One Reality Away

If one does not pay attention, the world around can disappear. Details blend into one another in a matter of seconds. With every step one takes, the line between the sky and the ground seems to fade more and more.

It was in one of those states that I found myself earlier today.

I was walking towards the train station, and somehow got myself so lost in my thoughts that I took a wrong turn. Exhausted, I sat on the nearest bench and sighed out.

‘I’ve travelled this path so many times, how tired can I be in order to get lost?’ I thought, almost pitying myself.

I took out my bag and searched for my phone, but upon removing it my pencil case flew out and supplies scattered all over the ground. I rapidly tried to collect all the pieces, and it was at that moment that something caught my eye from underneath the bench.

A little notebook of sorts, with a beautiful black cover.

I picked it up and lightly brushed the dust from its front, only to find that it had no title or any form of identification. I opened it to the first page, hoping to find its possessor, but in vain.

Nothing.

Instead, a heavy little envelope fell out. I picked it up and carefully opened it. No words can describe the shock I felt upon revealing its contents.

Bills, a mountain of bills. More than I’ve ever seen in one place before. After a brief moment of counting, recounting and trying to control my excitement, I concluded that I happened to come across a total of 20 000$.

My moment of excitement was, however, short-lived. I felt something awry about this seemingly perfect circumstance. As I held the money in my hands, I felt a new weight of responsibility upon me; as if this was all a test of sorts. Thus, I took it upon myself to try and find the money’s origins. I decided I was going to analyze the notebook inside and out.

As I flipped to the first page, however, a tremendous shock passed through my body and I fell unconscious.

* * *

Upon waking up, I found myself in what looked like a hospital office. The bright artificial lamps around brought forth a sense of nausea.

Where am I?

Most importantly, thought I, why did this all look so familiar? Surely, I’ve never been here before, yet it somehow feels as if I have. This was the strongest feeling of déjà vu I’ve ever experienced.

Before being able to gather my thoughts, a despaired voice made itself heard from the outer hall. A woman in what looked like her late forties entered the office where I was and uttered a succession of absurdly long sentences towards me. Something about how she attended the meeting I told her a few weeks back and how there’s still nothing she can do to save her child.

A few weeks back? Save her child?

I had not the slightest idea what was happening, but this moment felt as if I was reliving a memory I never had. It was incredibly strange. I had no clear idea about any details concerning her story, but I felt somehow responsible to help her. As if it were my job. Was it? It was perhaps this state of confusion and sheer curiosity that led me to ask her to sit down and start talking to me about her concerns.

As she spoke, I gathered that I was an associate of a Children’s Hospital and that due to unforeseen circumstances, she was no longer able to pay for the treatment of her child and her insurance company presented no solution.

Was this all a dream?

I reached my hand to my pocket to find my pen in hopes of writing down her story and gathering more facts but came across something else. The little book. It was there with me, right in my pocket.

Had it...transported me?

I moved my hand in my pocket and also felt the envelope with the bills. That was when an idea came to me. Seeing this woman before me, completely helpless yet perfectly right in her accusations.

How could her child’s life lay on a temporary lack of financial resources, where she had not even a chance to receive support? I had to help.

I took the envelope from my pocket and handed it to her. She looked at me almost in fear, as if it were a cruel farce.

“Take these for your child. It should cover the expenses” I said before I could even think.

Seeing my honesty, she took the envelope and began crying. I was shaken by so many different emotions at once. I recognized this immense wave of compassion stir within my heart. I felt so... relieved. I was able to help.

I reached out for my notebook and placed it on the table. Why I took it out, I don’t know. I just had a hunch that it would provide me with an explanation of all that was unfolding before me. As I opened it to the first page, I gasped. There was writing on it. Not anyone else’s but mine. And it was describing all that had just happened and how I decided to help the woman.

When did I write this?

I decided to flip to the second page. Once more, I was overcome by that strange shock sensation that rendered my body dull.

Was I transported again? Where am I?

I awoke on the top floor of a rather poorly-maintained building, sitting near a window. In front of me was a multitude of little tables...no...desks. A classroom. The book transported me to a school. Was I now a teacher? I hoped the notebook would offer me clues. I flipped to the first page. It was still completely covered in writing. The second page, however, held no words yet. I was surprised to find another envelope, identical to the first. Once more, holding a value of 20 000$. What?

If this was a dream, it was most certainly the strangest one I’ve ever had.

For what felt like half an hour, I read every paper on my desk I laid hands on in order to gather clues about my identity. I appeared to be a high school literature teacher, and today’s class was supposed to be a discussion on literary devices. ‘I’m lucky.', I thought. 'I think I can actually lead a class on this.’

The bell rang and I felt a shiver run through my body.

Wait, how do I even start a class?

* * *

I don’t know how to properly express what happened to me since the start of the lesson.

When I met the students for the first time, I felt as if I knew them. I knew all their names and personalities, even if I was unaware of it. Whenever I tried explaining a concept, it flew naturally. My words found themselves. I was also incredibly impressed with how brilliantly the students expressed their viewpoints. They were incredible.

But how did I get here? What is this book, exactly?

* * *

As class ended and everyone took their leave, I sat at my desk and glanced at the notebook. Certainly enough, much was written concerning my lesson and interaction with the students. I began reading when, suddenly, a pair of two administrative-looking gentlemen walked in.

“I’m sorry to inform you that nothing changed. We've tried to convince them, but the Special-Funding Program will no longer be able to accommodate these poor kids. A shame, really, but our previous sponsors can no longer cooperate, and we both know that alone, these kids can’t pay for their own exams.”

I’ve never heard these words before, yet I knew what the men were talking about. My students were only held in this institution due to a program paying their fees, but it recently shut down. Wait, how did I know this?

Before I could think, I calmly replied:

“I’ll pay out of pocket if that is what it takes. How much do you need?”

“The expenses for all? Well, that’ll set us back around eleven thousand…”

“Done. In fact, this place needs renovations done too. A better learning environment for these young minds. Twenty thousand should do.”

How was I so assertive? Was that me talking?

I examined my notebook. The second page was now filled.

Flipping it to the next, I felt the immense shock once again.

* * *

Where was I now?

I found myself at the entrance of a bar.

Surely enough, the notebook was in my pocket, once more with a new envelope. I didn’t have to guess. 20 000$. I just knew.

A man sitting slouched near the window lightly smiled at me. He gestured towards the seat across from him.

“I may appear intoxicated, but I can tell you I am most assuredly not. That is, unless you wish to consider the awful effects on the person when you combine passion and hopelessness” he said, almost apologetically.

He looked young, but incredibly worn out. Papers were sprawled out in front of him, with drawings of trees and scenic landscapes. They were captivating.

“I would add colour to them. I don’t have the means to, though. Nor money, nor talent. I desire so desperately to share the beauty I see all around with the world, but how can I hope to ever do it justice when I don’t even understand it myself? Ah, forgive me! I don’t even know you, yet here I am troubling you with all my insecurities.”

I glanced once more at his drawings. They were incredible. It pained me to see how he perceived himself. However, I felt as if I understood him. I’ve shared his thoughts at many points in my life as well. Perhaps that was why I was able to offer him a near-immediate reply:

“ I think that the greatest gift you can give the world is that of your goal put into action. A vision remains only that unless it is acted upon. Once that is done, it is no longer a vision. It becomes your reason.”

For a second, he appeared shocked, before smiling and excitedly continuing the conversation:

“But what if my vision holds no true form? One day I dream of laying down under the shadow of a tree where the breeze is forever cool and the sun never sets. Another day, I dream of sailing far on an undiscovered sea of water shimmering golden.” he laughed and continued on. “ I want to depict life just how I perceive it, with all its realities and idealizations. I want to portray life as the feeling we all hold dear in our souls but each think we are sole possessors of.”

Enthralled, I replied:

“And how is that not a vision? If anything, it’s more descriptive than any other vision I’ve heard! However, I just have one question.”

“What is it?”

“What holds you back?”

“I have no money, only ideas and a near-empty pot of ink.”

It was at that moment that everything clicked.

I knew exactly what was happening.

This mysterious little book...it wasn’t transporting me to different worlds, but through different possibilities. Different realities in which I could use the money as I see fit, different dreams I’ve wanted in the past.

Medicine, education, art...

All possibilities I’ve desired.

As soon as this thought passed through my mind, I felt the strange shock overtaking my body once more, this time, significantly stronger than any time before.

I awoke on the bench with the notebook in my hands and no longer felt tired.

Maybe I just slept and dreamt it all.

I opened the notebook and found no trace of writing. Only an envelope, with a few words written on its cover:

“It’s your turn. Use it wisely.”