one story. two stories.

This morning it occurred to me that what transpired last night had already transpired. It was a wondrous realisation, one of significant consequence. While it must seem shocking to think that it has taken me all of 26 years to realise that time passes, it appears just so. I have only just realised the movement of time and the many possibilities it could offer. But what happened last night must be recounted first.

The day had moved past swiftly and uneventfully. It’s funny I think it moved swiftly because uneventful days generally move slowly. Perhaps in hindsight time passes more quickly than in real time. When I entered my bedroom, there was a mosquito on my pillow nestled right in the centre of the permanent dent in the shape of my head. Quite comfortable it looked too. I waited politely for a few minutes, cleared my throat a couple of times and hoped to be noticed. After all I was a rather large presence in the room compared to the mosquito. It didn’t so much as blink. So i went about changing- in the bathroom of course- washed my face, went downstairs to fill a bottle of water and came back believing that enough time had been killed.

The little chap however had created a little dent within my large dent and showed no signs of moving. It was frankly quite rude and I considered walking out of my room in protest. I quickly realised it wouldn’t matter to the mosquito at all, so I decided instead to speak up.

“I was just wondering if you could perhaps move to another place in the room, this is my room you see. And that dent in the pillow, you’ll see that it fits my head perfectly.”

No response. Not only was I agitated, I was embarrassed. It was a horrible habit, but everytime I got angry I felt helpless and when I felt helpless shameful tears would threaten instant downpour.

“Excuse me!”

“Oh I’m so sorry, were you saying something? I didn’t notice you standing there.”

“I…er…just..that’s my pillow? I mean that definitely is my pillow. Yes, it is.”

“What? Oh yes. But do you think this story could play out some other way perhaps? It’s really not fair. I am the mosquito and you are much larger than me. How can I fight you for the pillow?

“Fight? But that IS my pillow. I don’t understand why I should have to fight for it. I can’t help that I’m bigger than you. Also, you could sit just about anywhere else. Just not my pillow. What are you doing here anyway?”

“Oh nothing, I was just thinking about the metaphysics of truth. Why is it you think this is your pillow and it can’t be any other way?”

“Because it just IS. It always has been. I mean, atleast after I bought it from the store. Or one of my parents. It’s mine now.”

“You just said it always has been and then you say it’s been yours only after you bought it. So you already contradicted yourself.”

“Yes, but it doesn’t matter it’s mine now.”

“But if it wasn’t yours always, maybe it could also cease to be yours now.”

“But why should it, it can’t be yours just because you want it.”

“Why not?”

“Well it’s mine and I won’t give it to you. I won’t even consider fighting you for it, because I don’t have to.”

“I can just take it.”

“No you can’t. Like you said, I’m much larger than you. I could kill you now. I could have killed you half an hour ago.”

“So you’ll still have to fight to retain what’s yours.”

“No. It’s not a fight…is it? I don’t understand this. How can this be happening, this would mean that anyone could walk in and claim my bed, that table there, my book there, the other one there, my room for themselves. Why should I have to inflict violence to claim what’s mine. It just is mine.”

“And why not?”

“Oh this is just outrageous!”

“So if I was bigger than you and I lay claim to your pillow, or the dent in your pillow would you feel just as outraged?”

“Of course. The pillow is still mine.”

“What would you do to get it back?”

“I would do whatever I had to, I don’t know what. I would try reasoning with them and if it that didn’t work…maybe fight. But why would anyone do that, it’s just stupid, no one would!”

“But I just did.”

“Right, that’s true. Why did you?”

“Because I could, it looked like a comfortable dent.”

“That’s not fair.”

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t want to have to do things to claim what’s mine, I don’t want to fight.”

“Then leave me be, me and my dent.”

“No, but that’s not right.”

“Sigh. I’ve been lying here thinking just that.”

” So I’m right?”

“Who’s to say who’s right. What is the truth? That is the question.”

“We know the answer to that, this is my pillow and you are laying claim to it for no goddamn reason. And this, is unfair.”

” But it’s also unfair that I am much smaller and I can’t fight you for it.”

“Even if you were bigger this would be unfair to me.”

“Why is it about you though? In my story this is unfair to me.”

“But it isn’t your story.”

“Why not?”

“Well, maybe there are two stories.”

“That’s rubbish, there’s only ever one story.”

“So whose is it?”

“Whoever wakes up with their head rested on this pillow tomorrow morning perhaps.”

” And the truth?”

“It’ll be there in the story.”

“And if there are two stories?”

“That’s rubbish. There’s only ever one story.”