I Remember

I wandered aimlessly. Pulled toward something unexplained. The Moon called to me and in turn, I felt its pull. I remember clearly that it was full, bright as the sun. Full of light, full of hope. Perhaps it was the hope I sought? Perhaps. Perhaps it would shed some light onto my life, to show me a purpose. I wandered for so long that I was desperate, desperate to seek for anything that would change me. I suffered, but some part of me clawed at the pain I felt, and I ached, no I desired, somewhere deep down, for an alternate me — one that was truly happy. For I wasn’t. I had been stuck for years, and all the while my hope dwindled away. It was as if when I walked, the hope shed from my skin, like dust. I was something, then I was nothing. A memory.

It was that particular night, wandering the streets of one of the busiest cities, my home — at least that’s what I thought it was. The Moon caught my attention as I turned a corner, one I often visited to buy my liquor. I thought perhaps that that’s where my feet were taking me, to the bottle, without knowing consciously, as usual. However, it was different that night. Perhaps it was because the streetlamp was burnt out, and the moon shone so brightly upon me, beaming straight into my eyes, as if it spotted me purposefully. In that instant I wasn’t aware, but now I think back where it gave me some shred of purpose for that moment. For, instead of reaching out for the door handle of that liquor shop, I continued down the street, towards a new kind of light. A light that I never seemed to be aware of before, and in those moments I felt at ease, and I was.

I followed the Moon, even when the buildings towered, blocking my view. I continued turning dark corners, and as soon as I made those moves, there was light again. I was being guided out of the darkness, and a part of me knew I was being led for a reason. Whatever the reason, I didn’t seem to care at the time. I was simply drawn to the light. It was like the Moon was guiding me to somewhere I should be. A feeling came across me that I hadn’t felt in years, a feeling of anxiety, but the good kind. Anxious for where it would end, what I would find, if anything, but it did not matter if I did. Truthfully, in those moments I enjoyed, and missed, feeling at ease. The unease had been sickening, all the years, and I was tired. I didn’t think it then, but perhaps my soul was tired of my body feeling so ill, so dead. Perhaps it was my soul that steered my feet towards the light of the Moon. In a way, I felt a sense of normalcy again.

Time had passed, but I wasn’t keeping track, as I was so intrigued by what the destination would be. Eventually, I would have to reach the end of the city. Where was the end? The end to my journey that night. I started to sweat from all the walking that I was doing, which was far more than I had done in who knows how long. I hated walking. However, I continued, urged by some distant power that was a complete mystery to me. A mystery I wanted to solve it seemed. At that point I didn’t care when it ended, I was simply enjoying the journey, which is something I couldn’t say about anything lately. Enjoying something? No, that wasn’t me anymore, but, at that moment, I surely enjoyed it. It felt right. Soon, I heard the crash of waves. The Moon led me to the beach, one that I hadn’t visited in so very long. I cannot tell you the last time I was near any water besides my own faucets, and even those encounters were scarce. I was intrigued, and continued towards the waves.

The crash of each wave grew louder, as I continued down the last street leading to the ocean. The Moon was directly above the horizon, and my feet quickened their pace. Perhaps anxiety propelled me, in hope to find myself. What could it be? I felt like a child again. Feeling like a child brought laughter to my throat, and a hint of a slight smile. Where had that come from? What kind of power could coerce me into doing such an act, when I hadn’t laughed for so long. It was foreign, the act, but somehow it brought back good memories of my childhood. Along with the scent of the ocean that approached, I could smell my memories, the smell of trees while hiking with family, the flavor of soda, one that I loved so much, Dr. Pepper. It all hit me then, flooding my mind, and for the first time in ages, I felt some kind of happiness. When I reached that realization, I was at the wall that separated the street from the beach.

I found an opening, or rather, the Moon found me an opening that I was able to see in the dark. I stood at the top of the stairs that led to the sand, eyes engaged, fixated onto the Moon’s light, it’s details, with the gray craters and all. The waves were roaring by that time. I took a step downward, towards whatever there was for me there. Then the next step, and by the fifth step, I realized the tears streamed down my cheeks. Was that what serenity was? Was I at peace? I like to think I was in those moments, for I felt alive again. Worries never crossed my mind during the whole experience. I was simply there, enjoying myself. I was simply where I needed to be in those moments. The Moon guided me here, to show me that, peace, I believe. I was capable of it all along, just needed some guidance. The light brought me down the stairs completely, and I took my shoes off instinctively, to feel the sand against the soles of my feet, between my toes, and I could. I was aware the whole time, yet my eyes fixated on the light in front of me.

I strolled forward, effortlessly it seemed, and you know how sand can be. It was as if I floated across the beach, and before I knew it I was on moist sand, where the waves came to greet me every few seconds. I gazed up at the Moon, fully aware my tears fell to the ground, and for a moment, I felt a weight lift off my shoulders, and I like to think the waves took all my pain away. They absorbed my fears, my sadness, my lonesomeness, all my negativity, and took them out to sea, to be lost and never found again. I stood there, and cried, a real cry, one of joy. However, a sudden wave of heat rushed over me, and I began to perspire across my forehead. Within moments my whole body was shaking, and began to sweat from all areas. I felt sick. Why? I was truly happy for a split moment, and then it was gone. It was out of fear, of losing that happiness again. I wanted it to remain. Except, my body had other plans for me.

I remember I stood there, shaking, faltering, and my vision began to fade. The Moon’s light faded; I was fading. Consciousness seemed to weaken, but I was aware just enough to feel the beating inside my stomach. It was like my heart, but not my heart, and it pounded so fiercely against my chest. At first it was quick in pace, but then as my eyes faded to blackness, the beat slowed. The beats pushed against my stomach, as if it tried to escape from my body. Although I was blacked out, I felt myself fall, and with the fall, a few more beats of whatever heart that was continued. The last thing I remember was the beat stopped, and so did my consciousness.

The next thing I remember was something new. Not just waking in a hospital bed, but the awareness around my thoughts. Not thoughts surrounding how I got there, but ones that were about the Moon, it’s light, and for the first time in however long, I was happy to be alive. I was alive, and with all new dreams, ambitions, and even anxiety for when I could start my new life. It was as if the person that died there on the beach, all his worries, all his fears, and the depression and negative what-have-you died with him. I was a new person. As if I was completely new, in some other reality, like an alternate universe. What if I died in one universe, and continued into a different one? Perhaps that was true, because let me tell you something that I remember after the doctor visited me in that hospital bed. I asked him what happened, and you know what he said? He said, I lost consciousness while reading to a crowd on my book tour, and that I was in London at that very moment. I was a new me, someone I did not know, someone completely different, but at the same time it was me. So am I in an alternate present moment, in a parallel present to my previous? Did I truly remember what it felt like to die? Yes.