The Final Dream: Surviving a regime, only to face a cult leader. (a short story)

                                          The Final Dream

  

                                   Surviving a regime, only to face a cult leader.

 

Written by Judy Fay London

Author’s Note:The Final Dream is a work of fiction, but the shadow it casts is real. History has shown us time and again how easily a society can fracture when education is criminalized and intellectuals are hunted. Totalitarian regimes do not just destroy lives in the moment; they plant seeds of trauma that corrupt the generations that follow. Thank you for walking through Arlene's memories with me. May we never forget the cost of losing our books, our teachers, and our humanity.

 Grab the book here: The Final Dream: Surviving a regime, only to face a cult leader. (a short story)

Introduction:

 

I—a dying old woman—am rotting in the cheapest nursing home in the city. I’m waiting, just waiting. Waiting for my final moment.

 

I am dying. Yes, I know. And I’m waiting. I force my eyes open, but see nothing. It’s midnight—I guess. Dark room. Dark sky. Dark everywhere. Of course it is. I’ve been blind for years.

…

When I wake up, I’m in a jail instead of a hospital. I’m shocked and terrified. The people in this cell are strangers; I don’t know any of them. But I manage to find out what just happened: The government has decided that all the teachers and educated people are bad. Bad for the country, bad for the government, bad for everything. So, all the teachers are put in jail. All the books are burned.

It was a terrible time. It was a nightmare. I lost my unborn baby in that prison, broken by the forced labor. Outside, my mother had to take care of our four children for us. But the worst blow came the following year: Jeremy died in his cell. I didn’t even weep. I had already cried millions of times, and I had forgotten how. When they told me he was gone, I simply whispered to myself, You must stay strong. You must survive. You must live to see your children grow up.

Finally, six years later, that brutal regime collapsed. The new government released us—released me. I rushed back home, only to find our house was gone. The state had seized it, repurposing it as a local library. We didn’t get a penny of compensation, of course. My four children and I were forced to crowd into my mother's tiny, two-room house.

The new government didn’t jail teachers, but they barred ordinary children from getting an education. I still couldn’t teach—in fact, public schools had ceased to exist entirely. Only the children of the wealthy and high-ranking officials were permitted to attend special state academies. “What should I do?” I asked myself. I had no idea. Now, from the corner of the room, I watch my younger self sigh and pace aimlessly around my mother’s tiny house.

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 Grab the book here: The Final Dream: Surviving a regime, only to face a cult leader. (a short story)