What Dreams May Come

"So, you had been in pain before being here?" he gently asked.

I thought hard, trying to remember the reason for my being relieved that I was no longer suffering any pain. Slowly, it came to me. I said, "I was in the hospital. I was lying in a bed with all kinds of instruments hooked up to me. Everything hurt, and it was hard to breathe. I ... I ... "

"It's okay," he soothingly said when I faltered. "That's a good start. Do you know why you were in the hospital?"

I thought about it some more, trying to answer his questions. "I think I was sick. Yes, that's what it was. I was suffering from pneumonia. It was so hard to breathe, and I was so tired. I just wanted to close my eyes and go to sleep."

"Were you alone?" he asked.

"No, I don't think I was," I answered. I tried to remember the details, not just because he had asked me, but because I really wanted to know. As I thought about it, I lost myself in the memory ...

***

... I looked over and saw an old woman sitting next to my bed, a worried look on her face. She had grey hair in a pixie cut and brown eyes. Even with all of her wrinkles, she was still beautiful to me. My heart clenched because I loved her so much, but I knew my time was at an end. I was vaguely aware that other people were on the other side of the bed.

As I turned my head toward her, she reached over and took my hand in hers, gently squeezing it. "I don't want to leave you, my love," I croaked.

I could see tears leaking from her eyes as she said, "I know, my love."

"Please don't cry. I don't want you to cry," I whispered, tearing up myself.

"These aren't tears of sadness," she said, a smile coming over her face even as more tears ran down her cheeks. "She's waiting for you, and I'm so happy you'll finally be with her again."

"You really think so?" I whispered. A smile came over my face despite the tears. The thought that I could be with her again made my heart flutter.

As my eyes closed, I heard her say, "Yes, my love. She's waiting for you. It's okay. Go to her."

"Thank you, my love," I whispered. "I'll never forget you." As I faded away, the last thing I remembered was thinking, "I hope you waited for me, Bon ...."

***

... I recoiled backward, my back hitting the back of my chair as I exclaimed, "I'm dead?!?"

"That depends on the definition of 'dead' you are using," he calmly said. "If you mean that your corporeal body is no longer alive, then yes, you're dead."

I glanced down at myself and then looked up, examining my hands before I looked at him and said, "But I'm here, sitting in this chair. These are my hands. I'm talking to you, my mouth is moving, and my tongue and lips are working together to make sounds that are coming out as words. Aren't I in my body?"

"Are you?" he asked gently.

I started feeling unsure of myself as I processed his question. "How can I prove I'm in my body?" I asked myself. "Maybe this is all a hallucination or a holographic projection," I admitted to myself.

I looked at him and reluctantly conceded, "I don't know."

"That's good," he said. "You're willing to acknowledge that things are not as they may seem. That's an important step."

"A step toward what?" I asked.

"Understanding what has happened to you and what you've become," he answered.

As he said that, I remembered that he had suggested that maybe I should ask what I was when he first spoke to me. Putting my thoughts into words, I asked, "What am I?"

With a chuckle, my companion said, "I won't bother you with the short answer since you'll insist on the long answer anyway. So I'll start by asking, when you were in your corporeal body, where was your consciousness, in essence, 'you,' located?"

I immediately replied, "It would be so easy to say my brain." I held up my hand to stop him from saying anything. I continued, "But, if my corporeal body is dead, then my brain is dead, but 'I' am still here, so that's probably not the answer."

"Correct," he said, sounding pleased with my reasoning.

"I do remember reading in one of the scientific journals that our conscious mind might be a quantum field somehow generated by our brain," I said.

"Close enough," he replied. "The human brain, once it's developed to a certain point, usually by the age of two, is so complex that by merely existing, it generates a standing quantum wave which becomes 'you.'"

"But, if my brain is dead, how am 'I' still here?" I asked, fascinated with where this discussion was going.

"The key word is 'standing,'" he said. "Once the quantum wave is established, it persists, even without the brain. However, the quantum wave remains associated with the brain while it's alive because the brain contains the physical memories that, together, make 'you.'"

"But," I objected, "I still have my memories. Well, to a certain degree." I started feeling unsure of myself again, wondering if I'd ever remember everything, like who I am.

"Yes," he said, "because they are imprinted on the unique quantum wave that is 'you' as they are acquired. However, as long as your physical brain is alive, the quantum wave relies on your physical memories."

"So, my inability to remember who I am, or being able to see you clearly, is because my quantum wave is still trying to sort out my memories? In essence, trying to regenerate the FAT?" I asked.

"That's part of it," he admitted. "The other part is the trauma of being disassociated from the brain. That's quite a shock to the quantum wave. A peaceful transition like the one you experienced makes it easier in some ways, but it is still traumatic."

Remembering the shock I experienced, I found it hard to believe that it could be worse than that. "So, I'll eventually sort things out? How long will it take?"

I realized I already knew the answer as soon as I completed the question. I smiled as he confirmed it by saying, "Only you can determine that."

"So, now that I know what I am, where am I? Is this Heaven? Hell? Purgatory?" I asked.

"Again, the answer to your question is up to you," he said. "All I can say for sure is that you are 'here.'"

"Okay," I conceded. "I am 'here,' so I assume I am somewhere in the universe, by definition?"

"Yes, you are correct. You are in the quantum substrate which underlies the fabric of the 'macro' universe," he said.

"So, where am I with reference to the 'macro' universe?" I asked, playing along.

"Everywhere and nowhere," was his reply.

I sat there, pondering the implications. I looked toward the window. I noticed it had brightened somewhat, but I still couldn't see anything. I realized that my hands were clenched on top of the table. As I thought about that, I realized I could feel the table.

I looked up at him and asked, "If I am a standing quantum wave, why can I feel this table? Why am I sitting in this chair? Shouldn't I be able to pass through it?"

"Technically, the table and the chair don't exist," he said. "They are artifacts you created to justify your existence here. The fact that you are 'sitting' on the chair, or that your arms are 'resting' on the table, is due to your built-in biases developed from your experiences gathered while you were alive in the 'macro' universe."

"So, you're saying I can pass through this table if I want to?" I asked. As I did, I tried to imagine that my hand could pass through the table. However, no matter how hard I tried, I failed.

He chuckled as he said, "I know you don't want to hear this, but you can't, yet, because you're ...."

"... not ready to do it yet," I finished as a grin forced its way onto my lips.

"Yes. Eventually, you'll be totally in control of your environment and be able to do anything you can imagine." He then cautioned, "Just don't try things too fast because you can lose yourself and maybe even disassociate yourself."

"You mean, really 'die'?" I asked worriedly.

"No, not exactly," he said. "In the quantum world, information can't be lost. It is conserved in one form or another. 'You' are information. However, you would lose your self-awareness and become only a repository of all of your memories, essentially a database."

"Does that happen a lot?" I asked.

"More often than you'd imagine," he replied. "Since time has no meaning here, you can assume that you'll be here for what will seem like forever or no time at all."

"Wait," I said. "Time has no meaning here? Then, any time referential terms we've been using are meaningless?"

"Yes, to your first question," he agreed. "As you know, any equation describing quantum mechanics that uses time as a variable remains valid no matter which way time is flowing. Therefore, causality, e.g., 'If A then B,' has no meaning because 'If B then A' is just as valid. The answer to your second question is no. Our use of past, present, and future tense is again a remnant from our life in the 'macro' universe, just like you 'sitting' in a chair that doesn't exist. When God created the universe, he instantiated space-time in the 'macro' portion to prevent everything from happening simultaneously."

I was beginning to get overwhelmed with everything I was hearing. My mind was spinning, trying to grasp the implications of what I had learned. In a panic, I faded ...

***

... I slowly became aware that I was lying in bed, feeling sad. I really wanted to get up and go over and get in bed with her, but I was too afraid of the consequences of that action. As I lay there, I heard her whisper, "The heart wants what the heart wants ... and to hell with reason."

I teared up, thinking how true that was. Once I could, I whispered back, "Yes, it does ...

... I slowly became aware that I was sitting on a park bench. It was sunny and warm, and I could feel the sun's heat on my face. I watched a woman with brown hair in a low ponytail walking away from me, holding the hand of a young boy with brown hair. I looked down to my right, and a young boy with blond hair and blue eyes was sitting on the bench with me, looking up at me. My heart clenched with my love for this child as he asked, "Do you like my mom ...

... I slowly became aware that I was furious and sad at the same time. I was standing at attention in front of a desk with an angry-looking man looking up at me as I held my salute. He had two stars on each shoulder. We held our glares as I wished I didn't have to be here. Despite not wanting to be here, I was determined not to let him take the initiative. Finally, I saw the capitulation in his eyes, and I felt a small feeling of victory as he raised his right hand to return my salute. As soon as he dropped his salute, I dropped mine, remaining at attention, daring him to say something. I saw him gather himself before he barked, "You fucked up, Major ...

... I slowly became aware that I was sitting in a small room. There was the chair I was sitting in and a small table with a security box sitting on it. I had just opened it and saw a pale blue envelope on top with 'Virginia' written in script. I slowly reached in and picked it up, carefully opening it and pulling out the letter inside. I opened it, not really wanting to, but needing to, to bring closure. As I flattened it out, through the tears, I read, "My dearest Virginia ...."

... I slowly became aware that I was giddy with happiness as I kneeled there in the first row of pews. I saw a tall young man with brown hair and brown eyes standing next to and facing a young woman with brown hair and blue eyes not much shorter than him. She was wearing a beautiful bridal gown, and he was dressed in a handsome white tuxedo. They were sharing a look and smiling so widely I thought their faces would split. I looked to my left, and across the aisle, I saw a beautiful woman my age with brown hair and eyes looking at me with a smile as wide as my own. We broke our gaze and looked forward and down as the priest intoned, "Let us pray ...."

***

... "I promise I'll wait forever for you, my love ...."

... I started into awareness, her words ringing in my ears. "Who's saying that?" I wondered. "Why am I so sure it was a 'her'?"

I opened my eyes. I was back where I was before, sitting at a table next to a large window. I noticed it was a lot brighter outside the window, and there was a hint of depth and maybe the trace outlines of something out there. I looked around and noticed that the walls were better defined with wood paneling, and the floor was hardwood. The feeling that this place was familiar grew stronger.

Before I got too lost in the details of my surroundings, I heard him say, "Welcome back. A little overwhelming, isn't it?"

I turned to look at him. I noticed that he wasn't as blurry as before. I could see that he had short brown hair and brown eyes, but the rest of his features were still blurry enough that I couldn't make them out. I said, "That's a lot to take in all at once," I admitted.

"Yes, but it is necessary so that you can understand what has happened to you," he said. He went on, "You must have a lot of questions now that you have had time to process some of the things we've discussed."

"Yes," I said. "You said 'God' created the universe?"

"Yes," he said. "God, Yahweh, the Creator, whatever label you want to put on it, created the universe. You could say that God is the universe. To be clear, God didn't just create the starting conditions for the universe, bring it into existence, and then sit back to see what happens. God created the entire universe, from beginning to end."

"Wait," I protested. "If God did create the universe from beginning to end, then everything has already been pre-determined. The concept of 'free will' can't exist."

"Very good," he said, sounding pleased. "In the 'macro' universe, you'd be correct. But since 'you' are a standing quantum wave, 'you' do have 'free will.'"

"So, 'free will' is not an illusion? The actions I took while I was alive were mine and mine alone?" I asked.

"Yes and no," he answered. "Yes, in that you could do what you wanted to, up to a certain point. No, in that you weren't allowed to make choices that would change what God had created."

"So, God built in some wiggle room so we could have 'free will' but at the same time allow the overall 'macro' universe to exist as designed?" I asked. "What happens if your 'free will' tries to exceed the tolerances of the wiggle room?"

"That's where it gets interesting," he said. "Whenever you're on the verge of making a choice of your own 'free will' that would impact creation, God would send a messenger. The messenger would whisper a short message in your ear that would allow you to freely make a different choice."

When I heard him say that, I flashed back ...

... Once I finished my shower, I donned my robe, lay on my bed, and drifted off to sleep as her expressive brown eyes danced in my head. I heard a whispered, "She's the one," just as I entered Sandman's realm.

I jolted awake, not really believing what had just happened. Had I really heard a voice, or was that just an artifact of random neurons firing as different parts of my brain shut down for sleep? As I pondered that, I drifted back off to sleep ...

... I became aware that he was looking at me with what I imagined was some concern. "Are you okay?" he asked gently.

"Yes," I said. "I just flashed back to a memory where I thought I had heard a whispered message in my ear once. I must have had one of God's messengers pay me a visit." I went on to tell him about the memory.

When I finished, he said, "That's interesting. Usually, the person receiving the message isn't aware of the message that made them choose differently. In your case, it sounds like you were able to justify what you heard in such a way that allowed you to maintain the illusion that you made that choice of your own 'free will.'"

Something he had said earlier floated into my awareness. I said, "Earlier, you said that this chair and table were artifacts I created to justify my existence here." I looked around at the rest of the room and the tables and chairs occupied by people. I turned back to him and asked, "Did I create all of this and the people sitting around us? Did I create you as a sounding board to help me understand what has happened to me?"

"Those are both astute questions," he said, taking my abrupt change in direction in stride. "You did create this place. You didn't create the people who are here. They are all people who you know personally and have allowed them to enter your place." He leaned in before saying, "I, however, am not someone you know personally, so, in essence, I've crashed your place. It wasn't easy, but it needed to be done. At least you seemed receptive to allowing people into your place." In a sad voice, he continued, "That's not always the case. When they die, some people shut everything out and refuse to allow anyone to interact with them. Those are the ones that we usually lose."

"So, I created this place," I mused, almost to myself. "I know it feels familiar, so it must correspond to a real place in the 'macro' universe." Then, a thought occurred to me, and I voiced it. "I existed, or more correctly, I was linked to my brain in the 'macro' universe while my brain was alive. Can I visit the actual place instead of being here in this replica I created?"

"Yes, you can, when you're ready," he replied. "I must caution you that you will be unable to interact with anything while you're there. Also," he continued, "you can only visit places you've actually been to, so you are restricted by space and time while in the 'macro' universe. In other words, you won't be able to visit Mars or see attack ships on fire off the shoulder of Orion."

When I heard that, I flashed back to a memory of a TV show that I had enjoyed named 'Quantum Leap.' I suddenly remembered the final episode and flinched backward in my seat before I asked, "Are you God?"

"Oh, no," he replied. "I'm not God. I'm just a person like you who's been here a while and has learned a lot about how things work here." I relaxed as he continued, "You're thinking about the final episode of 'Quantum Leap,' right? The writers of that show were closer to the truth than they knew. You can only visit places you've been to and remember, so you are essentially restricted to any time while you were alive."

"So, I can't go back and see the signing of the Declaration of Independence in 1776?" I asked.

"No," he answered. "However, Thomas Jefferson is around here somewhere, and if you ever run into him, you could ask him about it. I don't know how receptive he'd be, but the worst that could happen is he ignores you."

"Wait," I said, "are you saying I can visit a place or time that someone else can visit?"

"Yes, with conditions," he said. "You must be able to completely trust the person you travel with. If they were to take you somewhere and abandon you, you'd be lost and unable to get back to 'here.' At best, you could find your way back to places and times where you existed. You'd just wander around them until you run into someone you shared that particular time and place with, and they could bring you back. But the odds of that happening are pretty slim."

"Well, I'm not going to try that anytime soon," I averred. "Can you show me how to do it myself? I really feel that I need to visit this place in the 'macro' universe."

"Yes, I can," he said. "But first, you need to show me you're ready to do it."

"How do I do that?" I asked.

"When everything here stops being blurry, you'll be ready," he said. "Only you can do that," he said as he got up. "I'll leave you to work that out now," he said as he walked away. "You know enough now to figure it out."

I followed him with my eyes as he walked out into the lobby and then out the door. I looked out the window next to me, and it was bright enough that I could vaguely see a human-like figure moving off into the distance as though through a heavy fog. I stood up, walked out into the lobby, and approached the door.