Time Travel

Tonight, around 8:30 I went out to run an errand. It had just gotten dark, in that window of time when headlights go from a suggestion to a requirement. I was driving north along the downtown airport, letting the weight of the day wash over me. I sank into the seat, restlessly oscillating between holding the steering wheel at ten and two and balancing it between my knees.

I strained to brush off the clouds from my gaze and then caught myself absorbed in the familiar images of trees and buildings passing by.

It was then I realized that I had no idea where I was. It was not that I had missed my exit or taken a wrong turn. I did not know where I was in time and space. For a moment I thought I was driving down the 405. That the last 3 years had not happened and I was still who I was then, before insecurity and adventure changed my world.

It wasn't a metaphoric, emotional recollection. I - for a split second - had no clue where I was.

I have always had intense deja vu. It is something I have never been able to figure out. I get these flashes and I know that what I am seeing or hearing is not new. But this was an entirely different experience. It was as though the force of endless fatigue had temporarily stamped out a part of my memory.

It was creepy and not something I necessarily want to experience again but worth the moment to be reassure by the comfort and safety of the here and now.