I am in a huge dark waiting room, with people queuing in front of a massive door. Everybody goes in when their turn comes. I don't know what happens on the other side of the door. Somehow we know that all who go in are changed forever, they end up with a terrified look on their face, as if the truth is too hard to bear. When asked, they can't talk. They are not allowed to tell anybody what they saw or experienced in there. As if something - or someone - has sealed their lips forever.
My turn finally comes, so I go in. And there is this man sitting at this huge desk. A Kafkaesque setting. Old, dusty, worn out furniture and spider webs hanging on the bulb in the dim light. It is a sepia dream (they are generally termed as black and white dreams, but mine was rather sepia, because of the feeling that everything was so old, coming from somewhere beyond time).
So here I am, alone in front of this man. I can't remember how he looked like, maybe I didn't even have the courage to look at him. But I do remember the first question I asked: “Why is everybody so scared to come into this room?” And he says something like that (I can't remember the exact words, but here's the idea): “Because all who come in here feel like they have been here before.”
I can still remember the chills on my back when he said those words. Suddenly all began to make sense. I knew why they were scared, why I was scared, and that was it. It is not the unknown, the unexplored shores of death, the other dimension - it is the very fact that it's a place where we have been before. It is not what we don't know. It's what we know.
Why does it frighten us so much? Maybe because deep inside our hearts we long for new beginnings, for the sweet smell of freshness, for things like green grass dancing in the wind, wet clothes hung out in the sun, dewy roses and beautiful mornings. And death - if anything - has got to bring something new. If death is déjà vu, our last chance to experience new beginnings is lost. There is nothing fresh, nothing new. Nothing changes. History repeats itself.
Future, like past, exists only in the presence of time. What happens when time stops existing? We have eternity. A rather abstract concept. But what if eternity is déjà vu? A self-sufficient, never-ending sea getting drowned in itself over and over again, a computer program that goes into an infinite loop. A huge sepia déjà vu dream...
