Letter s to Murakami on Crete

Dear murakami,

I’ve searched for a way to reach out to you with no solid lead.

I read your books and find the uncanny similarities with some of your characters to my own existence quite unnerving.

There were moments in “wind up bird chronicles” I’ve literally had to put the book down because Crete Kano shares the exact story as me. It put me in a mood.

In 1999 I sat in my black civic at a red light. I decided that I’d kill myself by driving straight into a wall of an abandoned insane asylum. The irony Right? I don’t feel physical pain. It’s enough to drive a person mad and yet I felt a spiritual numbness that hurt.

I told myself as soon as the red light flicked to green, I’d gun it right into the empty sanitarium. I was romantic.

I sat there crying and ready to heroically smash into my ending.

The light stayed red so long. In my memory, it felt like 10 minutes, but who can really say because I was alone.

I stopped crying and laughed so loud. The light wouldn’t budge. I couldn’t stop laughing because, god would stop me. The urge left me and the light turned green. That was my first experience with ego death.

So forward 20 years later and I have two beautiful boys and met my soulmate, yes my actual soulmate.

I pick up “windup bird chronicles” and read lying in bed with my soulmate. I meet Creta and am at a lost as to how my old self followed me to my own happiness. So she crept up on me, and in her own right , completely free. She reminded me of the numbness. All the while , listening to Duke Ellington, wondering if you switched the green light, knowing I wouldn’t go through with it, but she did. And nothing happened except she could feel again. I could feel again.

And she did it with an mr2, the one car I wanted at the time. I just wanted to write you to ask, “did the same angel who whisper in my ear, ask you to write the story?”

I hope one day you can tell me who told you Crete’s story. I have more from other stories you wrote. But I’ll save that for another time.

Quite intriguingly yours,