Full Circle

The day was unusually warm and sunny, and like most young people my age, I was anxious to break out of school and enjoy it.   Instead of boarding the bus at my usual stop, I decided to attempt walking to the transfer point downtown.  Not a seasoned driver myself – I was only nine – I knew no other way to get downtown then to follow the bus route, so I set out nonchalantly, skipping and humming happily along.

After close to an hour of walking, with nothing familiar in sight, I grew weary.  Spotting an approaching bus, I made the decision to board.  Finding a seat near the back, I was relieved to finally be sitting down.  I glanced out the window to see if I could gauge how far I had come, and guessed I was probably close to where I would have to get off and transfer.

I glanced across the street, and was suddenly struck by a feeling of deja-vu.  The building across from me was not one that I had ever noted before, and when I read the name, I didn’t recognize it, yet, something about this place seemed known to me.  There was a bus stop in front of the building, but I knew I had never taken a bus from that point.  A woman was looking in my direction and as our eyes met, she had a sudden look of recognition.  I smiled back, but couldn’t place her either.  The bus moved on.

Years passed and the incident on the bus was forgotten, until the first night I decided to record my dreams.

I had enrolled in a course at the local university that examined the relationship between visions, dreams and God.  The first assignment was to record our dreams.  I had fourteen dreams that night.

In one, an unseen person has hold of my hand and is flying me through the city, leading me downtown to where we stop in front of a building.  It is not a building I am familiar with, although something is twigging in my mind.  As I stand there, contemplating its significance, I glance across the street to where a bus has stopped to take on passengers.  I lock eyes with a young girl seated on the bus, and in an instant I know where I am.  My twenty-eight-year old self has circumvented time and space, and come face to face with my nine-year old self.  I am the other side of my deja-vu.

A full circle.

(Image: funny-pictures.picphotos.net)


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Permission to write, paint, and imagine are the gifts I gave myself when chronic illness hit - a fair exchange: being for doing. Relevance is an attitude. Humour essential.