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I feel you but I don't really know you
I dreamed of you from the moment I saw you
From the moment he first saw him there was something familiar about him but he just couldn’t put his finger on it. It was as though he had known him all his life but they had never met before.
He had felt him first. He could feel the man’s eyes boring into him leaving an indelible mark on his soul. It was a familiar feeling, not strange or creepy but comforting; like an old friend that he had not seen in many years. He had turned and that’s when he had seen him for the first time. No, not the first time; he was sure of that. It couldn’t be the first time when he had this nagging feeling that he knew the man from somewhere.
At first he simply thought he recognised him from off the street, maybe he’d seen him whilst out shopping on day or perhaps he’d stood behind him in a queue or something like that but that wasn’t it. He had never seen this man before but he was certain that he knew him.
Had the man had the same flicker of recognition when he had laid eyes on him? Is that why he had been staring so intently? Did he have the same feeling whenever he laid eyes upon him that they had known each other before?
He didn’t even know his name but it felt like it was on the tip of his tongue; like he knew it but it just wouldn’t come to him, just a moment away from being remembered but always disappearing right before he could say it.
His dreams were filled with red and black that night.
There were times when he wondered if he should just go up to him and introduce himself but he always stopped, not wanting to come across as a complete weirdo or a creepy stalker. Once he had seen him the first time though he kept on seeing him, in the street, at the supermarket even at the cinema. If he even slightly believed in fate he would think that some higher power was trying to bring them together.
He didn’t believe in fate though but he still continued to dream of red and black.
There were times, deep into the night when the silence was greatest, that he could almost remember. He would lie awake night after night and the man’s voice almost came to him like a half remembered dream. He could almost hear what he was saying. It was always almost though, it never came to him no matter how hard he tried to force himself to remember.
It had got to the point when it was bordering on obsession. He couldn’t go through the day without a glimpse of his familiar mystery man. He would feel anxious and only gazing upon his features would calm him down. He would constantly admonish himself for feeling this way; he wasn’t some silly teenager with a crush but still he continued. What must his friends think of him?
Eventually, after many months of thoughts and feelings and dreams one word came to him in regards to this man: blood. The red of his dreams turned to blood flowing freely in the streets. He could hear gun shots, cannon fire and screaming. It plagued his dreams and he wondered why it was connected to his mystery man. Why was he associating him with pain and death and blood? He never felt angry towards him though. It was as though he was a part of the pain but not the cause of it. He just wished there wasn’t so much blood.
He was sitting in a café one day with his back away from the door silently sipping a coffee with his head buried in a book when he felt him once again. He felt his stomach flip and his heart skip but he did not turn around. He simply closed his eyes and basked in the other man’s presence. It felt comforting despite the violent nature of his dreams. He felt like he had known him forever.
What he had never realised, nor even considered, was that the other man felt the same way. He had seen him that day and the same feeling of recognition had shot through him. Neither man believed in the idea of reincarnation and scoffed at the notion of past lives but that’s exactly what it was. A palimpsest; their past written under their present on their souls that had never been completely erased. It was still there and it always would be. They had known each other many, many years ago but it had been mostly forgotten, like a half remembered dream from long ago that faded upon waking until it was nothing more than a mark on their souls.
He was about to leave. He placed his cup gently on the wooded surface of the table and stood up to go. Something stopped him, though; it was a hand upon his shoulder. He knew exactly who it was before he even turned to face him. It felt so familiar as if it had happened a hundred times before. He closed his eyes for just a second and took a deep breath before turning around and facing the man he knew so well yet not at all.
The very sight of each other filling the men with a sense of déjà vu, both of them recognising each other’s souls but never quite being able to put their fingers on it, always there but never to be remembered. Just two lost souls crashing into each other after so many years and it was as though they had never been parted.
“Excuse me,” he said and his voice sounded exactly like he knew it would even though he knew that he hadn’t heard it before. “I was wondering if we’d met before? You seem very familiar.”
And he smiled. It was like coming home.