My dreams are haunted by regret. I am tormented, twisted, morphed by the very thought of what I almost was.

He came to me. Sure, I was down on my luck. We all were in those days. I can make no excuse for my actions but I must make it clear now that he came to me.

Like I said, I was down on my luck; in a bad place. I was shooting stick down at Gino’s. I needed a release; a way to blow off steam after a long day. My opponent was dark and didn’t say much. When he did speak, it was in an unfamiliar accent that I found hard to understand. His black leather hat cast a shadow over his face and I found it hard to look him in the eye. I was winning.

“Eight-ball side pocket,” I said with false confidence. I missed. He could tell I was unhappy. “You alright there mate?” he said, with an air of discomfort.

“I just don’t know anymore.” Why did I say this? Why did invite this total stranger into my own problems? I kept talking. I told him everything: Where I was born, what my family is like, my hopes and dreams. I talked for hours. When I had nothing left to say I broke into hysteria. Tears came pouring out the corners of my eyes.

“My name’s Elijah,” He finally said, putting his hand on my shoulder. We made our way into a booth and it was his turn to talk. He had less to say. When the bartender told us that they were closing we both checked our watches.

“Time sure does fly,” I said, standing up.

“Listen,” he said “I’m having a small gathering of sorts. Just a few friends and colleagues. You’re right welcome to come.” He gave me his card. Finally, a friend. A ray of sunshine in a world of darkness.

Days came and went and finally it was time for the party. I was nervous. My life had been so bleak, I really wanted this night to go well. I arrived promptly at 8 o’ clock. I rang the doorbell. The door swung open to reveal Elijah in a brown, pinstriped suit.

“You made it!” He exclaimed with genuine excitement. I followed him inside and received glances from the many party-goers. I stood awkwardly by the punch bowl and felt the gaze of a large man in the corner, sipping what I assumed to be raspberry seltzer. I ignored him and began to mingle. I exchanged pleasantries with a rather dull man and his wife. I casually made my way to a man with a denim vest: the center of the party. He sure could spin a yarn. I was so entranced in his story, I hardly realized that the large man in the corner was still staring at me. The party slowly dwindled but the large man in the corner stayed, his glass now empty. Finally, it was only the three of us: Elijah, large man in the corner, and myself. He slowly made his way out of the corner and came to me.

“Can I tell you something?” he asked me. I didn’t respond. “You have a look. A certain air about you. You’re just the guy I’m looking for.”

“Excuse my being frank but… what in the Sam Hill are you a-saying?”

“I’m an artist and… I must sculpt you.”

One thing led to another, and I found myself draped in a towel, posing in front of the large man (no longer in the corner) and a block of clay. He spoke reassuringly, trying to make me as comfortable as possible.

“We’re done for tonight,” he finally said. I came back the next day and posed for hours while he sculpted. I was coming to his studio everyday and finally he was finished. It was me. It was majestic.

I accompanied him to the art exhibits. A man offered him five thousand dollars and twenty-six cents for the sculpture. Sold.

“It was a pleasure to work with you,” the large man said. “Have you ever tried performance art?”

I found myself draped in the same towel in a glass box in an art museum. Museum-goers crowded around me and made ruthless comments, unaware that the box was not soundproof. I slowly realized I was at the mercy of this large man and I still hardly knew him. He had this power over me and I couldn’t refuse his ridiculous requests. He was very persuasive.

“Pick up my groceries wearing nothing but this sombrero.”

“Go to Wal-Mart and purchase a fish tank, a snorkel, and a book on scuba diving and videotape the cashier’s reaction”

“Complete this jigsaw puzzle with your thumbs taped to your palms.”

It just kept coming. Everything I did was for the large man. I wasn’t even thinking for myself anymore. I was so desperate for validation; desperate to please someone. I kept in touch with Elijah and he disapproved of this newfound relationship. He knew the large man and of his notoriety. I was convinced that Elijah was jealous.

Art projects turned to social experiments and I found myself in more awkward situations. One day the large man asked me to blatantly commit common theft disguised as the following: A white woman, an African American male, a senior citizen, and a mime. I questioned this request.

“That’s stealing. It’s wrong,” I said. He was taken aback. He cajoled me into finally agreeing.

I arrived at the store as a woman. Elijah beat me there.

“Listen to me mate. This has gone too far. You can’t keep this up,” he said.

“I can’t believe you’re jealous,” I said foolishly. I wielded my sword. He drew his. Our blades crossed. We dueled until I knocked the sword out of his hand and I held mine to his throat. He reacted calmly.

“I’m only looking out for you. I’m your friend,” he said in that beautiful, thick accent. I dropped my sword, knelt to the ground and cried.

“I’m so sorry,” I said through tears. He took me by the hand and I clumsily fell into his warm embrace.

Yes, my dreams are haunted by regret. But when I’m awake? When I’m awake my days are filled with joy for the amends I’ve made.