The cafe wasn’t too full even though the weather was, in my humble opinion, perfect. 21 degrees, lightly clouded and a very slight breeze.
I ordered my coffee and a bite to eat and sat down at a table outside, brought out my book and waited. I had received a strange invitation for lunch that would be in my best interest to accept. The letter had been sent a few years ago, by the stamped date on the envelope – I figured that it had been a simple error at the post office since the invitation was for today – and didn’t have a name or address of the sender.
I had found the place, checked my watch and realised I was a bit early. This is a newer habit I’m trying to maintain, and I was rather pleased with myself. It meant I could enjoy my coffee and my book for another few minutes before this mysterious person would show up.
I checked my watch again and figured the person would be here any second now. It was five minutes past the set time after all. Another few minutes went by and I started to think that this all had been a prank from someone. As the time kept on passing I got more and more sure of this point.
As I got up – food and coffee consumed – I saw a kinda, weirdly familiar figure coming down the street towards the cafe. He had very long hair, side burns, black clothes, sunglasses and the same bag as myself. I knew this person, I thought to myself, but I wasn’t quite able to place him. He waved as he approached and I sat down again. He came over and apologised for being late blaming the traffic and difficulty finding parking and a few other kinda believable things. He looked nervous and a bit awkward and wasn’t quite sure how to proceed the conversation. He said he would go inside and get us some more coffee and himself a bite to eat. “You still like the same coffee? Latte with an extra espresso shot and no sugar?” he asked me. Puzzled by this I nodded my head and really tried to wrap my brains to figure out how he knew how I liked my coffee? Why was he so familiar? Where and when had I met him before??
I was starting to get a bit freaked out and really wanted to leave the place, but some curiosity took me and I stayed.
He came back out, sat down with the tray with coffee and a bagel. He looked at me with a strange smirk as if he knew what was going through my mind.
“The thing about meeting yourself from another time is that the brain won’t let you realise it is yourself,” he said to me. “It’s kind of a safety mechanism to make sure you don’t go mad. It can be very dangerous meeting yourself and not everyone is able to handle it,” he continued.
I looked at him and I realised it then. He was right! It was me sitting there across the table. The panic took me at once, heart rate shooting through the roof, sweat started to drip down my forehead and all my blood had drained from my face. It felt like I was going insane or that I was dying or that the world was ending.
He.. Or rather I started to chuckle and said “ just breathe! Relax. It’s gonna be okay.”
“What… how… what the fuck,” I managed to stutter at last.
“Oh, it’s rather simple when you know how to do it. I figured out how to travel through the dimensions, appear in my corporal form and walk about. Just like going on a holiday, kinda. It’s to difficult to explain with the limited time I have before I have to get back, but you’ll figure it out if you’re meant to,” he told me.
I couldn’t fully comprehend what I was told, but I preferred believing it over thinking that I had a future in a padded room dosed up on heavy narcotics in front of me, and so I managed to relax.
“I just like to drop by the different places and times. You know, just to check up on how I am doing. I see I had my hair cut…”
“Uhm, yes. Hair… cut…” I mumbled, still trying to convince myself that I wasn’t to be picked up by people with a straight jacket any time soon.
“Huh. Doesn’t look too bad! Bet it’s much easier to maintain too!” He.. I responded.
“Uh-huh,” I said and nodded.
“So! How are things going? Working, playing in bands and living life to the fullest and having a blast I suppose?”
“No… Not exactly. Not at the moment, no. I mean. I am living life and aren’t miserable. But I don’t have any work or bands at the moment. I am focusing on my mental health and getting my life in proper order before I feel okay doing any of that again,” I said. I felt as the “taking care of my mental health” part was really taking a dive for the worst right now as I was talking to myself. It’s often not a good thing in the field of psychology to be seeing yourself, having coffee and talk out loud to myself. I was really hoping other people could see the two of us sitting there and not just me talking to myself. Or maybe they just thought I was talking on the phone with an earpiece in.
Anyways. He looked back at me and frowned and raised an eyebrow. He studied me and seemed to have as much problem with comprehension of what was said as I had.
“But… why? Drink, play music, games, smoke some, eat good food, drink some more, go to bed late and wake up even later… that’s all you need to be happy, right? Take care of your own needs and the things you like to do,” he countered after a few moments. “It has always worked out fine. Sure there are not much in your life that’s too steady or solid and the economy hasn’t been all that great. But you have been carefree and doing things for yourself! Isn’t that what life’s about?”
I stared at myself with bewilderment. What an immature idiot, I thought to myself.
“No,” I replied simply. “Life is in fact so much more than that. The way I lived my life, the way you apparently live it now, is not carefree or fulfilling or good or decent. It is draining and destructive. It gives you nothing but short term bursts of joy and leave people around you feeling abandoned and used. Hurt!”
He looked back at me surprised and almost offended. “People have to take care of themselves and their own happiness. Not rely on others to do for them,” he snapped back.
I simply looked back at myself in shock. “ You have never been independent. You have relied more than you fathom on the people around you. You are a coward, a leach and a horrible person. Having beliefs like that will lead to a life of misery, regrets, shame, loneliness and an empty feeling inside so wast that no matter how much you drink, drug up, fuck around, buying things you don’t need can ever fill it up. It will give you physical injuries that will keep you from doing the things you love, remove you from the people you love, cause pain and suffering for yourself and others around you beyond your wildest nightmares. It will be your doom. I know…”
I took my bag, looked back at myself with anger and frustration and figured that I would like myself to listen to me. But I knew myself too well. I wouldn’t listen. I’d know better. If anybody had lectured me like that back in the days I would just scoff at them and continue on. Perhaps do the things a bit more to annoy and prove a point? I realised I wasn’t really sure why I had acted like that. Why I had refused to listen to advice. Good advice.
I knew the version of me I just met – and disliked majorly- would go back home and get proper wasted tonight. Just because. He would stew and brew that anger. Anger he knew was towards himself and for not listening to others when they gave sound advice and how to be better. It would only fuel the self destructive behaviours and make things worse for a time. I stopped in my track and walked back to the cafe. I needed to tell myself the things I had learned about myself over the years. Things I had been told, shown and taught.
The table was empty. A halfway smoked cigarette lay in the coffee cup. It had been smoked hard and then crushed before put in the cup. I had been right. I had gotten angry and I had bolted. Avoid any further confrontation and a discussion I knew would turn ugly.
I sighed and turned away. I hadn’t done myself any favours by meeting myself. I was angry that I hadn’t used the opportunity better to make things clearer how the way I have lived my life is not something worth doing. It would never lead to any (end transmission)
