My Snazzy List of Links
It was strange. I looked about and knew. I was the only one who could remember how it was.
They only knew the now. The now I had created for them. And some existed only because of this new 'now'.
"THEY" say that time travel is impossible. Einstein thought it probable, however, his theory included the all but impossible, through mechanical means, traveling at the speed of light.
If he were only here now. You see, I have all the memories of a life that was. A miserable, poverty ridden, drug and jail time infested quagmire of a life. And they, my family, friends, neighbors, the world, did not forget it, for them, is simply didn't exist, it never happened.
Because you see, I worked out that little glitch in time travel.
The kind of sober that takes place in jail, when you have no friends there and no funds to get whats about. On the outside, there's always a purse to steal, or a gas station to knock over, but doing time as I was, I got sober, found God and started thinking about my life.
Really thinking though, if you follow me.
My job while incarerated went from laundry to library. It was in the library where I started thinking more.
At that time, I was doing 25 to life for manslaughter. The money had meant more to me than the womans life I took it from. I had a knife and I can still feel it as it slipped into her, the blood running back over my hand. I had used to small amount of cash for meth. Then it was gone. One high and done, and her life was over permanently. I couldn't live with myself after that.
I actually walked into the cop shop and turned myself in.
There was no jury at my trial, I had confessed and pulled a reasonable judge, did the allocution thing and the sentence was what I deserved. Maybe better than I deserved. And there I sat. I went for counseling twice a month.
After I got the job in the library, I read a lot about psychology and drugs and requested counseling a bit more often. They thought I was going for a good behaviour thing. I just wanted to get right in my head what was wrong with me. I mean, if I got out ever in my lifetime, would I fall back into drug use, robbery, and murder again? I read everything I could get my hands on about the human mind and then I found a book on Astral Projection. It facinated me. I went after this as compulsively as I had done with drugs. Sometimes, being an obsessive compulsive is a good thing. It gave me focus. I learned how to meditate in those long hours locked up in my cell. I learned how to channel.
I had my first out of body experience four months into my study.
It seriously scared me. My body felt a strong vibration and I hit the ceiling, literaly. I was so shook, I thought about my body on the cot and was suddenly back in it. It took a few months of trial and error to get my fear under control and I began tentative travels. Like a parolee the suits knew nothing about, I left my cell nightly and moved outside into a world so different I can't really explain it. Once I learned to ask for clarity, things became so clear and bright. I saw folks I had known, that I knew were dead and who waited to see me and reassure me.
One trip out, I saw a woman in a misty golden light, she came toward me and wrapped her arms around me, "I forgive you" she said.
One night, just before i fell asleep, which is generally when my outof body experiences took place, in a dream like state, I thought long and hard about when I had first gone wrong. When had I made that first really bad descision that had brought me here, to this place and situation in my life. And I had it!! I was 11 years old!! I had made a really bad choice of friends that summer, and after that is was one bad choice after another and here I was.
I was thining as I drifted off about that last day of 6thgrade, that hot June afternoon as I walked home to begin a sticky, hot summer. I had been thinking about the peach tree, and how good the peaches tasted when they rippened in that open lot. Then I remembered feeling dashed as I passed the lot that day and a big backhoe was int here, they had plowed over the peach tree and houses were going to be built there.
At some point, I realized, I wasn't just thining about it anymore, I was there, I could see me, a little kid, looking devastatedly at the destroyed tree, the flowers all in bloom that had held the promise of golden sweet juicey fruit before the end of summer. I could smell the tree, the fruity peachy scent drifted into my nostrils on the light breeze, mixed with the smell of fuel that was not unleaded. A 1961 street smell. Then, I ws not looking at the boy, but in the boy. I could feel the strength and energy of that 11 year old body and it was a hell of a rush!
I couldn't wait to get home and see my mom again and pop and my sister and my dog, puddles, so named because he peed on the floor more than he peed outside. My sister hadn't spoken to me in years and mom and pop had been dead a long time. Sis said I killed them with grief. Maybe so. But for now I could see them and be the kid they had wanted me to be. 'Cause now I knew they had been so right, and I wasn't quite as smart as I had believed then.
I stood before the house I had lived in as a kid.
I had struggled with it as that small boy had watched the backhoe in that open lot. He had reached down and hefted a large rock, and I knew, becuase it was all history to me, that he would throw that rock as hard as that little, weak body would allow, and would badly injure the backhoe operator. That was the first mistake I had made. Well, not the first by far, but the defining mistake. Until then, it had been simply kid stuff. This would make the move to police contact and parental diapproval and diasappointment that would stretch through the years.
I forced the body to obey my will. The hand opened and the rock returned to its place on the ground. The backhoe operator would go uninjured, and my young self would not make a major mistake.
So, I stood, scared as hell, in front of that old house. From inside I could hear the television. "Come on down!" called out the game show announcer.
I made a pot of tea and set a nice tray for her with sugar and milk and a nice cup and saucer and brought it in. The smile on her face was great! She didn't do much of that in my memory and so, I felt I had begun the change I had hoped for by giving her every reason to be happy.
I was strolling along toward Ogontz Avenue and coming toward me was dad, he must have gotten off the trolley on Ogontz at 68th. I ran toward him, all smiles, and slammed into his chest and hugged him for all I was worth. "Where are you going in such a hurry!?" Dad asked gruffly. "Library!" I said, breathlessly. "Why aren't you in school?" he asked. "Summer vacation" I said, "Why are you home so early?!" I asked, frowning. "They laid me off." he said in a matter of fact tone. "What you gonna tell mom?" I asked. He stood there looking sad and blank. He obviously hadn't thought of that yet, and she would get so upset. The rent due, the bills, I knew the feeling. "Hey pop! Lets go get a newspaper and go to the soda shop and check the ads, HUH?" I asked, then quickly added, "I have a stash of soda bottle to get the money back on, they're in the garage, it'll be enough for two sodas over at Gene's place." Without waiting for a respnse, I grabbed his big, rough, hardworking hand and dragged him up the street and cut toward the alley so we could sneak into the garage without mom finding out. Oddly, he didn't refuse and before I knew it, we had redeemed the empties and were sitting in a booth at Genes and going over ads to find pop a new job. I read them carefully, while he read the news headlines, and handed him the results, 6 possibilities, all real good and all using the skills I knew he had. He made a phone call from the booth outside Gene's and came in and said," hey kid, I have an interview in an hour, it sounds really good!" OUt the door he went in a hurry, all smiles. He hadn't said which ad it was for, but I knew that any of them would make a huge change in our way of life. Up til now, I knew the man had worked for so little, it took a week and a halfs paychecks topay the rent. We had so little we bordered on poverty. I would have to wait and find out later.