LACKING FRAGMENTS: A Novel (Completed)

Mirror, Mirror from the Mall II

It was the second instance I did this. However, in contrary to the previous, I saw myself with both my eyes deeper than the former. Two eyes of an older old man; that, by looking at them in the mirror, I noticed to be losing hours and hours of sleep, all due to this something; and suddenly, it came to me. Of how the following nights and midnights with my wife in bedroom—weeks now after our visit at the supermall—had gone longer than the common clocktime. That I either could not or did not want to sleep; but now, in truth among the two, I cannot be sure which is which.

     Even so, above anxieties, I found I'd do anything to make amends with my lone, gone peace. And by then, at home it started.

     As I looked at myself in the mirror, I heard myself speaking my name, of which for my part I didn't really do— I didn't even open my mouth; I didn't utter nor blurt a single word. I was just standing straight, looking at my reflection without any expression. No, nothing else. But the 'me' in there isn't the me in here.

     "Who are you?"

     "I'm you," said the person in the mirror. Or was it really a person? If anyone would ask me, it is only a copy of my physical body. It wasn't entirely me. "It's good thing you decided to look at yourself. It's been weeks since I've been looking for you."

     "Looking for me?" I asked, confused of this thing happening, down here in the living room of our house. Moreover, through the mirror, I didn't see myself flinch nor make a face of confusion— yes, I was there, inside the newly-bought mirror, but it did not feel like me. "Why?"

     "Why what?"

     "What did I do? Why are you looking for me?"

     "Nothing."

     "Excuse me?"

     "I said nothing."

     "Nothing? If so, what's the problem?"

     "That's the point, you did nothing..."

     And I tried to absorb. To engage the meaning of his own words within; as if searching for specific dead bodies in a forgotten cemetery, I absorbed. But I absorbed nothing.

     "I'm sorry, I don't follow you. Not a single percent nor point in a hundred. But in a way, yes, I think I get what seems to be happening... Yes, I think I get it alright. It's the only reasonable explanation of why I'm talking to myself— to you, in case you don't like me being compared to you."

     "What's happening?"

     "Merely, this is a dream." And yes, it could only be it. Considering I'd been having uncanny dreams these past few months, this could all be nothing but a weird dream. Another fabricated dream. Controlled again, even. And I seemed not to know the difference between the two any longer. Between dreams and reality.

     "You must understand," he then retorted, "this isn't a dream you're experiencing. Nor the strange things that happened to you while you believe you're awake, neither of them belongs to be just dreams. They were realities, and you know about it. I know it too, because I'm you... We can't hide things from each other... We can't hide things from ourselves forever either. For everything resurfaces when the time comes, everything that's worth to return again.

     "You must know now. You are awake.

     "And you know what?" the me in the mirror went on. "For years, I've been wanting to have a talk with you. A dialogue, that only now I had the means to do. But boy, didn't I know it'll take us years to have this very moment. This moment we have now, yes, I waited too long. How did we take so long? It felt like I waited forever just to have the means."