Hello, Michael

I’ve always had a connection with the name Michael

My brother is called Michael. And I love Michael J Fox.

There used to be this ex-veteran I knew with a limo called Michael and I also know a homeless guy with a PhD in astrophysics and a dog, called Michael.

What I mean is the physicist homeless guy is called Michael, not his dog. Michael is a human name not a dog's name for fuck's sake. 

I think his dog is called Phillip.

Anyway, I’ve been studying accounting lately and at my campus, I started seeing this young bloke everywhere and he would always wave at me. If I’m honest he looks a little mentally slow so I avoid waving for fear of getting into conversation with a mentally slow person. 

But after a while of him waving, I started wondering if I actually knew the guy. I mean he looked at me with such familiarity like we had been friends for decades. And just in case we had, I started waving back. I’m not an arsehole if that’s what you’re thinking. 

And one day I was coming out of a class and the guy walked past me with a group of his fellow mentally slow friends. He waved at me in the usual manner even though he was less than two metres away. I didn’t want to wave back, and not because he was mentally slow but because he was far too close for that kind of wave.

So I nodded my head instead. 

"Hello Michael," he said. 

Michael? I thought. What in tarnation? 

I spun around to see if there was a bloke called Michael behind me. But all that was there was a cream-painted wall with some flyer for free food for students.

I noticed on the brochure there were some students laughing and talking to each other while carrying books. And I wondered if one of them was called Michael.

I turned back around and the guy was staring at me, smiling his usual smile. 

"Hello Michael," he said again, looking right at me. 

For a moment I thought about correcting him. But I didn’t want to tell him my name was Frank since it would create an unbreakable bond between us and upset whatever notion of me being Michael that he had. 

"Hello," I said, walking off at speed.

The next day the same thing happened. I walked passed him and he smiled.

“Hello Michael,” he said again.

“It’s fine,” I thought. I can be Michael. Who cares? There’s no harm in it.

Later that evening I mulled it over again. 

Perhaps this guy is just a tremendous fan of the TV show, Knight Rider.

Or, perhaps this guy’s mental slowness allows him to see things. Perhaps he was seeing my past life where I was Michael the Scouse medic from World War Two who got shot in the nads by a Nazi while trying to stick an American's eyeball back in the socket. 

I thought deeper. 

Perhaps the guy is on a higher plane and he sees the real me: the ArchAngel Michael who is on earth to protect beings and lead them toward the light and away from the darkness.

Yes, that must be it.

The mentally slow guy is a special clairvoyant being who sees what a special messenger from the skies I am.

I feel gratitude all of a sudden for being around such people and I commit to stopping referring to him as mentally slow. 

The next day he walks past ten metres away and waves and smiles. 

"Hello Michael," he shouts.

I walk over. 

"Hello, how are you?" I ask him now two metres away. 

He nods and smiles again. 

"I’m great, Michael," he says. "How are you, Michael?"

“I’m good,” I say, feeling genuinely good about being a spiritual being in his eyes. 

I think of something to say next but nothing comes up. 

I suppose that’s just it then.

And sure I could have asked him his name but I just wasn’t ready for that.

For now, it’s just good to have recognition for the work I am doing here on earth. 

I start to shuffle away when a redhead engineering student called Eric walks past us. 

"How's it going, Frank?" says Eric, nodding. 

I nod at Eric. He walks past me and I turn and watch the ginger bastard as he passes the slow guy.

And the slow guy lifts his hand, waves at Eric from two metres away, looks him straight in the eye, smiles, and says,

“Hello, Michael.”

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