Playing with Time

Four fifty seven A.M (the first meeting)

The large bedroom filled with memorabilia, some of which has been smashed and is strewn across the floor, after my mini rampage, but who would blame me after tonight’s events and I have only smashed the stuff she has given me, my expensive television and computer are untouched, but the pictures of her that until tonight littered the shelves, now they just litter the bin and floor. Although bathed in darkness, the room is not in total darkness, the door is ajar which allows a thin beam of light to sneak into the room from the hallway, On waking my first reaction is to lift my head and glare at the digital clock that sits on my bedside table, alone with my spare change and the emptied contents of my pockets. Somewhat content to find I have another three hours before the alarm bursts into life to signal the onset of work, I close my eyes and lower my head back into the pillow, but suddenly I catch a glimpse of something move past the foot of the bed, rage grabs a tight hold, although I still live with my parents, they however are away on holiday, which means I am alone in the house, or at least I should be.

As the realization that an intruder is in my house and without questioning the decision, I jump out of my bed and to my feet with a thud, then lurch forward toward the figure, with a two handed embrace ready for combat, which is a surprise, but not for the assailant, who is astoundingly fast and dodges my awkward grasps with lighting speed. He seems to know what is going to happen before me and persists to elude my attempts to grab him, as he glides out of my reach again and again with what looks like minimal effort, although he appears to move so fast that he is almost a blur. Continuing with this phenomenal speed, he moves towards the doorway, the narrow beam of light allows me to see the silhouette of his right hand reach for the light switch.

Light greedily engulfs the darkness. For the first time I am able to look at the intruder. Without any warning my body, completely turns to lead and my will to fight ebbs away. For what seems like an eternity, I stand shallow in breath examining his face and features, with a look of complete shock glazing my eyes. He slowly steps forward and we stand face to face. Placing his heavy muscular hand on my left shoulder, griping it in a friendly manner, he looks into my eyes and smiles and then with a strong accent less voice, he slowly speaks,
“You have questions, and I have all the answers!” unable to break away, from the trance like state that is holding my body in the same position. My eyes still wide I stare intensely at his face and his features that are identical to my own. Feeling helpless, detained within this odd situation, and realizing that I am powerless, unable to say anything, for the first time in my life I am totally speechless. What can you say, when you are looking at yourself and not through a mirror, although he appears to be taller, and somehow better looking. However now he carries a new expression that gives him the appearance of being rather irritated. Mustering a little poise, I finally spurt out some words,
“Are you…me?” stammering mid sentence, unable to grasp this strange situation that is unfolding before my eyes,
“Yes!” he answers, at the same time nodding his head, appearing to loose the animosity and beginning to smile, displaying a large clean grin, I continue to stare at his face watching his expression, while considering all the possibilities, my mind becomes focused and my eyes narrow slightly, as I query,
“Am I dreaming?” turning to the bed, almost expecting to see my sleeping body lying on it,
“No!” his tone and the increased pressure on my shoulder, forces me to turn back and face him and witness him shake his head, with a perplexed look covering my face, as I continue with, “Then I must be mad or maybe even dead?” raising my hand to my head, and vigorously scratching,
“No… not at all!” he answers, again shaking his head, but this time with an odd look in his eyes, unable to comprehend, although the need to is twisting my mind, compelling me to ask,
“Can you please tell me what is going on?" the words shoot out like a train from a tunnel. After this outburst, confusion starts to slam my post sleep psyche, around like a fishing boat, trapped in the open sea, by a relentless force seven gale.
“You are me and I was you. I have come on this special night to give you a gift!” he stops, and quickly looks around the room and appears to be drinking in the atmosphere. Then he bows his head and his grip on my shoulder is released, he then walks behind me. This is one hell of a dream, although hoping this is actually happening, but how can the same person be in the same place at the same time… twice, if this is not a dream. Realizing what he said, I turn around to face him and ask,
“What is the gift?” for a moment he ignores my question, and continues to search my room, then he becomes conscious of the question, he glances at me, and whispers,
“Just wait, I will show you that later!”
We stare at each other for a couple of seconds, while I wonder why he will not tell me what it is. Then I clearly see his face change colour slightly, after three of four seconds of boiling up then he almost roars,
“Because I cannot tell you… yet!” in a volatile tone, when he finishes the room is quiet, while I continue stare at him. Considering the fact that in the future, I turn into an obnoxious bastard, who can read minds, “cool!”

By now he's moved into the adjoining toilet and has started to take a leak, at the same moment his left hand comes round the doorway, with a small clear medicine type bottle held between his finger and thumb, which contains a yellow liquid; he shakes the bottle up and down as he says in a care free manner,
“Here drink this before you sleep!” I walk and I position myself behind the door before taking it from his hand, then question,
“Is this what it looks like, is it?” echoing his manner, as I step away from the en-suite and lift the bottle above my head, studying the cloudy yellow substance, in the light, he begins to sman as he replies, “No… what do you take me for? “ I direct my voice toward the doorway and answer,
“Well you are going the toilet!'” continuing the pretense,
“Just drink...it is very good for you and it will give you all the answers!” I then inspect the substance for the final time, before pulling off the top and tipping the contents, into my mouth. It tastes as it looks, like old acrid urine (although I do not know how that tastes, but I bet this is close). Of its own accord, my face begins to change shape, as the muscles in my throat contract, attempting to stop the liquid reaching my stomach. The chain is pulled and the sound of the toilet emanates from the small room, at the same moment my grip on the bottle weakens and is then relinquished and it drops to the floor. The bedroom begins to spin, slowly at first but with each second the spin gains speed and increases in intensity. My vision becomes blurred and my coordination reverses away from normality, to steady myself, I grab at the door handle succeeding only after the fifth attempt, while performing this maneuver, I scream,
“What was in that bottle you bastard?" no hint of friendliness in my voice, with a solid grip on the handle, I pull the door open and to my surprise, the toilet is empty, I am alone. The spinning sensation by now has taken over, and my entire body feels amazingly heavy. I then stumble backwards and Land on my bed, my eyes stare wildly at the ceiling, as I slip into a cold restless sleep.