RIPPLES IN TIME

The mirror showed a reflection that wasn't my own. And it appeared to be a clone of me, standing in front of the fireplace. But when I looked directly at the fireplace, from my position on the bed, no one was there. When viewing the reflection in the mirror, I assumed the clone-like vision was a hallucination, but it continued to stare back at me. What I was experiencing was causing feelings within my being that I cannot adequately describe, but terrified comes close.

This eerie, frozen moment was unlike anything I had ever experienced or even imagined, being totally surreal. Then gradually, my clone began to slowly raise his arm. I inched back further into my pillowed sanctuary.

With a finger to his lips, indicating quiet, he turned towards the mirror, never breaking eye contact. My sweetheart had fallen asleep, and I thought waking her might be too shocking, so I stayed very still, as my heart rate increased.

It was as if I was watching myself walk across the room. He was dressed in yoga pants and the red shirt I had prepared to wear tomorrow. I happened to have a blue one on during this weirdest moment of my life. This is the kind of thing you want tell others about but hesitate to, as they would likely think, “this one’s really loosing it, or maybe he’s from outer space.” How ironic life can be.

When my clone stopped moving near the beveled-edged, full-length mirror, I could clearly see he was identical to me. He was really a mind-bending facsimile. The deep blue eyes, set within creases of time and weathering were surrounded by a long brown graying mane, with a kind of wizardly look.

The view seemed awkward, since when you look at your own reflection, you’re seeing yourself backwards. But this was more like looking through a window at a clone of yourself, in some alternate dimension. The mirror, about the size of a door, appeared to be a passage to another room. It was the strangest thing I’d ever seen, or so I thought. Perplexed, I wondered how is it that I’m seeing a reflection of someone who’s not really here? The exact resemblance of another like myself caused me real fear.

I happened to be watching Lust for Life, an Oscar-winning movie from the 1950’s about the tumultuous, yet productive, short life of the artist, Vincent van Gogh. Van Gogh had issues too, and wound up in an asylum, which I hoped to avoid, despite the insane things happening to me now. I had paused the film when I first noticed the bathroom door open by itself, as it does sometimes. Because when I solved the issue of the clicking latch by putting a bandaid over the magnetic catch, the attractive force was also reduced. The application of the bandaid muffled the sharp staccato sound it used to make, wakeful in the night.

I had paused the movie at a point of strange synchronicity, the vision on-screen was of van Gogh’s blue bedroom. Coincidentally, I had paired an image of the blue room to illustrate a limerick poem I had recently written, Under Cover Operators. You can read it on vocal.media.

We–clone and I–looked deeply into each other’s eyes. That was the moment I thought I was seeing my future self. But this was the conundrum: how can I be in the future if I am here now? However, in the perspective of time travelers, I am in their past, logically. The whole mystery of different timelines coexisting can be quite unsettling.

Still indicating silence, the clone’s hand moved down to his side, producing a small, circular object shaped as a hoop. He held it out in front of himself with both hands and then placed it upon his head, appearing as a crown of sorts. He touched its three metallic dome-shaped studs in turn: silver on the left over the temple, the gold opposite on the right, and the black one centered over the third eye.

He silently mouthed, “I must go now.” Taking the crown off, he tossed it to me. I was stunned by the sudden flying object literally coming through the looking glass. Instinctively, I caught it, as my clone walked out of view. I leaned forward to see where he might have gone, but he had vanished. Only the familiar comforting space of our cozy bedroom was now being reflected. Sweetheart still asleep.

As I held this ancient relic, it felt so old and sacred. It was made of some type of leather with an unfamiliar grain. The time-polished studs were domes about a half-inch in diameter. So I began to look more closely at the details of workmanship finely tooled into the leather, now quite faint after so many years of wear. Time-worn runic symbols appeared, their translation unclear.

I felt a small bulge beneath each of the domes. There was something in there, but I could not find a way to reveal what was hidden. Little did I know, how little I knew.

I remembered the silver was to be on the left. My mind spun in anticipation of the unknown gnawing at my synapses, like a hungry beaver. My clone indicated I was supposed to put it on, but for some odd reason, I hesitated.

“A road to the stars is yet to be found.” Is the first line of a poem I wrote in the third grade. It was published in the school’s Chronicle, not sure why that came into my thought stream now. Possibly, because I was at the threshold of uncertainty. Actually, we all face the unknown every day, to some degree. The weight of the crown I held, or whatever this was, had given me a sense of something vastly infinite.

I had absolutely no idea of what might happen next. You see, I only proposed the idea of my future self, but I was not entirely certain. Maybe it was really a robot setting me up as a pawn in some sinister cosmic game, secrets still obscured.

A crown, or a chieftain’s headband of some ancient tribal Viking clan, had been passed down through the ages. The runes meant something, and the book I had might actually provide some important clues as to their translation. Some runes were symbols for knowledge, wisdom, power, and protection, while others were not as clear.

I was beginning to let go of my fear, but caution is always advisable when venturing into new domains. I wondered how old this ancient treasure might be, and who may have worn it throughout its mysterious history.

Sitting still, shocked and rather numb, I thought I’d just take the chance as I placed the piece upon my head. Then

the band slowly began to tighten, until it was quite snug. Nothing else happened, yet it could have crushed a skull.

I remembered to touch the studs on the band in succession: silver first, then gold, and lastly black, maybe representing the infinite. I expected something strange might happen, as if it hadn’t done so already. Still, nothing changed.

I was near the end of the movie and decided to continue, so with the remote, I pressed the button to resume. The film left me with deep, colorful impressions. A true feast for the eyes and I highly recommend it. I turned the TV off and lay back on the pillows in the darkened room, my thoughts still in a swirl. Vincent died too young.

My eyes closed and I began thinking of how we often loose track of time while dreaming. How details may vanish upon awakening. But at times we are so deeply moved by intense sensations, and experience unforgettable moments that become ingrained in our memory banks forever.

I recalled a few of those special times as silence engulfed me and felt my tensions fading amidst the soothing darkness carried me further into the astral plane.

Consciousness melded into darkness, and time stood still as my dream unfolded. Slowly, light emerged and revealed my new glowing surroundings. There before me, a hall of amber columns forty-feet wide faded into mist. I floated forward towards the light as I heard melodic tones arise.

The tall pillars were carved with geometrical patterns and many unknown symbols, amongst a few familiar ones. The columns were spaced some twenty-feet apart on both the left and right; beyond, rows of shelves stretched out. Secrets were held behind the protective, massive sliding stones, elaborately carved in relief with ancient beings and mythical creatures depicting legends of times long past. I saw a few figures, dressed in white, flowing robes, easily slide the stones aside to gather scrolls neatly stacked upon the shelves amongst the ancient tomes. This great library, its location unknown to me, made me feel as if I had traveled back in time.

Drifting onward, I entered a vast rotunda, two-hundred feet in diameter. The great domed ceiling high above featured, stars, asterisms, and constellations. Beneath the dome, suspended in the space above was a model of our solar system in orbit around the sun. Intertwined beings and creatures were carved into the stone in great detail on the frieze atop the sixty columns that encircled the vast open space. I was suspended in the air, riding on waves of gentle thought.

A sonorous voice welcomed me to Terra, temple of the Hyperboreans. The deep echoing voice spoke again, “The time has come for your initiation to ancestral traditions, still honored from distant ages past. You have received the keys of wisdom and knowledge, and are well prepared.”

“Celestial events in the skies were known to be connected to natural cycles here on Earth, long before the Pharaohs ruled ancient Egypt. The changing seasons called for celebrations. For many ages, peoples have observed the solstices and the equinoxes with great reverence, as they came to depend on their regularity to plant crops and harvest by, which in turn, kept them alive.”

“Planetary alignments are occurring now. This is a time of great renewal. Beginning at the quantum level, the very elements from which everything is made are in a state of continuous motion, and benefit from the proximity of other massive objects through morphic resonance. It’s the time when planets recharge themselves. When planets align with a solstice or equinox it is rare, but even more beneficial, in some very profound, unexpected ways.”

The voice of wisdom continued to echo in my thoughts as I floated in a rapturous state of consciousness amidst this awesome, ancient wonder. Deep within my own mind, I knew instinctively, that this was meant to be a time of enlightenment. A chance to reconnect with nature, the true source of life. Nature’s natural way is a perpetual cycle of regeneration and self renewal, organically.

Whoever these beings are, they seem to know everything about me, and must realize I know who some of my ancient ancestors were. A few years ago I had my DNA tested for deep ancestry, and the results were really quite surprising.

King Tut was the earliest genius on record related to me. I also learned of many other historical figures from my family tree, including Genghis Khan, Copernicus, and Darwin, to name a few. I should mention Tesla too.

Something shifted in my thoughts, and I’m remembering what happened earlier, when my clone, or whoever that was, threw this thing at me. I reached up to check, finding the headband still snug upon my head. I should be at home asleep in bed, and dreaming. What just happened?

Slapping my face hard, I felt it. I’m trying to wake up in my bed at home, but instead I’m here in this ancient temple. Who even knows where? I was starting to panic. I don’t even have my credit card. What year is this anyway?

This seemed like an era long before airplanes. It was crazy that I woke up in my dream, and now I’m stuck. Even if I had my phone, it wouldn’t work… there’s no electricity! Where the hell am I? Oh shit, maybe my old body’s at home still sleeping, I hope honey doesn’t wake up and find me dead or missing. That would be a bummer for her.

I remembered seeing some people down the hall gathering old scrolls. I was in a hurry and started running back to where I’d seen them, my footsteps echoing in the vastness. I was barefoot and the floor of polished stone was cold and smooth. The sound had caught some attention, and a few white-robed scholars stepped out from behind the columns staring at me tearing down the hall in a panic.

Sensing I was being observed, I slowed down, attempting to walk casually. Their eyes were glued upon me, watching. I approached slowly, asking, “Hi there, can you please tell me where we are, and ah, what year is this?”

Expressionless faces stared at me, saying nothing. The three of them were of different ages, the youngest maybe twenty, the oldest eighty or so, the other, somewhere in the middle.

“Excuse me, I heard your chief, or whoever the welcoming committee has appointed, greet me in English!” My tone was filled with notable exasperation.

More blank looks, but this time the three exchanged glances of bewilderment. They shrugged their shoulders, turned, and walked back to the stacks. Oh great! I have failure to communicate, now what?

I thought to take a look at the bookshelves, maybe I’d find a clue. It was amazing how they made these mammoth stones so easy to move. With two fingers I slid the massive stone aside, revealing shelves filled with books and scrolls. They were old with nothing in English, but I did see some runic symbols on a number of tomes. These were big, heavy, hand-written books, beautifully illustrated on parchment, as I saw one laying open on a lower shelf. So, I slid the stone into its place, and headed back to the center where I had heard the voice welcome me before.

When I got there I saw two robed beings standing near each other. They noticed me, but continued to nod their heads from time to time, without uttering a word. I thought they might be telepaths.

Looking at my watch I notice it’s 3:23 AM and I should be home in bed now. Checking my pulse, confirmed I was still alive as I took a deep breath. “There must be some kind of way outta here, said the joker to the thief,” as the old Jimi Hendrix song drifted through my brain, unsure now, if I really had gone insane.

Odd, they didn’t have any places to sit. I remembered I was floating around in a state of euphoria on cloud nine, not long ago. Now there’s just the cold stone floor underfoot. I wish I’d thought to sleep with my socks on. My feet were now really cold, I was definitely not dreaming anymore.

Hold on a moment, I have an incoming message. I heard a voice within my head speak to me saying, “You must ground yourself after each transition, remember the sequence.” That’s all it said, and I replied, “wait, I have a question.” There was no further reply.

I was not sure who was speaking to me, but it was definitely by telepathy. The two others I saw here only moments ago, had vanished. I reached up and touched the silver dome on the ancient headpiece, then I tapped the gold, and finally the black. So, now I suppose I’m grounded? There was no change, as far as I could see.

“Hello!” I said loudly, as my voice echoed strangely in the chamber, resonant and deep-sounding. Still, no reply. I guessed I was supposed to do something, but didn’t have a clue. So, I continued to explore another long hallway lined with columns, and more shelves with books. This time I was heading east. The architectural design of the place was shaped like a cross, with the circular rotunda at the center. Each of the four wings were three-hundred-feet long, and a hundred wide. I never found a door, anywhere, not even to a restroom. That line from “All Along the Watchtower” kept replaying in my baffled brain: “There must be some kind of way outta here…”

A sinking sensation engulfed me. I felt perplexed and was not sure if it was part of my initiation. I was feeling tired and more confused. I had returned to the center beneath the dome, and sat down on the cold stone floor. That didn’t last long as my butt started freezing. I had to do something to get a little more comfortable, so I could concentrate. Back in the stacks I started looking behind the sliding stones.

There were more ancient books and scrolls and thought one of those thick books might make a good seat, and another to warm my frozen feet. But, something within urged me to look further, as using the ancient tomes for another purpose might have serious repercussions.

Behind the next stone I discovered a shelf, packed full of pillows. Above, on another shelf were a number of carafes that were filled with water. I was tempted to take one, but didn’t because I’d never found a restroom.

Delighted by my discovery I picked up a few pillows and returned to the center. The space now empty, tempted me to lay down in the middle. I spread the pillows and then stretched out beneath the dome. High above, the planets moved slowly around the sun. The twinkling stars aloft, were mesmerizing and quite hypnotic. A sense of calm soon washed over me, as the tide upon the shores of time.

Finally, I closed my eyes and drifted off to sleep, and lost all sense of time, while floating amidst some strange purple clouds before they blew away. I awoke at home in bed. I sat up startled, waking up my sweetheart. She asked me, “Did you hear a mouse? And what’s that on your head?”

I replied, that I hadn’t heard a mouse, and the old headband was just something I’d found while I was looking for a pair of socks. I took a deep breath and said, “I had a rather remarkable dream last night. I think you would like to hear about it.”

The End