The person in the mirror is a stranger. These hands, this face, they are not mine. I find them familiar, like an echo of a child’s song that I have forgotten the words to.
I woke up in a small white room. The wall to my right is a window. The wall to my front is a mirror. The length of the room is twice my height. The width of the room is the width of my arms outstretched.
There is no door.
Watching the stranger in the mirror, I hold his gaze. His eyes are blue. A vibrant blue like sea glass.
The eyes I remember are not the blue of sea glass. I cannot recall the color of my true eyes, but I know they are not blue. These blue eyes are foreign to me.
I touch his face. I feel the bridge of his crooked but upturned nose. My fingertips roam over the high flat cheekbones. The chin juts out, but the teeth are aligned. It is a handsome face, but it is not mine.
The stranger’s hair is long and brown with flecks of gray at the temple. I run my finger through the hair. The hair feels coarse and thick, and in the mirror, I cannot see the scalp. My true hair did not feel like this.
A memory kindles in empty spaces of my mind. I remember clumps of hair between my fingers. I remember anxiety, sadness, and sickness.
The clothes on his body are loose white cotton. Not pajamas but a linen Henley and pants.
His feet are bare, and his toes are straight.
I look down at the feet. The feet seem so far away. Is the stranger taller than me?
This stranger looks like he should be running along a beach with wild horses.
I turn away from the mirror. I turn away from the stranger in that mirror.
This room has no doors.
The walls are soft rubber, like a playground floor. I run my hand across the spongy plane, looking for marks or bumps indicating a hidden door. I trace each wall but find nothing.
Turning to the window, I knock on the glass. The ground is so far away. The room I am in is approximately ten stories above the ground. The window overlooks a meadow of swaying tall grass. I consider breaking the window. If I shatter the window, could I survive the fall?
The sleeping pad is the only piece of furniture in the room. It is made of thick foam, comfortable dense foam.
My thoughts seem stilted. I may be in shock. I am tired. I should sleep.
I lie on the foam pad and breathe deeply. This cannot be real, I tell myself. I will sleep. I will wake up from this dream and not see a stranger in the mirror.
That is not what happens, no matter how hard I wish it.
I do not sleep, and I do not return to my body. I am stuck in a room without doors in a stranger’s body. Standing, I take a step and try to pace the tiny space.
The room is too tiny to pace in. I end up spinning in place. I turn myself faster and faster and faster until I fall against the mirror wall.
What if I need to pee? A thought strikes me, and I peek into my pants. That is different too. Bigger.
I laugh at the ridiculousness of it all, but the laughter is fuller and deeper, and I clasp my hands over my mouth.
Something inside of me is breaking. The scream I am holding inside is trying to tear its way out of my chest. I pound on the walls. I call for help until my unfamiliar voice cracks and fails. Finally, I scream until my voice is completely gone.
Everything is wrong. I am not me.
Who am I? What is my name? Where is my body? My name and my shape in this world are gone.
I wreck my already broken voice and scream until I pass out.
It is the night when I wake. The meadow is dark.
I lift my eyes to the heavens. The constellation Orion is continuing his hunt high in the night sky. The moon is a sliver, and beyond the moon, I can see the jagged tear in the stars.
I can see the galaxy. The purples and blues are only visible in the absence of artificial light. I begin to weep, but I don’t understand why.
The constellations creep by, and I am content at this moment. I sleep.
Days pass, and my only diversion is the window. I cannot bear to see the stranger, so I keep my back to the mirror.
I have not felt hungry or needed to use the toilet. The lack of bodily functions is an oddity that I’m confused about and thankful for.
My mind is foggy, broken in some way. Flashes of insight are followed by confusion. Not much of me remains. Glimpses of a life once lived are cherished and held onto as tightly as possible.
I do not remember being religious, but I think I am dead and in some sort of purgatory. How did my life measure up? Am I being judged?
Watching the unending meadow is my primary diversion during the day. Eddies of wind swirl the tall grass and create enthralling geometric patterns. I watch until it is night, and then I watch the stars.
I sleep for days.
I wake again. It is night.
The wall is gone.
The small wall opposite the mirror is gone. The entire wall has swung open, exposing a massive room beyond.
This room is large, dim, and white. Cautiously I enter. I see many doors to many cells. A flat wooden bench stands in the center of the room, and a large canvas duffle rests on it.
I pull on the doors to the unopened cells. Are others trapped? Why have I been released?
I examine the duffle. Inside the duffle is a black shirt, gray khakis, a pair of black socks, running shoes, a wallet with a class F license with my photo and the name Astor Vang, a large sum of money, and a card that reads “This is all I can give you. Hurry!”
I change into the clothes and stuff the white Henley and pants into the duffle. As I zip up the duffle, a second door opens. Hastily I heft the duffle and step through the door into… daylight.
The sudden change from night to day is surprising. I turn to the door. There is only a wall. A tall gray wall. I am in a city.
Where is the meadow? Where are the night sky and the stars?
This is too much. I twirl in place as I try to see everything. It is all a blur, and I lean against the wall, my breaths quick and shallow.
I hold my head in my hands and try to calm myself.
A prominent metal arch peaks between the tall buildings. I have been here before. I know this city.
Standing, I take a deep calming breath and walk away from the arch.
I walk for days and nights. I walk until I can see the stars and the purple and blues of the galaxy again.