Resemblance

  We were in the TV studio when I noticed the man. Everyone noticed, but they tried not to be noticed by him. He was frustrated. Something wasn’t working and he was growing angry. I thought maybe I could help. Afterall, I have considerable experience working in TV.
  I approached and asked if I could help. Maybe it was a mistake. He was larger than me. Shaved head. He was younger, lean, and muscular. As he invaded my personal space, I could smell soap. He was clean. His eyes were brown, and showed an Asian heritage. I guessed he was an Asian/Caucasian mix.
  I backed up a step and regained my personal space. But again, he closed it. He seemed confident, menacing, completely unafraid. I, on the other hand, was experiencing fear. But it was compartmentalized. It was controlled. Fighting was not a good option. I’m too old for that crap. But still, I worked through a mental checklist that included options for inflicting physical harm if that became the last resort.
  He listened, but he still moved into my space. I asked him to backup, then I insisted, then I implied a threat. It was about this time that I finally woke up.
  I remembered every detail about his face… his look. I felt so sure he was real. I don’t appreciate fighting for the entertainment of others, so I don’t know who the MMA fighters are. But I searched my phone for his likeness. There were many faces but none was his. I abandoned my search.
  I turned around and then I saw him! Same shaped head. Same guy? No, he was older. He had a graying beard. The eyes were different. He didn’t appear to be Asian, but otherwise the resemblance was rather striking! After looking at him carefully, I turned away from the mirror and began to reflect on this recent event.
  My family, being half Asian, this dream should not be a surprise. Especially after all the time I had spent with my Hmong family during three funerals within the last six months. I had made many new friends, and one person seemed uneasy about that, and had acted out with mock violence at one point. Maybe that was the source of the animosity in the dream?
  I also remembered the first novel I had written, “He Who Goes First.” It had all started with a waking dream; a vision that came on sudden and vivid—as if it was the memory of another man. Perhaps it was. It sure felt like that was true. And it had culminated in that first novel, and the life of a man who lived hundreds of years ago in another time and another land. He was a horseman, a soldier, a father, a husband and a Mongol.
  What is time and space? Is it always linear? Is there a shared human consciousness? Do our souls have the ability to return and live again after our bodies die? If so, can they enter “time” at any given point, past, present or future?
  This was my morning. This was my life. This is where my mind goes sometimes. I think it’s why I like being alone in the wilderness. Any piece of wilderness that is handy will do. When the constraints of time and modern life and responsibilities can be shed like old antlers for a brief few moments… when I can think of infinite possibilities…
  There is so much more to it than we think we know. Maybe I have even found my next novel. Be well. Imagine the infinite possibilities. Love and honor are all we are allowed to take with us when we leave this life. But what after that?

  -Kevin J. Curtis
  20221220