Parallelism

"

The grayness of the city was overwhelming. Bare walls adorned the streets, bathed in the rays of the afternoon sun. Small children ran through the narrow streets, as if trapped in a vast cage. It lacked any greenery or trees, with the occasional stray tuft of grass, surely overlooked by the city's municipal services. Mariusz was returning from university; he was a lecturer. He was walking through the crowded city streets, a river of people flowing along the sidewalk. They nudged him with their briefcases, bags stuffed with groceries. He observed them: "What kind of permanent state is this? The pace of life of these people keeps them in a constant rush. They rush everywhere: to work, to hypermarkets, to factories, to apartments... Anyone who pauses for even a moment is out of the game. Day after day, people don't reflect on their own existence; years pass in routine life until death excludes them from this great race." He often had such strange thoughts, though to him they seemed perfectly normal. He headed toward the crowd, and a moment later, he disappeared into the depths of the human stream.

Exhausted and relieved, he opened the apartment door and headed straight for the bathroom. "What's that stench?" he asked himself. He finally realized it was Iza, his wife lighting incense sticks. It didn't remind him of anything; he thought it was an aromatic combination of buffalo dung and tea leaves. He chuckled to himself.

"Hi Iza," he greeted her, kissing her gently on the lips. "Must you bother me with those incense sticks?" He realized she was about to lecture him on their healing properties.

"You're being mean," she frowned. "Instead of relaxing in that wonderful aroma, you're complaining again.

" "I was wrong, you didn't mention any medicinal properties...

" "What are you saying?

" "No, nothing, I'm just muttering to myself."

After a hard day, he always took a cold shower; at this moment, it was his favorite activity. The stream of water was refreshing, and his energy was instantly restored. He quietly crept into the living room. He glanced at Iza, sitting on the sofa with her legs bent; her shapely, yet still girlish figure had always attracted him. The five-year age difference didn't make their relationship any different.

She played with her lace shirt, and he heard the soft rustle of silk. Her body had a wonderful, sweet scent.

"Must you watch this nonsense?" Startled, she turned abruptly, as if caught in the act.

"Are you spying on me?" she asked with a flirtatious twinkle in her eyes.

She didn't wait for an answer. She nestled against his chest. He felt her gentle touch. He compared her to a nymph, beautiful, sensitive, yet possessed of a strong temperament. The towel slowly slid to the floor, tickling her thigh...

"Tell me, do you trust me?" Mariusz directed his words at his company vice president. A strange coldness emanated from him. "Do you trust me, or not, Piotr!?" he shouted in his face.

"Yes," he replied, stuttering, fear constricting his throat.

"You know that most employees consider me a despot. A soulless demiurge.

" "I don't think so," he said uncertainly.

"You know, I describe myself as a certain mutation of god. A Mysterium tremendum—the terrible and terrifying one, and a Mysterium fascinosum, in whom people trust implicitly, entrusting their lives to." He paused for a moment in his dialogue. Piotr looked at him with terrified eyes. After a moment, he continued: "And you see, you are such a strange phenomenon too." He laughed mockingly. "You stand before me, and feelings of admiration and humiliation mix within you. You humble yourself, yet you still want to equal me." Am I right?

"I don't know," he said, his face pale and resembling the skin of a dead man. "Do you think..."

"I don't think so, I know," he paused.

The chill in the room intensified.

"You were wrong to trust me, Piotr. Trust is a trap..." He fell silent for a moment, then added, "I'm firing you."

The moment made Piotr feel a terrible cold, freezing his movements. A veritable ice storm arose. The cold lashed his face painfully, and he saw a terrifying glint in his boss's eyes...

Mariusz woke up suddenly. He instinctively glanced at his watch; it was 6:12. Fortunately, he didn't have to go to work on Saturday. "I've never had such a realistic dream. I didn't understand what it could mean. Me as some company boss? The worst part was that I saw my own eyes there, staring dispassionately at a fearful employee." He couldn't fall asleep again. He pondered and analyzed every word he'd uttered in the dream. Iza slept soundly; she clearly didn't have the same problem he did.

He wanted to surprise her when she got up in the morning. He went to a nearby shop. The city was just waking up, and he occasionally passed tipsy students returning from late-night parties or old women carrying bags stuffed with fresh bread.

"Good morning," he greeted the young saleswoman.

"Good morning," she replied cheerfully.

"Five rolls," she quickly handed to the counter. "One cucumber," she intended to serve. "Only the bigger one," he added, and the girl gave a small laugh.

Mariusz was no longer himself. He hadn't known he was about to react like that. He felt as if another identity was trying to invade his mind. The words tumbled to his lips.

"Madam, I can only guess why you're bursting into such uncontrollable laughter. The sick allusions brewing in your tiny brain are, to say the least, vulgar and pathetic." She looked at him as if he were an idiot, but he persisted. "I think there's still some tolerance left in this country, unless you've lost it watching those silly Venezuelan-Brazilian-Peruvian soap operas. You probably can't afford any greater intellectual effort." He placed 10 złoty on the counter. "No change needed." He looked at her with the same icy gaze.

"But sir, do you think that..." she tried to explain, but he wouldn't let her.

"I don't think so, I know." He left quickly.

He wrestled with his thoughts on the way. He couldn't believe he would react like that. He didn't know where such a scenario had come from?

He'd made sandwiches for breakfast at home. He carried Iza to bed, and she reciprocated with a sweet kiss. They spent the entire day together, going to the cinema, to dinner at a restaurant. He tried to forget about the dream, about the store. He couldn't.

Mariusz sat in an armchair and stared at the pale ceiling of the room. He couldn't rationally explain the situation. He was surprised when he asked the caretaker to lend him a drill. He didn't know what he might need it for, but the incident itself was surprising.

He wondered if his behavior was a subconscious act, influenced by dreams, or a momentary coincidence. He didn't yet know that tonight would clarify everything for him.

"The main reason for our separation is a lack of understanding. We haven't been able to reconcile for a long time."

Iza stood in the courtroom, looking toward the judge. Mariusz sat listening to his wife's testimony. Occasionally, his lawyer whispered something in his ear.

"Our marital conflicts spill over into my relationship with my family; I've already had a falling out with my parents. Contact with my husband was limited to eating lunch and dinner together, although even that wasn't always possible. I'd wanted to start a family for a long time, but Mariusz would reply that he didn't have time to raise some brats, and then he'd leave the house for long periods. Sometimes he'd be gone all night...

" "Thank you," the judge interrupted. "I think you've said enough. The next case will be on September 14th at 9:00 AM."

Mariusz didn't look worried, he guided his wife with his gaze, and with a smile on his face, whispered something to his lawyer.

He woke up unexpectedly early again. Iza's words and his strange smile at the end were still on his mind. He suspected what might happen today. He wanted to quietly slip away to work, but he didn't notice that Iza had already gotten up earlier.

"Don't act like an idiot, it's just a dream, a stupid, meaningless dream. Have I gone crazy? I'm talking to myself..." He pondered for a long time, not getting out of bed; it was almost 6:00. He had to get up for work. Iza blocked his path to the kitchen; the room smelled of incense. He realized he couldn't keep quiet about it.

A week had passed since the fateful day Iza and I had argued. She had moved out to her parents. The stench of incense had only been the source of the argument. Fortunately, I had the courage to call her and apologize. Everything was slowly returning to normal. Iza would be back tomorrow.

I no longer have these strange dreams, or rather, she no longer acts out of character. Now all I had to do was laugh at what had happened. I read a lot of books, trying to explain to myself what was driving me. I found information about parallel worlds intertwining and the penetration of my own, yet different, personalities into real life. I'm not sure whether to take this information seriously, as the author of this essay didn't finish his work; he had previously been deemed mentally unstable and transferred to a psychiatric hospital.

I know, all this information sounds like the sick thoughts of some fanatic, but I couldn't think of any other explanation. Everything seems so abnormal. The most important thing is that I won the battle with myself, and the dreams are gone. Perhaps it was just a rehearsal?

Lost in deep reverie, my thoughts wandered. A man sat with his back to me and gazed out at the vast ocean of the city. Apparently, like me, he wanted a break from his problems, maybe even his dreams. I laughed to myself.

Neon lights, blinding, flashed before his eyes. Cars sped through the streets like mechanical toys. The mysterious man seemed familiar; I couldn't see his face, but he had unique black hair similar to mine. He bowed his head slightly and stared at something that clearly caught his attention. I wanted to approach him and ask what, or who, had caught his attention. A conversation. What I wanted most right now.

I stood up quietly so as not to disturb him from his reverie. The fine gravel crunched under my boots. The man turned, and we locked eyes. I was about to ask a question, but the words stopped me dead in my tracks, and all I could utter was a sound of surprise, perhaps even terror. I couldn't believe it. We stood facing each other, equally surprised, terrified. Yes... Before me stood ME...

The End.