“THE DREAM”                                                                                                                                                           by p. t. Chauncey McGinnis

It was chilly (about forty degrees) a little damp and overcast.                                                             I was on a walkway at a wire mesh (not screen) gate/door to which I had the key. I guess I was some sort of scientist because it was my desire to go through the door and down several flights of metal stairs (partially open to the elements at each landing and ultimately culminating at a lower street level)) to the “lab” (part way down)), where I’d apparently been earlier and must have forgotten to complete some task. I unlocked the gate, and looking down, could see it was very foggy. Through the mist, I could see the figure of a guy making his way up the stairs. He soon emerged, wearing a gray mid-thigh length overcoat, fedora and scarf. He nodded at my presence and passed by. As I was about to head down the stairs, I spied another figure coming up. She came into view and I recognized her to be Jennifer Aniston. She wore a form-fitting brown leather jacket which was about belt length, a knitted, floppy hat, a thick scarf, black slacks and high heels. Apparently we knew each other because she bade me hello, using my first name. As she passed, the gate  closed behind her. Luckily, it didn’t latch. I’d put my key back in my pocket. So, I pushed it open ready to head down the stairs, but stopped when I saw another figure emerging from the mist. As he came into view, I realized it was the same guy as before. Then another figure came up. It was Jennifer Aniston…again. She said, “Hi”, made a right turn and began to travel along the walkway.

I stood there for a second, more confused than I’d ever been in my life…and that’s saying something. So, I took after her and caught up. I asked if I could have a word with her. She agreed and I proceeded to relate to her  that something strange had just happened to me. She looked at me quizzically. I asked her if she could explain what had happened. I gave her a quick run-down. She claimed to have no idea what I was talking about. I asked her if she’d ever experienced deja vu. She thought for a second and told me she might have. I was lost as how to approach this subject, knowing it didn’t really fit “deja vu” as I’ve ever experienced it or heard of it being experienced by anyone else.

We turned a corner to the left (northbound), and walked a few steps to where a low pile of lumber was stacked on the grass of the courtyard, on the left. It was clear I was making her uncomfortable. We were clearly only acquaintances and not good friends. It didn’t seem as though she really wanted to hear my story. We sat down on the pile of lumber and I asked her if the old large, tattered suitcase, lying on the grass in front of us, was hers. She said, “Yeah, I always leave my luggage lying around like that.” I felt like an ass. I was only trying to set a more relaxed tone.

As I began to explain the incident, my eyes must have appeared a little “wild”, because she immediately got to her feet and began trotting north along the walkway at an increasing pace. She quickly out-distanced me and disappeared around the corner of the building on the right. I didn’t follow but just stood there wondering what to do. A few seconds later she reappeared from around the corner. She walked toward me. I guess she was probably satisfied I wasn’t a threat and/or maybe her curiosity had gotten the best of her. She told me to follow her, which I did…but not too closely.

We entered the courtyard which had a number of paths and benches. There were many  colorful flowers and ornamental low bushes and shrubs. There was a cross-path leading north. A few steps along that path, there was a bench on the right. We sat.

She said, “Okay, what the hell are you blathering about?” I explained more about the guy I’d seen twice pass me by, in a matter of seconds. She said she’d followed McMill up the stairs. I asked, “His name is McMill?” She said, “Yes.” I didn’t know any McMill. I asked if McMill and she had any identical twins they knew about. (Sometimes I’m a facetious ass.) She didn’t know if McMill had a twin, but she didn’t have one.

We got up and walked south toward another part of the courtyard, closer to the area of the “event”. I told her I’d never experienced that type of deja vu before. At one point, we stopped and I noticed we’d passed a bench with three people seated on it. The bench faced away from us, but the guy on the left end of it was looking back over his shoulder at us. I called Jennifer’s attention to him and asked her if he was McMill. Just as I did that, the man turned his head around to face forward in a way that seemed to me to be trying to avoid us recognizing him. Like the character Voldemort from J. K. Rowling’s “Harry Potter” movies, this fellow had another face on the back of his head, now facing us. It was quite similar to the one now facing away, but this one had a evil, scowling grin. Aniston saw this and began to faint.  Her near fainting happened two or three times, but she didn’t collapse…only requiring a bit of propping up. She glared at me and demanded I show her the back of my head. Then she cried, “Get me the hell out of here!”

We ran a short distance south when I stopped her. The thought had just struck me…I hadn’t been able to see the back of her head this whole time due to her hat and scarf covering it. I was concerned. Did she have two faces, as well? I voiced my concern to which she almost laughed. She lowered her scarf and removed her floppy hat and began to turn her face away. Suddenly she stopped and turned back before I was able to see the back of her head. She put her hat back on and adjusted her scarf.

Jen, (as I call her now, unless I ever do really meet her) asked if my lab had a locking door. I didn’t know but said, “I guess.” She suggested we go there right away to figure this thing out and be secure at the same time. We made our way, south, out of the courtyard and onto the walkway. I fumbled for my key to the gate and found it. There was still a mist below, but we scrambled down the stairway to the first lower landing. She asked if my lab was there. I couldn’t remember. She told me to calm down, close my eyes and THINK!

It was coming to me when she said, “Open your eyes.” I did, to find myself, on my back, on a gurney, looking into the eyes of a female paramedic I’d never seen before. “What’s happening?”, I asked. “Not much. What’s up with you?”, she laughed. “No!”, I demanded. “What the hell happened?!!” She got serious. “You fell down a flight of stairs. Where do you hurt?” “My head.”. I answered. “Well, I’m not a bit surprised, considering the size of the bump on you noggin’. That’s a long way to fall.” “Where’s Jennifer Aniston?”, I asked. “Oh, she just left.”, said the paramedic. “Nope. My mistake.”, she continued, “Here she comes, up the stairs.” Aniston appeared by my side, tenderly took my hand in hers and asked how I was feeling. I could do nothing but gasp. ” You know this guy, Ms. Aniston?”, the paramedic asked. “We’ve met a time or two.”, Jen knowingly grinned. Then, she carefully adjusted her hat and scarf, turned and walked away.

Not to point any fingers, but when I was released from the hospital, my wallet was missing.