Welcome back. The journey between two worlds continues.
Chapter 03 – Perception
He looked around, and in a strange way he knew this room. He couldn’t recall anything specific, but it felt imprinted on him through flashes, like memories that weren’t fully his.
“You’ve become quite the expert, making even Sara believe you enough to book an appointment,” he heard her say right after the door closed. “Did you miss me that much?” She placed a hand on his shoulder and turned him to face her.
Before he could say anything, or react in any way, she pressed her body against his, pulled his head toward her, and kissed him. Powerful, energized, and rehearsed until it became second nature. He could feel her energy entering him through her hot, wet lips. He embraced her instinctively, strongly, surrendering to the passion.
And he would have continued, definitely, but flashes caring memory fragments, cut through the moment: his house enveloped by that field, the cold, then the sudden spring,
his Italian neighbor rushing to work with crumbs lost in his dark beard.
That was enough to make him push Dr. Thomas away from the passionate kiss.
“Stop. Stop it, Dr. Thomas. Can you tell me what the hell is going on?”
“Dr. Thomas? No ‘Sarah’? Nathan, are the headaches back?” she asked, slipping into what he could only describe as her professional tone. “Come, sit here.” She began searching for something in a cabinet behind her desk. “Breathe, Nathan. Tell me what you feel. What you see. Is it the scary bald version of Mr. Brownson? Or the yellow cat asking for food? Talk to me.”
He could feel her worrying, not just professional concern, but something deeper, personal.
He had so many questions, and he tried so hard to put them in order, to decide what to ask first and how. But her words surfaced new, unthought questions.
“What bald, scary Mr. Brownson? And what’s with the yellow cat?”
A flash from this morning almost made him stop breathing. The cat he saw today had clear small black spots on the paws. While the cat he grew up with, his cat was fully yellow, with a bit of white on the paws.
How could he miss that?
“What the f—” he began, then met her worried eyes.
“A… a… Dr. Thomas,” he continued, forcing a calmness he didn’t feel.
He felt her disappointment at the formality and corrected himself.
“Sarah… listen. There’s something I think you should know.”
Well, he thought, these aren’t wrong memories. They’re right memories for the wrong Nathan… maybe. But in the end, everything is intertwined. Right? Let’s see.
“I’m here. I’m listening,” she said, her look shifting seamlessly into curiosity, like that king when Scheherazade begins a new story. She sat down and pressed a small button on the side of her desk. Underneath, a small device lit up with a red LED, indicating the recording had started.
“How long have we known each other?”
“A bit over ten years, I guess. Maybe more. Don’t you remember?”
“Over ten years…” he repeated to himself. “And…” he paused, weighing whether this was the right question “and… wasn’t I cured?”
“You were. Almost a year now.” She glanced at a desk calendar, flipping a few pages. “Next week is the ‘anniversary,’ if you want to know,” she said with a half‑smile, like someone thinking he was trying to build anticipation for a special date.
“Right. So, we can say we know each other pretty well, right?”
“OK. If ‘pretty well’ means sleeping together, then yes. So can you stop beating around the bush and tell me what’s going on with you?”
“Dr… hm… Sarah, you have no idea how ironic that question sounds.”
“I see… OK, tell me.”
“Have we ever talked about dreams?”
“We…”
“In this cabinet. For my healing process. Not about us. Sorry. I felt I needed to clarify that.”
“Fine. Sure.”
“So… don’t you remember? The place you worked years ago, the cold winter, the flickering streetlight, the yellow cat, and the… aham… red‑headed ex‑girlfriend you still refuse to give me the name of. For the record, you know.”
“Ex? When did I… Never mind. And in those dreams, was it a me‑me or another me?”
“As you described it, both happened. But do you remember our breakthrough? The point that helped you recover?”
“…”
“When we decided the two of you should coexist. When you accepted him.”
“I see… And we did, right? We accepted the other Nathan.”
“Yes.”
“How would you approach this if I told you, it was more than acceptance? Much more. So much more that it could easily be seen as a… merging. Blending. Even… rebirth.”
“I would say that’s OK. Even expected. Don’t you think?”
“OK… maybe. But what if the other me is not something you can heal? Not another personality but…” he stopped, unsure if he should continue.
“Another what?” she asked, trying to stay calm, though she swallowed dry.
“Another… world, maybe. One as real as me and you.”
“World? No… the symptoms were clear, Nathan. Why dig up an old grave?”
“Forget the symptoms. Look closely into my eyes, Sarah. And think. Think with your heart.”
“Nathan… let’s not…”
He stopped her. Grabbed her hands, leaned over the desk, closing the distance between them, and looked straight into her eyes.
“Look. At. Me. Sarah.” He spaced each word, accentuating each of them. “Look.”
“Nath…” she tried, but he pulled her even closer.
She could only obey. It was clear he needed this confirmation, needed to hear again who he was, to snap out of this rollercoaster of identity madness. She thought that if he weren’t this serious, she would kiss him. Maybe she should. Maybe not. The slightly naughty thought made her smile.
But then she stared into his eyes.
Dark… Blue…
Nathan had light brown eyes. Sometimes with hints of green-yellow.
She jolted as if a current had passed through her spine.
“Who… who are you?” she managed to whisper, her heartbeat loud enough to hear.
He slowly released her hands and sat down. She wasn’t just afraid; he could feel her fear. The room temperature seemed to drop a few degrees. It was too much for her. Too sudden.
But he had gone too deep to stop.
“Who do you think I am?” he asked softly, avoiding her eyes.
“Nathan… the dormant one. Maybe… but that doesn’t explain your eyes… I… I don’t know.”
“You are correct. I am indeed Nathan,” he said, meeting her shaken gaze.
Then he remembered the contact lenses he sometimes used when working late.
It was too much for her, too soon. She needed time.
“Breathe, Sarah… just contact lenses. I was kidding. I went too far,” he said, walking slowly around the desk. He knelt on one knee. “Sorry…” he whispered, pulling her into his arms.
That was when she started crying. He felt her skin radiating heat, felt how she pulled him closer each time she sighed between sobs. He waited for her to calm down. Then he came up with a rather weak excuse about being needed at work and left, but not before promising to call her when he reached home.
“Am I stuck here?” he wondered as he exited the building. “Well… with Sarah and this car, it can’t be that bad. Besides, it looks like I already broke up with Lori, the…”
Th thoughts were cut by the arrival of the car, Sara. As soon as he reached the drop‑off point, his car pulled up in front of him and opened the door.
“Welcome back, Nathan. Ready to go to work now?”
“No… just drive around for an hour or so, then we go home. There are some questions I think I could find their answers there.”
The door closed as he fastened the seatbelt, and the journey began.
A knock on the window made him open his eyes. It was already dark.
“Hey, you OK?”
He recognized his neighbor’s voice.
“Yeah, I’m…” he was startled by the big dog head suddenly appearing at the window. “OK,” he finished.
“Migo. Prego. Not nice,” the neighbor scolded. Migo, the young, overly energetic Labrador, moved aside, letting Nathan get out of the car.
“I thought you weren’t OK. But you are. OK. Andiamo, Migo. Later, Natalino”
“Later,” Nathan managed to say, closing the car door and hearing a too‑familiar sound. The sound of his old Volkswagen.
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