Unseen Reflections in Time’s Mirror

Billy Pilgrim found himself in the peculiar condition of being unstuck in time, yet again. This time he found himself in the ruins of Dresden, the city he had witnessed being bombed to oblivion, yet as he looked around, he saw not the ruin but a city teeming with life. He was in a past that he never saw, Dresden before the war.

He walked through the busy streets that were not yet reduced to rubble by the firestorm. He saw children playing, vendors selling, and lovers walking hand-in-hand. Life was vibrant and warm, a stark contrast to the deathly cold ruins he remembered.

Entering a quaint little bookshop, he noticed a mirror. This wasn’t an ordinary mirror; it was old, its frame ornately decorated, almost whispering tales of a time long gone. He looked in the mirror but he couldn’t see his reflection. Instead, he saw projections of moments from his life, in no particular order.

There was the Green Beret in Vietnam, the zoo on the planet Tralfamadore where he was displayed as an exhibit, his wife Valencia dying of carbon monoxide poisoning, and him working in the optometry clinic. As these moments passed, he experienced the emotions tied to them, from fear and guilt to curiosity and monotony.

He drew back, startled, but was drawn back to the mirror. This time he saw something that confused him. He saw himself as a child, playing in the fields back home. However, he also saw himself as an old man, dying alone. These were moments he had lived and yet to live.

He thought about the Tralfamadorian concept of time, that all moments, past, present, and future, always have existed, always will exist. Somehow, this mirror was a physical embodiment of that philosophy. The mirror showed him his life, all moments, jumbled and disordered, just as he experienced them.

Suddenly, the whole city shook. The first bombs of that horrible night had been dropped. The bookshop crumbled around him, the mirror shattered, and Billy found himself back in the present, or was it the past? Or the future? He could never tell.

He was back amidst the ruins of Dresden, surrounded by death and despair but all he could think about was the mirror. That broken piece of glass that showed him life as he knew it, disoriented and disordered, all moments happening at once.

Billy Pilgrim moved on, as he always did. After all, he was eternally traveling, a prisoner of time. But now, he knew that he was not alone. His life, just like the mirror, was a reflection of all moments, jumbled, unsequenced yet beautiful in its own unique way. Much like Dresden itself, which despite its ruins, held a charm that only a survivor like Billy could perceive.