Flight Of Fancy - My Fictional Story

On waking I found that the flight attendant had left an entry form on the arm of my seat. One of those all foreign visitors must fill to declare your purpose for entering another country. The rest of the passengers were still sleeping in the half-light, as it was night. There were only dim lights on the signs to indicate where the toilets were and whether they were free. Also those at the bottom of seats that faintly lit up the corridors.

Making sure that the beam of just one headlight I switched on was shining only on my side, so as not to bother my neighbour, I began to fill the form. Everything was fine until I came to the part under the date of my birth, there's this little box requiring me to fill in also the date of death! Overwhelmed, I looked up and saw the flight attendant in the midst of that spectral atmosphere coming down the aisle. When she got close enough, I stopped her:

"Excuse me," I half whispered, "What am I supposed to put in this box?"

"What do you think?" she responded, observing me ironically as if I was naive or playing the fool.

Puzzled, I presumed that perhaps death had snatched me while I was asleep! I put down the date I left Heathrow Airport and which was in fact still the same date at that moment. After completing the rest of the form and my signature duly in place where it was indicated, I close my eyes and took another snooze.

I woke up to the bustle and clinging of cups and saucers as the flight attendants were now serving breakfast. The blinds on the windows are all up now indicating the early dawn, and all the lights were once again switched on. I saw the form sticking out of the seat pocket in front of me, but preferred (for fear) not to check whether that box I filled in was just an hallucination of mine. Reaching San Francisco Airport, I handed in the form to the police on the Control point, took a taxi, went to a hotel, later did all that the city expected me to do as a tourist, and returned home 2 weeks later with gifts in the suitcase.

My daily routine have been since then the same as always; my relationship with people around me and my work too. Everything continues exactly the same, but somehow everything is different, as if, instead of living, I am imitating the life I had lived before the travel. I begin to question everything I do and everyone I meet; are they all real?

Tags:hallucination,death,life

Current Mood: Contemplative