The Art of Projection

They say the future happens one second at a time.

I wish that were true...

Until fairly recent, I had been keeping a secret, scared of what people would think if I told them about the insanity that was me...

No one ever wants to be ridiculed, a word that brands a debilitating stain across the ego. I wanted nothing to do with bringing my name into the spotlight. Ask the witches of Salem how they felt about being burned at the stake for their so-called, crafty behaviors.

Under the radar was the only way to live. But in the end, keeping secrets was never meant to be.

***

The 'Chosen one' took on personal meaning as I applied it to the string of weekly occurrences. I quickly gave in to the fact that choice was not mine to consider.

Think of me as a time-bandit. A sorcerer of scenarios. A Savior... The reaper's worst nightmare.

I maintain a firm belief that a major, hallucinogenic drug binge recalibrated the inner workings of my mind...

Determined to warp my brain beyond its limits, I was completely unaware of the subtle changes the drugs initiated. Altering my state of mind was a way to go above the threshold of ordinary experience. It morphed into a weird comfort, a sacred addiction, traversing the many avenues of transcendent thought.

But what I chose, led to tapping into something I wasn't quite prepared for...

***

"Aren't' you going to answer that?" a question I directed to Sharice, my girlfriend at the time who was gathering dishes from an amazing dinner.

"Answer what?" she responded with a curious smirk.

Seconds later, her phone began to ring. We both looked at each other with skin crawling vibes while the quirky sound of her xylophone chime repeated itself.

"Okay, that was weird as fuck, Cameron! How the hell did you know my phone was about ring?"

"I heard it! I swear to God it was ringing before..."

Neither one of us could explain the eerie occurrence so we moved on from it, continuing the thoughts in secret.

***

Several weeks later, without warning, I experienced something new...

Like being trapped in a vivid dream as an observer, my mind invaded a foreign world. Sort of a blurry world, only in that colors looked like they were slowly bleeding away from objects but never draining the brilliance.

Moving objects illustrated the effect more prominently with the color trailing closely to it, like a fragmented, dimensional haze was loosely tethered.

I didn't know where I was, but I knew I wasn't dreaming, being completely aware at the time this happened. My only thoughts were to find a way back to reality as I knew it.

But that didn't happen...

Instead, I began to make sense of the images in my view. They were painting a dire scenario involving a robbery. A bank robbery. I calmed down enough to tune into what was happening.

"Everyone on the ground NOW!... And you, fat boy, start filling up these bags before I fill you up with bullet holes!"

It was like a movie playing out in my vision, except the acting was far too convincing. No one noticed me. I was invisible to them. They were all cautiously looking up from the floor at the robber. I was definitely there, a mere five feet from the gunman who wore a black ski mask with holes for the eyes and mouth.

"Didn't I tell your dumbasses to stay put? I see you over there inching towards the door. Crawl back over here NOW!... Anyone else want to play the hero? I dare you! Now hurry up and fill up them bags before I start blasting everything!"

Why am I seeing this? Was the obvious question. I didn't want to be there. It felt too real. I unwillingly shared in the intimidation and fear affecting every hostage.

"What's taking so long, fat boy? What are you doing?" the gunman asked, jumping over the counter where the teller was.

"WHAT THE HELL IS FLASHING UNDER YOUR STATION?" he shouts nose-to-nose with the teller, saliva flying out his mouth. "Ahh, you done fucked up!... You triggered the motherfucking silent alarm! Too bad... I hope you don't have any kids."

BANG!

My ears were left ringing from the shot fired into the teller's chest, waking me instantly from the involuntary state of suspended consciousness. I began nervously pacing in my apartment. Sweating. Looking out windows in a paranoid panic. What I saw left a lingering residue of shock from the imagery.

Minutes later, I was able to sit.

Pulse thumped.

Breathing paced...

Thoughts alone had no way of understanding why this happened.

***

BREAKING NEWS: One dead in a botched, armed robbery at the Wells Fargo in Newbury, Illinois.

I lived in Newbury...

The notification lit up the screen of my phone three hours after the experience.

I shook my head back and forth with increasing speed in denial of witnessing a tragedy before it happened...

***

To date, I have saved people from burning structures. I have tipped law enforcement onto the locations of crimes about to occur. I even helped to deliver the child of a woman who passed out at the wheel driving herself to the hospital at 2 in the morning.

But there was a trick to my breaching of the timeline. My visions only go an hour or so into the future, leaving me barely any time to act. They also seem to be localized, not stretching any further than whatever city I'm in.

Never knowing how long visions will last, details are the absolute first thing to memorize when entering one. It's the clues that elude me entirely that lead me down a tunnel of despair... I could have tried harder.

***

Astral projection is an ancient human ability, long forgotten and buried deep within the conscious. Man lost this divine knowledge over countless generations. The lack of faith and poor education gradually disassembled the capacity to consciously leap. I've reclaimed and sharpened the skill, hurtling forward through time to alter pending history, securing a second chance for some and imprisoning the unrighteousness of others.

The past is long gone... The future is the only thing waiting for us... One second at a time.

The Challenge: