The Shattering of a Fantasy

A man walked in the desert. He believed himself to be clear minded, only just a little bit thirsty. He knew not how long he walked, but he soon viewed an oasis pure and clean. He ran to it and was happy; for he would not die of thirst.

There he spent his time for many a moon, growing fat off the fruit of the trees of the oasis, healthy and strong. Until he unfortunately had to leave.

He walked and looked back and thought of returning, knowing full well he couldn't as returning to the oasis would be a stagnation in life, no longer progressing how he knew he should.

And so he continued walking until off in the distance he saw signs of civilizations. Which is when he tripped, fell, and went unconscious. When he awoke he found himself truly awake and saw that instead of healthy and fat off the fruit of the oasis, he was skinny and sickly, weak and with thirst.

The man wondered what had happened, and saw his body, full of needles, cuts and bruises. And then he remembered, the illusion shattered. He saw through what had been his madness, seeing that instead of a fruitful oasis he had instead visited a wild growth of cactus, and in his madness did what he could to drink the juices and eat what he could of the edible part of the plant inside.

He saw that the fantasy was shattered, the memories of the place tainted, and his experiences unreliable. He knew he had strength to reach civilization, but was still saddened by the false promises of the cacti.

And so he walked, hoping to be rid of his memory of the place, of what he thought was a small paradise. And instead only seeing the needles and places where he injured himself trying to survive.

And though pulling the needles out one by one, he could never escape the cacti; he could not but harbor on that memory, the loss of the illusion and the loss of the naivety.

He could only run and hope that soon he would be free of such memories.