Off a dark provincial road, a silver sedan had pancaked into the thick trunk of a tree. A man was trapped in the driver’s seat. No other car would pass for at least another hour.

Early forties, neatly trimmed graying hair, dark brown skin, a white button up shirt and black tie, Emil Lopez was dying. The airbag had failed to open and his body was now an amalgam of flesh, metal, glass, and plastic.

The pain at first was excruciating, and now, as his breathing became weaker, he was losing the feeling in his limbs. He glanced around for his phone. It probably flew out of the car during the crash. Was it in his leather briefcase, or his blazer, he wondered.

He tried to piece together what had happened, what had led to this end. He remembered being tired, being exhausted, and falling asleep at the wheel. He couldn’t quite remember why he was driving in the first place, he didn’t know where exactly he was either.

He knew he was somewhere in western Pennsylvania, an unfamiliar place. He was there for work, a job he cared little for, but nevertheless dragged his life along for decades.

After a few minutes of panic after the crash, Emil was currently in a state of acceptance. He accepted that he was going die soon and as a consequence, he was trying to remember his life up to this point. Emil probed his mind, for something good to hold onto as he found it harder to stay conscious.

Suddenly piercing through the fog of the situation, was a song on the radio.

It was the sound of a melodic arpeggio, a constant synth, that sounded like the chugging of a train engine. At different moments, high notes on a piano would skate across, and at other moments, a smattering of tapping drumsticks.

These would all swirl and build together, and suddenly the vocals entered, a low affect, monotone singing.

The passage of time is flicking dimly upon the screen.

Recognition flashed across Emil’s face. Although the pain was nauseating, he tried to move his body. He gasped. He used to love this song.

I think it’s been an eternity.

You’d be surprised by my degree of uncertainty. 

Emil tried to apprehend the lyrics. He was filled with so many regrets, so many that it felt like it was choking him of air. He thought back to his youth, the times he ran away from what he truly wanted.

How can moments go so slow?

As he began to lose consciousness, a deluge of desires flooded his mind. He thought about his past decisions, the paths he chose, and the ones he disavowed. The things he wished he could change. Could things have been different? Emil thought as he sunk into darkness.

Suddenly lines of light emerged from the speakers, wrapping around Emil’s body.

Putting grapes back on the vine…

Emil awoke. Gasping for air his mouth was dry. He was surprised.

It didn’t taste of blood. He could feel all his limbs, he could feel a mattress below his body. He wasn’t trapped in a car.

He was covered in sweat and was shivering, but he was alive. He was joyful. It must have been a dream, he thought to himself.

After the initial shock of relief had subsided, Emil realized he had a piercing headache. Perhaps he had passed out after drinking alone at his neighborhood bar. Thinking some aspirin and some water would help a hangover, he pushed himself off the bed and placed his bare feet on the floor.

Strange, the floor should be covered in carpet, he thought. Emil then felt the bed. The sheets and pillow were unfamiliar. His eyes soon adjusted to the dark, and started looking around. This was not his apartment. Did he pass out in another person’s place?

He slowly got out of the bed, and cautiously moved toward a door. The door led to a bathroom. Emil flipped on the light switch.

The bathroom must be shared with another room, since there was a door on the opposite side. This place reminded Emil of his time in college, a dorm room that shared a bathroom, and the weird recluse he shared the bathroom with at the time.

Emil then turned to the sink and drank from the faucet. The cold water going down his throat felt good, and he started to rinse his face. After wiping off the excess water, he looked in the mirror.

He began to get hot, sweat started forming on his scalp, around his ears and neck, the palms of his hands, and other parts of his body.

Staring back at Emil was an uncanny reflection. It was a young man, with a terrified face. It was a nineteen-year-old Emil.

“What is going on?” Emil whispered in a panic.

Emil’s mind raced with a multitude of thoughts. He had lived a life, over two decades. He was seen as relatively successful.

He was an attorney in corporate law, employed by various major record companies. He had traveled to different parts of the world, for work and on vacation. He had bought his own apartment, and several luxury cars. He had thought about early retirement. He was in and out of several romantic relationships, although none ever felt too deep.

He suffered from clinical depression and anxiety. He self-medicated. He took plenty of medication. He worked to forget his depression. He barely slept because of work. He fell asleep at the wheel. He regretted many things.

Was it all a dream, his death? Did he travel back in time? Was he really young again? Emil’s body crumpled unto the floor.

Was it all a dream, his life? Two decades, gone. He let out a deep breath, an exhale of grief. His emptied lungs seemed to calm his body. His mind started to organize his thoughts, and his slow breaths began to calm the beating of his heart.

Emil began working his way through his current situation. Even if this was not real, he decided, it felt real. Even if he couldn’t comprehend or make logical sense of how or why he traveled back in time, or he dreamt a whole life. It didn’t matter to Emil. He would take this chance, this opportunity.

He pushed himself up and looked into the mirror. A newly determined face reflected back at Emil. Again he rinsed his face, this time turning the faucet all the way to the coldest setting. The chill of the water sent ripples across his body, making his hair standup.

This was real, he thought. Emil smiled in jubilation.