Stuck In Two Dimensions

Chapter 1: A Young Mind and Matters of Universes

While I had been told in my childhood by parents and some other 'elders' that there were 'worlds' overlaying and intertwining with 'ours', I had never came across to or observed any other with my own senses, even in imagination.

When I asked my father if he had observed any he claimed he hadn't, yet seemed full of confidence that these worlds existed. And, so how did he come about this assertion and confidence, was the next logical question which I put across to him. He claimed someone he'd forgotten told him, possibly one of his parents.

Then and there, I rested my case with him. I put same questions to my mother. She was taken aback, momentarily by the forthrightness of my bearing and simplicity of my words. Soon, she regained her motherly stance and expressions, replying that my father told her. She looked rather religiously innocent the way she spoke her defense of the matter she understood little of, obviously.

Well, end of story. End of intriguing searches, if fetal. What can a young mind do when faced with the brick wall erected by his parents? Brick wall of pure fancy devoid of understanding that cannot be further prodded with doubtful, clean mind. There wasn't any option than for the impressive, but highly doubtful and inquisitive in this case, mind to quit, if for the time being.

But, growing up and reading, I ran across writers who claimed that 'our' universe is actually embedded and part of several universes. They claimed there were beings and life activities more or less like what we experienced in our universe, in these other universes. They claimed further that these other universes were overlaying and intertwining with the known physical universe that we humans have reality of.

As for me, I hadn't observed any such convolution of universes. Unknown to me then, I could have written the writers, and asked the same questions I put across to my parents. But for some reasons, I didn't. I presumed they hadn't seen anything themselves. Knowing writers for their over exuberant imaginations, one can't put any outlandish creations beyond the depths of their creative faculties to enliven such fantasy.

I had no idea I was going to become a writer of outlandish, over exuberant imaginations myself. Possibly, it's a sort of punishment as I couldn't find any vocation that really makes me happy. Oh, I had several areas of life that I was an expert, in my own rights. But being really happy? Well, happiness, for me, lies in the arms of writing, imagination and facts driven, both.

Furthering my desire to know for a certain that none had observed this fantasy, I asked a few people whom I could share such wild words with without being taken as stupid or insane. Well, I wasn't taken as stupid (really) and insane (actually), but I received deafening and prolonged laughter harboring derision, ridicule and unbelievable-ness. This was the payment for my curiosity and desire to cage the shadowy turmoil that crept surreptitiously, attempting to gain access to the surface of my consciousness. If the shadowy turmoil that surged in the darkest, most silent and coldest recesses of my mind were to erupt loose to the surface, goodness knew what would become of the relationship between me and sanity.

Was I blind to what was taken as true or believable to my parents and the writers I had the fortune or misfortune to have read their works? Was I not calm, able, sensible or sensitive enough as those people who burdened my fancy with such unreal, unfathomable phenomena? Was I just being childish? Was I being a sucker for the fabulous and incredible, like most every child? Was I merely stupid to tend toward the likelihood of truth or factuality of the assertion that what wasn't obvious has reality?

Finally, I settled the trouble myself. It was one ordinary non-fabulous and non-incredible day, a day not unlike the ones previous to it or the ones which had passed after it. I just finished reading another fabulous book. And, as I stared into the nothingness of the space of my mind, without seeking for anything in specific, I dismissed all the non-provable, unreal, unlearneable and unteacheable wisdoms, truths, phenomena et al. as nonexistent and therefore not to be bothered with. I felt an instant relief. I felt like a man with three days old constipation who just discharged the terrific load from his bowel. I could have said I felt like a pregnant woman who just birthed a baby, but I lack any familiarity or feeling as to how these wondrously wonderful women feel. But, the constipated man, I had proof of my personal reality of.