January 9, 2013

  • The Sprinkler Version

    A fire started in a movie that I was watching today, and the sprinkler system in the building turned on. It sprayed all over the people in the building, and soaked all of their belongings. The people were dripping and upset. Everything was drenched. And that's when I saw it. I saw myself in another life. An alternative scenario. A different possible outcome. I saw the fire start in the apartment upstairs, next to ours. I saw the sprinkler system (which in this universe, had been removed 20 years prior due to expense issues) turn on and start to spray water all over all of our things. I saw myself and Carlton getting drenched and rushing around the house to start dragging out our electronics and important papers. I saw Keith struggling to save his TV and PS3 from the water. I saw Rylie, Grendel, and Halie dart under tables to shield themselves from the rainstorm happening in our apartment. I saw annoyed neighbors running out into the streets dragging their valuable belongings with them - so as not to get water damaged. I saw the same faces of the firemen that had been there that night, and I saw the same neighbors, all scrambling to save whatever material possessions they could. I saw it all, just as I had seen it that night... And then I saw the fire cease. I saw the flames recede. I saw the smoke fizzle out. I saw the firemen climb off their ladders and alert the gathering of residents that the fire had been put out. And the three buildings that I'd seen burn to the ground, stood tall and unharmed, except for a little water damage... I stood in that parking lot across from building 13, and knowing what I know, I watched in disbelief as my friends and neighbors returned to their homes to try to figure out which of their belongings had been damaged by the sprinklers. I saw our front doors being opened, and firemen shaking hands. I saw smiles, I saw small-talk, and I saw a lot of tired, irritated people. I watched these displeased people return to their homes, and I watched the parking lot empty and return back to normal. And as I watched the fire trucks disappear down the street, not more than half an hour after they'd arrived, I heard some voices speaking loudly and angrily, and I turned to see what was going on. That's when I saw me. A lump in my throat formed instantly, and in slow motion, I watched myself cuss and yell at the air. I watched Carlton grab my hand and lead me back inside with an upset look on his face, and I saw the anger in my eyes as I stormed back into my fully-standing, unharmed house. I peered through our window - which was still there as if nothing had ever happened - and saw Grendel and Halie, with their hair standing on end, shake themselves off and lay back down. I saw Rylie whimper, and Carlton shake off his wet clothes, and I saw myself glance around the room at everything that had been rained on, and dawn a tired, frustrated expression. Then I saw myself sit down on my bed - the bed that I know is in ashes - and rest my head in my hands. I knew what I was thinking. I knew that I was upset. And I knew that I had no idea what could have happened, and no idea how lucky I was to even have a bed to sit on - wet or not. Then the night ended and the sun came up and I saw the neighbors come out of their front doors which still stood, and walk through the alleys full of green grass and usher their children off to school. I saw our upstairs neighbors put their daughters on the school bus, and groan to each other about the dreadful night before, while walking back to their doorsteps, and into the doors that I know don't exist in my world anymore. I saw time pass and people complain. I saw our friends come over and sit with us in our living room - our same old, untouched living room without a single beer can missing - and talk about how crazy and terrible that night was. And in this vision, I saw three buildings of people who were burdened and unhappy because of the sprinkler system that had gone off... And I was in shock. My vision ended and I was transported back to real life - where I sat in my living room in Jonestown, watching a movie, because my house and all of my possessions had burned down that night. If the sprinkler system had never been taken out 20 years ago, everything would be different. I would be sitting in my apartment at International right now, probably playing Madden or Beer Pong with my friends, unaware that somewhere out there is another universe where that night had turned out drastically different. That thought broke my heart. So I sat there and felt sorry for myself. I sat there and hated my other-life-self for not realizing how good she has it, and I sat thinking to myself about how spoiled she was because compared to me, she had lost nothing. I am the unlucky one. I am living in the universe with the negative outcome, and I am the one who is the victim... But then something hit me, and a small burst of insight came to my mind, and with it came another vision. Another vision of the night of the fire... Everything was the same. I watched the fire start again, I watched the commotion, I watched the fire trucks roll in one by one. I watched as Carlton, Keith, and I carried our three pets out. This I'd all seen before. I watched the part where Grendel jumped out of my arms and darted away. I saw the anguish on my face. I knew the story, and I knew what came next. I watched myself run back to the apartment, against the urging of my friends, and I watched as I looked for Grendel. But Grendel wasn't there. That was wrong. That wasn't the way it had happened. I saw myself look into the bush in front of my porch where I had found Grendel on that night, and come away empty handed. Then I saw fire-fighters start to instruct me to leave, and I saw myself protest. Again in slow motion, I saw myself begging them to let me find my cat. I saw the panic in my face, I saw the tears in my eyes, and I saw them force me back into the parking lot with everyone else. Then I watched in horror as Keith and Carlton walked over to me, without Rylie and Halie in their arms, speaking to me while shaking their heads. Then I saw myself burst into tears, and crumple to the ground on the curb, crying uncontrollably as the flames devoured my home behind me. I felt my heart sink, and cold realization come over me while I watched myself trembling there on the concrete. When I turned back to face the building, I saw what I'd already feared; firemen running frantically up the stairs next to my apartment, while my neighbors who lived there screamed and pointed helplessly toward the second floor, with only one of their daughters huddled in their arms... And looking farther into the vision, all I could see was agony on the faces of my friends and neighbors; and none of it was because of stuff. Then just as in my other vision, the fire ceased and the sun came up, but this time the fire trucks remained. In the daylight I could see smoke rising from the pile of ashes where just yesterday three tall buildings had stood. That was no different than in real life. What was different, was the feel of it all. Even though I wasn't a part of this universe, I could somehow sense that things were far, far different than in my own. Everything felt a little colder, a little darker, a little less hopeful. I watched time pass again, but in this scenario instead of bringing complaints and irritated faces, it brought wreaths of flowers hanging on the fence around the investigation site, and on them were the names of people. I saw people gather at the fence and peer through the holes, just like I've seen people do there in real life. But the looks in their eyes were slightly different. Somehow the look in the eyes of people mourning other people, is very different from the looks I've seen in the eyes of people mourning their stuff. In the place of annoyance on my neighbors' faces, I saw only sorrow. And instead of three buildings of inconvenienced people, I saw three buildings of people holding bouquets of flowers and pictures of loved ones in their hands. Unlike my pain, these peoples' pain was deep and unable to be fixed. They felt it in their hearts, not their wallets. And on the news, where I'd seen segments about donations and rebuilding, there were images of funeral processions and losses that no amount of donations could ever fix. And somewhere among all the despair and sadness, I found myself. I was sitting in my living room in Jonestown, watching a movie, exactly the same as in real life. But in this scene, my gaze laid somewhere beyond the TV screen, and held a certain emptiness inside. Carlton was sitting beside me, and everything appeared to be normal. I couldn't put my finger on what was wrong. But at that moment my childhood cat Bart, jumped onto the couch beside us and when I saw the look in my eyes when I turned to pet her, I knew right away. A loving stroke, a distance in my expression, and a gentle hand placed on my back... There was no irritation or anger on my face. There was only regret. The soft, silent regret of things that had been taken for granted. I could see that the last thing on my mind was things. I watched myself close my eyes, and wish for a re-do, wish for things to have gone differently. I didn't wish for the fire not to have happened, but for the lives to have been saved. I wished that all of the families had made it out safely; together. And I wished that my pets had survived. I didn't hear myself wish for anything other than lives. Then I saw myself open my eyes and turn back to the movie. The vision ended and I was once again back in real life. Real life, where Halie was curled up next to me purring, and Rylie was playing with Rocky on the floor in front of me. Real life, where Grendel was on the coffee table drinking my chocolate milk, and driving me crazy. Real life, where somewhere out there are three buildings of inconvenienced people, who will never know just how close they came to facing a different outcome to the same scenario; an ending that could have contained a sprinkler system and some frustration over water-logged pictures in their homes, or an ending that could have contained funeral arrangements and broken hearts. This ending falls somewhere in the middle. Somewhere between inconvenience and heartbreak is where I live now. And although some items damaged by a sprinkler system would have been a nicer outcome, that's not the way it happened, so there's no use wishing it was. I finished watching the movie with all the happiness in the world in my heart, and a small prayer for our counterparts who are living somewhere in alternate universes where everything looks the same, but is very, very different.

    Suddenly sprinklers don't matter as much to me anymore.