Cogito ergo sum

 

That day, the sun had gone to bed unusually early, as if exhausted by the monotonous pattern of natural law. A crescent moon and a multitude of stars were already visible in the sky. A harbinger of beautiful weather.

He was riding a bus. It was almost five in the afternoon, but lights were already burning in the windows of the houses he passed. It seemed a bit odd, but he paid it little mind. He was more focused on his route. A route completely different from the one the bus carrying him home from work took every day. Probably the result of roadworks. Finally, someone had made the wise decision to repair the pothole-ridden street. And who knows, maybe they'll even widen the curb?

The bus stopped, and the driver announced the end of the journey. He was snapped out of his reverie. He looked around. Strangely, he didn't even notice how completely empty the bus had become. He didn't even notice how it stopped at each stop. That's what happens when you go with the flow of your thoughts. You forget about the world around you. On the other hand, he was very tired. He'd stayed at work longer. He finally had to sort out all the paperwork. The boss wanted a month's report by tomorrow. That kind of paperwork could tire you out. He dreamed of nothing now but comfortable slippers and a good dinner. His wife was finishing early today. She should have prepared something special.

He walked forward. Home. The street seemed a bit unsettling to him, as if a brilliant painter had transformed the painting with a few brushstrokes. An interesting phenomenon. It had been a long time since he'd returned home in the moonlight. The aura was quite romantic. He stopped at the apartment gate. He grabbed the doorknob. It was locked. He searched his pockets and pulled out his keys. Strangely, after several attempts to open the door, it wouldn't open at all. The lock must have rusted. Besides, his wife had been whining for a while now to change it. He rang the doorbell. A small boy opened the door. The darling son was probably waiting for his daddy to finally set up the cable car.

"Mom! There's a gentleman here!"

the little prankster exclaimed. He probably took after him, his family background. He kissed the boy on the forehead and went on into the kitchen. His wife was washing dishes. "

I'm sorry, honey, I'm late, but I had to stay at work. You understand..."

The woman paled and looked at him with a searching gaze.

"Who are you, and what right have you got to enter my house?! What a lack of manners! I don't believe salesmen and con artists! Andrzej!"

A man emerged from behind the woman. A tall, dark-haired man. They looked at each other defiantly. Like true males, ready to fight for their territory.

"Please get out of my house!

" "Who the hell are you to chase me out of my house! Honey, who is this man! What the hell is going on here? Explain everything to me right now!"

He approached the woman, his wife, grabbing her by the shoulders. Immediately, he received a powerful blow. He fell. Mr. Andrzej grabbed him by the shoulders, lifted him from the ground, and led him to the door.

"Don't show yourself here again! I'll call the police! And you," he said, turning to the boy, "have I told you so many times not to open the door to strangers...

Strangers. Was I such a bad husband? Was I? What am I saying... I stayed late at work once. I really meant to break that damn line. I haven't had a drop of alcohol in over a year. I haven't seen my old friends. At the bar, I quickened my pace. What had gone wrong with her? Or maybe she had all this time? Who is this man anyway? ... No, no... it's impossible. Her? A loving wife and a good mother. A paragon of virtue and patience. The world is going to the dogs..."

Two blocks away lived an old friend. For better or worse. They'd known each other since childhood. He'd been the one to get him out of this mess. He'd gotten him a job. Where else but to go in times like these? Who else but him would listen and offer honest advice?

He walked into the garden. His friend's dog barked at him for the first time in a long time. Did he not see if the mutt was going crazy in his old age? He rang the bell. His friend appeared at the door. He always stepped aside and, with a smile, invited him in. This time, his face was cold, indifferent, and perhaps even aggressive.

"Excuse me? What do you wish?" he asked

. "Friend! I... It's me... Don't be ridiculous. This is serious. We need to talk. I need your help...

" "I think you've got the wrong door. We clearly don't know each other. And I don't think there will be an opportunity for that anytime soon. Goodbye!" he said, closing the door.

He held the door. He grabbed his friend by the tailcoat. He looked straight into his eyes. He saw terror on his pale face. He let go.

"Are you kidding me! Don't be ridiculous. I really don't know what to do!" he said in a trembling voice. Anxiety and confusion were etched on his face.

"You're drunk! Get out! This instant!"

He left humbly and without resistance. Head bowed. He moved forward, towards the bar – a place of old meetings and a cleansing place for consciences. Inside, it was completely empty. The decor had changed. The stench of cigarettes had been replaced by the scent of incense. The gloomy twilight gave way to delicate reflections of light. Leather armchairs replaced rotting benches.

He ran as fast as he could. Far away, straight ahead. The specter of thoughts occupied his mind. He didn't know where he was, he was beginning to doubt who he was and if he even existed. He thought. The rest was unimportant, the rest was silence.

He stopped by a stream, close to nature. An oasis of peace. A temple of contemplation. He didn't know what had happened. He wanted to wake up, but the dream clung to his eyes. This wasn't a dream, but reality. Who exactly was he? Was he the same one he was yesterday? Had he changed, or had reality broken free from the chain of dependencies and gone its own way? Is it possible? Cogito ergo sum. The beginning and criterion of all truths. Ideas correspond to ideas. The world corresponds to the mind... But wasn't he mistaken? Isn't the mind the world? Is there a transition from cogito to reality? Is the starting point thought or reality?