It’s hard to tell that the world we live in is either a reality or a dream. (Empty Houses. Kim Ki-Duk)
I was strolling down the streets looking at the passers-by, the shop and café windows absent-mindedly, as always deep in my thoughts, oblivious to the ado around, in some other reality of mine, which hardly ever collides with the world around. All of a sudden I staggered - I saw myself through one of the café windows. I was smiling, my eyes sparkling with love as I was looking at him. Yes, it was Him my eyes were resting upon. The Love of my nearly 30-year-old life, my only true love.
I stood there watching us, amazed, amused, scared, taken aback, unable to continue my journey. I recognized the place then. We had popped into that quaint little cafe months and months ago.
Was my mind playing tricks on me? I looked around – people and cars were passing by unaware. Tables around us in the café were all occupied. All these people were no more real than us. We … we parted a year ago.
Our lives are full of choices, big, critical ones and those less important. We evolve with every new stage of our life, with every new person. What happens to each and every previous one of us though, each one left behind before every important choice is made? What is that vision of mine; a play of my disturbed mind or a glimpse of another reality? We look too real to be imaginary. Is our reality the only one that is real? Is time a straight line consisting of past, present and future? Or maybe, it is a countless number of ever evolving lines, and the past is not the past in our conventional understanding of it being something left behind and no longer existent, but another reality running parallel to the one we have cognitively chosen as to be our present and conventionally real. Where does the “unchosen” go? Does it simply disappear?
As I stood watching us I realized there is a different world where we chose to be together, and this reality is just as real as the one I was facing outside the café window.
I don’t believe in the past any more. I am the proponent of Lobachevsky. With those thoughts huddling in my mind, I walk into the café and merge with my other self.