Delirium

'Hey wake up!' 

'Pete...'

'Wake up!'

Pete could hear someone calling out his name and trying to wake him up. But everything happened in his subconsciousness. He couldn't open his eyes and at the same time, he could hardly breathe. But he tried to open his eyes forcibly.

He had a huge bound book opened halfway and his fingers in between them bookmarking the pages he left read or unread; holding it tightly close to his chest. 

'Pete... Wake up! Can you hear me?'

The questioning sound visited him again. He tried to recognize the voice, but couldn't make out who it was. He tried to move his lips and ask the voice, who it was. But he was helpless. Only his imagination was working. and his body under the spell of something.

Was he reading a book of witchcraft or wizardry that he lay stuck by a spell?

'Open your eyes, Pete! Don't you want to see what you were eagerly reading through the void in the book!' , the voice resounded again in his ears. He wanted to say 'yes' but his body and his senses were controlled and summoned by some force of nature that he couldn't move an inch or say a word.

His mind struggled by saying a thousand 'yes', but his body lay untroubled and fast asleep. He couldn't recall what he read last or even the context but he was acquainted with the characters. 

'Open your eyes slowly! See where you are...Feel whatever you can because never leave a question unanswered in your mind', the voice mumbled.

The words rang in his head. It was involuntary. His eyes opened. He felt wet. The wetness of obscurity. He was floating on a water body just like a piece of wood but he had that book held against his chest, though left loose.

Even without eyeing around, he could sense that something was moving around him. He didn't want speculations to run around in his head, so he tilted his head and looked wherever his sight could reach. Papers printed with letters that formed words, torn page by page, floating lifeless over the water just like him with the exception that he was alive.

He felt that he was held by some force, a sort of pressure that thrust his body to float rather than sink. But his question was, 'Why are these pages floating on water?'

The answer came quick from that unknown voice again, 'Your doubts mixed with questions'

'What', he asked.

'The doorways of your sight are left open. See and satiate your soul', the voice whispered.

He looked onto the book in his hand. He found that many pages were torn from the book. He looked around again. 

'The pages', he said.

'Yes, the pages!', the voice said along.

'Why are they torn?', he asked.

"Your doubts and questions.............torn to pieces", the voice said.

'My doubts? But what are you?', he asked in his  frail voice.

                    "I AM THE ANSWER", said the voice; clear and crisp.