Bound to the Black Robe

The Dream Interpreter

The day went on as usual in my peaceful world, undisturbed by the noise of other students, but last night's events never left my mind. Especially the man in the black robe. His treatment of me, his smile, his taunts, and his odd message.

'Don't wander off too far', what did it mean?

"...Ishihara!"

A burst of applause suddenly dragged me back to reality. The woman at the front of the class smiled proudly and clapped her hands. Feeling uneasy, I stood up and bowed modestly.

"Congratulations on your win, Ishihara. I look forward to seeing more achievements from our students," said the teacher just as the recess bell rang.

Suddenly, a commotion erupted. Students swarmed me, showering me with congratulations until I felt like kicking them. Before I could, I escaped through the back door. Social interaction is the most useless thing on earth.

​Unfortunately, I was intercepted in the deserted corridor. The principal himself stopped me, handing me a large bouquet of yellow roses with a broad smile. "Thank you for bringing honor to our school, Ishihara."

​Maybe I should just play dead every time I win a competition from now on.

Now, I sat alone on a swing in a quiet corner of the schoolyard, holding the bouquet of yellow roses from the principal. There was a greeting card tucked inside:

Kudos to you! What an accomplishment! ~ Ishtia H.V

Well, not bad, moreover there was a bar of chocolate tucked among the yellow roses. Perhaps its sweetness could chase away the lingering sorrow and my ever-unanswered hopes.

"...No, seriously! My mom actually saw someone dressed completely in black from head to toe right before she passed away!”

The whispers from the terrace behind the bushes made my ears perk up. I sat with my back to them, but the wind carried every syllable clearly.

​“The Grim Reaper, maybe?”

​“Could be, but did your mom see him carrying a scythe?”

​“Hell no! ...My mom said he looked like an ordinary human... just wearing a hooded robe, but he didn't do anything, he just smiled! As if the Grim Reaper would do that!”

My heart skipped a beat. A figure in a black robe? Smiling?

​“...Nehi! You're good at interpreting dreams!”

​“That was definitely Death," another voice chimed in. "It could mean he arrived early as a sign that someone's time is running out, and they need to prepare—”

​“Nehi, do you know about that ‘astral projection’ thing discussed on YouTube by... you know who?”

​“Can you speak properly? Nehi doesn't get your ghetto slang!”

​“Fine, my bad! Do you know what astral projection is? They say it’s like slipping your soul right out of your body. Explain it!”

My ears were ringing. My hands felt cold—colder even than the chocolate wrapper I was holding.

So, the man in the black robe I had met... was Death? Was his smile not a warm, reassuring gesture after all, but a harbinger of mortality?

Was I going to die soon?

For the rest of the day, I couldn't focus on a single lesson. My mind replayed every overheard word. A black-robed figure, whispered to be Death itself, wandering without a scythe, greeting a human with a smile.

​That haunting thought consumed me entirely until the school day finally drew to a close.

⊹

⁛

⊹

I stood motionless in front of my house's gate. There was a package tucked between the iron bars. No return address, as usual. From my sister—a life sponsor who's been missing for five years and only greets me with a ringing phone and an excessive monthly allowance.

Patter-patter-patter…

As usual, when I opened the door, Brahma—my chicken—immediately lunged at my feet, demanding a hug. In this relatively spacious house, this thick-feathered rooster is the only friend I have to talk to.

After changing, I sat on the living room sofa, opening the package with Brahma sleeping beside me. A wooden box containing a glass dove and a greeting card—she didn't even bother to put together more thoughtful words.

I put it in the glass cabinet next to the bouquet of yellow roses. Maybe someday, when she came home, she will be happy to see it.

My thoughts drifted back to Black Robe. Not only had he helped me get back, he'd also told me the place was about to collapse. Was that the same as saying, "You'll die soon. Your time is up."?

My withdrawn nature suddenly made sense. Why bother interacting with the world if I was going to die soon anyway?

I had to meet Black Robe again. I had to ask him directly, was he truly Death, appearing to inform me of my expiration date? I needed to find out what he meant by 'next time'.

Perhaps that was what drove my finger to scroll across the tablet screen. But how could I meet him again?

Armed with the keyword 'astral projection'—a term I'd overheard from the girls' gossip at school—I browsed through the digital library's articles until I didn't realize the evening sky had already turned dark. My eyes fell on a book with an eccentric cover that intrigued me, as did its title: A Guide to Exploring the Astral Realm.

'The process by which a person's consciousness leaves the physical body and travels to another dimension. This can happen accidentally while a person is sleeping, or it can be done consciously through meditation.'

In the astral realm, things can manifest according to one's energy and consciousness. That explained why the Black Robe manifested as a powerful entity capable of interacting with both the physical and astral worlds.

However, this book explains that powerful astral beings often come to humans when they're on the verge of death. Not to kill, but to guide.

So, perhaps the Black Robe wasn't Death itself, but rather a kind spirit guide. That gave me some relief. I wouldn't die—at least not anytime soon.

Learning how to astral project wasn't as difficult as I'd imagined. The book outlined several basic techniques, which inspired me to try it.

I immediately headed to the shed and lay down in the same corner where I had first experienced involuntary astral projection.

Take a deep breath and forget all your worries… Imagine yourself floating up, like a helium balloon released from a hand…

One hour, two hours. My body felt heavy, as if tied to the floor. Every time I felt a little relaxed, my mind would jump to worry.

Would I succeed? What if I got lost again?

"Damn it," I hissed, clenching my fists.

I switched to another technique: visualization. I imagined myself standing outside my own body. I pushed my energy, willing my consciousness to break free—

NGAAP!

​A violent surge of vertigo hit me like a physical blow. The room spun wildly in pitch darkness. A wave of severe nausea crashed over my stomach, burning up my throat.

​"Ugh!"

​I scrambled up onto my hands and knees, dry-heaving violently onto the shed floor. Cold sweat broke out across my forehead. My vision blurred, spots of light dancing before my eyes as my chest constricted in agonized resistance. My body was violently rejecting the forced separation.

​I slumped back against the wall, panting heavily, my throat burning.

Fine. I gave up.

I need a clearer answer, not just a guide. I needed to know: why was it so effortless for me to astral project unintentionally, yet I failed so miserably when trying to do it consciously?