The Not So Delusional Dream

Just a little background: I submitted this story to the International Junior Author’s Short Story Contest. Unfortunately I didn’t win or make it as a finalist, but had a lot of fun writing it and I plan to enter the contest again in 2015! Would love for you all to read it enjoy!!!tips-for-recalling-dreams 

There’s something to be said about cancer. Cancer is complex like people, and it is too big to battle alone. Elizabeth Worthington is one of those people. Her husband, Mark Worthington, replicates the fine line between love and hate.

“ELIZABETH! What are you doing? Put your gown back on!”

“I can’t stay in this hospital. I have to call my editor, so I can send him my manuscript.”

Elizabeth was so fixated with her career and publishing her new book, Feminist Talking’s that she always put her illness on the back burner.

“Get your head screwed on Liz. Enough with this feminist nonsense. You’re a killjoy.”

“YOU’RE A MISOGYNIST. You knew what you were getting into when you married a feminist.”

“We’re not going to get into this feud. We’re in a hospital for crying out loud! You can put your career on hold.”

She was fueling with rage, but she listened to Mark. She blames Mark for her illness. Not that he gave her cancer, but that like her cancer, he is so complex. It’s as if he is the cancer.

Later that day, the doctors allowed Elizabeth to return home, because Mark provided homecare. Elizabeth arrived home dreading having to be with Mark, to hear his sexist remarks. But, she was glad Mark provided homecare. She thought to herself, for once he is not being an egotistical chauvinistic prick.

David R. Kensington, on World Wide Wakening radio stated, “Breaking news! Remarkably, the measles virus has become the new cure for cancer.”

“I’m relieved I got it done with your help.” She said to Mark.

“It was risky, but glad you did it. Now you can live your life as an author.”

“I can’t wait to publish my novel authorizing the cure for cancer.”

It was too good to be true. Elizabeth woke up flabbergasted. In the dream, Mark was supportive of her as an author, and in three years of marriage he has never done this.

“Mark! I just had the most invigorating dream. The cure for cancer was the injection of the measles virus.”

“HA! Your mind is creative. If only your dream were a reality.”

“It may possibly be.” She replied.

Mark was confused. “You want to inject yourself with the measles virus? Don’t count your chickens before they hatch.

“You’re a doctor. Work your magic.”

“You’re insane that could kill you.”

“I’m already dying. We have nothing to lose.”

“My job?” he said narcissistically.

“Really?” said Elizabeth.

“I could go to jail!”

“If it works we’re billionaires, for proving the theory to be correct and I could publish a novel on it.”

Mark rolls his eyes with disgust. “Let me guess, feminist spin on it?”

She walked away knowing that her words were being blown away like wind.

“Really Liz? I have more inquiry than you on this predicament.”

“So you just want me to die?”

“You’re already dying! This method of madness mayhem mimicking from a precarious dream has never been patented.”


“Stop trying to fight this battle that you’re not going to win.”

“I can’t believe these words are coming out of that mouth that God gave you. Your name may be Worthington, but you’re worthless to me.”


“There’s the door don’t let it hit you on the way out.”

Elizabeth took matters into her own hands by going to William Hostler Memorial. She felt weak. Mark was supposed to take her to Chemotherapy, but she felt feeble enough as it is. She insisted on seeing the doctor.

“LOCK THE DOOR! Demanded Elizabeth.”

Dr. Parker was frightened, but did what was told of him. “Okay Mrs. Worthington, what’s the issue?”

“I have cancer. You’re a doctor. I want you to inject me with the measles virus, hurry!”

“Hold the phone. Where did you get this ingenious idea?”

“I had a delusion. Doctor, you probably think I’m insane. But, I’m desperate; I’m on my deathbed. My husband, Dr. Worthington, wants me to pull the plug and give up. I am begging you from the bottom of my strayed heart. I don’t want to end my life as a writer and mother without putting up a fight.”

“You forgot wife.”

“Wife? Do you see my husband here? A husband who doesn’t believe in me, who is self-absorbed in his career, when I’m not allowed to be.”

“Sounds patriarchal.”

“You have no idea, Dr. Parker.”

“I could lose my job for this. But, everything you said has inspired me to help you. My job is to help people, not to let them die. Even though this may not work, we have nothing to lose.”

Dr. Parker stared at Elizabeth with conviction. “Mrs. Worthington.”

“Don’t call me that. I’m no longer, Mrs. Worthington. Call me Elizabeth.”

“In that case you can call me Andrew then.”

“That’s my sons name!”

“If he’s anything like you, I’m sure he’s breathtaking.”

The measles were then injected into her arm and it slowly seeped into her satisfied body.

A day had passed, and Elizabeth lived to see the day. Mark knew he was an imbecile. Even though he had seen her, because he had to pick up Andrew, he never gazed at her the same. His emotions conjured up like a potion in his mind. He wanted to connect with her on a level that she understood by writing.

Dear Elizabeth:

At the back of my mind, there are still the nagging doubts. It is mindboggling. You’re alive, but you’re gone. You’re with a better doctor now. Someone who appreciates you as an author. I will regret leaving you that day and not considering that your dream could be a reality. You were right when you called me a misogynist. That word should be tattooed on my arm. I was moronic. I’m sorry. I’ll always love you. Don’t write back, because I won’t be able to read a single word on the page and I’ll be filled with remorseful regret.

– Mark not so Worthington.


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