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“An ambitious work of literature, one that we should see more of… an exciting tale and a promising work that indicates an emergence of a heavy weight writer” Wael Raddad, Writer.
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The New World Order
By: Ali Shams
Printed Edition Publisher:
Copywrite 2011 Platinum Books - Kuwait
Published by Ali Shams at Smashwords, authorized by Platinum Books
Smashwords Edition, License Notes
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
Table of Contents
After Night 1
Before Night 4
After Night 4
Before Night 5
Before Night 6
Before Night 8
Before Night 9
Before Night 12
Before Night 13
Before Night 15
Before Night 19
Before Night 20
Before Night 21
Before Night 25
Before night 27
The last Night
Special thanks to Mr. Abdulla Al-Baajari for his efforts in making this work a beautiful piece of art and opening the doors for adding new dimensions into it.
Many thanks to my dear wife who has been and still is a source of boundless inspiration
Thanks to Mr. Ahmed Al-Haidar and Platinum books for putting their trust in this work.
Thanks to my family and friends who have influenced my writing.
Finally thanks to all those that have been part of my journey in life, whether you had a negative or positive effect on my life, a piece of you is in this book.
Before taking this journey unchain yourself from all sources of disturbance in your life. Read this book with a clear mind and without default judgments that are based on your own perceptions. Detach yourself for once from all these noises around you and take this journey with an open mind.
Many of the things we take for granted in life, merely because it is easier to do so. We take certain paths because we are not sure where else to go, or we may create a path of our own, yet we get lost in our loneliness. In all cases, we create a set of beliefs that we get more fanatical about as we get older. Yet this book is not for fanatics, nor for those who see life from a narrow perspective.
Forget the name of the author, forget the conflict with your own beliefs, and just try to enjoy the journey as it comes. If you do so the juggling of thoughts in this book may inspire you. Keep in mind, we are not trying to tell you what is right or wrong, we are not trying to pass judgment, so do not judge, just enjoy.
In the name of God we start…
After an exhausting day, Yusuf laid on his bed trying to find a position to relax his muscles. After a couple of flips he finally settled on his side with his left hand under his head. He repeated verses from Quran, which his mother had taught him to read from the age of five. He felt protected when reciting these verses, and the nights he forgot to do so, he'd awaken wracked with anxiety. With jangled nerves, he'd repeat them rapidly before closing his eyes again to drift into a peaceful slumber. That night however, was not like any other night. This night brought with it an unexpected visitor who would place on Yusuf’s shoulders the burden of a message that needed to be shared with all of its intricate details.
Yusuf always dreamed, a night that passed without a dream was rare and it felt as if he never slept. He could not understand how some people could not dream, or what it felt like to surrender to eight hours or more of blankness. He once heard from a friend that only intelligent people dream as often. He was delighted to hear that, but he didn’t believe that he was that smart, he saw himself as an average person compared to others. At one stage of his life he was convinced that everyone dreams, but most people forgot their dreams when they wake, however, he did not.
Some of the dreams he thought to be more serious than others. Whenever he thought that his dream has a meaning or a revelation, he would go back to his mother and ask her what the dreams meant. She would open her old Book of Dreams and would ask him to carefully recall what he saw and she would try to understand it. If he saw a horse, then she would ask about the color, as every color possessed different meanings. She would ask what the horse was doing, and whether someone was riding it, and in what direction. Every detail mattered in the Book of Dreams. She would tell him to not reveal his dreams to anyone and to remember to pray to God the moment he would awake, so he would revel in joy and wipe away all the sorrows. Deep down he knew when a dream held good or detrimental news. He could feel it during the dream. If he had a sense of comfort, then the dream had a favorable meaning. If he felt restless or apprehensive, then the dream had a sense of foreboding.
Yusuf did not relate all his dreams to his mother, as some were clear to him and he knew what they meant. Eventually he became an expert at deciphering dreams and developing his own interpretations for them. He enjoyed this new skill, as his friends started to call him to interpret their dreams. Sometimes he dreamt of actual events, a friend getting married or somebody he knows dying, and they all occurred shortly after his dream. He once knew a girl, and the night before she dumped him, he had dreamt that he held a colorful sparrow in his hand whilst he was riding a bike. However it flew away and he could not find it again. He was not surprised when the girl called him on the following day and said that she wanted to end their relationship.
That night was different, what he saw was not anything like his earlier dreams. It was so vividly real that it continued every time he closed his eyes for rest.
Two men who held him from his elbows guarded him. Their hands gripped him so tight that he did not even think of breaking free. They led him to a room and gestured to him to enter alone. The room was immaculate and there were only two chairs in the centre, but there were no windows or light fixtures to be seen. The walls shimmered and seemed to be radiating light that illuminated the room. A man was sitting on one of the chairs and beckoned Yusuf to sit beside him. The mysterious man's brown hair matched his eyes, and a small beard adorned his glowing tanned face.
“Where am I” asked Yusuf.
“We are in your brain, in your imagination, and what an imagination I must admit!” replied the man.
“What do you mean? Who are you?”
“I’m a guest in your mind- I come from a world different than yours, and I’m here because I need your help.”
“I don’t understand? How can I help you?” Yusuf replied, stunned at the request.
“We want you to write a book, a book that is to be published in your world”, the man answered.
“What book? How can I write a book...?” Yusuf trying to make sense of the man’s words, but he continued without giving any attention to Yusuf’s questions.
“I need you to put a pen and a notebook near to your bed, as you are going to write everything I tell you starting from tomorrow.”
He jumped from his bed soaked with sweat that night. He couldn’t go back to sleep no matter how hard he tried. He took a pen and a notebook and started writing everything down, he could remember all the precise details of his dream. Usually he could not fully recall his previous dreams with clarity, and his memory would degrade as the day wore on. This dream however, was burned vividly into his mind’s eye. Unlike other dreams, the memory remained all day long; the man’s words were swirling in his thoughts when he went to work the following day. He eventually tried to ignore what happened as the hours passed by and the events of the day accumulated. He forgot to put the pen and notebook the next night, he remembered only when he was already in bed and too exhausted to get up.
Out of the darkness the dream sprang into his mind and frightened him. This time the guards held Yusuf by the neck. They sneered at him and made it clear that their master does not like to repeat himself and that Yusuf should obey immediately. He lurched from his bed sweating profusely, breathing hard clutching his throat as if they were still gripping it tightly. He could not fall asleep again, the worry of the dream repeating itself hung menacingly on his overwrought mind.
He went to work the next day barely awake and everything seemed a blur around him. Nothing seemed to be real or tangible, and he felt this whenever he woke up from a vivid or captivating dream although in the past, the feeling quickly disappeared. Moments passed, he felt as if he was still dreaming - he was told once that a person never knows that he is dreaming until he wakes up. Yusuf was struggling to be alert and maintain focus, yet an inexplicable force was driving him into unconsciousness. He took extra sips from the sludgy coffee in front of him; the steamy vapor that rose from the mug could barely cut through the haze of sleepiness.
He could hear a distant noise calling his name, he tried to reply but the words seemed to circle in his mind but never reach his tongue. He felt a touch on his shoulder and spun around… it was Nadeen, the beautiful and angelic Nadeen.
“Yusuf” she said, “Are you all right? You don’t seem to be yourself today.”
Yusuf didn’t raise his head from the chart in front of him.
“Am fine, I’m just a little tired I guess… could not sleep well yesterday.”
Nadeen trying to see into his eyes suggested:
“Maybe you should take the rest of the day off and sleep at home? I’ve never seen you this way.”
“No!” He snapped involuntarily.
“Ok...! As you wish…!” She retreated with a surprised look.
Yusuf’s day was far from a productive one. He couldn’t remember how he had reached home that day; all he remembered was that he was standing around with a piece of paper in his hand, which he had carried home with him. He placed it beside his bed before collapsing into a deep slumber.
The scene this time was in a boundless garden bursting with flowers. The man had a peaceful smile on his face. “I am still amazed by your imagination, everyday something new. I’m actually enjoying my time in your dreams.”
Yusuf could not speak, as if something was forcing his mouth shut. The man continued:
“I know that you are confused, but I’m sure you will eventually understand what I want from you is simple. I want you to write down everything I say when you wake up, we will make sure that your memory will serve you to do that. Once we are done I want you to publish it as a book, a novel if you wish to call that. That piece of paper beside you is not enough you will need to have more than one piece of paper. I don’t have a lot of time so we need to start immediately.”
Yusuf appeared to have no option other than to comply with the man’s wishes. He opened his eyes; he didn’t sleep much but had regained his consciousness. Realizing that he is still wearing his suit, he went out to the nearest stationary store, and stood by a variety of notebooks. He finally picked up one with a grey cover and made his way back home, changed his clothes and kept the notebook on the right side table beside his bed.
He didn’t speak a word for the rest of the day; a mixed feeling of excitement and anxiety prevented his mind from functioning well. He went back to bed early that day but couldn’t sleep. Lying on his back with a remote look, a sudden sense of despair clouded over him. ‘Am I going to die?’ he thought. The question made his heart tremble, and the rapid beats seemed to echo throughout the darkness of the room, rising to a crescendo. He felt the heaviness of the air as it went through his lungs. He felt the mass of captive emotions inside of him, all of the sudden, he wept loudly – the tears streaming rapidly down his flushed cheeks. The heavy feeling on his chest started to go away with the sound of his cries, but the room seemed to contract around him as he inhaled his last sobs. His eyes closed, as his cries transferred his mind to a more relaxed but unconscious state. The dream started;
“You are back and you are all set I can see,” the man intoned. “It is time to begin.”
A magician is a person who knows what cards we are holding, but makes us think that he doesn’t know.
Есть тренажеры не только для русской клавиатуры, но и также для английской и другой клавиатуры. Особенно хочется отличить программу...