Part 10: The Awakening Memories
In the dream, I found myself in an unfamiliar room.
Heavy curtains were drawn, and the faint sound of an old record played in the background.
In the center of the room was a large desk, reminiscent of the former presidential mansion.
And sitting across from it was… Damian Stone.
He noticed me.
Without looking away, he stared at me directly.
“Who are you?”
His voice was low and hoarse.
But I communicated to him, not with words, but through a deeper connection,
“I am one of the memories left within you.
The embodiment of the ‘will’ you once had when you were still pure—
The voice of yourself that you’ve forgotten.”
Damian’s hand trembled.
It wasn’t anger, but rather a painful, nostalgic ache, as if memories were stirring within him.
“I really wanted to change America…”
He murmured, almost to himself.
For a moment, the walls of the room seemed to tremble.
Books on the shelves collapsed with a sound, and from the chaos, an old notebook fell.
I picked up the notebook and placed it in front of Damian.
Inside were notes of policies he once wrote, drafts of speeches—
Traces of the word “ideal” written over and over again.
“You hadn’t touched the darkness back then.”
I said quietly.
It might have been an illusion, but for a moment, it seemed as though his eyes had welled up with tears.
Yet in that brief instant, he had indeed returned to the “old him.”
“It’s… too late.”
He said.
I shook my head.
“It’s never too late. Memories don’t disappear.
Even if you forget, even if the world loses sight of it—
Your true wish remains within you, always.”
After a moment of silence, Damian slowly reached for the notebook.
With each page he turned, the room began to faintly glow.
That light was proof that his heart still sought “salvation.”
I closed my eyes.
In that moment, the room seemed to dissolve into the wind, vanishing as if it had never existed.
10/15
★OliveR's Dream Journal★ 