Meanwhile…

Nathan was scarcely engaging in the wild laughter and joyous chats of his mates in the bar the following Saturday evening. He went out but with half a will; the other half came from the obligations of the promise he made the boys. He tried to add a remark or two, every now and then, in their conversations which hardly made any sense to him, in order to fake participation. Most of the times he pretended to be absorbed in the pole dancing show to avoid taking part in their natters, although he only knew it himself that even the show did not particularly interest him. Subconsciously, he was rolling the stem of his glass between his thumb and index finger, moving the glass gently to-and-fro, manifesting the slight awkwardness that the commotion around him was generating. He would just pass occasional glances at one of the dancers, whose embellished red-head reminded him of Pam. "I wonder what she might be doing now…according to my research, she doesn't work on weekends; so perhaps going out for a date with some dude on a Saturday night?" Involuntarily his fingers stopped the movement and formed a grip around the stem, making the drink inside sway from side to side from the abruptness. He did not find his impetuous reaction very favourable. He looked up to find his mates, now barely talking sense, laughing and cheering at each other. Gulping down the rest of his drink, he excused himself from the group of drunk men and walked out of the bar, his departure hardly being acknowledged.

Once out in the crisp cool air of the autumn evening, he let out a long exasperated breath. He was not against the idea of accompanying a few friends for socialising on a weekend, but it was only in solitude that he could readjust with himself. The bar patio overlooked into a side road, which had a huge park on the other side. A thick wall, reaching almost up to Nathan's shoulder, separated the patio from the road; since the flat top of this wall seemed to be the only sitting arrangement available at his disposal, he climbed it up and positioned himself on top, sitting astride.

Trying to make the most of his time alone outside, Nathan started to smoke. As he held the cigarette between 2 long fingers, he turned his attention on the relatively small roll of tobacco encased in paper, reminiscing the huge chunk of cigar that was once his occasional indulgence. He took a long drag before tilting his head heavenwards to slowly let out a long blow, watching the dense smoke gradually making patterns against the dark sky, wonderfully floating across his view of the crystal crescent and finally dispersing away. A shooting star trailed a massive arch across the sky, seemingly falling into the darkness of the park on his far left; a forlorn yet pleasant memory of how a child used to run after shooting stars, expecting to catch it, rose unbidden in his mind.

Nathan's Recollection

By all means, I did not intend to intrude in her life – stalking someone physically for a week is way out of my terrain of decorum. But I wasn't left with much options. Heaven knows that ever since the first Monday I went to look for her, I tried to make a move to spark a conversation or interact in a way. And of course, my over-thinking and overly scrupulous personality curtailed any step that I could manage. Well I must say that cloud definitely had its own silver lining – the regular non-communicating encounters must have somehow grown into her. That's what I can conclude from the cues that she so innocently left. It was evident from her flushed complexion that she would not even admit it to herself every time her eyes were searching for me, but clearly her curiosity – or should I dare say attraction towards this stranger – got the best of her. Moreover, I might not have any sensible explanation of my sudden appearance, if I had tried to talk to her on the first day, and make a total imbecile of myself. The intensity of the wistfulness and inquest in her big brown eyes stood testimony to the fact that she was not looking into the eyes of a mere stalker, but desperately trying to salvage missing pieces of something lost, before her next blink; that's what I inferred after the encounter at the street, during the traffic lights. Her strange behaviour when I was approaching her last Friday implied possibilities beyond reason; assuming that she was even slightly inclined to know me better, it would be unnatural for a sane woman to have the kind of distant look that she had in her eyes. She went completely "blank", as if she was only bodily present, with the rest of her existence projected outwards…an astral projection or the like? I was waiting in the wings to catch her, since she appeared to be moments away from losing her balance and collapsing right on top of me.

Although it might seem fortunate that the drama was spared, I would love to hold her delicate body in that hilariously ill-fitting uniform. Her hand felt too cold for the weather, no wonder whatever she "experienced" left her shaken to some point. But it was exquisitely soft, as it always felt before.

Yes, I had no option, I was quite helpless when the truth revealed itself…the truth about my past life. And hers. It all started with a dream; the back profile of a female in fiery red long hair, basking in the sunlight. She did glance around to face me, but the red curls veiled most of her face, except for her big brown eyes. I did not pay much head to the dream then, I took it as a mere arbitrary one. But the dream started to get more recurring, subsequently adding more abstract scenes. Most of the times it would involve the woman, a child roaming around in the open wilderness, the same child trying to play a grand piano, myself marching off to war and following commands, and some other randomness. While I still tried to keep these haphazard dreams at bay, believing that those were nothing but gibberish from an overworked brain during sleeping, they began to feel inevitably relatable. Then came the hallucinations. I would see thick lush of red curls in the crowd, often when I am alone at home or even under water, during my weekly laps at the public pool. The child often presented in the hallucinations too, his green eyes peering back at me. The soldier who happened to be me presented with the most disconcerting of the illusions, since every time I saw him getting shot, as terrifying as it was, I felt the sharp bite of shrapnel right at my heart for a split second. I was too perturbed every time I hallucinated, hence I would ward it off to jerk myself back to consciousness with all my strength, once I could regain hold on myself. It was during a swimming session that I decided to rather "tune in" into the illusions. Red unruly locks swarmed all around me under water, and as I concentrated deeper into the trance, her facial features sharpened to divulge her face fully, not long before a fellow swimmer pulled me out of the water because I happened to be drowning.

It was crucial to seek help at this point. The psychiatrist opened doors to a few unconventionally hypothetical possibilities; not that I was expecting a conventional explanation for the oddity I described. According to the theory of the multiverse, there exists several other me in parallel universes and the space-time continuum of a "me" from another universe might be somehow fusing with that of mine, giving me illusions of an alternate reality. But from this theory, the familiarity of the illusions remains considerably unexplained, unless I have had made any cross-dimensional journey before, which I quite don't remember. Another potential theory, which did not quite favour me, was cloning; I might be a clone copy of another Nathan, possibly an "original one", whose life events and experiences I was relating with, owing to the identical encryption of our DNAs. However, scientific advancement is still quite primitive in human cloning, let alone the fact that the antiquity of the illusions did not even remotely suggest that there were means for the DNA of the "original Nathan" for preservation till date. That's how this theory gets obliterated, much to my relief. Ending up as a copy is not very flattering to me. The final possibility, which apparently applied most to my situation, was reincarnation. The psychiatrist suggested me hypnotherapy, if I were to evaluate further.

Concepts of parapsychology thrilled me since an early age, but I never imagined that it would be the only remedy in this dire situation. Still sceptical about its reliability and effectivity, I gave it the benefit of the doubt and took the first available appointment at the alchemist's. It was after intensive sessions of hypnotherapy guided by the efficient alchemist could I trace the long lost fragments of memories to redeem a life I once lived. To finally discover my childhood from anther life, who I once was as an adult, who she was, and, somehow most predominantly – how much I loved her. The revelation helped to calm the turmoil that built inside me over the last few months. But what now? Why will the bygone haunt the present? Why did my ardent feelings for her overwhelming me now after what like centuries? She might not be reincarnated even! Although not part of the therapy, the alchemist yet provided a kind and plausible explanation of the bearing that the universe might be directing me towards. As far as theory was concerned, my vibrational frequencies somehow fused with that of hers, during moments of higher oscillating frequencies within our energy fields. The fusion provoked the dormant relics of the previous life, which began to unearth in the form of hallucinations. As much as this theory is confined within the boundaries of hypothesis, this was the only suggestion which implied that she existed somewhere, too. I wanted to hold on to this notion with all my faith. I might embarrass myself to death later, but I was resolved to give it a good old try; I had to find her, no matter what.

Nathan's cigarette was long past extinguished, his jeans sprinkled with ashes. He looked around to find that it was mostly dark, the pub seemed considerably less animated and the parking lot was mostly empty, even for a Saturday night. Diligently jumping off the wall, Nathan dumped the remaining roll of tobacco in a bin, brushed off the ashes and zipped his jacket higher as he strolled towards the street in the now chilly night breeze.