Delusion Diner

I made sure I was alone.

Just me, myself, and the motley crew of industry workers flirting in the back until I need a cup of coffee. This was my time. Me at my best. Alone at 4 am in a small diner in rural Nevada, taking note on the various details of what it is to be human. I can read people. If I know anything, it is that 4 am is the best time to observe the intricacies and rare truths that belong to a certain breed of people. Years of social isolation and reprogramming to meet the standards of what it means to be a regular person, are finally beginning to pay off. My necessity to understand how people live and think has become my super power in the form of storytelling. The stories we tell ourselves to tell others what to tell us.

They say 4am is the witching hour. The unholy hour at which only those awake are those up to no good. I have seen some of this, yes; but I have seen just as much evidence for some of the most beautiful interactions you wouldn’t believe. Experiences that I couldn’t replicate if I tried. Those of us awake at 4am determine the best and the worst of what humanity is capable of. I believe this.

So, there I was, awaiting my cup of coffee. I had never been to this place; this town or this diner. Just another travelling ghost looking for my own peace of mind. I had to stop in town before I drove off the ledge of the Sierra Nevada's and into the sharp blackness of the valley below. The summit was nothing to underestimate and my eyes were beginning to shudder from my short breath.

I have been known to have overwhelming Déjà vu at times. Déjà vu so strong that it would take over not only my mind, but seemingly the whole of my environment. I would feel it coming on slowly at first until I became just a piece of this strange memory unfolding all around me. This time was different. I came back from the restroom and every step I took began to feel more distant and unreal. I got to my seat and the chair was already pulled out. This wouldn’t be of any notice except that I had a distinct memory of pushing my chair in so as to not trip over the legs. As the déjà vu became stronger and my mind more uncertain, I tried to disregard it as just a part of the ride.

I had learned at a young age that when these dream states began to come on, it would be best for me to take out my notes and dictate it moment by moment. I was told to first observe how I was feeling. What was running through my mind and how much I could remember to be in my body. I focused myself to take notice of what I observed. I could smell the fresh toast and taste that the coffee had been sitting a bit too long. My stomach began to rumble and I remembered that I was still waiting on my meal. I observed the walls to get a feel for what kind of people would come in on normal hours. Faux French movie posters and hundreds of decorative lamps hung on the tiny walls of this establishment. As I stared long and hard at every corner of the place, I could hear footsteps begin to approach.

“Hey Sug. Breakfast” said the older waitress in blue eye shadow and a long silvery side braid. I couldn’t help but stare a moment. I didn’t recognize her from when she took my order. Something about her demeanor just wasn’t quite the same. I couldn’t place it, but I responded nonetheless.

“Thank you, ma’am. Another cup of coffee, if you’re not too busy tonight?”

She looked me the eyes and said, “You think I haven’t heard that before my man?”

To which I replied that I wasn’t that young and that I could name the bit of perfume on her wrists as evidence.

She took another second to take my words in and laughed a bit as she turned around to retrieve my request. I was beginning to feel a bit better, but still couldn’t shake the feeling that I was living in a dream. I was beginning to have scenes flash stronger than my controllable thoughts. I couldn’t stop reliving my vision of this woman throwing my coffee across the room. I kept seeing it in my mind’s eye as I tried to steady my hand enough to eat this damn omelet. I began to take focused breathes to reconnect with my body and just when I was gained some consistency, I heard the distinct clash of porcelain on tile.

She tripped. I knew she tripped, but I wasn’t ready to look.

What did it mean? What were the odds that my illusion and real life would intersect like this, and why would it matter anyway? The chances were high that I could have imagined a common occurrence such as this, but now I became worried for the other thoughts I was fending off. My mind alternated between rushes of what-if followed by calculating how likely they were to occur. These manic visions were spinning through my mind at rocket speed whilst my ability to integrate became slower and incongruent. This was not the first time I experienced this extreme level of temporal lobe chaos; however, never had I been able to remember as it happened!

I knew I was in trouble because only now was the waitress returning my coffee. All the while I was convinced a whole world had already transformed. I filled my pages with images of the cooks raising fists with homeless men dancing outside of the front windows and other nonsense. Every time I blinked, I thought that the restaurant had a new waitress, and that was if I recognized where I was at all. I think the staff could tell I was not well because after a few moments I could hear the chef yelling in the back. I shook with the thought that my dream was coming together again. I couldn't bear the thought of more outrageous events occurring simply because I was losing control of my mind! Was I creating these events or was I somehow tapped into an invisible Akashic field of 4 am? Was the waitress in on some cosmic joke in response to a terrible crime I didn’t remember? Was my environment fading into the quantum field of potential whilst my mind attempted to make sense of it all? I threw every bit of my logic at the wall and nothing stuck.

The waitress was returning.

She brought me a box and said that my ticket was of no concern. My eyes opened wide and I told her that was unnecessary, but she shook her head and informed me that it had been paid by a fellow patron. With that being said, I looked towards the door and saw the coat tale of a tall, stiff looking man leaving the restaurant. I was still uncertain of all that had transposed over the last two hours. Taking a moment to walk through it all in my head, from the corner of my eye I saw the man through the window. He glanced over, we locked eyes, and he tipped his hat to me with a full spin of gentlemanly acknowledgement.

Another vision seen and another left to interpretation. What a world within which we live but which we have yet to comprehend. So much room to explore and so much left to understand. All we can do is open our eyes for the sake of those with whom we share our experience. Nothing else means anything.