I’ve been standing in front of this goddamned door for…how long? Weeks? Longer? Was there ever anything before this? Of course there was. Right??
Without warning, the smell of antiseptic and orange jello overwhelms me, and I am five years old in that hospital in Philadelphia. That was before this, at least. I can hear the buzzes and beeps, feel the oxygen tubes in my nostrils. The waiting felt endless then just like it does now. I knew this feeling of helplessness was familiar.
An icy chill bolts up my spine. There’s someone standing next to me.
I can see the blurred visage of a form about my height in my periphery. I am at once terrified and intrigued. I spend the next two hours turning my head to get a better view of my companion.
OKAY WHAT THE FUCK.
NO. THIS IS NOT–NO.
IT’S ME. LIKE. LITERALLY ME…but not.
He’s a version of myself that I’ve never been. He’s wearing the same thing that I am, but it just…hangs differently on him. More confidently, like there’s something he knows that I don’t. Man, fuck this guy. (great, glad to see I’m finding time to be insecure while trapped in trippy nightmare hell)
Despite that I am now staring DAGGERS into this dude, he will not acknowledge my existence. Shit, am I the ghost here??
He’s singing now:
I don’t expect you to understand
But all I need’s for you to understand
The thought that ghost-me is even a better singer than I am is quickly replaced by the realization that he– I am up on the latest version of the album…I recorded some of it, but I have no idea how file sharing works across dimensions of existence lol
I am pulled out of my head by a sudden movement to my right. Ghost-me had taken a step forward. His shadow continued to creep across the miles that stood between us and that goddamned door. A few steps more, and he was at the threshold. He looked back at me, shrugged, and flashed a smirk. He dissolved into vapor as he passed through the doorframe.
I am unmoored, suddenly able to move again. I hear the song he was singing – my song, now somehow complete and perfect– coming from the other side of the door.
I walk through.
A rush of cool air greets me. I am awash in peace. The ground leaves my feet and I am floating. I am eight years old at Disney World and my parents and I have just escaped the oppressive Orlando humidity to queue up in the air-conditioned line for Space Mountain. I haven’t felt this light in decades. Everything is exactly as it should be. I could live on this threshold forever. I could
DAY 1 (?!?!?!?!!?!?!!?!?!?!?!?)
I am standing on the 300 block of Dekalb Avenue, in the Bedford Stuyvesant neighborhood of Brooklyn, New York.
What the absolute fuck.
I dig my phone out of my pocket. I have apparently been inside The Berberich for all of five minutes.
What the absolute FUCK.
Where do I go from here?
I’m serious. I need your help. WHAT IS GOING ON?