Somewhere, there’s a mysterious place. No one knows precisely where. Over here, over there. Is it all in the head? Does the mind play tricks with fleshy bodies and fickle egos? It’s a head-scratcher trying to figure out things that are intangible. We try not to think about it too hard. The stuff of dreams or worse. Let’s pretend we’re already there and somehow we know. How did you get there from here? Every night when you fall asleep, where do you go? Physically you’re in the bed sleeping, dozing on a chair, lying on the floor, under a tree, in a cave, or wherever you lay your head. Some can even sleep standing up, sort of a vaguely aware semi sentient creature bobbing and weaving.
On a walkabout, bumping into walls here and there. Where would you be? There’s no place to go in your mind. A mere projection of probability and the fact that you can’t be in two places at the same time if you’re no place to begin with. Or maybe you’re everywhere at once. A persistently stubborn reality of whatever stock story you wish to be in. The gambit of dreams is a murky one, in which the laws of physics don’t apply. When you close your eyes, what do you see? Is it scary? Where do we go when we’re there but not where you are? Outside looking in, or inside looking out. Upside down, sideways and a bit off-kilter. The same as not seeing anything at all. Not everything is quite as it seems. Sleep is a petite death in a lonely town called Skulls Kill. Population one.
There’s a ramshackle town in Oklahoma called Nowhere. The estimated population is between three and five people. The other two must be elsewhere. It’s not a town per se. Nowhere is more of a way station for local lost souls. There’s a live bait shop there. Nearby trailers where nobody lives. Abandoned cars and trucks scattered around. A place that isn’t there anymore, but you instinctively know you’ve been there before. In different locales. Everywhere’s in a different nowhere. Same place, different day kind of analogy. That recurring dream of always being in a familiar place but it isn’t. It’s someplace else. Escaping reality and trying to forget. It could be a quick lapse of time. A lapse in judgment’s distance from point A to point B moving on down the line to now. This moment is gone. Where it’s going isn’t far away, but it already happened.
Portals that lead back to the past you just left and the future that is still here waiting to become the before. Way back before you started. Not the person who you were, nor the same person as you will become. Someone else has taken over the present. The fluid motion of constant change. Maybe you can catch up with yourself a moment before you go on to becoming another version of yourself. You might be thinking about this and wondering what in the universe is this weirdo talking about. He must be crazy. And it’s true. I am. I’m a free agent in the realm of reality.
You cease to exist in the moment because you left it behind and moved on to the next one. Stopping the clock game of whatever time is and days are long over. Mark your calendar and forget about it. Now is the only time there was, is, and will be. That’s the trick of time. I’m not going back and I don’t move forward until the next time I get back from wherever I’m going. Often you can recall a vivid memory that takes you back to that exact spot. What you felt, how it played out. A scent of nostalgia, some sentimental trifle, can trigger a sense of the place where it was and how it felt to be. What went down in precise detail of the original occurrence embedded in the mind's eye.
There’s no place like home, yet you can never go home again without feeling the memories you experienced. Haphazardly embellishing the past event to align with your present place in the equation and the effects it brings to the timetable of your life. Energy is pulsing frequencies. Wherever you are or go, remember how you got here. Don’t forget the time spent to arrive at your perfect conclusions. Where are you?