Sebastien Wilcox

(Previously on Vancouver 2010.)

So I’m falling, and for the first time in years, I could use a sweater. As I’m falling I’m not only getting colder, but younger. I guess this is what happens when you die – your life flashes before your eyes. But I’m not so sure I’m dying. For all I know, I could  just be falling.

Without warning, the flashes return. I see quick successive images of the future, which could really be from the past – but since I’m falling downward and forward, it somehow seems to make sense. Even though it doesn’t.

I’m continuing to fall. This is starting to get ridiculous I think to myself. Even the butterflies are less dramatic and flappy. But as I continue to fall deeper into who knows when, I notice something in the corner of my eye. Gloves. Gloves? Gloves! A pair of Olympic gloves with the maple leaf on them. I manage to reach out and shag them and I immediately put them on my frigid hands. Luckily for me, they fit like a pun.

I flash ahead (or is it behind) to when the gloved hand came out of my toilet. The hand I grabbed. I was trying to figure out what it all meant when I suddenly land unexpectedly in a pool of water. Pool is me being polite. This water is more like a sewer, filled with piss and poop and puke. I see a light above (or was it under). With my gloved hand, I reach for the light. I’m getting closer and the light is shining brighter. Then the light blinds me. I reach out further and feel something oddly familiar. It’s my naked hand coming from the toilet. My 1992 hand meeting my gloved hand from I’m not sure when.

I feel the pull. I feel the push. I’m embracing myself while fighting off myself.

The moral of this post? I found my doppelganger.