an exercise in metacognition: an exorcise in thining about thinking

she nuzzled up close to him as they passed an indistinguishable carnival tent on main street--one of many populating the area. it was the day of the city fair. the smell of summer and smoked things drifting in the air and impressing upon their senses drew to mind many vague sensations and memories--all of which seemed impossible to peg down or fully explore. the man, somewhat reluctantly, drew her closer to himself and kissed her--a frivolous gesture, a routine display of affection. he didn't know why, but it made him feel better about everything. about her. this day. the horde of people. everything.
she talked emphatically about elephant ears and asked if he'd ever had one. no, he said. never. oh, you must, she replied. ok, then, he replied. they got an elephant ear at a nearby booth and split it between them. he liked it. it tasted sweet. but he liked it more because she liked it and because she'd always liked them, since she was a little kid. it had been a tradition in her family, she said, to go to the fair and get an elephant ear, every year, every time.
navigating their way through the frenzy of densely populated human-traffic, he was stopped by a man in pale-face--a sordid sort of clown.
"from the time you were a little boy, you've dreamed of this day."
"i'm sorry," he said.
he was horrified at the sight of the man-clown's grotesque museum of rotted teeth.
"i said, 'from the time you were a little boy, you've dreamed of this day, of me and this interaction."
the man was dumbfounded. she, equally so. he had a queer feeling in his stomach--sparks sent flying in his head. he wasn't sure what the man-clown was talking about but he was hooked.
"i'll tell you. i know everything. all your past. the dark. the light. your shadow is illuminated in this noggin of mine."
"is that so?" he said.
"yes. and i will prove it, if you'd like."
sure, he said. he had nothing to lose and he was fairly intrigued. he doubted very much that the man was telling the truth but he wanted it to be true all the same.
"i want you to reach in," he said, "as far back in your mind as you are capable--and i mean really plunge in there deep--and find that memory which has become a dream to you: the day of the downtown fair and the ride home with your mother, how seemingly dispensable it has become, though you cling to it like it was your very lifeblood."
the man was astonished. he knew exactly the memory the man was talking about.
"it was raining that day, wasn't it?"
"well...yes. yes, it was raining that day. but how--"
"never mind how. i do. and that's all that matters."
"well, what's the significance of it? how about that?"
"everything."
the man was growing irritated at this pompous display of vaguery masquerading as profound insight, though he knew the man knew something, so he felt it followed that he must be speaking some sort of truth in his evasive responses, as pesteringly trite and ostensibly put-on as they appeared.
"how do you mean?" he said.
"everything you are and will ever be is determined by that link in the chain--as unimportant as it may seem. tell me, why do you hold on to it so?"
the man had to think about this question. "well, i'm not sure."
"therein lies the significance. figure this out and your dreams are as good as real. this girl you're with, your unhappiness with her, though a fine-looking specimen she may be, is all a product of your inability to recognize--to actually sit down and calculate--the significance of this one seemingly mundane event."
naturally, she took offense to this last remark. and the man felt obligated to say something but he dare not break the spell of this odd little sidewalk spectre. he'd kill himself and betray his very foundation to know more.
"you are a mystery, even unto yourself, and all because you haven't allowed yourself the time to think this event, one of many which populate the carnival in your head, all the way and properly through. think of how much happier and self-realized you could be. you could trade this life in so very easily--trade it in for the life you want to live--if only you could stop and think it out once in a while. there is no solution, but there is a better approach, my friend. and it's in your immediate capacity to find it."
the man walked away, wondering how the grotesque man-clown knew as much as he did and what it meant that he knew this and what anything meant, really. she followed behind. what a kook, she said. yeah, he said. he lit a cigarette, a futile attempt to stifle her hand from enmeshing his own.