The water flowing from the tap seemed a little strange. Shimmery, although it was dark in the bathroom. I didn’t turn on the lights. There was this inner radiance you get when there’s a light inside a room made of translucent glass. Only this was water.
I put my hand under the stream and it was warm. But it was a cold night. I needed to know more, but I couldn’t do that by just looking. I had to do something. So I drank the water.
It felt like I just ingested peppermint-infused oil. Really disgusting – I closed my eyes and tried to keep that vomit inside. (Yeah, that sounds more disgusting than ever, but it was either that, or cleaning up the mess I made.) Anyway, when I opened my eyes, I was no longer standing by the sink. I was standing behind the sink.
Which is technically impossible, because the sink was welded to a wall. I must have been in the wall. Then I realised that I existed only from waist up. I had no legs – I couldn’t feel them, and I couldn’t see them. In fact, I couldn’t see anything at all, apart from the bathroom in front of me. There was blackness where my legs should have been, blackness behind me, around me. Everywhere.
I reached out and touched the air in front of me. To my surprise, I felt a cool resistance, like glass. I couldn’t see it though. I remembered there was a mirror on the wall above the sink. I must be in the mirror, then.
That made sense. After all, my surroundings would have been a reflection of the bathroom, so they wouldn’t really exist as tangible objects. And whatever existed below my waist were never reflected by the mirror anyway. I never saw my legs through the mirror, so they never existed in the world of the mirror. Actually nothing existed in the world of the mirror.
That was when I understood my own existence. I didn’t need a philosopher to explain it to me.