Thursdéjàvu

Yesterday was Thursday, April 25th.

Today is Thursday, April 25th.

Tomorrow will be Thursday, April 25th.

I have woken up to the same April 25th so many times that I have lost count. My alarm goes off at 6:30am and I see the sun cresting through the curtains of my bedroom window. I listen to the birds’ chirp their familiar tune, “chirp chirp chirp chirp whoop whoop whoop trillllll…” then 27 seconds of calm before it repeats.

The first time it happened I thought it an odd fluke. I went about my day like usual with a strong sense of déjà vu. I realized on the second repetition that I was stuck in a loop. I started each newly repeated like I would any other day: shower, brush my teeth, eat a bowl of cereal, and even go to work.

I thought there must be a reason this was happening. I thought maybe the greater cosmos had declared I had not done something quite right. I followed the steps of my day with heavy concentration. Thinking about my actions and their consequences. I got to know my fellow man. I performed acts of kindness. I practiced self-sacrifice. I learned to speak Swedish. I adopted every dog at the animal shelter. I learned to play the theremin.

When none of that worked I indulged in worldly delights. I did every drug I could find, slept with my neighbors wife, robbed a Cheesus Crust Pizzeria, slept with my other neighbors husband, murdered the town mayor, and tore all those little federal tags off all the mattresses in a mattress store.

I tried to stay in bed without moving at all. I tried to find religion. I tried to start my own religion. When nothing else worked I tried killing myself over and over in more and more elaborately creative ways. I lost my sanity and then found it again. Nothing changed the fact that I would wake again to “chirp chirp chirp chirp whoop whoop whoop trillllll…” on Thursday, April 25th.

I found one way to keep sane and kill the monotony of life was to exercise my senses. For instance I would order every meal in every restaurant in town, meditate to every candle and stick of incense in the valley, and I particularly liked to go to Rohan’s Rug Rhapsody and feel the range of carpets between my finger and thumb.

Today I was going to spend my morning at How the Turns Have Tabled, my favorite local record store. The teenage clerk, Mullet Kyle, would let me sit in the cushioned record cuck chair and listen to anything I wanted until another customer arrived. I happened to know that if I arrived at 9am then I would have exactly two hours and seventeen minutes until the first customer arrived for the day.

I rummaged for a bit before settling on Propellerheads. I had listened to every record in the store at least twice and some more than others. There were just enough for me to start to feel like I could forget them. I couldn’t quite remember the last time I listened to this one, but it featured Shirley Bassey and I really liked her voice.

I dropped the needle and made my way to my comfortable chair as Ms. Bassey began:

“The word is about, there’s something evolving, whatever may come, the world keeps revolving…”

I found my way to my comfy chair and leaned back. I closed my eyes and calmed my breathing and let the music massage my ears. Before I knew it I was dozing off to sleep.

“And I’ve seen it before. And I’ll see it again.”

“Excuse me, Sir,” a gruff voice broke through the chorus.

“Yes, I’ve seen it before. Just little bits of history repeating.”

“Sir.”

I opened my eyes to see an grandfatherly man clutching a coat and hat to his chest as he wiggled at my foot.

“Sir, it seems you are stuck in a loop.”

“And I’ve seen it before. And I’ll see it again.”

“Excuse me? What time is it?” I shook the sleep from my brain as I sat upright in my chair.

“I was walking by and I stopped to listen. I love that Ms. Bassey. I happened to notice that your record is skipping. It’s a quarter to 10am. You’re stuck on a loop,” the older man said, checking his wrist watch.

“Yes, I’ve seen it before. Just little bits of history repeating.”

I didn’t remember this man ever walking by the record store, or did I? How long had I been closing my eyes while I listened to records? Maybe he was always there and I started to take him for granted. Mullet Kyle was nowhere in sight.

“You’re right. I’m stuck on a loop,” I said.

The old man pulled the needle from the player and gentled the record off the machine and into the sleeve I had left by the player's side. He rifled through a few strewn records and pulled one up and open.

“Yes, here we go. Sometimes you can’t escape the loop and the best route is to start a new record altogether. This is another favorite of mine. Maybe you’ll like it too,” the man winked at me and motioned for me to close my eyes. I watched as he closed his and swayed to the new record on the player. I closed my eyes and leaned back as I hummed along to Bill Withers as he proclaimed it a lovely day, a lovely day, a lovely lovely day.

I let me mind wander to my life before eternity and I barely recognized myself from then to now. I used to think about tomorrow coming. I would leave this town and make a living off the abundance of my new found skills. What even was my job before? Did I work in an office? It didn't matter. I would write a book. I would get a pet. I suppose I couldn’t go back to the life I had even if I tried. I knew too much, changed too much.

I went to bed early that night and in the morning I woke up to the light sound of rain pattering the sidewalks outside. I jumped out of bed and threw open the window to a gray cloudy Friday.

I have woken up in this bed, in this room, for more mornings than I’ll ever even try to comprehend, but today feels like it is the first time and it is a gods damned breath of fresh air.

Anything can happen because today feels like the first day of my life.

Today is Friday the 26th.