Dreams and Nightmares

Every word that she spoke was drenched in malice, especially Kami. Although, Abraham was not a native speaker of Japanese, he knew very well what the university student spoke. She was angry at God, or the gods. Abraham still didn't quite understand Shintoism fully. Regardless, he didn't have to. Because he understood pain, and pain is universal.

His translator stood to his side. He was a tall, brown-skinned man with a rather long, curly, scruffy beard. Where Abraham was from, there was nothing that distinguished him from any other citizen. But here, he was clearly different.

"Sir." His voice was thunderous boom that woke Abraham from his thoughts. He shook his head and refocused his mind.

"Yes."

"Are you ready for the translation?"

"That won't be necessary actually," Abraham claimed in Arabic as he looked towards the girl. "I think I get the gist of what she's saying. So, instead, translate my words to her."

The translator nodded. He was a man who spoke only when necessary as if he was trying to hide his obvious accent.

"I understand your pain. When I was thirteen years old, my parents were killed in a plane crash in the Arabian desert." As the translator translated Abraham's last sentence, a silent hush fell over the room. "I survived alone. My brother, my sister, my parents, and everyone else on that plane died that day, and I fell into a place where I would have most certaintly perished. If not," Abraham paused and pointed towards the ceiling, "For the Lord." He put his finger down. "He lent me his powers, his grace, and allowed his devoted followers to find me, to save me. With those people, I learned more than I ever could have living in Jerasulem. I finally understood what pain was."

It was obvious that Abraham's story was meant to be heard by all of the children in the class. Afterall, it was inspiring. A teenager surviving a plane crash, finding a Bedouin tribe and performing miracles across the world was probably something straight out of a movie. Though, as he prepared to speak his final sentence, for time had made so that this was the last question, he looked into the girl's Sanpaku eyes with his own. "It's hard to forget pain, but it's even harder to remember sweetness. We have no scar to show for happiness. We learn so little from peace. That is why you must turn every wound into wisdom. And God is here to help you with that." Abraham ended on that note as the professor immediately stood from his seat, initiating a rapid clap that encouraged the other students to join in.

"That was great! That was great!" He took and shook Abraham's hand. "Thank you, kind sir. Your words are an inspiration to us all."