Kopfkino. A Short Story.

what is kopfkino?

It was cold just months ago, but now the sun was closer and the heat radiating from thousands of miles away could be felt on my face. I missed this. All those times I spent in the cold were depressing and boring to say the least. Now, as I bathed in the sun, enjoying what I had missed so much, I began to fall asleep…

I opened my eyes and everything around me was a blur. Colours and shapes blended together to make one big blurred image in front of my eyes. There were people moving around and I couldn’t tell where I was. But I knew there were people moving around me because the voices were so clear… and concerning. “Step out of the car.” One voice said.

“Cmon John, they’re just having a nap let’s just leave it I don’t need more paperwork.” The other pleaded. “You’re lucky my shift ends soon or you’d be wide awake right now.” The first officer gave up and then I heard his partner slam the car door shut implying him to hurry up. Keeping my eyes closed I could hear through the open sunroof what the man had said to me in a whisper. “I know who you are and your mother. I’ll always be around to haunt you so watch out.” The sound of his voice got further away as he spoke but I was hesitant to open my eyes. Finally I heard the tires of their car peel off and within seconds everything changed. SMASH, BANG, BOOM. The shattering glass and crushed metals of cars crashing could be heard from blocks away. Immediately followed by hissing air brakes, almost like nails on chalkboard, the rubber burned from all 18 tires of the semi; streams of thick black smoke stunk up the neighborhood.

My eyes were open by then and I could see where all this black smoke was coming from. The car behind me that just left had crashed. From a first glance it looked fatal, and within seconds from opening my eyes, BOOM!. The engulfed semi truck the car collided into had just blown. People were filling the streets to help anyone they could and oddly enough an ambulance was already on the street put its blaring sirens on, lighting up the block.

Assuming the paramedics paged the fire and police departments through their radios, it didn’t take long for everyone to show up. Within minutes the blocks around me were engulfed in a thick black smoke, sirens, flashing lights and silence from the middle of the chaos. No one walked away from that crash. All I could hear was a faint whisper in my ear… “I know who you are and I’ll always be around to haunt you. Watch out…”

My eyes opened again and it was dark this time. My hands could feel the fluffy fabric of my blankets and I soon realized I was in bed. The silence was overwhelming. I knew it was a dream. None of that happened in reality. I had seen it all in a dream. But it’s not like me to dream without control. Ever since I was a child I learned how to lucid dream. My hyperawareness as a child helped me do this at such a young age. When I had dreams, even in nightmares, by the time I was 9 I knew when I was asleep or not.

But this dream felt very, very real, too real for me to comprehend it even happened.

I started getting anxious so I turned on some music and went outside for a smoke. When I opened the door to my basement apartment my jaw dropped. Did this really happen?

The debris from the crash was still laying on the busy road in front of the house. As I walked up the few steps to be level with the road, the skid marks from the huge semi truck could be seen five blocks down. A pole had been knocked over and part of the road was blocked off with pylons. Luckily there wasn’t many drivers out tonight because all the cars that were on the road right now were either engulfed in flames or already burned. Now I know why this street has signs telling trucks not to use their air breaks… the noise was beyond loud. Ambulances on scene turned off their blaring sirens but the lights still flickered around and around the block. I couldn’t wrap my head around what was going on, I swear I just saw all of this in a dream…

My eyes opened again and I was in bed again. I checked the time and it was just past 5am. None of this made sense to me. What time and day was it? What was real and what was all a dream? I had to go outside, at this point I didn’t know what was real at all. As I opened the door the sun hit my face and the BBQ the neighbors had going was all I could smell. The birds were wide awake and enjoying the spring flowers.

How could I ever tell…


NOTE ALL DRAWINGS ARE ORIGINAL FREEHAND ART.
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acceptance alanwatts anxiety art awareness becoming being believe choice communication culture decisions desire energy existence existentialism experience flow freewill god human inspiration kierkegaard lgbt life love meaning perserverance Personal Philosophical Theories philosophy poem Poems pyschology reality resilience shortstory social story theexistentialist thoughts trauma water wiggles writing


acceptance alanwatts anxiety art awareness becoming being believe choice communication culture decisions desire energy existence existentialism experience flow freewill god human inspiration kierkegaard lgbt life love meaning perserverance Personal Philosophical Theories philosophy poem Poems pyschology reality resilience shortstory social story theexistentialist thoughts trauma water wiggles writing

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Published by emriyus

I am human, just like you. I have been around for almost 20 years and although it may not be a lot of time to some, it feels like I've been alive forever. To cope with all the things my life has given me; good and bad, I've always been a writer. Maybe I didn't know or necessarily want to be a writer, but I was always on the creative side, not really understanding how different I was from others; I'm really not that different from you. To this day I'm still eager to learn more about myself, to improve and grow amorphously. I want to use this fuel of constant self-discovery as the direct source of 'energy' that can create whatever I want it to, making writing for me a healthier coping mechanism than most I've tried in my lifetime. That being said, I believe that starting my blog, The Existentialist, (all thanks to Wordpress and Bluehost teams) I finally have the opportunity and creative outlet to unleash my passion for art; writing. The beginning is never easy, and it won't get much easier I am aware. I can only believe in myself and keep my expectations to a minimum; I like to believe I hold no expectations, but they seem unavoidable. To whoever reads this, I'm not one to care about views or reads, I won't encourage/pressure you to read my work because for me, the thrill really comes from just making a finished piece of work I'm happy with, regardless if it is read by others or not; judgement from others is what I've feared all my life. I can only encourage you to have an open mind as a reader and believe in me as much as I believe in myself to accumulate the courage to start showing my creative writing(art) to the world. Everybody creates things in their lifetime, I am just another one of those beings; whether you like it or not, nouns (persons, places and 'things') exist to teach us something about ourselves. There is always more to learn...

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