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Down in the Dirt v044

MY TRAVELS ON THE WORMHOLE EXPRESS

Mel Waldman

    Many years ago, probably long before you were born, I traveled on the Wormhole Express for the very first time. (It’s right here-in the center of our earthly existence and whether you are human or not-of science or faith-it enriches, enlightens those who are willing to see.)
    Only one other person knew what had happened to me. A guy I called-friend. After he inquired, I revealed the truth to him. You see, we were together when I vanished. We were somewhere in Brooklyn, not far from Sheepshead Bay, Brighton Beach, and Coney Island. We might have been in Manhattan Beach, for we were near the ocean.
    I suppose my friend was terrified when I entered the mammoth, oval mist. And I imagine the others who saw me vanish into this phantom fog within seconds, on an antediluvian Brooklyn street, suspected something horrific, incomprehensible. (In reality, the phenomenon was metaphysical, cosmological, and paradoxical.)
    When I stuck my left hand into the seething, fog-like form, it disappeared. Yet when I removed it, my hand was undamaged. So I stuck my head into the sinister shape, and my head disappeared according to my friend’s account. But when I stepped out of this eerie form, no longer headless, I felt absolutely divine. (I should have been suspicious. But I was too happy to contemplate any critical thoughts. Beware! As a rule of thumb, metamorphosis is freaky. And the fusion of metamorphosis with an instant, inexplicable high means danger!)
    I craved the high I had experienced inside the seductive form looming nearby. So like Sherlock Holmes rushing across the misty moors, I leaped into the familiar fog again, which in reality, was quite unfamiliar and not exactly a fog. Inside the mysterious form, I discovered thousands of tiny wormholes. (Intuition told me what they were.)
    Instinctively, when my fingers touched a frozen wormhole, they moved backward, away from the portal. But when they touched a warm, soothing wormhole, they moved farther into its domain before stopping. Then in one case, my fingers embraced the secret domain and suddenly, my entire body was catapulted into another universe.

    On the other side, I discovered a beautiful place that looked like Brooklyn 10 years in the future. Yet there were no humans. I was deliciously elated to be alone, for people had made me a pariah long ago, ostracizing me to an invisible existence, forcing me to feel like nothing. Yet now, emptied of my earthly pain, I was free!
    I explored my new home where I felt at peace. For days it seemed, I was a King, and my kingdom was glorious, absolutely the most beautiful place in the universe. Sometimes I lay naked on a beach, beneath a majestic sun, and inhaled the golden light of love. Yes I was loved-not by humans, but by the sun and the sand, the water, and all the other beautiful things-objects in my kingdom.
    Then one day my beloved objects talked to me. They told me I must return to earth to fulfill my destiny. It wasn’t my time to stay. Although I protested, I searched for the wormhole that had brought me to this place uncontaminated by other humans. Perhaps guided by the things-objects of my kingdom, I found many wormholes. Reluctantly, and with deep sadness, I leaped about a foot and touched a wormhole that was almost invisible. I flew far away.
    After flying across the universe, I found myself inside the mammoth, oval mist again. It spoke to me too. And I obeyed its command. Walking out of its eerie form, I returned to Brooklyn.
    To my surprise, my friend was waiting there for me. I tried to hug him. But he moved away from me for some reason. Still I thanked him for waiting such a long time. But he told me I had been gone less than a minute.
    Momentarily, I turned around to gaze at the mysterious mist. Looking back at the familiar form, I watched it vanish in a few seconds. Too late to leap inside its cocoon and leave this world behind.
    When I revealed the truth to my friend, he didn’t believe me. And after that day, we parted company. Soon, I stopped believing too.

    Unloved and invisible again, I roam the streets of Brooklyn searching for a freaky form. Can’t find it. I try to feel the love emitted by the objects-things around me. I can’t! Try to love others. But they can’t feel my love.
    Maybe you think I’m mad because I claim I’ve traveled on the Wormhole Express. Yeah. Probably had a psychotic episode with weird delusions and lost my way. Now, I don’t see any weird stuff-only humans. And if there’s a tear in the fabric of the universe, I suspect it’s right in the center of our soulless souls.
    Still searching for the freaky form and another trip on the Wormhole Express. In the meantime, I’m the invisible man, stuck right here-in the soulless streets of Brooklyn, stripped of almost everything, especially hope, but not my childlike curiosity.
    Yeah, I’m the invisible man. A ghost who walks beside you. But you don’t see me.
    Look closely. Try to find me. Search hard-before you look in the mirror and discover-nothing at all.



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