Do You Believe In Time Travel?

I’ve just regained my sense of time and space after having been in a dissociated state for roughly 5 hours.   I woke up around 5:00 AM and was very aware that I was someone else, someone different, someone new.  I was overcome with the sensation that I was trapped inside the wrong body.  I walked around the room in an attempt to “come back” but I just couldn’t shake the feeling that I was disconnected from myself, from my body, from my present reality. I don’t know what happened after that; I lost time.

The next thing I recall is something that I know could not possibly have really happened.  I don’t know if I was asleep and dreaming or awake and hallucinating, but I very distinctly remember that I was in the middle of an intervention.  MY intervention.  All of my friends were there, from different cities even, and my sister was there.  My mom was noticeably absent.  Also, I saw that my friends were all older, they had all aged.  In particular, I can see and hear one of my artist friends gathering everyone together and telling them what to do and say.  I know this is in the future because my friend’s hair is short and graying around the temples, and as far as I know, he currently has brown hair down nearly to his waist.  I can hear my sister talking about me and how they all need to help me “but be careful not to upset her”.  I hear them all talking about my drug use, and even catch specific names of drugs– Ketamine, for example.  It was really bizarre, because it seemed as though I had time-traveled and was witnessing my possible not-so-distant future.   I can’t help but wonder if perhaps I was experiencing an alternate plane of reality.  Maybe I was seeing another dimension, maybe I was in a parallel universe, maybe I was experiencing a vision of what will be.  I have to stop here to note that in this “vision”, I was being asked to enter rehab for drugs which I’ve never used in my life.  I even remember thinking to myself, upon hearing the words of my friends, that I don’t do those things.  I don’t use hard drugs.  I said out loud “I’ve never used needles in my life!” and this phrase woke me up and I was transported back to the here and now and I was left wondering how or why this scenario could actually take place.

Perhaps it was a warning.  Perhaps, in my future, the stress is more than I can bear and I turn to drugs for comfort.  Some K’s do self-medicate with alcohol and pot; could it be that I will someday be in a situation where I’m offered heroin?  And perhaps more importantly, am I so weak that I’d give in and use such drugs?  It seems hard to believe that an occasional pot smoker could turn into a needle junkie in just a short period of time, but I suppose things like that happen all the time.  I guess perhaps I am at risk for such an occurrence.  It is true that one of the K’s has a history of drug use from when we were in our 20’s and used to frequent nightclubs and raves.  She was a party girl and it is her that sometimes tells us to get wasted and forget our troubles.  We, the other K’s, try to keep her under control, and usually we can do so… but occasionally she will pop out for an impromptu party.  She was in charge for much of our 20’s and I feel that had we not reeled her in, she very well could have killed us with the drugs and alcohol.  I’ll have to tell you about her sometime.  She left behind a shocking diary which another K destroyed to protect us.  I can’t remember how I know that, but I do.

After this little “time travel” incident, I was engulfed in guilt (for things which have never even happened!) and then I lost time again.  Perhaps I was asleep.  I really can’t say for sure.  But the next thing I know, I “wake up” and I’m in the bathroom, sitting on the vanity stool.  I’ve got tweezers in my hand.  And both my legs are covered in small, bleeding sores.  I just sat there and stared at the wounds for a minute or two, transfixed by the sight of the blood running down toward my ankle. That’s when I looked at the clock and saw the time.  I couldn’t understand how so many hours could have passed since I first got out of bed.  I felt confused and disoriented, and completely grossed out by my compulsive skin picking.  I am so ashamed of us.