Jose woke up from his bed completely drenched in sweat. Except for a ray of moonlight that escaped from the half closed window, his room was completely dark. His thoughts wandered back to the dream that woke him up.
He had often had absurd meaningless dreams and horror nightmares. But this was nothing like those. He saw something that happened years ago. It was like a replay from the past. ‘Funny! I didn't even remember that happened until I saw this dream.’ he thought wearily and fumbled from his bed for a glass of water.
Almost eight years ago, after his high school graduation, he joined a summer camp to perfect his writing skills. There was this girl named Adeline. She, on the account of her weird behaviour and dark makeup, soon became the detestable thing in the entire camp. People made fun of her every time she passed. The worst part was, she sat beside Jose in class. Just for a day. The very first day. The camp lasted for almost a month and she attended the camp only one day. And not a single soul missed her after that.
Jose drank his water, wiped the sweat off his face, opened the window completely, stared at the moon for sometime and came back to his bed.
The dream continued. A tall bearded man maybe in his late sixties walked into the classroom. Except for a tuft of black hair on his forehead, his head was a complete silvery grey. His clothes were neatly ironed and tailored to fit even his paunch.
“He looks full of wisdom! What do you think?” said Adeline unable to contain her excitement.
“Huh?!” said Jose unable to find any word to reply.
“It is my esteemed pleasure to meet the writers of tomorrow. In order to induce a regular writing habit, we will ask you to submit whatever you write on a daily basis. We will evaluate it and give away prizes as an encouragement at the end of the day. So, if you have any articles penned by you on an earlier date, you can feel free to submit it here. We will let you know what your weaknesses and strengths are so that you will be able to make yourselves better.” he said.
The first to rush to the dais was Adeline. Soon the entire class was there except for a few shy ones.
“Mine is called as Four dots.” started Adeline “What is your’s called?”
Before Jose could answer, she continued again.
“I actually conceived that idea in my second grade.” she said as she tucked her dirty bangs behind her ear. “I wrote it down in my third grade. ‘Four dots’ you know, in the form of a square?”
She drew four dots on the paper in front of her. Maybe she took Jose for a dunce.
“The speciality of the four dots is that, you don't connect them.” she gave a half laugh. “You probably know that already. They are the second perfect thing in the world. The first is a circle - way too obvious! The circle is the embodiment of perfection. No beginning and no end. Unlike the circle, the four dots have got a major problem. They are not connected.” she laughed. This time it was a complete laugh. It somehow sounded more genuine than the last one. “But I would say this is where the perfection lies. They are not connected by a visible line yet they are connected. Just like our souls. They mean more than we actually see or perceive. They run deep. Deeper than one can ever imagine. You can never ignore or deny the presence of the four dots.”
Jose snapped back just in time as she finished her lecture. He felt like a dimwit sitting right in front of Socrates, trying to comprehend but still unable on the account of his simple understanding.
“But why four? Three is also a good number I think.” he stammered.
“Of course not!” she replied in such a tone that made Jose feel as if he had offended her great grand ancestors. “Three is an odd number first of all. Secondly, it is not a square number. But four on the other hand, is a perfect number. A perfect among the perfects. Yet again, you cannot consider one as perfect because, one is the square of one. You get the flow, right?”
In his dream, Jose fell into a dark pit filled with fours and squares. And four dots, of course.
The next teacher came in and started the grammar class.
Classes continued but his dream skipped all those and came right to the end of the day. It was as if somebody had a dream machine in their hands and controlled what should be played next.
Once again, the bearded man came. He announced the prizes for the day. Adeline was visibly disappointed that she did not win any.
The bearded man continued. “I also have these articles as an example of how not to write.” he showed a bunch of papers. “The first one is called ‘Four dots’ by Adeline Edelweiss.” Adeline’s face was visibly flushed as she stood up. At the very sight of her, the class was in a laughing fit. The teacher continued. “‘I am Bobby Marker. But I am not a marker pen. I am a detective. I find bad things.’ seriously Adeline? Couldn't you find a better way to start?” Adeline was in the verge of tears. “I was in my third grade.” she muttered under her breath.
“Third grade? What do you think we are doing here? Teaching toddlers?” he continued. “Now we will read something from the middle. ‘He received a letter. It had four dots. It was not a square but it was a square. It was a murder note. He was murdered tomorrow.’ Murdered tomorrow? Four dots? You couldn't possibly think of a better murder plot?” the class was laughing hysterically as the bearded man mashed up the paper and aimed for the trash can. Adeline ran to the bin and pulled the paper out. She straightened it as she walked back. Her face was now a complete mess with all those tears mixed with her makeup.
Jose felt as if he sat next to an ugly toad. He cringed away as if she had a contagious disease.
The class was over and Jose walked away as soon as possible. Adeline stood there as the rest of the class passed by, making faces at her.
Jose woke up from his sleep. He had had the worst dream ever. He felt pain in his heart as if it had been connected to Adeline’s soul. It was after all Adeline who told him that souls were connected.
Jose glanced at his watch. Half past seven. He tried to forget his dream as he got ready for work.
He fixed his breakfast and switched on the TV.
A pretty girl was in the middle of her report. “...he was an octogenarian writer living alone in his villa. He had penned several award winning articles…” The face was immediately recognisable. It was the same bearded man from his dream. “...nothing suspicious was found at the crime scene except a piece of paper with four dots marked in it…”
Jose was shocked beyond words. His immediate thought was to report it to the police. But again, he thought the better of it. He thought it would be fun to watch the investigation progress and get to know if the police found the real killer or not. He was proud of his own ingeniosity.
Jose entered his office with a smirk pasted to his face.
The office boy came rushing towards him and gave him an envelope. It was not addressed. Inside, there was a dirty paper with four dots.
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