A Déjà vu Belief

 

It was a mid-summer day, and the sun was on its duty. But at some part of the earth, somewhere in the west of European continent, a person named Robin lived with his sweet mellow cat. He used to travel eleven miles per day, in order to stay fit. Actually, to keep his mind healthier. There was a reason behind it. For past few months, he was witnessing some signs. Sign of a preconceived notion. A familiar event that was totally strange to his memory. For a second, he was able to predict just the next happening driven by a moment of present to be considered like he has experienced it before. It was a daily thing to him, for it he was getting it more than two times a day. He became perplexed with that obscure mishappening, unable to understand what it actually was. He didn’t know that it was the déjà vu moments, which some form or the other has its foot at every corner of the world, for it that every creature has gone through at least once in his lifetime.

One day, while suffering that regular déjà vu, he tried conversating with his cat; lucy.

“Hey, I know you can hear me. Listen, I think I’ve some special ability.”

Lucy gave no reply. But without hoping for its reaction, he proceeded further,

“I can predict future.”

“Meow!” exclaimed Lucy. And went outside, out of the house.

He followed it, out of the house, into the woods which was a part of his daily routine; a walk. But lucy was fast, he chased it. Suddenly, he heard a loud thud. Behind him was a crow, fainted or died; who knows. He moved further in the same direction, but he was a lone traveler. Lucy went disappeared. He searched it the whole day long but returned home when his energy went futile. At night, he pulled down all the curtains and covered all the windows, and locked the doors.

“I’m prepared.” He murmured.

“I’m prepared for the signs, come and tell me where is my cat.” He desired.

Nothing bulged.

While waiting for the old familiar signs, he went subconscious. I mean he slept.

The dawn appeared. He woke up and stood silently in order not to interrupt a voice. Somebody was tapping from the window, it was lucy. He opened the door and went outside to bring lucy into the house. But lucy was rigid. It stuck over to the window and was not in the mood of coming back. He became furious and left it outside.

It was afternoon, and Robin was busy preparing food. Meanwhile, watching Dual survival; a discovery show. He sat on a chair, beside washing machine; unworthy to use. Suddenly, he realises that the voice of show was way too louder and the same ad which was shown the 6^th time in a row. He felt something unusual but familiar. Like he had experienced it before; the same ad with volume over 80. Also, the electricity that was about to be out. And he could not help, it was all done. Everything happened at a quirk of circumstance, within a second. It was absurd. It came naturally to him and not when he called it out. But he didn’t see anything strange in it. It was a part of his daily routine, a hobby type of thing. He went back to kitchen will all his senses over one work, as the atoms inside the television cable were dead, at least for some time.

Then, at night he again saw a moment flickering between moving clouds from the window and the table lamp fusing with all might. Both as connected to a moment he already witnessed.

Next morning, with joy at wider prospects and a pocketful of vows he went to the city. Finally, after three months of his baffling experiences, his hope rose at full velocity. He reached at the central market of the city street and glanced all humans and human-made things. On the onset, he went to a restaurant and drank some fresh orange juice and after then hot tomato soup. It was really a disastrous combination, to try even in dreams. While he was leaving the restaurant, at exit door he collided with an old man with white shingled hair.

“This is an exit door.” Robin demanded.

“I suppose it is accessible to humans, offering a greeting to use the space of two interlinking connected worlds.” The old man uttered in disguise.

“There exist human regulations to be followed, sir.” Robin explained.

“Regulations follow the legacy of making understatements.” He gestured at leave.

While having that conversation, robin again felt that familiar legacy at instance. He picked up a handkerchief lying at the spot and turned back,

“Sir, your handkerchief is getting isolated, give it a company. Might we have met before; I know you have such a revolting understatement.”

The old man came to him and took his cloth and in return made an ironical compliment,

“Are you done with your perceptional illusions?”

And went back to his proceedings.

“You are talking to a man with high intellectual and perceptual worthiness.” Robin uttered in fury.

“You are an escapist.” The old man made his words in return of his wondrous understatement. 

The young man left the place at instant.

He was indifferent with all that had done, walking like an achiever in the middle of the street, finding another prey to dispose off his perceptual insanity. A teenager passed by the side of Robin. He quickly turned back, and gave a voice,

“Hello dude, what’s your name?”

“I’m Robert, how you doing?”

“I’m doing great. But still, I have not done any prediction lately.”

“Prediction, seriously?”

Robin stared in the eyes of that young boy for a while and asked,

“What are your fears?”

“I don’t fear.” The boy answered.

“You do, I can prove it.” Robin asserted.

“Go ahead.” The Boy permitted.

“Where are you going?” Robin asked.

“To my grandmother’s home.” The boy answered.

“You’ll return back from half a way.” He assured.

“I’m not going to do that; your prediction is useless.” The boy spoke.

“Also, you will lose something or someone today.” He added further.

“Shut up, don’t waste my time.” And the boy left.

Robin, without any further delay, went to the People’s Park in order to find more people.

When he was about to enter, a dog in a chain being dragged by a child, started barking on him. The child further dragged it inside the People’s Park, finally sat on a bench. Robin quick went to him and asked,

“Is it your puppet?”

“I don’t know actually, I got it from my mother.” The child answered.

“I think I have met you before, and your dog.” He asserted.

“I don’t think so.” The child murmured.

“I have a power, are you interested in listening about your future.” He inquired.

“Yes, do tell me something through your intellectual mind.” The child demanded.

Robin stared in eyes of the child and then his dog for a while.

“Mark my words, you ought to be a veterinarian.” He foretold.

“Yay! I’ll go for it. I have a way with animals.” The child exclaimed.

Suddenly, out of nowhere, a lady came. It was his mother.

“Stop blabbering. Don’t try to obtain through the innocence of my child, your foolish predictions are oversight.” The lady uttered in rage.

“I was just making a worthy estimation; it also has to do with your child’s side of interest.” Robin demanded.

“He could make his choices by himself, what you do is called manipulation. Stay away.” And they left.

Robin saw people around him, playing with their children. He did not want to interrupt their precious moments, so he left. He went back home. His cat was waiting for him, not because of any connection but for food.

The next morning, Robin again woke up with the same enthusiasm, with the only belief he had.

He made some plans. He opened up his own clinic and decided not to force people for listening to him rather they come by a choice.

Days passed and nothing bulged. Every day, in a hope he waited, not because he wanted it or needed it but because he believed. Perhaps, the world is not a wish-granting factory. He was just a human, he could hope. He didn’t know that hope is a thing with feathers, which flows with the wind, not knowing what it will bring. He was losing all hope. He started doubting himself. His agony knew no bounds. Next day, he decided to give up. He went to clinic. While packing all the stuff that made his clinic, another little home for him, he again witnessed the old familiar ache. He became furious and lost all his senses in order to act or perform.

Suddenly, a woman passed through the clinic. Robin swiftly dragged her inside. Coincidentally, she was a psychologist.

“How can I help you?” The woman asked.

“I don’t know. I want you to listen me.” He spoke.

“I’m all ears.” She approved.

“Are you a believer?” He asked.

“Depends.” She answered.

“I thought that I had an ability to witness moments at large. I wanted to share my opinions with people. But I was wrong about everything, I suppose.” He told.

“What kind of moments?” She questioned.

“Old familiar moments, completely strange to me. They play with my senses and goes away; I could not help. Every day, without any invitation. It started believing. It was a dream that traveled from a state of unconscious identity to reality. I was misleading myself of predictions and future, for that, I never saw what it could bring to me.” He answered in addition.

“Your steps were obvious; it was not your call. They were driven naturally; you could just find a way either out of it or with it. Their regular occurrence made a place in you. The déjà vu.” She spoke.

“What is that?” He enquired.

“Déjà vu moments, naturally occurring thing. You know it better. I also believe as I’ve experienced some of them. But your case is different, with purpose. Belief has the power to make reality. There is a reason behind everything, remember.” And she left all of a sudden.

Robin also went home with all his belongings. The clinic was closed.

After a decade, I went to that clinic, as a new owner. The dust of locked door with all those degenerated memories was still refreshing. Soon I entered inside, I saw some envelopes on the mat. Suddenly, a postman came and handed me a paper. It was the ownership letter of that clinic, inside it mentioned,

“Former owner late Robin Martinsen to Stephen Gilbert, owner with reference…”

I remembered the good old days of reverting plight.

Then I turned over to the envelopes and opened them one by one.

The first one mentioned,

“Dear Robin, I know I have such a revolting understatements, I identify and still I carry them. You’re not an escapist. You were not whom I met for the first time, yet I pretend to be. You had a family, and so did I. I was your grandfather before you had your memories. You left the house, and choose to live alone. I didn’t search for you. It was your decision. And now, when I met you, I believed that you knew it better.”

Second one mentioned,

“I am writing this to you lately, I was not stable that time. I lose my mother. I got a call from home while half away to grandmother’s home. My father told me to come back home. Nobody knew what future could bring. I know it was absurd even in dreams that how you knew it better.”

Third one mentioned,

“I am grateful to have met you. Although, I’m sorry for my mother’s unusual behavior. You gave me direction, I followed it. I am excited to tell you that I have become a successful veterinarian of my state and have more plans ahead. I believed that you always knew it far more better.”

I really couldn’t get over those letters. I wish Robin could be here, reading his beliefs turning into a wide reality.

Reality is a thing with feathers, I suppose.

…..…..

What image or idea did you form of this story?

Does believing unknown triggers you?

……….