In my own pocket universe

[ProdigalSon]

I can probably best explain the contours and shapes, the topology of my differences; of my issues; of who I really am and how I don't fit into the neat box of Normal by telling you a story.

That's probably not a shock, coming from me.

In any event, this is not your normal story. This is a story I tell myself. This is a story I created. This is the story of the reality I wish was mine.

I use this story when things are not okay for me. At 3am when all I can think about is that the odds of me getting to sunrise are low so what does that say about my future and hearing my pulse pounding in my ears and my left eye starts twitching... this is the story I tell myself to make things better.

From this story you can see everything about me. No details are coincidental no words are accidental. Each layer is another truth.




One day I am walking, holding the stuffed pig I sleep with - a security piglet - and I close my eyes and open the door and step through it and things shift/slide. When I open my eyes I am in a large, open loft-like space.

Needless to say, it's not what was supposed to on the other side of the door. And the stuffed piglet wasn't supposed to be able to talk.

But that's what's going on.

The piglet explains that this is a pocket universe, independent and discrete and attached like a soap bubble to our universe at only one spot - a joining that only I can traverse.

My pocket universe consists of just three rooms. There is a large main room that is rectangular and open and elevated on both ends. One end is the entry from the door and the other is a sleeping loft. The middle of the space is open and contains a sofa, a small table and chair, a broken in leather club chair and a large commercial style kitchen. The walls are entirely covered with filled bookshelves with the exception of the kitchen and around a TV screen and stereo. Two doors lead from this main space into other rooms. First, there is a big bathroom with a soaking tub and a sauna. The second door leads into a very large and brightly lit workshop with workbenches, equipment and electronics of various sorts ranging from a bandsaw to screen printing materials to a photo studio.

The piglet explains that I can take objects back and forth - but I'm the only living creature that can cross. In addition, time works differently in my pocket universe. First of all, the passing of time doesn't age me while within my universe. Secondly, time passes dramatically more quickly. An hour of time outside is 24 hours of time in my little pocket universe.


And that is the story.
To be fair, it's more a setting than a story and more of a confession than a setting and perhaps even more a cry for help and acceptance than anything else because I know it's just a fantasy and an indulgence and all these stories are just a way of abstracting myself and it's stopping me from seeing that things are not black and white and there could be a kind of safety here - in this reality.


So perhaps in the end this is the story.

I've learned to see the signs. Sometimes I like to flatter myself and imagine I'm a Polynesian Navigator in my own way, bringing myself safely through hostile and life threatening situations on a tiny home-made vessel using only the signs and portents from what I can perceive of the reality all around. When I wake up suddenly in the dark and from her earth-deep breathing know it's that 3am 4am time when it's all darkest and a flush crawls across my skin like someone opening a convection oven right behind me... I know what it means.

And sensing what's coming I gather my thoughts and the small stuffed pig that is my totem and my grounding and my safety and drop down down into my mind and slide sideways through the door that opens and

"Now what should we do until it's morning," asks the small pink stuffed pig as he hops from my hand to the hat-stand and I feel my shoulders drop as I look around at the books and know this is my place, my space, my safety.

[LaurelLeaves]

I like the way you write.

[ProdigalSon]

I like the way you write.

Thank you!
I appreciate the kind words.

[BittersweetObfuscation]

This is magnificent. I made an account just to comment on this. I love it.

[LittleBird]

Your post has made me think several things all at once

The rooms reminded me of the structure of a brain, the way we have separate systems for processing stress, environment etc.

A dream sequence of significance specific to you

That dreams are another form of media

That we all replicate what we learn and re-experience it in an unconscious way