and this stretched out over miles of land. A city that was big as Manhattan, all underground. Rita took me to this one shop that had old memorabilia’s from the ground above. Sports cards, baseball, basketball, football. Sports that they didn’t have down here because of the obvious reasons. It’s hard to have a league with such a few number of people. The only way the city sustains itself is the fact that every person in the city limits contribute in a very specific way. There is a specific number of entertainers, doctors, architects, lawyers, policemen, firemen, farmers, business owners small and big, they all fit the mold of the city and what it needs to carry out its independent life below the grounds. They’re not forced to do anything, that is the very reasoning that they despise but these Romavanians know what needs to be done and are willing to sacrifice one’s own greeds for the welfare of the society as a whole.
Rita and I went inside this old church that was first built when they settled here underground. She had told me that they have no set religion and no one really practices any sort of religion. They had just built this church out of tradition but rarely is it seen filled with people on their knees praying. People down here are busy she told me. Either busy working hard, or busy playing hard, enjoying their lives. Religion was something that most decided, that they could live without. It’s not they didn’t believe in a God or the idea of a supreme power most of the early settlers did have some sort of religion, it just doesn’t get practiced as much and the fact was, organized religion created more problems for them than they really needed. So because of that, rarely was there any fights or arguments about beliefs and religious traditions. No one killed each other because they didn’t believe what the next person believed. To them, religion was headache. Headache they didn’t need and that was the mentality on religion. We left the church and headed to a market where many people hang out to share thoughts and talk and drink and just have a good time. We met some of her friends that she introduced me there. Rita was the friendly type and she knew many people at the market and they all seemed to know her. I had told them that I just happen to fall down here some how and was not accustomed to the life down here no matter how similar it was. They all began to ask me questions. Questions like how the sky looked? And how the snow looks? They had asked me if I had ever rode in an airplane and where I traveled to. I felt as though I was an astronaut that just came back down to Earth and was now giving my feedback on my experience on outer space because to them, the life above ground was outer space. You see, they all live down here, and over time, forgot how to get back out. Its not they want to be kept below the surface, no that was never there intention. After the wars ended, they had every notion of heading back out into the “real world.” They wanted to see natural sunlight again. They wanted to feel the breeze of the autumn wind and the snow that fell to there feet in December. They wanted to hear birds flying around in the spring and the thing that most people missed the most was the ocean. Being able to lie in the beach and enjoy the water that washed up. Sitting underneath the beauty of the sun and collecting its energy. That’s what they missed the most. The original settlers had all died before the end of the war and none of their descendants knew the passage back to the surface. Some say that the passage was destroyed, forever preventing them to leave the city underground. Some say there are other passages, waiting to be found. The fact that I’m standing here right now suggests that there is a passage between here and there and that was their main interest. I had told them I didn’t remember how I got to this place but they didn’t believe me. They grabbed me and pulled me and some begged for my answer. They wanted to buy me drinks and maybe drag the answer out of me. The wanted to drug me and take me home. I actually wanted to be drugged myself so I drank the drinks and I used their drugs and found myself wandering between worlds. Between worlds of reality and imagination before I collapsed once again.
I woke up next to a pool of vomit and once again heard Rita’s voice. She called me and told me to open my eyes. I kept rubbing them just incase this was all a dream. I wanted to rub my eyes so hard that maybe it’ll force me to believe this was all a dream but to no success. I found Rita standing on top of me once again. “You must leave” she told me. “You must leave here and never return.” Now, I had the feeling that I was not welcomed here anymore. She grabbed me by the hand and pulled me up. She undressed slowly in front of me. She started to undress me as well and in about five minutes, we were standing in front of each other in the nude. We proceeded to have sex. Maybe fucking is the more appropriate word because that’s exactly what we did. Afterwards she dressed herself and told me to do the same. She then grabbed me by the hands once again and led me out. She ran and told me to follow her. It was hard trying to keep up with her, she was in pretty good shape and I was probably in the worst condition of my life. We finally reached this old sewage pipeline. She explained that this was the place her father found me and that I should take it straight back up to where that leads and never look back down. I looked into her eyes and knew she was serious. I had no other choice but to climb up the pipe and swim back to the outer surface.
REALITY:
I laid on my couch in the living room and had the morning news on. I had stayed up all night and wasn’t able to fall asleep. Rita and the Romavanians was the only thing I could think of and that kept me up. Why did she want me to leave all of a sudden? What did I do wrong or maybe it was something I said? No, I barely said anything. I barely did anything. Maybe it was because I was an outsider. I wasn’t a Romavanian and so she didn’t want me there. None of them did. Although she sincerely seemed as though she was concerned for me. Maybe I was in some kind of danger? All these questions with no definite answer, why didn’t I just ask her before I left? No reason dwelling over what I didn’t do though. I’m sure someone knows about the city underground, someone surely has to know how to get back down there. But for now, all I wanted to do was lay on my couch and think about what I had seen down in the city below. It wasn’t a city I can see myself living in but maybe, just maybe I could stay there for a little while, just until I figure things out.
The reason I can’t go back down the pipe that I climbed out of is that the pipe only goes one way. It would be impossible for me to climb down. I had checked my bath tub again but it must have been a trap door that only opens on rare occasions. It was closed the last time I checked and so I still lie on my couch thinking about the city I had just left. I mean, I must have slipped down there for a reason. There must have been purpose for me to see what I have seen. I’m a true believer in fate and the divinity of every action. The purpose of a single action and the effects it has. So with this in my mind, I wonder what my purpose in visiting the city of Romavania was? I didn’t ask to go down there. I don’t remember walking down there on my two legs, otherwise I would’ve never went down there in the first place nor would I really know how to get down there but for some reason, I was taken down. It was my fate that I go down to the underground city and it’s my job to figure out why I had been taken down.
A big rush came over me. All these years I’ve spent in New York trying to figure myself out, being away from my family, I think I’ve come to something. I see a purpose for my once empty existence. I needed to figure out the connection between me, and the city of Romavania. For some reason, I get the feeling that the city needs my help. Something is going on and I will not just lay on my couch anymore trying to figure it out. It has already been figured out. I had figured out the purpose of why I’m here.
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