Byte-sized stories

Tonight is a night when I am unable to sleep. Thoughts keep coming to mind. I toss and turn, wondering: what if I had moved to Spain instead of Luxembourg? Or what if I had moved to the UK, the Nordics, or even farther, like Iceland or Australia? What would my life look like now?

I am not sure these thoughts provide any real value in understanding life or my decisions. Regardless, I cannot seem to shake them off. Since we can never know how long our existence will last—or what it might have been in other versions of reality—perhaps it is futile to wonder about these scenarios. What makes it interesting, though, is pondering whether I would be the same person with different encounters and life experiences or at least a very similar version of who I am today.

Have you ever wondered who you would be if you had accepted that job offer in Hamburg, or another one in Zurich, or a third one in Barcelona? (These are just examples—perhaps you had opportunities in other locations. You get the point.) In each case, you would have met different people, had different experiences, and learned different life lessons. Maybe in some cases, you would have started a company. Maybe you would be married or divorced, have created new lives, or not even be alive anymore. Who can say what the best decisions in life truly are?

Eventually, I decide to take a walk instead of tossing and turning in bed, wondering about all these useless ideas. Stepping outside into the winter night might be a questionable decision, but why not? Some fresh air might help settle my thoughts. As I put on my boots and step outside, I am still slightly hesitant. But I push myself to go downstairs.

As I descend the staircase, I hear a strange noise—someone gurgling as if they are suffocating. I immediately regret my decision to leave the comfort of my bed. The gurgling sound gets closer and closer. Then, I hear a whisper: “Are you lost?” followed by a whooshing sound rushing past me. The hair on my arms stands up. I run toward the building’s entrance to get outside, but when I reach the door and try to open it, the handle won’t move. The door is jammed. I am trapped inside.

Frantically shaking the handle, I realize it feels warm, not cold. Something is wrong. Is this even real?

Suddenly, I find myself lying in bed again, in the comfort of my pillows. I must have dozed off. My pulse is racing, and I feel stressed. What was that sound? My body is still anxious, but I decide to check if anything strange is happening in the staircase.

I put my boots on again and leave my apartment. As I walk down the stairs, I hear the gurgling sound once more. So it’s real. I must have heard it in my sleep and dreamt about it. The sound gets closer and closer. I freeze in the staircase, unable to move. My feet feel stuck, as if I’ve stepped into concrete that has solidified around my ankles. The sound passes by, murmuring, “Are you real?”

Suddenly, I find myself back in bed. But this time, it doesn’t feel comfortable. I am awake—and not awake. I feel like I can open my eyes, but I cannot move my fingers or any part of my body. Oh no. I must be dreaming—dreaming and panicking. I try to wake myself up, focusing all my energy on reality, but I’m not even sure anymore if my eyes are open or closed.

As I try to relax, I finally wake up fully. But then I hear the gurgling sound again. What is going on in this damn house? Now I’m upset and angry. I pull on my boots in a frenzy and run out of my apartment, into the staircase, ready to face whatever is there.

I nearly bump into my next-door neighbour, who says, “Bonsoir,” smiles, and continues down the stairs carrying his trash. I’ve never seen him take out the trash at 2 a.m. I’m surprised. Is this real?

Suddenly, I’m back in bed again.

Is this ever going to stop? How can I make it stop? I focus on my fingers, trying to move just one. Has it moved? I’m not sure. Then I hear the sound again. Gurgling.

Once more, I stand up to put on my boots. This time, I walk slowly. Do I feel the wooden floor beneath my feet? No. Is this real?

And then I’m back in bed again. At least this episode was shorter. My pulse is racing, my heart pounding in my chest. I feel agitated and upset. What if someone else is in my apartment and I can’t even get out of bed to check? As that thought passes through my mind, I calm myself. If there were someone here, I’d be fully awake by now. It would be both a curse and a blessing.

I still cannot move any part of my body. But this time, I go deeper into myself, settling into a place where I enjoy dreaming. I find myself in a beautiful forest filled with the scent of nature. Sunlight filters through the leaves. The grass beneath my feet feels soft. The air is warm, and a few wildflowers are in bloom.

I love this place. I cannot feel my body here, but everything I sense is soft, light, and pleasant. As I walk, I feel happy and ready to meet my friend, Amast. Amast doesn’t always appear, but when they do, we always have a meaningful conversation. We meet in a small clearing, and peace envelops me as we walk together and talk about my thoughts and worries.

Today, Amast listens quietly and then says, “We can only make decisions based on the information we had at the time. Perhaps that is a good starting point for you to think about in your waking life.”

The next morning, I wake up somewhat refreshed but also moody, remembering that quote and little else. After breakfast, I get ready and leave my apartment. I run into my neighbour again. He mentions hearing strange noises in the staircase last night when he took out his trash at 2 a.m. He also tells me the building’s entrance door was stuck, and a mechanic is downstairs now to fix it and to let us out.

I stare at him as if he’s speaking a foreign language. He looks unsure of whether I’ve understood him and starts to look irritated. Finally, I manage to say, “Oh, sorry to hear that. I’m a bit slow this morning—still need my coffee.” I smile and add, “I hope the door gets fixed soon so we can get out.”

I head out, my thoughts still lingering on that night and the strange dreamlike moments. Am I awake now? Or am I still dreaming?