“When I was a kid I worried that when I woke up, I’d find my family having breakfast with my doppelgänger. We would fight to the death, and then my family would peacefully finish breakfast.”
There are so many times in my life that others have said to me, “Hey, I just saw you over there!! How did you get here so quickly?” I would always say things like..”Uh, obviously, that was not me!!”
This happened to me when I was in the Navy, pregnant with my first child. Every single day someone would come up to me and say they saw me somewhere else. I just put it off to being in uniform and everyone sort of looking like everyone else.
One day, a friend came up to me and said, “Hey, I apologize if my sister and her friends are making you uncomfortable by staring at you.” I honestly had not realized I was being stared at. She continues, “It’s just because they cannot get over how much you look like their professor.” I think to myself, “Oh here we go again.” So she brought me over to where her sister and her friends were and they pulled up a photo on their phone of their professor. My first reaction was, “Where did I take that picture and why do they have it on their phone?” They all started laughing and I was thinking, “What a weird joke.” Only when they pulled up the second picture did I realize that this was not me.
Now, I realize that you do not know me well enough to know if this looks like me or not. But seriously, even I thought it was me. At a glance, it was me. If you look very close, you can see differences but only if you look very close. I actually even pose like that at time. Hand in pocket, randomly pretending to be a part of my background. It was a bit creepy, but fascinating as well. It made me wonder if the earlier look-a-likes, were the same person as the one above.
The second picture they showed me, obviously was not me, but I could see in it an older version of me. I’d like to think a much older version of me. My aunt or my older sister. It doesn’t matter, I still see me.
Remember, as I have stated in other posts, I found out when I was about 26 that my father I grew up with was not my biological father. So now I wonder…Could this be an aunt, and older sister, some distant relative? I tried to reach out to this person, but never heard back. Which made me even more convinced. Most of my family either does not respond to me at all or it takes them some time to respond. So yeah, it totally could be a relative. I still sort of wish she had responded and she was. Maybe, it is me? Maybe it’s an older version of me on a different time line. I love a good science fiction story. Have you ever watched the German flick “Dark”? You should. It’s a very complicated story line and you have to pay attention, but it’s worth a watch. The fanciful portion of my being loves the concept. Although the sensical brain in Sami denies the possibility.
On a twilight road, I met a young man with my face.
A denizen of some distant dust devil in drifter denim.
We stood and eyed each other, then, with a look of mutual disdain, we parted.
Our backward glances were not narcissistic flirtation, but self-conscious reflection and surrender to the formality of the familiar.
Against a backdrop of veined lightning and coyote song, I was alone again.”
Now I am slightly interested in finding faces that look like mine. Or faces that look like other members of my family. I saw a comic of a lady once that in spirit and in looks reminded me of my mom. I posted it on Facebook and many of my friends laughed because they thought I was presenting a future image of myself. In retrospect, maybe I was.
Many people say, “Who’s my doppelganger?” when maybe / they should ask, “Whose doppelganger am I?”
I used to hate being compared to my mom. But as I grow older, I can see the resemblance more and more. If not entirely the attitude, definitely in looks. It’s funny how as we age, we can sometimes become the image we thought we would never be. It’s not all bad. My mom was a strong, versatile, and very talented lady. She was a cowgirl, irreverent, spontaneous, and funny at times. She had a way about her that you either hated or really loved. Often both at the same time.
I am ashamed at times when I think about her, because I don’t spend a lot of time thinking about her. However, when I do think about her, I focus only on her positives, because, well, I am her doppelgänger. We are more alike than different. I am her image. I am sometimes her, or at least so it seems. I try my best to be the best parts of her. I’m guessing she is probably looking down on me, slightly disappointed in my efforts. This thought sort of makes me laugh. Largely because it is likely true. Thankfully, that only makes me work harder at it.
“On a winter night I hear the Easter bell:
I knock on graves and quicken the dead,
Until at last in a grave I see — myself.
(Winter Sonnets: XI)”
“That man, especially when he slept, when his features were motionless, showed me my own face, my mask, the flawlessly pure image of my corpse […] in a state of perfect repose, this resemblance was strikingly evident, and what is death, if not a face at peace – its artistic perfection? Life only marred my double; thus a breeze dims the bliss of Narcissus; thus, in the painter’s absence, there comes his pupil and by the superfluous flush of unbidden tints disfigures the portrait painted by the master.”