Night Light

25.8.24

The opening and the closing of the doors woke me in the night. Again and again, I could not sleep. And clear skies sent starlight into my eyes. What should be peace was anything but. “Cursed stars,” I mumbled as the door beside mine slammed shut yet again. “And pitiful wishes,” I said in addition.

And then my roommate’s alarm went off. At 5:00am. For a moment, my mind was perfectly empty. It was a sense of overcoming frustration by putting all emotions aside as if to save them for later. To feel them later. So I could sleep. But at ten past, her alarm went off again. So I threw my duvet to the floor, put on my shoes, and threw on my coat.

Under the light of the night sky and its stars, I stood on the grass, looking up. “I wish you would let me sleep,” I said to them. As I muttered the words, a moving streak above caught my attention: a shooting star, shooting just out of sight behind the trees before me. The faint sound of the twenty-past alarm drew my attention. Whatever awe in which I had indulged was succumbed to a flash of anger.

I turned and looked at the house, half lit up so early in the morning. And the meaningless blaring from the nearest darkened window. I looked back to the trees behind which the star had fallen. I shook my head and walked towards them. The cold didn’t bother me, I would rather the fresh air and solitude than the warmth of a bed that brings me no comfort in a home that I dare not call my own.

I walked aimlessly into the woods, my path lit by the suns of other planets. The thought only frustrated me further: that others should enjoy what I cannot for no reason — no reason at all. Like how my roommate could so easily call this place her home. At my expense. That other suns should warm other planets: that to have been born on earth instead was not my choice. Not that I would know what any other place is like. But I surely would like to.

My thoughts drifted and wandered, as did I. The beauty of the forest was its darkness, its peace and solitude, its refuge for the mind. Until at last I found a small clearing and made a fallen tree a bench. I sat and wondered. Questioned. Such simple things seemed suddenly so profound: like the idea that other people lead other lives. I use an alarm, and I keep mine on silent. So why did she keep hers on full volume, knowing she does not live alone? What thoughts go through her head? Why, to her, is that not a problem?

“I wish I knew,” I thought, “I wish I understood.” And as I thought that, the forest stopped. It stopped. The soft wind rustling the leaves… and their movements themselves. The gentle chirping of insects. The rushing of distant water. Even the swaying of branches. It all stopped. It took me a moment to grasp the reality. What had been so serene was now so eerie: terrifyingly still. I could hear my own heartbeat.

“You wish to understand?” came a voice. I heard it without any sound. My heart began to race. Whatever thoughts I had had became panic and fear, confusion and desperation. I tried to look around, but I suddenly could not. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t so much as breathe. All I could do was dart my eyes around the scene, the frozen, silent scene.

“Look,” came again the voice. And the world around me began to move. Without turning my head, without moving my body, the world rotated around me until I was facing the sky, looking straight up into the stars. I could no longer move my eyes. With my gaze fixed, the corners of my vision unwound. I watched the trees invert themselves, darkness taking their place, until all that remained were the stars above and darkness all around.

And the stars began to shift. Some grew, others shrank, new stars appeared from the blackness. They moved and danced, the sky growing brighter and brighter, their colors changing. Until all at once, I was staring at an image. It was her, my roommate. As if I were there… and I was.

“What were you thinking?” asked a different voice. She looked up from the floor to answer, a look of rebellion on her face: “That I could trust someone,” was her flat reply.

“You were stupid enough to let someone into your own home,” was the answer, “my home,” said the other angrily. I watched her stare longingly in the direction of this unknown voice. I could see the thoughts churning away in her eyes, everything from fear to disdain. There was a long silence until the voice said at last: “In three days you’re leaving. You can go burden your aunt.” A door slammed shut.

Her determined look wavered. Once the footsteps faded away, tears began to fall. And I did not watch it. I felt it. As the stars dimmed and I stared up into the trees. As my own tears fell. I blinked them away, and I realized I could blink. I shuddered. I was stricken by fear. I looked down, holding out my hands, a feeling of violation and terror turning away my sadness.

“What was that?” I pleaded. I heard footsteps coming towards me. From the treeline came a figure clad in white. A young woman with white hair. Upon seeing her, I felt nothing. Nothing at all. “What do you want?” She asked me. It was the same voice I had heard without hearing. I knew it was her.

“What?” I asked. My mind was anything but clear.

“What do you want?” she repeated. “To know? To be? To do?” She was now standing directly in front of me. As I stared at her, I could not see her face. I saw it, consciously, but I could not see it, could not recognize it as I looked at it.

“I don’t know,” I said, shaking my head.

“Do you know who I am?” she asked.

“No,” I answered.

“Do you know who you are?”

It took me a moment to think, but I could still not think: “No.”

“Then tell me what matters, right now, in this moment. Tell me the reasons for the things that you want, the things that you feel, the things that you care about. Tell me the reason you came out here to the forest.” Her tone was calm and direct.

“I wanted peace, to get away from the house.”

“Yes,” she said, “but what is the reason for that?”

“The reason for what? I said it was to get away.”

“No,” she said, “you do not understand.” With those words, everything stopped yet again. She continued in the silence: “For each of the thousands upon thousands of days you have lived, through the countless moments and endless experiences, for that which constitutes your entire lifetime, everything that has ever happened has resulted in you coming here to the forest, looking up at the sky, and seeing a shooting star fall behind the trees. The entirety of your life has resulted in you sitting before me to hear exactly these words.

“As did the entirety of the lives of those you live with take place for that very same purpose. As did the entire course of humanity occur simply so you would come to this place and find a seat. As did the world itself come into existence so that the entire history of the universe could be such that a star would pass by up above at precisely the moment you saw it.

“These people here all serve their purpose. Everything serves its purpose. As do you. You shall never know what that is. And that is what gives it purpose.

“Now let me ask you: was the purpose of your life so that you would come here to the forest to have this experience and to hear these words?”

“Yes,” I answered after a pause, “it must be so.”

“No,” she said bluntly. “It was so you would understand them.”

With that, the rustling of the wind and the movement of the leaves returned. The world returned to normal. And she was no longer before me. This time, I had no thoughts. I could have sat there for two minutes or two hours, I was not sure. But eventually, I got up and returned home. I sat on my bed, looking out the window until the sun rose. When I eventually prepared myself for the day, as I walked down the hall, my roommate rushed past me to the door without acknowledging me. “Hey,” I said gently. She glared at me, opened the door, and left without a word. I smiled.