Disclaimer:If you try to read this post linearly, it won't make sense. If you try to read it literally, you'll miss the symbology and meta-meaning. Hell, I'm not even sure why I am posting this; it feels therapeutic to do so.

If you are a weirdo like me and like to study the nature of Reality, then you might have come across the latest scientific idea of string theory. Part of this theory is that reality is made up of multiple dimensions and that some suggest that the tiniest particles of matter may co-mingle between these dimensions. I recall that a generalized idea of there being an infinite number of realities co-existing is also bandied about, because before all of that really tiny subatomic particle matter interacts, there are an infinite number of probabilities how it may all coalesce, and some feel that all of the potential outcomes do occur, only we experience one of the myriad outcomes.

I don't know how long ago it was...Maybe it was yesterday, maybe it was fifteen years ago, or perhaps not even in this lifetime. All I know is that I thought via my dreams I could somehow sneak over and peak into one of these alternate time-lines. (If my confession of this is freaking you out, you can click on to the next blog. Come back tomorrow when I will have posted a mundane entry.) Now, not wanting to get into the debate of if you believe in something then you make it happen, and if you don't then it isn't real, let's just tidy up what can be a very murky area as to what is real versus not-real according to our brains. Simply put, whatever our brains think is real, is real. The way our brains fire nerve impulses is no different between a memory and actual experience, which is why children often mistake their dreams as having actually taken place. It is only through socialization that we learn to distinguish all of the thoughts rattling around in our grey matter.

Suffice it to say, my personal belief is that our consciousness is able to bridge the gaps between the myriad dimensions. It is interesting to note that just what consciousness is has yet to be pinpointed. Scientist and mystic alike find themselves using common language and not being able to put into precise language what it means to be sentient and have awareness or consciousness. Oh, sure, some biochemicals have been identified, but as the layers are peeled ever so deeper into finding the core of it, well, it becomes difficult.

Thus, in one of my more profound spiritual dream-states I found myself in a most unique setting. I recall travelling through a very narrow passage-way, kind of like being born, and I know that I passed through a hole of some kind, but mind you I don't have the proper language to describe this crossing over. All I know is that I was myself, but in an entirely differently version of reality as I knew it.

In this particular version my younger brother still existed, but what was different was that my mother had died shortly after his birth, and my father had remarried, but he was different in temperament, but not in spirit, and he was truly the center of holding the family together through the loss of his wife and my mother.

Upon learning that my mother had died (and I don't know how she did die) I was totally distraught by this news, because mind you, this all felt very REAL to me. I actually believed this is where I had lived all of my life, and the usual fuzzy surreal qualities hallmarking a dream were not present. Everything was solid and vivid as if I were awake.

I began to cry incessantly, deeply, as if my soul were being pulled inside out, and my father and younger brother consoled me the best that they could, but they knew how profound the loss of my mother had been to me, and that I hadn't been able to cope with it very well.

What was curious about this alternate version was that my younger brother's coloring was opposite. He was fair and blonde in that existence; in this he is very dark and almost olive skinned. My father looked mostly the same, and I recall seeing a picture of my mother and she looked almost the same, maybe a little difference to her appearance, but not much.

Naturally, I awoke and eventually I sorted out which reality was the one I actually lived in. I admit, I had to make sure that my mom was still alive and all of that, because it wasn't an ordinary dream.

This memory has come to my mind today because yesterday I thought about the me that never had the kinked intestine after surgery, the me that went to the final module of the year and stayed with my classmates, even getting an internship and would be well underway into the second year of study. The me who might have lost ten pounds but quickly snapped back and functioning back to capacity.

Can I trade places with that version of me?

I don't want to sound self-pitiful, because truth be told, I know I went into having the surgery rather boldly, almost carelessly with an attitude of "bring it on" and raging curiosity to see how things would turn out, for I had no fear of what would unfold—I knew the hell I could step into just as much as the Eden, and I took a running leap into that abyss of probability—some see this as bravery, whereas I perceive it as utter foolishness. (I'm thinking of the standard Tarot deck where The Fool is depicted about to step off a cliff; The Strength card depicts a young woman and a lion.)

I'm saddened by the fact that inside of me a piece of something is missing—literally and figuratively—and this piece that I grieve the loss of has something to do with my certainty and assuredness of purpose in being in the LIOS program. It is not so much I doubt my ability to help others, for I know that I have and I can and I will, but that the piece that I lost has affected the timing of it all. Everyday my question has been, "Am I ready to go back to school?" and I keep my eyes peeled (which can be very drying on the eyes) looking for the answer. I thought perhaps I might have a twinge of anxiety about returning, so I went to the general anxiety disorder website and reviewed some of their self-tests. I was surprised to see that I have a lot of the symptoms associated with post-traumatic stress disorder. I thought that was reserved for true victims of horrible experiences like natural disasters and violence.

What stood out the most is that I have lost interest in many of the things I once found great joy and comfort, which is why I am doubting/questioning my return to school, why crocheting is a bore, even blogging feels displaced. I thought it was the various medications making me perceive reality as being askew, but now I am rethinking my thinking.

Today as I painted, the words of Dorothy Gale popped into my head: if I ever go looking for my heart's desire again, I won't look any further than my own back yard. Because if it isn't there, I never really lost it to begin with! Is that right? Somehow her Kansas wisdom makes sense to me without my fully understanding it just now.

The consequences of delaying school until next September mean financial hardship, for the private loan I'd get would assuage some of the economic blows we took when Pooky took three weeks off of work to be with me. I loathe the idea that I'd have to use up precious loan forebearance time...and having to delay my graduation until 2007.

If you've made it to this point in my post I hope you have gotten something out of my dithering thoughts. I am muddled and sorrowful, yet certain and hopeful, and feel captive by the constraints of time. To quoth Doris Day, "Que sera, sera / Whatever will be, will be / The future's not ours to see / Que sera, sera / What will be, will be."