I was on my way home one summer's night, jacket slung over my shoulder as I paced down the weather-beaten track beside the canal, when I decided to break my usual ritual which I'd become so accustomed to. Although my surroundings were beautiful- this was in no small part why I never threw myself into that goddamn canal, I couldn't spoil it like that- today had been exceptionally dismal, and I needed something to break the dull constraints of my routine.

Down at the office my home time always depended on the varying amount of work I had piled on my desk. That night, it must have been close to midnight, however that did not deter me from walking home as usual. I remember no matter how late at night I'd walk home, my silver watch would always find light to catch, making it glimmer at the unlikeliest of times.

The moon was out full that night and bathed my dirt path in an ethereal blue light, the occasional street lamp aiding my way. Feeling suddenly inspired, I left the comfort of the path and diverged into the green woods beside me, although the trees were hardly dense enough to block out any light. Although there were roots to trip over and branches to bash my head on, I felt just as safe as next to the canal bank. I didn't entirely know what I was doing, or why I was wandering around like I was, but I was still walking in the general direction of home, and the slight change of scenery was a little reprieve from the dreariness of my days.

I remember glancing up into the elegant trees, knotted by age, seeing how shafts of pale light formed around the wide leaves, dappling the ground around me. Casting my gaze back down to the ground patched with grass, moss and soil, I saw something gleam at the base of an elderly looking tree. Curiosity piqued, I paced over and crouched down at the roots, feeling the cloth of my suit tighten around my thighs, a small reminder of my work and that I had to get home at a time which seemed a little reasonable considering my 7am start.

I reached out and brushed away loose moss and dead leaves with my hands, uncovering a strange brass object. It resembled a lamp, but an ancient and oil one, and one which didn't even look as if it historically belonged to my country. My jacket fell to the ground from my shoulder as I picked it up, turning it in the light to get a better look at it. It was dusty, so I wiped its sides with the palm of my hand, revealing a worn patch on the metal where the brassy colour seemed burned by age.

Dust poured out of the spout of the lamp. I thought it was just from where I had picked it up and disturbed it, and I thought it would cover my knees in dirt- but the cloud grew, and when instead of settling on the ground it rose into the air I knew something was up.

Well, by the time I was standing straight again I was looking at a sepia duplicate of myself with folded arms and a strange looking collar, and I concluded I was dreaming. That was my only explanation, even though when dreaming, everything which happens is perfectly logical and one would never draw such conclusions until they were awake and realised how irrational the entire event of their sleep was.

The man who stood before me looked up and met me in the eyes, and didn't mind the fact I just dumbly stared back. The metal around his neck was flawless and flat to his skin. Other than the uniform colouration he was a mirror image of myself, and although it should have completely unnerved me I had a complete non-reaction.

I sat down on one of the old tree's protruding roots, looking up at the apparition. “Hello,” I said. Obviously by now I had lost any sense of imagination I might have had previously.

“Hi,” He replied. I wasn't surprised. Any duplicate of myself had to be just as boring.

“So, uh... What are you?” I asked. I wasn't about to beat around the bush. I doubted he would get offended.

“I'm your genie.” He stated simply. He rocked on his feet a little as he spoke, a notable habit of mine when being phatic or obvious.

“So I get three wishes?” I recall being a little hopeful, even though I still insisted to myself the only reason I hadn't panicked and run off into the shrubs was because I was dreaming.

“Yes.”

“Huh.” I nodded, jutting my bottom lip out and looking around me.

Now, as a kid, I was always one of those s who wrote on their wishlist to Santa for completely unachievable bull like world peace and the ending of hunger across the world. I guess something like that came over me, because the philosophical load of crap that came out of my mouth next depresses me to this day.

“Well, I know a couple of things that I want,” I turned my gaze back up to him, to find his folded arms were now uncrossed and his hands were clasped behind his back, neatening the appearance of the pinstripe jacket and plain tie at the front. He looked calm and businesslike, but in a bored kind of way. “I want a fun job with co-workers who acknowledge my existence which still pays well. Can I wish for that?”

The genie-me shook his head while pursing his lips, crouching to take a seat at a fallen branch opposite me. “As much of a wish as that is, I can't grant you that. You have to wish for something material, otherwise I can't get it for you.”

I frowned, taken aback. That's not how I remember it working in Aladdin. “But I have material things. What I want is to be happy. I want a hot girlfriend, I want to know what I'm doing here and what my dream job actually is. Can't I wish for that either?”

“You really don't understand how this works, do you?” He had his elbows propped on his knees, fingers laced together and a piercing gaze locked into my eyes, one eyebrow slightly raised. I felt myself gulp as I levelled his stare, trying to keep my nerve as he spoke to me. “I come from you. I am that part of you who knows he can have anything and everything he desires should he lay eyes upon it. Normally, I'm that part of you who knows he has money and can use it as he pleases. In this form, I'm the genie who can give it to you at the snap of my fingers.”

“What's the point in that if I can just get it myself?” I asked, feeling a little indignant. He didn't sound like much of a genie at all.

“Are you going to wish for it the easy way or what?” Right then I seriously couldn't believe I was literally arguing with myself. Was I that much of an ?

“You know what I want, I told you.”

He sharply exhaled before muttering something like “this is going nowhere” under his breath. I watched him expectantly as he rubbed his temples with a ghostly thumb and finger. I hadn't noticed before how he wasn't quite opaque.

“Look, let me tell you this way. The reason I can't grant you that kind of wish is because the world doesn't work that way. Nobody gets what their heart desires by simply desiring it. They have to take action. You have to take action.” He looked at me with earnest eyes, expression serious to the point of being solemn. This sobered me, and I could feel my expression soften. “Wishes like that don't get instantly granted. The only way they can be granted is by yourself, by a change of heart.”

I nodded, casting my eyes to the ground beside us, there the lamp was left discarded. I hadn't expected his words to have such an effect on me, but I could feel a clenching on my heart and an inner turmoil brewing.

As if he knew my troubles, exactly what I was thinking, he spoke up again. “It'll all be okay in the end.”

That's when I knew I had to take hold of my life, and change it. No-one or nothing else.

I don't remember much of what else happened. I think we just talked and talked until finally, he faded away in the new morning light and the lamp was just a lamp. In a way, he did grant a wish of mine that night; I figured out what my dream really was, even though it was a little vaguer than what school has always told me I should aspire to, like being a doctor, or teacher, or businessman. I figured out that I wanted to help people, and make a difference in the world even if it was measly. I ended up working for fair trade, and various charities trying to combat the use of sweat shops across the world. I travelled. I had my fun. And then I met a girl... and I found happiness.

I guess I underestimated my genie. He may have said otherwise, but his magic still worked. Within me, at least.