A Beautiful Dream

“…..”

“It has been quite a while since we last encountered, has it not?”

“…..”

“You don’t wish to talk?”

“…..”

“You’re left with nothing, but a mere illusion of emptiness, how will you persist, having discovered the truth? He awaits You. Do you bear a grudge against Him, or do you understand His deeds?”

“…..”

“After all, you did not choose this path, or did you?”

“…..”

“It is high time for you to return to slumber, for you cannot foresee your own future, but you know that by now, right?”

“…..”

“Goodbye, Vincent, but bear in mind…”

“Never lose your faith.”
.....

"Dante... Dante..., Dante!"

Gasp, "Mother..."

"It is time to wake up, Dante..."

I had experienced such a delightful dream, however, reality has once again dealt me a harsh blow. My parents' endeavors to provide for our household are meager, and residing in a cramped and dilapidated cottage, I was awakened to prepare for my daily labor.

I am Dante, a 16-year-old boy, residing with my two younger sisters and one younger brother, and both of my parents, in the rural outskirts of Castle Combe, England. The year is 1827. Our family is impoverished, subsisting on the brink of destitution in our humble abode, relying on the proceeds of my father's fishing and the limited bread we can afford through the labor that both my father and I undertake.

As the eldest, I have always shouldered the responsibility of caring for my siblings.

My father is a fisherman and also toils in the same factory as I. We are the primary sources of income for our household, while my mother, suffering from a debilitating condition, oversees the children, and manages to prepare meals and attend to the basic needs of my siblings.

As I groggily extricated myself from my bed, my father, attired in his work attire, wore a perpetual expression of gravity, his black hair tied in a brown cord, his gaze fixed upon me...

"Are you gonna sit there and watch me? Get up!"

I had not realized it, but my body felt as if it were on the brink of collapse. The rigors of labor have taken their toll on me. Six days every week. I felt so fatigued...

"Father, I am not feeling well..."

My father's anger was immediately aroused upon hearing my despairing words. He approached me, seized my emaciated arm, and dragged me from my bed. As I fell to the ground, my head began to spin.

I remained with my head resting on the floor, my father's shouts ringing in my ears.

"Get up or else you will be sleeping in the woods again!"

My mother attempted to placate him, but to no avail, he pushed her away. I ponder what has caused this sudden change in him.

We once lived in a slightly larger cottage, but unfortunately, the land on which it stood was requisitioned to build the factory where my father and I now labor. We were evicted and spent months as homeless individuals, until fate smiled upon us and we discovered this small cottage, which now serves as our home. Sadly, it came with a grueling and perilous lifestyle. It has been five years since we were evicted, the factory was completed two years later. Shortly thereafter, boy children living below the poverty line aged 13 or older were conscripted to work at the factory.

We are viewed as mere expendable laborers, and who can blame them, they hold the power. And where else can we go, we are of no use to anyone other than as manual laborers. None of us have any formal education either. It is a lamentable state of affairs.

I have been employed at the factory for over three years now.

My vision began to blur, but I mustered the strength to hoist myself upright and don my work clothes. It still pains me to see how my father has become so abusive in recent years. I often ponder, "I strive to the best of my ability to not disappoint my family, yet I am treated in this manner. Why...?"

I only had the opportunity to imbibe a small amount of water before my father ushered me out of the cottage, and I had yet to bid farewell to my sisters.

"Don't make me go late, son. You will be dead if we are."

I am surprised that I am able to remain upright, without the support of my father, I fear I would have succumbed to collapse. I can only pray that someone will display benevolence and provide me with something to relieve my grogginess or any other means to achieve the same end.

…..

Upon our arrival at the factory, a cutting-edge knife manufacturing facility established by a benevolent organization, I had formed a few acquaintances. Among them, one individual stood out to me. I had never disclosed my domestic plight to him, yet he seemed to be cognizant of it. He consistently made efforts to look after me.

He exuded an air of jubilance, and like myself, he was of humble means. Despite the harsh winter weather, he persistently wore his work clothes, a sight that caused me much sorrow as I knew he did not possess a coat. As a result, I had resolved to save a minuscule amount of money, with the intention of purchasing him a modest but durable coat when winter arrived. Fortunately, it is currently autumn. His name is Thomas.

My colleagues and friends often likened Thomas and I to the Sun and Moon, with Thomas being the embodiment of brightness and myself being the embodiment of melancholy. I cannot fault them for this perception, as I do possess a penchant for a melancholic disposition. I had even considered cutting my long black hair in an attempt to alter their perception, despite my personal inclination towards it.

My role at the factory primarily involved honing the knives crafted by the older workers. The task could become quite arduous as we were not provided with gloves and were required to perform our duties with bare hands. The heat was a constant affliction, but one becomes accustomed to it over time.

My father and I would separate after signing in at the administration room. I would proceed to my designated work area, while my father would depart. Thomas, however, would always await me in the administration room, at the opposite end of the hallway.

"Top of the morning Dante! Had a good sleep?"

(As boisterous as ever... A perfect substitute for a cup of coffee, his energy alone is invigorating...)

"Yes, I've been okay."

Thomas approached me and ruffled my hair, (great. Now it's disheveled again...)

"Lookin a little pale today mate, you sure you're... okay...?"

He forgot I was with my father, as I mentioned earlier, it seemed as if he were privy to my domestic circumstances. He raised his gaze and saw my father glaring at him.

"Good morning mister Porter! Let's make it a good day today alright!"

He attempted to greet him cheerfully, only for my father to leave an awkward silence as he walked away without a word.

My other friends arrived as well, we were a group of four individuals. We had all met each other at the inception of the factory. I could say that we had grown quite close to one another, even my reticent self had warmed up to them, it was a pleasant feeling to say the least.

Me, Thomas, Okabe, and Gabriel. Okabe's parents were foreigners, hailing from the distant country of Japan. However, Okabe had been born here.

He was not well-versed in the customs of his motherland. He and Gabriel possessed a more relaxed disposition. Both of them were not as impoverished as Thomas and I, yet were still of modest means to be working at the factory. They both had the opportunity to attend school, a privilege that I envied. I am certain Thomas did as well.

Gabriel was the tallest among us, he also possessed the most striking visage. It was sometimes difficult to reconcile that he lived a life of poverty. He possessed all the desirable attributes, with his beautiful short-cropped blonde hair, hazel blue eyes, and well-proportioned physique.

Okabe was the shortest among us, he also commonly donned his work clothes, almost as frequently as Thomas did. He often bore a relaxed expression on his face and was never reticent to engage in conversation. He bore a visible scar on the right side of his face, and he would become hostile whenever anyone inquired about it.

Thomas was our jester, it still befuddled me how he and the others were able to maintain such a positive disposition. I would constantly observe them at the workplace, and it was astounding to me that they were able to laugh and jest while we worked. Thomas was almost as tall as Gabriel, he had freckles on his face, green eyes, and ginger hair color. He often had his hair tied back.

Then, there was me. Compared to my contemporaries, I appeared to be the most unwell. I donned larger-sized garments to obscure my gaunt physique. Though I was unable to conceal my emaciated visage from the others, it was a small price to pay. My dark brown eyes did not lend themselves to an appearance of vitality.

"You sick or something? You're looking so pale, did you have breakfast?" Gabriel inquired.

I ignored Gabriel and cast my gaze upon my father, who was already occupied with his work.

"No..."

Gabriel reached into his satchel and procured a substantial piece of cinnamon-sugared bread, which he offered to me.

"Work this down, I also have some water for you. We have some time before we go work anyway."

I was relieved to have something to eat for breakfast, as I had gone nearly two days without sustenance. I was famished...

We engaged in idle chitchat, with Thomas regaling us with his fantastical tales, as was his wont. He frequently related the dreams he had recently experienced.

But all good things must come to an end, and it was time to commence work. Thankfully, it was also a Saturday, so we did not have to labor on Sundays, which was the day I finally got to rest.

.....

We got to take a little breath, for 30 minutes. We sat together at a table outside, and they all brought food with them. However, I did not have anything with me. I surmised that we only had enough food to eat before nightfall, and nothing to bring with us for the day. I should suggest to my father that we should endeavor to go hunting sometime. We live in close proximity to nature, after all.

(Where even is he? Should he not be here...)

I observed my father indulging in a hearty meal of meat and bread with his colleagues. Lucky him...

"What are ya dozing off for Dante?" Thomas queried.

I shrugged it off, shaking my head, it was nothing, I was accustomed to this, anyhow. My friends most likely did not have enough to share, anyhow, so I would let them be.

"Oh, it's nothing, perhaps I did not sleep enough."

To my surprise, Thomas handed me a piece of bread.

"Here ya go, fella! Chomp it down, you bony vessel."

I supposed it was my lucky day, today.

"Thank you."

We continued our banter, and Gabriel made an unusual comment about me.

"Do you guys not think Dante's vocabulary is so different from ours?"

"Oooh, yeah! He talks like those noble squirrels!" Thomas replied.

Even Okabe silently nodded in agreement. Me, being compared to nobility? What a jest.

"Oh please friends."

"Hey, why not go out together tomorrow? Go in the woods, the cities, steal some food for ourselves, ya?" Thomas proposed.

"But tomorrow is resting day, you know that. Stores are most likely closed on Sundays." Okabe responded.

Gabriel insisted on Thomas his idea, "Let's try it okay? We come here at noon, at the front gate. Is that okay?"

We eventually came to an agreement to venture out together the following day. The only issue was our parents...

The day had come to a close. I returned home with my father, it was always a comfort to be reunited with my family, who were all in good health. My mother was engaged in preparing a meal, and my younger brother greeted me with enthusiasm, having evidently missed me greatly.

"Dante! Hey, Papa!"

"Hello, Noah. Have you been good?"

"Yes, Dante! I help mommy!"

I assumed my sisters were asleep, but Mother noticed our return. My father had gone to their bedroom, leaving me with Noah and Mother.

"Hello, honey. How was work?"

"It was okay, Mother. I feel a little better, too."

"Oh! I made some tea that might help you feel even better!"

She poured me a cup of tea made from simple ingredients like herbs, plants, cinnamon, and sugar. It was the best tea I had ever tasted, and I felt a sense of pure euphoria with my first sip.

"Where did you get this from, Mother?"

"I made it myself, dear."

"I really like it, Mother. I would love to have more."

"I'm so glad you do. Change into your nightclothes, and let's relax before bed."

I changed and came back downstairs to spend time with my family. My father was engrossed in a book and not inclined to converse with us. Eventually, I retired to my bedchamber, gazing at the beautiful night sky…

Chapter end