Reborn

"I need a theory, there has to be a theory behind my adventures. They mean something, I know they do."

The light from outside the bedroom crept through the crack under the door and shone onto the bed where young Michael, a high schooler of eighteen and the son of two farmers was lying, awake. He had been revising his reincarnations over and over again. Counting this one to be at least the ninety-fourth time he had died and come back to life, he lay there with thoughts running wild in his head.

Putting his mind on rewind, Michael ventured several hours into the past of Friday night.

His spirit had left his body and was swimming in the Tasman Sea. It was a makeshift replica of himself, possessed by his own soul. It was there he had landed due to his canoe capsizing with water from a rogue wave. He put his head underwater and breathed in a gulp of seawater. Then his vision was of no more. Temporarily he was empty. He knew that he had died. What else would’ve happened, theoretically? But why was it that he was still conscious of what was happening? He knew that he was underwater, even heard the waves slapping the surface of the ocean. If anything, Michael felt like a hero. He didn’t know how this thought came upon him, but he just felt that he had achieved what he wanted to achieve by being out there on the canoe, despite it capsizing. Afterall, Michael's purpose of being in the Tasman in the first place was to brave a daring trek from Sydney to New Zealand. Without being able to eat, sleep, see and do, he floated, as if floating in space. He was slowly accepting his new afterlife, as being his accomplishment ticket to retirement, even if he was only eighteen.

But, as to why Michael wanted to make this cross-nations trek he wondered. There was so much more in life that he had already been doing. Being on the urge of graduating from high school, he was a first-rate student, not to mention one of the most popular in his school. His parents were also financially backed up. He was more than likely to receive a great portion of their wealth when he began his studies to become a scientist. Yet he felt like he needed to make that daring attempt in his canoe in order to fulfil his reputation as an iconic figure.

"Mum?" He said that night during dinner.

"Yes Michael?"

"Do I make you and dad proud?"

"Is that a serious question?"

"Of course."

"Well of course you make us proud."

Michael replied, "but I haven't done anything spontaneous or adventurous yet."

"You're a miracle simply by being you. What you're doing now is an adventure. Life is an adventure."

*

Only the week before whilst in his bed yet again, Michael was over keen to get his licence. He'd never considered it before, due to living so close to town. His friends were also nearby, so he hadn't needed to drive long distance to see them.

Making a daring attempt, despite having no experience of driving by himself, he snuck into the shed and distracted his dad with two pigs, by letting them out of their pen. Michael jumped into his dad’s ute and reversed it down the driveway and onto the main road. This was easy so far. He drove the car like he was playing his Xbox 360. It was like living in the World of Need for Speed.

He collided with a red mustang just around a sharp bend, but needn’t’ve closed his eyes upon impact, for the poor red beast engulfed into flames and went flying into space. His car surprisingly remained intact. If the car still running after that collision was surprising, it was nothing compared to the other vehicles that bounced off him. Trucks, vans and more cars did not stand a chance against this super ute that knocked them off the road like dominos.

Michael was approaching a big bridge situated in the middle of a lake. It looked as big as the Golden Gate Bridge. Flooring at 200 kilometres an hour, he didn’t have the braking distance to safe himself. Toppling over and strapped in the driver’s seat, he finally hit the lake’s surface and died instantly. He would’ve had to. Unless hitting that first mustang killed him and he came back with super strength to survive every other collision.

If Michael had died, he was still conscious of his surroundings. He seemed to be on a farm with flying animals, being pigs, cows and sheep without another person in sight. This was definitely a new type of life. Michael looked at himself in the mirror of a nearby tractor. He was wearing ragged farming clothes and a cap with 2050 on it. Was this the result of his new future life? Had he been destined to be a farmer? Or perhaps what he was seeing was another dimension he had fallen through when hitting the ground. Afterall, it had been rumoured that there was life at the centre of the Earth. Only scientists had proven that it was too hot for sustainable life there. But God never said that, did he?

Or ultimately, this unfortunate incident of crashing hard at the bottom of the bridge could have made him undergo a change of personal perception of the World, meaning, this could have been how the real world was (flying animals) and he couldn’t see it before? Otherwise, the world before could be the real world and he had had his own world created after the crash.

On this Tuesday morning, Michael got out of bed and went outside.

There was not a single animal in sight this morning. His father was outside pouring radiator fluid into one of the tractors.

"Dad?"

"Yeah son."

"What do you think I should be when I grow up? As in what do you really think my long-term career would be?"

"You're asking me son? Jeez, isn't the one who's supposed to be asking that question yourself?"

"Well yes, but if you had to take a wild guess dad, what can you see me as?"

"I've said in a few times to your mum and I think that you'd be an amateur farmer. I can imagine you applying here with us. You'd have a certain opportunity of getting a promotion. Family blood is thicker than application forms."

What Michael’s dad told him rung in his head like a fly flying up his nose and eating his brain. He knew that his parents had encouraged him to walk in their footsteps of farming, but he’d always wanted to become a scientist. Just the thought of being a farmer for the rest of his life was as bad as falling off a bridge.

The Golden Gate Bridge! Maybe this dream really did mean something. Working as a farmer seemed as bad as dying, therefore two bads were just as bad.

*

Several days before that and getting a little tired of living under his parent’s roof, Michael had secretly applied for some houses on RealEstate.com without their knowledge.

His parents had told him that he should wait until he finishes school and with a more stable job to pay the bills. But Michael had a job at the local supermarket where he earned eighteen dollars an hour for twelve hours a week. He worked six hour shifts both Saturday and Sunday. Being under the threshold, he didn't have to pay any tax. Surely that would be enough.

After successfully signing a contract for a house nearby, he paid the bond and two weeks rent in advance. Luckily, he had saved a fair amount beforehand. But what he just paid definitely put some damage on his savings account now.

Within the first day, Michael entered the empty unfurnished house and put his bags on the bedroom floor.

This house may have been a little empty and he may not have had enough savings to purchase the basics, like: a sofa, dining table, TV or even a bed, but he had finally left the nest, like he always wanted.

He put a weekly budget together in his head. Rent: $150 and food: $40, deducting using electricity there to save some portion of money. He would buy candles instead. The oven and stove were also gas.

Michael started feeling very hungry. It was time to go shopping for dinner. All day, he had ignored the fact that he had been starving, due to being over keen in getting off the farm. With only forty dollars left to spend, he managed to buy steak, sliced ham, milk, frozen chips and cereal. This would have to last for a week until pay day.

Michael attempted at cooking a steak with some frozen chips, only to find that the other side of the steak had an ugly colour of black. It also tasted like chemicals. The baking paper caught fire so rapidly that the poster he had hung above the stove disintegrated within twenty seconds. Michael ran to get his step ladder but tripped over the highest step whilst trying to retrieve the poor poster. After being knocked out cold for a few seconds, he felt like he was being engulfed by hell. Face on the gas stove and flames around his face, Michael reached for the bottle on the bench top and drenched himself with it. He only had a few seconds left to realise that it was a three-quarter full bottle of rum which engulfed him from head to toe. It was his secret stash of liquor that he stole from his dad.

Even still conscious, he felt himself gradually descending to the floor whilst standing. However, he wasn't getting shorter, he was tumbling down a hole in the ground that had burned through.

Michael couldn't tell how long he had been falling for, but it felt like thirty minutes. He was no longer on fire, but his skin had turned a nasty charcoal-like colour. He didn't feel any pain though, he just felt like his normal self. After this long episode, what looked like the ground was finally appearing. Michael closed his eyes for the impact.

He opened his eyes. This time, without being blind nor seeing any flying farm animals, he was back in his parent’s house, seated at the dining table. Breakfast was in front of him. A very delicious smell of French Toast with a jug of maple syrup. His mum was pouring from a coffee pot into three cups. His dad was eating and reading the paper. And, on the opposite side of Michael was another young man that somehow resembled him. Because it was him! He waved at his other self but got no response.

"Is God trying to give me another chance? I might be dead, I may be invisible to my parents and the World, but I am still conscious. I should've listened to my mum and dad. Now I can see that this is what I could still have if I hadn't chosen to move to a new house too soon. I could still live my life to the fullest. It was essential that I had some life experience first before rushing into things and moving out too soon.”

The other Michael happily dig in with a satisfied grin on his face.

The passive Michael watched sadly, saying to himself, “now only heaven knows what I can have and can't have, if it really exists."

*

Michael shuffled his body from side to side on the object that he was laying on. There was a hard surface under his feet. He sat up but didn't fall. What seemed like open ocean now looked solid. Surely this was the world that everyone understood.

He called out through the solid bedroom wall, “hey mum?”

“Yes Michael?”

“Good morning.”

“Good morning to you to Michael.”

Michael got up to greet her in the kitchen. She was making bacon and eggs. He must’ve been visible as she handed him a plate.

“Here you go son, crispy bacon and soft eggs, just the way you like them.”

He said thanks and took the plate.

Later that day, Michael went to school and came home promptly. Today had been like any other day. He or no one else had died or felt anything unusual. He couldn’t even remember much of himself dying like he had in his past dreams, except that it definitely did happen and continued to do so.

It was clear that Michael was still living in what we call The Real World. As he continued doing the daily requirements, like school, homework, exercising, eating and socialising, he still feared the whole idea of death. It was clear that that actually hadn’t happened yet, for he continued to live life as it was.

But his dreams gave him a complete opposite feeling that death was not to fear. Especially since he was still conscious after every time he died. Unless his dreams were telling the truth about being conscious after you die.

That evening at nine o clock, Michael lay in pitch blackness in his bed, awake this time, but thinking that if he died in this dream, he needn’t fear death.

A new thought rattled his brain out. In these unforeseen circumstances that entered his dreams, Michael couldn’t seem to save himself from dying.

He distinctly remembered himself dying in these dreams, but only remembered fragments of what caused his deaths. Falling and drowning seemed to be the main causes. He was always left with big questions. Why do I die? Do I want to kill myself? Am I naturally reckless that results in death? Does someone always triumph over me to make me die? Do dreams really mean something? Is this my fate in the future? Is this how I died in my past life? Am I being possessed?

In somewhat way, these dreams helped Michael create some theories of what happens when you die, but he was to find out for real later in life.