Fractal Dreams

Early this morning, I went on to school, as usual, riding on the Light Rail. An empty train lurched towards the station, and as I knew from experience, it was never gonna accept passengers because it was probably on maintenance. But suddenly its doors were open, and I immediately hopped in.

It was empty and silent, and I felt odd, that things seemed different.

The nagging feeling continued as I went on to school, where the long winding pathway leading to the campus was nearly empty, with only a few students coming in, and a few students walking out. I check my watch. 9:05. I remember there was supposedly another rally somewhere. Maybe no classes?

But no, it wasn’t that way. Classes went on as usual, and the strange calm that morning was forgotten in the turbulence of school life. Hours pass until it was finally time to leave.

I arrive home to find the house empty, the door locked. My mother was gone, and the droning sounds of the AM radio I was used to hearing was disturbingly absent. Maybe she paid the bills, I thought. I remembered my brother’s credit cards were due sometime this month. I sit down to eat an afternoon snack.

The phone rang.

I ran to my room to answer it, the voice of my father greeting my ears. He was looking for mom. A curious thought crept up, I suppressed it while telling my father what I knew. Then he told me something, and suddenly everything was clear:

My uncle, my mother’s youngest brother, is dead.

He was found dead at his room, for causes unknown. It was during 9:20 in the morning, five minutes after I reached my first class.

It felt strange again, no sadness, no emotion. I did not cry, I felt detached. I was not shocked, never felt for the loss of my mother, my uncle’s wife and children. In its stead, I felt a small gaping hole in my chest, as if it was sucking everything in.

That was all I had to feel about death. An absolute emptiness. Was I wrong to feel this way?