The Step Of Palimpsest
#3

I cleaned everything on the plate. There is nothing left but oil stains from the sambal. After eating, I immediately put the dirty dishes in the sink - I wash only when it has piled up and then wash my hands. I like to drink water, my water needs are a bit more than the usual people. After eating, I can drink up to two glasses of water at a time. I wonder how anyone can forget to drink water?

"Huh, how sultry. I want to take a shower but I have to wait half an hour. Ah, the shame."

While waiting for time, maybe I want to draw up a plot line and find a name for a character in my upcoming novel. I'm not used to carelessly giving names, because names are prayers. Just like my name is full of good meaning. Karmina is an old type of poem, usually a flashback. Kama means to be adored. Indurasmi means the moonlight. Thus, Karmina Kama Indurasmi means an old poem that is revered or flattered by the moon. But it could also mean an old poem blessed by the moonlight.

A name too pretty for someone like me. But it is true. The 'beautiful' moon has recesses and craters on its surface. From afar it was invisible, but when viewed up close, there were countless wounds he had hidden. My parents unknowingly prayed for me to get hurt. I know, they mean to be good by giving me a very beautiful name. When I grew up like this I jumped into the literary world, just like my name. But no human is perfect.

Ah ... I'm sleepy.

"Well, bodo is great! If later the stomach pain is just for the sake. Instead of falling asleep and waking up at night because it's sticky, it's very uncomfortable. ."

The call of nature for tens of minutes is not strange to me. I do not like to drink coffee, but I like to eat spicy food in excess and of course stay up late, even so I sleep a lot until noon. For me, it was eleven o'clock. So if it's still nine over half ten, I'll continue to sleep until at least half eleven. Of course at that time the weather was hot, once I woke up I was sweating. I took a shower after waking up.

Writers love to have strange habits. This habit of mine is still nothing, there must be something worse than me out there.

"Ck, the face soap is up. Why my face soap package hasn't arrived yet. Though only in the next province, not to different islands or even at the end of the island like mother. Even the mother pack arrived faster. Basic, I have to file a refund later."

My body is easily sweaty and greasy. So as much as I wear body fragrance, it will definitely smell the carcass too. Really, I've often been taken by my mother because of this. I personally don't want to be like this either, so how else? The important thing is that I clean my body with soap until it is completely fragrant. My hair was already sprained, so I shampooed with a potluck shampoo. I'm not grandiose, as long as I like the smell, I'll buy it.

It feels good to take a shower after sweating. It was so fresh that I felt sleepy. Like all heat that is negative energy in the body disappears after being cooled by fresh water. If only at home there was a bath tub, I could soak while working on the plot lines of novels like in the movies. Unfortunately I'm a little paranoid. Even in the most relaxed time there is always a gap to danger.

I often try to avoid mistakes because I know and fear to face the risks that exist. I knew I was wrong, but still I was afraid of being scolded. This is also one of the reasons why I moved house. Although lonely, at least I have a lot more time to give understanding to myself. My mom says I'm too individual, I admit it. It's because I'm tired of finding a suitable environment for me. Even if there are, it's just online friends.

I'm a shameful anti-social loser.

That's why I'm making a classic fantasy novel. Something that makes no sense, cannot happen, because it is just imagination and ordinary writing. But what's wrong with that? Humans have IQ and EQ, both of which need each other. There is nothing wrong between which one is superior. Everything has meaning and potential. Because of that belief, I have not ended my life.

The author ... otherwise stress, depression, addicts, yes, suicide.

However, not everything is so, but that is so of course the author. To myself, I am a stressed writer. I began to feel the sorrow part of being a novel writer. Working with deadlines, repeated revisions, contract meetings to determine appropriate royalties, and so forth. Like I said before, there is no easy job. The impression likes only to be obtained from the visual alone, but behind it there is a niche mourning as wide as the crater of the moon.

"Hm. My hair is falling out all the time, how do I stop it?"

I'm done showering. My wet body is still wrapped in a towel. I combed my hair that was still wet, I mean so that no more hair fell out, apparently there was still some loss as well. How else, I've been trying to take care of my crown. Good shampoo, expensive conditioner, vitamins for hair roots and scalp. I gave up taking care of her, after all my hair is thick, I shouldn't have to worry too much. You just need to get treatment as usual.

I drip the hair vitamin over my head, I rub it on both palms of my hands and then I apply it to all strands of hair that can hold both palms of my hands alternately. When I finished, I tidied my bangs back in front of the mirror, I tucked them behind my ears. I wondered at this reflection of myself, what should I do next? I was too sleepy to continue making plot lines, but it was my duty.

I turned my eyes to the wall clock. The short needle shows the number seven while the long needle shows the move from three to four. I consider carefully, I am a person who can not resist sleepiness, even though I have a job. Unless I can stay up late to work on it. All right, I'll sleep for about two hours, then stay up until two in the morning. After midnight, I'll heat the duck, I think that's a good idea.

"Just two hours, Karmina. Remember that. Carve it in your head that you only sleep two hours, then make another novel. This is your dream, so take responsibility!" I said to myself.

Since I live alone, there is nothing I want to hear except from myself. From myself to myself, how introverted I am.

I set a timer that shows at nine o'clock at night. I set using the most horrendous ringtone then the volume I increase to the maximum. I prepared all the pillows, bolsters, blankets, and fans with maximum strength. After all that preparation, I immediately laid down my body onto the soft and comfortable mattress. I pulled out a soft blanket that was a birthday present from my parents. I curled my body according to the bolster I was hugging.

Oh, I forgot to pray.

"What will I pray for this time, huh?"

Surprisingly, I was afraid to pray. I was afraid I was asking too much, so that in the end none of those prayers could be answered. What I pray for every night is the same. I only wish the best to all the people I love on this earth, no matter how far they are from me, I want them to know that my love is always with them like their deep shadows under the scorching light.

That is my usual prayer. This time I asked for something more about myself. Today I think more about myself than anyone else. Of course it's because I live alone, but I seem to be a selfish kid.

"Lord, the All-Hearing, the All-Aware of Prayer. I have always wished the best for others. You also know I really want it and not just a joke. It's just that this time I want to think a little about myself, but by not forgetting the people I love anyway."

"First of all, if this Most Hearing God loves me, please love my dear ones as they live the bitter sweetness of their lives. I understand, at this age we are facing some new tests. Please help them and take care of my parents wherever they are."

Maybe an example is like a spectacular frenzy when fans of my novel crowded upload their good reviews on social media until it goes viral, or something that helped me come up with a brilliant idea that no writer could ever work on that could potentially lift my name as a budding novelist.

Anything that could make my life for the last two years could be worth it and look more alive than ever. Being a writer is not easy, but I ask for all the conveniences even though there is little that God can give me.

"Can You give more value to my greatest love in my heart? Only You have the will, but give me a little encouragement. Hear the prayer of your servant, Almighty God." I closed my eyes and took a deep breath and exhaled.

I consider every breath of mine to be a step each time my prayer gets closer to Him. Every breath of mine is a virtue because I expect tranquility for those I love. I pray for them in my solitude, I love them until in my dreams, on top of the keyboard I still imagine the sweet or bitter treatment that I have experienced for more than two decades. Basically, the novel is like the author's diary, but in a narrative that is more implicit because it contains the identity of the author himself.

"Now I can sleep, right?"

I pulled the blanket over my shoulder. I breathed a sigh of relief and closed my eyes slowly. Usually when sleeping like this I like to imagine random scenarios. Whether it's a scenario from my current novel I'm looking for inspiration that will surely carry over into the dream. Depends if I remember it or not. There is nothing in this world that has no role of its own.

Good night, Karmina. Don't get up late again.

...»»--⍟--««...

Darkened.

Oh, I don't think I'm dreaming.

Yes already, it's okay. I still remember the scenario I imagined before I was sure I was sleeping. But I'm sure I was dreaming, only I don't remember what I was dreaming.

Then why is it so cold? Why are my eyes so heavy? Is the fan too tight to shiver like this and my eyelids so hard to lift? I have to force it. I have to do my duty because I am under contract for the next few years. I can't miss an opportunity like this that nobody else gets. Awake, Karmina!

"... na? No. .. na? Miss Domi ..."

Whose voice is that?

I don't know him at all. No, wait, what language is this? Why do I understand what that voice says. Come on, force your eyes to open, whether you want to or not. Money is everyone's realistic motivation. By surviving if not for money? I had to work to earn money to send money to my mother so I could eat her food again.

"Young Miss, are you really sober? Miss, talk to me!"

The sound was too disturbing. Though it felt soundproof once, now it sounds so clear. Like I just changed my eardrum. My eyes and ears like to be troubled because I excessively stare at the gadget screen and can stuff my ears with earphones for more than three hours. A bright light forced me to open my eyes. I have no other choice, I have to see what happens.

The one word that came to my head when I saw this woman was a servant. The clothes are very distinctive, namely a simple black and white uniform. A young female servant who put on a worried look and .. relief?

"A-what ... ??" This is not my voice.

"Lord m-bless you! I'll call the healer and Miss' parents, I won't be long. Miss Dominique stays in bed." The white and brown variation of the bell he threw on the floor just like that, then ran towards a direction that I did not know, but I heard the sound of the door opening and then closing again.

Young Miss? Dominique's? It's not what I think it is, is it?

"What the fuck is going on with me? Could I have been ... dead? Then, I know Dominique more than anyone, it's impossible!" This voice that is not mine sounded so hoarse when I could not believe what was really happening to me.

There must be an explanation, but what? This is too realistic to be said to be a dream. Does lucid dream come like this?

I sleep sideways to the right. I tried to turn towards the left where I couldn't see anything at all, "a-akh, sick!"

This isn't a dream. It's reality.