“If you dream it, you can do it.”
Awhile back, give or take a few weeks, I was sitting down with one of my doctors when she popped the age old question that I absolutely hate to answer. That question was :
“So what do you like to do for fun?”
I groaned inwardly at that. I truly hate that kind of question because, honestly, I come up with the lamest answers. The reason for that little talk was because she saw a lot of talent in me, and while I am aware of my skills and talents, as abstract as they are, I yet lacked the self-confidence to answer honestly the same question put forth to me. While I am generally not a lazy person, I have, do, and will procrastinate. I have had many great (and too much grandness in the plan) ideas, yet none of them have taken off.
I stumbled over my answer while I replied that I liked video games, reading, researching, going for a walk, etc etc. But my doctor picked up on something right away and planted an idea in my head. What is that, you may ask? I love to write. She said I had a way with words, and while I agreed with her, I simply shrugged my shoulders and cast about in my mind the many reasons why I can’t write.
A few weeks later, I sat at my computer and thought about the conversation that I had with my doctor. The pandemic was ( and still is at the time of this writing ) still in full swing, and people were just starting to come out of lockdown and resume a semblance of a normal life they once had before Covid-19 hit the United States. Things on my end was fairly quiet, except for the usual drama you’d find here and there in the online community. I had the opportunity to think a lot about what we had discussed, and I came to the conclusion that she might be right about me wanting to write. I sat here thinking about it, and an idea began go form inside my mind. I latched on to the idea that, firstly, I love to write. The question was, what can I write about? An idea of a story began to formulate in my mind, but alas, the story that was about to be played out was nothing like I imagined. Because, quite suddenly, a voice shattered the silence of the room, and the thoughts in my head.
“You can’t do it. You won’t do it. It’s impossible. It’s too much. You’ll start something, and you won’t finish it. You know this. Just give it up. Save yourself some grief.”
I shot out of my chair, spun around, and with my mouth wide open, I looked to my right at a figure that was impossibly hard to fathom. This…..man, if you can even call it a man, was of medium high, medium build, with brown hair, brown eyes, and a ‘stache that rivaled my own. In fact, he looked like me. He dressed like me. He acted like me. His mannerisms mirrored my own; it was like I was looking into a mirror and saw a reflection of myself. Albeit, perhaps a twisted version of myself. I watched in awe as this…this person-who-looks-like-me paced back and forth, clearly agitated; he wrung his hands as if he was nervous about something, and his voice was high strung, with a clipped tone of voice that clearly marked him as someone being disturbed. But what made him so markedly different was the clearly undefined outlines of his body. It was as if I could see through him if I squinted long enough, and the rough outline of his body was hazy. Now, I may never have seen a ghost, but if there’s any proof that ghosts do exist in our world, well, I just might have been looking at it.
“Who…who are you? Wha…what are…you? What are you doing here?”, I stuttered out as I tried to come to grips with this…person that paced before me.
The figure paused in his hectic pacing, turned around and stared at me with wide eyes. It was almost like I was watching the hamster in his brain run in this little ball and never stopping. He opened his mouth, then he shut it. He opened his mouth once again, and this time he started talking so fast I could barely keep up with him.
“You know who I am. I am you. You are me. And you can’t do this. You can’t write. You don’t have time. People will laugh at you. People will make comments you won’t like. You’ll just give up. Go on to the next project. Just like you always do. Always will. Always have. You can’t do it. Just give it up. Save yourself some grief.”
I watched in pure fascination as this person who claimed to be me talked so fast that I could barely keep up. He, whoever he is, was clearly out of his mind, agitated beyond belief, and downright loco loco.
“I don’t know who you are, what you are, and I think you need to get out. NOW. “, I said softly to the figure. ” And for the record, I am going to do this. I want to do this. And nothing is going to stop me. Because I won’t let anything stop me. Now.. kindly show your way out the door before I boot your ass, hmm?”
The figure who looked like me just stared at me for a long time and then shrugged his shoulders. So much like me, I mused as I shook my head.
“Fine. Fine. Have it your way. You’ll see me again. You’ll understand. I am a part of you as you are a part of me. You will learn. You will understand.” he said in a tone of voice that clearly had me worried about whoever this person was. And then suddenly as he appeared, he disappeared.
And I kid you not, I think I almost wet my pants. I stood slack jawed at the space where he was just standing there a minute ago, and I sunk back into my chair, my mind racing and my thoughts chaotic. But there’s one thought that kept crossing my mind and it was….
“What the ever loving @$%# was THAT?!”, I said out loud to silence of the room.
Moral of the story? There isn’t one. Not yet. Just keep reading!