Andy could feel a large, slimy glob of spit land on the back of his neck. He knew it must have been a big one because Derek had made such a loud production of hawking up his phlegm that you would think he was preparing for an Olympic spitting event.
He and his henchmen were beside themselves with laughter at Andy’s humiliation, made obvious by his reddening face and quickening pace.
Andy wished that he had the courage to turn around and face his aggressor. Lord knows he had fantasized about beating the living shit out of him often enough, but his fear of being pummelled into the ground by far outweighed his rage.
He just wanted to get away. He wanted to lock himself in his room and listen to music, the only thing (aside from masturbation and alcohol) that enabled him to escape reality for any length of time.
“How was your day?” asked his mother.
“Fine” Andy replied, unconvincingly, not even pausing when their paths crossed in the kitchen as he made his way upstairs.
Slamming the bedroom door behind him, Andy kicked off his shoes, slumped himself down on his bed and put on his headphones. Banging his head to the high-speed riffs of some thrash metal band, Andy’s anger had found an outlet.
But the music could not drown out the sound of Derek’s words reverberating in his head. He tried turning it up, but still, it persisted. “Loser”. “Dickhead”. He tried shaking his head to dislodge it, but still, it clung on. “Dweeb”. “Dork”. “Retard”.
Somehow…some way, he had to flee the voice in his head. Closing his eyes, he turned his attention inward, focusing entirely on the vibrations of the music which he imagined lifting his consciousness to another level.
Before long, Andy felt a surge of electricity all over. Willing his energy to leave his body, and with a heightened sense of awareness, he felt himself floating upwards.
Alarmed and frightened, at first, Andy’s deeply relaxed state was soon restored as he bathed in the warmth of the glowing white light that surrounded him and which connected him, via a tunnel of sorts, to the astral plane.
Settling into his out of body experience, Andy learned how to roam the skies near his home. He realized that by thinking of where he wanted to be he could make it happen and so his first port of call, he decided, would be Derek’s house. For what purpose, he wasn’t sure, but he felt compelled to go there all the same.
Weightlessly, and with great speed, Andy projected himself into Derek’s living room where he witnessed a disturbing scene unfolding between Derek and his father.
“You’re a pathetic loser!” spat Derek’s father, with visceral contempt.
“But Dad, you can’t expect me to win every game…it’s just not…”
Derek’s father socked his son in the face, without warning, knocking him to the ground with the force of the blow.
“Now get the hell outta here” he added, unapologetically, for good measure.
Andy had seen enough. He had gained a new perspective on things, of that he was certain, but it was time to go home, where he could hopefully make sense of it all.
Willing his return, Andy snapped back into his physical body, a little fatigued and overwhelmed but with a renewed vigour.
Would anyone believe that he had stepped into another realm of existence?
For Andy, it didn’t matter. The experience was as real as the clothes on his back.
The irony was that his escape from reality had, in fact, brought him much closer to it. Not only had he gained a greater understanding of why Derek, his arch nemesis, behaved the way he did but he had gained the courage to face him, once and for all.
He was adament that some words of compassion would help to resolve things between them and failing that? Well, now that he had travelled to another dimension, he should have no trouble crossing that bridge should he come to it.
Created: Jun 12, 2017DeeDee_Hughes Document Media