The Motel of Dreams
He grabbed the door handle and pulled, the door creaking open slowly, as if it had not been done so in years. As the entryway opened up, he was relieved to find that there were no dead bodies, no rats, no cockroaches, no blood stains on the bed sheets.
It was perfectly normal, yet eerie. The room was quiet yet had a mystical feeling to it. It was as if terrible things had once occurred and since then the room had returned back to its prior state. And now the room had been left in simultaneous eerie and peace as if unsure which state to be in.
He gulped and walked in, trying to avoid thinking of what might have happened in this room before him. It was difficult. More difficult than he had imagined it to be. He just kept seeing dead, bloodied bodies in his mind.
He shrugged off the thought and continued on.
Despite the creepy feel, the room was perfectly clean. The floor had that old carpet smell and other than a coffee stain by the back of the room, was left spotless. The bed sheets were made, covered on top by three pillows and in the corner was a separate door which led to the washroom.
Without another thought he flipped on the light switch and sat down on the bed, quickly removing his shoes, tie and jacket. It had been a rough day. To say it was long and tiring was an understatement.
He had been driving all day, and all night to find this small motel in the middle of nowhere. But finally he had done so. He had been determined to find it, having heard of its significance.
The motel, despite its creepy nature, is quite well known. There isn’t anything specific that makes it stand out from the thousands of other motels that exist, but yet for whatever reason the motel is popular. People from all across the world are drawn into this motel in a town which has itself become deserted. They come from all regions of the world to find it, to become a part of it.
He also found himself unable to resist being drawn in by the motel. He had dropped everything: his job, his wife, his kids, his home, everything to find and stay in the motel for at least one night. He didn’t know how many nights he would end up staying. He hadn’t even told anyone that he was leaving. He couldn’t. Doing so would come with resistance. And he needed to go.
It had taken him eighteen hours of driving to reach the motel. And now that he had found it he felt at peace. It was as if this motel which was void of any residents, removed all societal pressures. He was in the middle of nowhere, in a town which no longer existed with people who no longer lived there.
The only other people that were there were other hotel guests of the motel. There were maids and cooks but no one ever saw or heard them. The rooms were simply tidy when you got there and food was ready in the kitchen when you wanted it. It was quick and easy.
As he stood inside the room he felt what he was sure the others before him had felt. Relaxed, calm, joyous. He felt so different, like a changed man, as if being in the presence of the motel and this room had created a complete shift in him.
He wasn’t sure what it was about the motel that made him so happy, so relaxed but he felt it. Even in the creepy room he was staying in, he suddenly felt alive. Alive at what the future would bring.
He had a job, he had a family, he had a future. Yet all of it lacked substance. All of it was a part of the American dream. Yet he felt like the American dream was a lie. What he had lived towards as a kid was a bland life with little emotion and substance. Being here in this hotel room let him see that. It let him see that there was much more, that there was a life worth living beyond the simple American life.
With that he lay down on the bed and let the dreams and ambitions come to him. This was after all, the motel of dreams.
