Victor was negotiating the parched pathway leading to the park and swing area with impunity. Not that impunity was needed, or ever would be needed for this jaunt; he brought some along just in case.
His methodical steps brought him to the weather-beaten green bench about midway along the path. He didn’t need the rest, but he sat down every time he passed by, just in case the practice might come in handy sometime when he did need the rest. Nearer to the swings, a lone weed grew right in the middle of the parched path. Each day his left shoe came down on the resilient weed – a weed that didn’t know how to die.
He had told no one that the walks to the park were becoming existential, with déjà vu encroaching more and more. Lately, déjà vu would unabashedly try to usurp his mind.
Every time he sat on the bench the feeling that he had been there before would come to him. Then, the same banter began. Victor would say to himself, “I know I have been here before, I come here almost every day.” Then déjà vu would echo back, “Yes, but today I am more than just a feeling, I want to grow in you.” Victor would shake his head but the feeling about the feeling of the present wouldn’t leave until he got up and started walking to the swings. Yesterday he made it to the shadow of the swings before the feeling subsided. Today was another story.
Déjà vu appeared as Victor sat down and was soon followed by the same rhetoric. He arose from the bench and started toward the swings. Each step brought a vivid new slide in time. Each step brought similar talk – but this time he could hear new words, words he would never forget, “Victor – I want to be born!”
Victor again stepped on the epigeal weed and after a few more steps he carefully arranged himself on a swing. Déjà vu was determined; there was no subsiding. Victor pushed off with his foot and the oscillations began.
“I know I have been here before.” “I want to grow in you.”
“I know I have been here before I want to grow in you.”
Back and forth, back and forth – the words pounded in his head.
He pulled on the chains. The oscillations grew stronger; the words grew louder.
He pulled again. The oscillations grew longer; the words became deafening.
Victor became dizzy; the mesmerizing dialogue suffused his head.
Back and forth, “I know I’ve – to grow in you.” “I’ve kno – grow in you.”
Back and forth, “I’ve grown in you!”
Nascent, but replete, déjà vu became an entity. Victor became less.
With a most unconventional method of disembarking, Victor’s feet hit the ground, he stumbled, and landed totally exhausted, face-first on the weed.
After some time Victor’s right eye opened and he saw a part of the weed that had been stuffed into the contour of his shoe print. Perhaps that weed was the only thing that contained sufficient impact to rejuvenate him. (It was discovered later that the weed ironically wasn’t a weed at all but a new variety of flower, an in-carnation!)
Victor arose, took stock of his body that had just given birth, almost died and was resurrected – and smiled. He had a feeling of having already experienced this before!
Victor became the marketing manager for Déjà Vu, Inc. It was slow going at first, but when Victor hit on the idea of a super-potency formula for young lovers – they couldn’t keep enough on the shelves.
Perhaps you have a feeling of being here before?
Take a look around – just in case.