Chapter 9

             I was never very social in high school, so when I started college I decided I'd try to branch out a little more. I ended up getting a room in the honors dorm, so there were always people hanging out in each others' rooms. I realized that hanging out with other people was really fun, especially with those who had unique interests like they did. We always ended up doing things on the spur of the moment, like dressing up in fancy clothes and going out, writing a radio comedy show, or something as simple as playing games or watching movies while providing humorous commentary. Everyone was pretty smart, but they also had just the right amount of quirkiness in their personalities.

            While I really enjoyed my new and improved social life, I still ended up going for long walks by myself quite often. It gave me time to get away and clear my head, as well as to explore the town and the surrounding area. The town itself was quaint, and the area was pretty rural, so it gave it a very natural feel; that's probably what drew me to go to college there in the first place. I loved nature a lot, and my favorite places to go were usually the wooded areas or the arboretum nearby which held a wide variety of different tree species.

            One day, while walking through town, I stumbled on a small thrift shop. These were always a must to check out, since we were always finding old and interesting clothes that we could dress up in. I usually went together with the others, but since I was already there, I figured I could take a look. While digging through racks upon racks of clothes, that was where I managed to stumble upon what would later become my most prized possession.

             In my hands, I held an old coat. The dull olive color suggested that it could have been military-issue at one point, but it must have been something from decades ago before they even used any sort of camouflage pattern. I tried it on, and the first thing I noticed was how absurdly heavy it felt for just a coat. Heavy, but also very warm. The length made the hem fall below my knees, so it seemed to envelope the majority of my figure. I laughed, thinking this might have been a "trench coat" that had been worn in actual trenches once, not merely given that title as a stylistic namesake. I bought it without hesitation.

            The good times, alas, were not meant to last for our group. The fact that most of us were rather socially awkward in the past eventually lead to some difficulty adjusting to our social boundaries, causing a lot of disagreements and unspoken resentment between people. Some tried to hold the group together, but the quirkiness that had brought us together ended up being something that caused us to push each other away. In the end, I rashly said some rather hurtful things and managed to unintentionally turn the entire group against me, with only a couple people remaining on my side.

            I did regret it and tried to make amends, but looking back now it seemed somewhat unavoidable; I feel that something like that would have happened sooner or later, if not with me then with someone else. I had lost my interest in studying at this point, so I simply did what I felt was the most logical thing to do at the time: leave. I packed a bag, grabbed my coat, left a short note of apology, and simply walked away into the night.

            I will agree that there was probably a better way to handle this than how I did, but that thought never even occurred to me at the time. All I wanted was to walk, so that's what I did. I left around 9 in the evening, saying goodbye to no one. The only person I spoke to at all before I left was my close friend, Mia, one of the only people who hadn't turned against me, and that was only to simply say, "Thank you for all the support you gave me." I stopped by an ATM to pull out all the money I had in my account and went on my way, as I had no intention of going back.

            That night was probably the longest night I've ever experienced. Honestly, my timing was pretty terrible, deciding to wander off on a cold winter night from a small town in the middle of the countryside. The only thing I could do to stay warm was to bundle up and keep walking. The snow covering most of the ground seemed to glow from the faint moonlight as I strode through the darkness towards any place but where I had been. Had I been any less prepared, I probably could've died from the cold. I can honestly say I felt that old, worn coat may have actually spared my life that night. I didn't stop walking until the sun came up.

            After a few days had passed, I realized how poorly executed my plan had been. The police found me, saying that people had filed a missing persons report for me, thinking that I might have even run off and committed suicide. I felt terrible, but not enough to want to return. I was 20 by that time, so I was technically an adult. I felt bad for my parents who had worried about me, so I passed the message to them that I was fine, but also that I didn't want to go back to the college. They tried to get me to come home, but I didn't want that either. I just wanted to wander. I told them I would contact them if I ever needed help or wanted to come home. I never did.

            Months passed, and I learned to live how I could. I bought or salvaged what I needed to stay warm at night, as long as I could carry it with me. Staying in the rural areas had its drawbacks, but people were much more willing to interact with a stranger on the road out there than they would be near the cities. Some people even offered me rides to wherever I was going, but I never wanted to seem suspicious and would politely decline. Also, I didn't really have anywhere I was heading, so there wasn't really much point in getting a ride. Sometimes, I was able to help people out in exchange for goods or money, but there were a lot of times I went hungry for a while. As long as I didn't have to stay in one place, that was fine with me.

            After the seasons changed several times, I finally found myself wanting to go somewhere. I remembered Mia, the friend who stayed on my side until the end, and how she had been planning to go to graduate school in Sacramento after she finished her degree. I suddenly felt myself yearning to see her once again, so I plotted a course on my map for that school. Hopefully it was still the one she had mentioned, but it's not like I had anything else to do. I was only upset that I'd be ending up in California by the time it was summer, so it was going to be rather hot.

            It took some time, but eventually I made it. It had been a while since I had gone into a city, so it was very different from what I was used to. Unfortunately, my luck ran out quickly once I finally arrived. I had gone almost a year and a half without many incidents, and it was within mere hours of setting foot in the city that I was mugged. I wasn't too keen on fighting, so I wasn't able to do much more than give up the money I had after they roughed me up a bit. They even rifled through my bag and took anything they wanted, leaving the rest of the contents strewn across the ground. I was just thankful that they didn't take my coat, which had been strapped to my bag. Whether it was because it was so worn and dirty or because it was just too heavy for them to want to run off with it, I was relieved. I don't know what I would have done had they taken it.

            That was the last night I remember before finding myself in this hospital. As I found a spot in a park to try to catch a little sleep before I went off looking for the campus, I felt a strange quiet in my mind. Perhaps it was simply the shock from the mugging earlier, but the moment before I fell asleep felt ominous. It was discomforting, but my mind, suffering from lack of sleep, couldn't help but fade away into dreams. I never would have expected the dreams to last as long as they have, though...

...

            I held that treasured coat in my arms, as if it were a rendezvous with my dearest, long-lost friend from once upon a time. I may not remember everything about my life, but there is no way I could forget the familiarity of this rough fabric, this olive color, this weighted warmth that protected and comforted me. I looked in the coat and found a tag with a nostalgic scrawl: "Alex Henderson." That was my name, a name I used many lifetimes ago.

            In this moment, I was nothing more than a child who had found his blanket, clinging to it as if it were my lifeline. This was my reality. This was my true life. Yet... I wonder if I can deny the other lives that I have lived as well. I may be Alex Henderson, but I am not the same Alex Henderson as the one who fell asleep in that park so long ago. Can I even say that I am the same person anymore? The memories of multiple people meld together in my mind, and within this mixture my identity is lost. Who am I, now?

            "Does it matter?"

            A voice from the past enters my mind. A conversation with a dear friend. A scene appears in my mind: I'm sitting in a small nook inside a library, and next to me is Patrick as we have one of our long discussions on life and the world.

            "The idea of such a concrete self identity is, in a way, kind of a Western concept," Patrick explains during one of his endless monologues. "That's why I was always fascinated when reading about Eastern religions and philosophies. In some traditions, you attain the highest state of mind when you are truly able to see yourself in others. We distinguish our individuality with the differences in our appearances, in our personalities, and in our thoughts. It is said behind that, though, lies your original face, the face you had before you separated yourself from others. There may be many faces, but there is only one original face, and all are part of the same original self."

            Could that be the answer? I am not sure if that even applies here, but that may be one way to look at this condition. Perhaps I do not have to choose which identity I will assume; I can simply accept all of them as my identity. I may have to do some more research into this so that I can learn more about it.

            There is a knock at the door, and the nurse walks into the room. I look at the clock, and I see that already an hour and a half has passed since I first took my coat out of the box.

            "Hopefully, you've had enough time to figure some things out for yourself," he says, disturbing the quiet of the room. "I know you prefer time to sort out your thoughts on your own, but I'm also interested to see how you're doing. It's been some time since you were awake, so if it's alright I would like to do a quick checkup and ask you a few questions."

...

            About 30 minutes go by before the interview is finally over, having explained as much as I can to him about my life as Viktor Kovac, as well as my memory of the rest of my lives up to this point. It's quite amazing to see him scribbling so much as I talk, though I haven't the slightest idea of what he might be writing. If he wanted to remember what I said, he could have simply brought a voice recorder or something.

            Finally, the pen stops moving, and he takes a breath. "Thank you very much for your thorough answers, you have a rather intriguing perspective on things, considering everything you've been through up to this point. If you're up for it, I actually have one more thing I would like you to do for me." As he says this, he pulls out several sheets from the clipboard and hands them to me along with a pen. "It's not like this is going to affect you in any way, but it would be helpful for us to evaluate your mental state, so just do your best."

            I flip through the papers to see what it is. It looks like a regular college exam, but the questions cover a variety of different subjects. "You want me to take a test?" I ask, confused.

            "Of a sort, yes. It's not like you're in school, so your grade isn't really going to matter to you or anything," he says, chuckling a little. "We just want to see if your prolonged sleeping has affected your problem solving or critical thinking at all."

            "I see... fine, I guess I can give it a try."

            The questions start off with basics, fairly standard for a general knowledge exam, but slowly progress in difficulty. Surprisingly, it's much easier than I would have anticipated. I know the most recent life I have been living has been as Viktor, but that was all just a dream, wasn't it? I continue onto the third page of the test, and the questions are now getting much more difficult. Some of the questions require Calculus or a solid scientific background to answer. Still, much of this is fresh in my mind, so it takes little time for me to answer.

            I finally reach the last page, and I stop for a moment. These are extremely advanced questions, particularly in mathematics and physics. I start going about solving them, but in the back of my mind I feel like something strange is happening. Why do I know how to answer these questions? You can't simply develop new knowledge spontaneously while in a dream, and there is no way I learned this during my lifetime as Alex Henderson.

            I finish the exam, and I hand it back to the nurse, who had taken a seat in the chair by the other bed. He glances through it, looking impressed, and puts it back on his clipboard.

            "Thank you very much for all of your time. If you'd like, I'll have some food brought for you. I can imagine you're probably pretty hungry now, right?"

            I don't respond. The clarity I had found before was gone. I have no idea what is happening anymore. It shouldn't be possible for me to learn things I never knew within a dream, so why do I have such an intimate knowledge of science? It doesn't feel as if I'm only imagining that I know how to solve the problems; I can follow the process step-by-step, and it all makes sense. I can't think of a single way to explain this.

            Unless...