There are millions I suppose, I think they’re manifested from what you are inside, or maybe the universe is built this way. I mean there was more than one of them that you could like or dislike… fear, or… dread, live in absolute joy in, or spend a lifetime there if you wanted too. They weren’t all strange or, perfect in some way. But some were, very bizarre, they were nightmarish, and dangerous, and all that time you spent there affected you in some way… ominous sometimes. In the end predicting a future state, sometimes they were a future state, a possible future state. I think, it depended on what one thought. Actually, what I thought.

I was married in one them and found that, my wife, was in a number of the other worlds, all with different characteristics depending who ‘I’ was within them. But she was characteristic of the world that I was in at that present moment. And as I say not always my wife, or even intimately connected to me. In one I remember very well, she was married to someone else. But she was always a woman.

I had to be careful of friendships, I was getting quite tore up emotionally, because I would gain an attachment to someone and depending on the world, I was generally powerless to help them escape it; they, were locked into to it. If the world was extreme — and some were very extreme, post-nuclear; warring; affected by a solar system in chaos in some way, they were condemned to it.

One was a frozen ice-age world, struggle and hunger drove many to cannibalism and terrible acts of human depredation. I came close to dying many times in these places.

I know. I’m being rather confusing, its possibly too vague maybe, and bit ambiguous but this is difficult to explain to you. I have a tough time wrapping words around it. It is… difficult for me to even think about, I really don’t have an adequate vocabulary to explain such things. The things I saw… These are sometimes, many times outside the parameters of this… I mean this! Right here right in front of you. What you are reading?

Can you imagine looking on this screen, like you’re doing right now and all the words, letters are different, different strange shapes and symbols, like hieroglyphics, some strange language, just a bunch of marks and gobbygook, all consistent in shape and color like this type, and someone comes into the room, and strange sounds are exiting out of their mouth and then they walk up wall, and walk across the ceiling and back down again, a large tongue snaps out of their mouth and tastes your face, and then they open the door and leave the room. Well shit like that can happen!

Some were futuristic and others more primitive and technological.

I began to presume, there were millions if not billions of versions, all juggling on a dependency. I am always finding new ones, and at some point, I… I sometimes am afraid of that potential…I still have a fear of entering one and never being able to leave. But I always find a way out, sometimes it’s easy, other times it is when I complete something. A task, or reaching to someone within the reality that I need to speak too maybe advise on a issue that is important to them; and that’s a two-way street, the minute you think it’s about them it turns on you. For the longest period I worried about not finding a way out; everything looked like a part of some thought puzzle, then I found out that, that was wrong.

Luck has a lot to bear on how and why I write this…

Some are even with the slightest of differences. The smallest of things, unnoticeable if one was not paying complete attention. I became greatly focused on this for quite a long time as I grew up. For instance… the color red was missing in one, and replaced with another color I had never seen it before. And have never seen it since. I was the only one that was noticing that — I got myself in a lot of trouble trying to explain that concept.

The one thing you must stop doing is, explaining yourself, that’s a one ticket to places, that you need to take a number buses to… let me put it this way you are in one of these strange worlds, but everyone is absolutely insane and they put you in a psyche-ward because you are not insane like them, and all the patients, the people in the ward are sane and well adjusted and frightened and talking sense, and some cases just like you. Some even understand you without knowing what you are experiencing. An inverse world of sorts, and all these places seemed to have that flavor to some extent.

Do you know how hard it is to explain the color red, to someone who has not seen it before? We except such things as normal you know… never questioning, just excepting, we learn a thing and eventually it becomes a habit, a condition? But they are not in that condition, unless you have context that you have lived them in. I mean the color red. It is in a sunset, stop signs, street lights, it is taken for granted. It is the very blood in your veins. It’s a dangerous color and a warning. There’s more to it than you think. I was in a world where it did not exist. I mean think about it for just a few minutes. And don’t ask me what the replacement color was, it just wasn’t there for me… I have no words for it, it was, another color if we call it that. And it would set up some strange emotion when I would see it, it became hypnotic if I allowed it. I had very strange thoughts when I would see it, it triggered something in me that I have not experienced since that time. It was native to this place, and because I was different, it had this strange effect on me. I think it has something to do with the antecedent; blood is red so it’s almost an automatic that seeing red triggers an emotional response. I felt color blind. And language changes. Do you know how many words start with red, there were no definitions there? Phrases like red-blooded, or red-handed or red-head did not exist. I could go for hours on this one, but what I wish to explain is something else. Now this other color, that was not red, or its experiences. I… can’t find words for it… the vocabulary problem you, see? I have no context for it, no history of it and we relate so many things to the color red. When it is gone? And because my brain was not used to it — seeing it, this other, color. It kept popping up, like someone yelling at me. It was like a background sound to the whole thing, Thoughts became cluttered up and made no sense, I was losing a sense of myself. I had to leave very quickly. My head would not let go of it, and the distraction was unbearable like it was a foul smell, or loud constant buzzing noise. And I shouldn’t get started on that line of thought. I’ll remember it again. It drove me mad. I even cut myself to see what color the blood was, it was not red!

There was a portal that leads to one world, where everyone likes me, and they love me. They are always doing little things for me, giving me personal items, gifts. Very sweet actually. Or they would be asking me to go along on unusual and wonderful experiences with them. Everyone of importance, does this… it got to the point that they would travel to my door to see me. It actually became quite horrible and annoying in the end; it would not stop no matter how many times I told people to not do this anymore — people were always watching me.

I would go out into public places, stroll along, watching people — who would run up to me. I could see others watching, and waiting for me to speak, anticipating. They would make such fools of themselves…I hated it. I was always trying to get away, escape, hide; duck in somewhere — disguise myself, they would see right through it. They knew it was me. Behind those masks, and sunglasses and hats — I did not for the life of me know how they did this. I took a couple of sleeping pills and after a good sleep for a couple days I awoke in another place.

In one of the worlds, I am hunted down, for doing something, I don’t know what it is that I did. But I am tracked and chased mercilessly, and then I escape their clutches. And I always seem to be able to escape in that one. Not easily, but with some thought involved, I would get out of it. I am chased again and harassed constantly. I think the point is, being chased. I think it’s about terror and being stalked. But everyone in that world is seemingly involved in it.

In another one, which was quite perplexing; the only difference was, a small mole about the size of the head of a straight pin; on the large size of an eighth of an inch in diameter to the right of the mouth about an inch and a half, and down about an inch towards the centre of the chin — everyone had it, but me. That world was a perfectly normal reality like this one, if normal is what you consider it. But that mole was on everyone face.

They, the people of this place, did not notice they had it — I had thought. They never realized it at all. They hadn’t even taken it for granted I’d guessed, I presumed it was because they couldn’t see it anymore, had never seen it as… but I could see it. Plain as day. There it was on everybody’s face, to the right and down, exact same place. It was the only thing I thought about there. That mole. I looked in the mirror, couldn’t find it on my face. I would talk to others about it, subtly, using hand gestures to focus their attention to that spot on their face. I would find a way to ask them if they could see it, I thought it might be possible that only I was seeing it. And I was, the only one seeing it.

It was worlds like this that made me start to wonder. It took me a few years to figure it all out. That these are portals…holes in reality. These duplicates with slight variances. And this led me to the very nature of existence and the power of my own imagination — I thought I was batshit crazy.

I stopped mentioning these things that I had noticed when I was a young person. It got me in a lot of trouble. I had to be very discreet in querying things that were different, because many times and many occasions it changed from portal to portal, second to second in the beginning. It would upset the ones that took care of me, the ones that loved me or had authority over me; my family and loved ones — only adults seemed to be bothered by it, children never questioned it when I told them about these things. Some children would shun me. And tell an adult and I would quickly be raced off to see another adult who was expert in such things. But ‘they’ couldn’t understand the dam portals either. I became detached from my family, because I had seen them in other places and conditions, not always as family or even my friends.

So, I decided not to tell anyone about them ever again. And I have lived that way ever since.

I notice now that as I get older that I can manipulate which ones I wake up in, and sometimes if I am not paying attention, I wake up inside one that I have totally forgotten I created during a night of dreaming. And then I notice something throughout that day that brings me back to the dream, the night before, and I realize the portal was opened in the dream and I entered it then. I do that a lot of times.

In some way, I have imagined an answer to a question, or some profound thought I had been mulling over for some time, and there it would be, a portal, a sort of visual answer, lived out. I have sometimes played with multiple answers, just to see the outcome. I have played with physics of it, I have played with shapes; the size, the time, gravity. It is endless in the possibilities.

Lately, I have gone back to some that I lived in for a while, weeks or months and correcting some of my, how should I call it…my malfeasance. Sometimes I took control of them in past times…I was young then and sought the wrong type of power and control. Some I would get very angry in them.

Yes, in some I took control when I shouldn’t have; let’s leave it at that. This is not about a mea culpa and my bearing my sins.

And so now I move from one to the other, sometimes back, sometimes forward. Sometimes I have gone back to childhood portals to experience a specific day, that I remembered, and relive it correcting what I think was wrong, or just enjoying it again.

It refreshes me when I get tired. I am getting old now. Will I keep choosing the ones where I am younger. I have a tendency to forget a lot. I am not sure how old I am anymore? I not sure how long I have done this…maybe, I have always been doing it. Maybe, I will always be doing this…but it’s only limited, I have come to understand, by what I can imagine and dream. It is endless really.

I am writing this because I am thinking off stopping, and staying within this one until… But something is amiss here. It was a reasonable place, I liked it and found interesting things to do, I am an artist and so I write now, and paint and draw memories of where I have been, other worlds, greater or lesser.

But this place has changed very fast. Very, very fast. The people where content and free spirits, creative loving and thriving for life, I liked that and then someone announced that there was virus killing people. I became interested in this because I could not understand what they were talking about.

News was everywhere about the virus, they started counting the infected and the dead, it was everything and everyone. Masks were worn by people in the streets, businesses were closed down and people lost their livelihood and individualism, they became afraid, terrified. The economy took a dive. And this only added to the fear and more rules and more isolation. It happened so quickly, reports of thousands of dead and soon that became 100’s of thousands. Children were greatly affected, families were affected and torn apart, communities at each other, brother against brother and this led to more rules and laws and the whole society, the very civilizations questioned who or what should survive.

The old were locked away and died of fear, alon. The young stopped playing and were placed inside clear Plexiglas cubicles.

Vaccinations became mandatory and people wanted them because of the reports and the nature of how the virus was misunderstood kept changing and involving, each step creating more fear and terror. Life became unbearable, I have to get out of it…but I started to notice something that rang very clear in my mind.

There were no deaths from the virus itself — people die from many causes, old-age and sicknesses, that we suffer as humans because of greed and malice, poverty and neglect. Oppression. Because of ill knowledge of what life is, but this was strange. The hospitals were empty, the virus was called a pandemic affecting the whole world. But there were no bodies, no stacks of bodies, littering the streets,no coughing and hacking humans walking desolate and dead streets.

The reality had split and there was those who believed and those who did not believe and they raged against each other. The illness took on a political view, and a spiritual point of view. The virus it seemed was a delusion, of their minds, like some kind of weird mind virus and you could not convince those who believed of the real truth of the matter. Time went on, the battle for mind took on a whole life of its own and little by little more and more were lost to the…virus. It was a menticide.

I have stayed here and move around trying to find the truth about this thing. Everyone had a story to tell, but none could tell you of someone who had really died of the virus or even had the virus. It was always a complcation of some cormobidity.

Colds and the seasonal flu were just simply that, and strangely they disappeared.

It took a whole new position the longer I stayed. ‘They’ voting in leaders according to piousness of the vaccines and the virus itself. It is almost as if it became like a deity that they started to worship and those that caught illness where branded as bad and justified in their illness and sometimes death as the condition of the virus took over all things.

Eventually everyone had it. And just because you had it, did not free you getting it again and again and again. There were variations and mutations and sub-mutations and after-effects; long versions and short versions. It caused other illnesses that were not similar in condition, or consistent in effect. The whole thing took on a global strangeness. Machines were made to track it and track down anyone who was thought to have the virus. Machines were built to screen people going to shopping centres and malls. Restaurants and places where people collect.

People stopped talking about it, because conversation could bring the wrong kind of attention.

But there it was, the unspoken and yet feared and obeyed. And effecting the individual.

But all through this, no bodies in streets or hospitals, vast vaccination programs where just that, and the societies obeyed for fear of the secret police, and each and every individual became a snitch gaining social credit points in the turning in of one’s neighbours or friends.

I decided I was going to leave this one for another place, a better place.

I eventually became discouraged and could no longer find anyone who would listen, and so I left them to their demise.

It sad really how this global delusion took hold… this virus of the mind.