Island sans Sage Journal           Page 2, 3

Note: The original story line was lost in a global/dimensional catastrophic event also known as no backup when the hard drive crashed. This is a new version.

Journal entry: The raindrops fall lazily from the leaves on my willow tendrils.  I watch the drops form small puddles.  I am trying to sort out the infinite possibilities of what happens next. Almost afraid to breathe.  I think I know how it happens, but I am still not sure. I am visiting at my grandmother's house.  She has let the willow limbs grow until they reach the ground. Then she trims them off just barely above the grass.  Grandmother loves flowers and has a blood red climbing rose on the front porch.  Sometimes she dips the blooms in paraffin to preserve them and I help her. 

Journal entry:  Today, I am trying to focus on being only one.  But, it gets so tiresome.  Thus, I am presently making dolls from hollyhock blooms and horseshoe nails.  It bothers me that I cannot find anything in the special drawer to make arms. I stick them up in a row in the grass so that they can dance. Grandmother saves things for me to find in the special drawer. Yesterday, we walked to the cemetery.  Tomorrow, we will go to town and purchase flour. I get to choose the sack.  Grandmother will make me a new dress.  If I decide on one color does my other take a different one?

Journal entry:  I painted all the chairs and rocking chair red today.  Grandmother uses the same color paint every year. Does my other use a different color? We saw a water moccasin go under the house today.  I am supposed to be very careful if I play under the willow tree.  I do not think I will go there again. I heard some of grandmother and her friends talking about monsters in the root cellar and out behind the wood pile. Grandmother does not have a wood pile. The coal and wood are kept in a shed. But she does have a root cellar.There isn't much room down there. Just jars full of fruit and vegetables. Some potatoes and apples left from last Fall. But, maybe monsters come in the night and wait. I am wondering if monsters are also inhabitants of duplicate lives. Now that is truly scary.

Journal entry:  This summer, I jumped off the train track to the water below and cut my foot.  So, instead of the usual things we do.  I am learning to draw by copying the comics and seed catalog pictures. 

Journal entry:  They came and took me out of school today.  Grandmother died. They said she went to a better place.  I am very sad as I am most content at Grandmother's.  Every where else I am always tense and on guard, waiting.  What am I waiting for?  I do not know.  Still finding more of me in my dreams.  Becoming more unsettled each night.  They found me sleep walking in the barn last night. Who knows why I was out there.  Two nights ago, I stood up and walked right off my bunk bed.  Hit my head on the crib next to it.  I have a black eye today.  The funny thing is I thought I was walking in the yard when it happened. 

Journal entry:  I am bearing feelings of ill will toward my mother.  She questions me while I am sleeping.  I answer not knowing I am doing so.  The next morning she gleefully repeats whatever I told her.  I feel she is trespassing in my lives.  LIVES being the keyword here.  I have come to the conclusion that new lives are split when you make decisions not from indecision or no decisions.

Journal entry:  I have found one of the gates to my parallel selves.  It can be entered just as I am falling asleep.  The gateway gives my body a different sensation, sort of all over well being feeling, then opens to a black void which I can fall into.  I have no control of where it takes me. 

Journal entry:  Doing some dream research on myself after taking some classes in same.  Supposed to keep a dream log.  My dreams are always full living color with voices.  People that I may or may not know.  Not knowing some of these individuals is what brought me to a full realization that they are from parallel lives and I have slipped over during the dream. 

Journal entry:  I am beginning to wonder if I am really a person at all.  What if none of the selves are really a person.  It is said that each person is their own reality. But, what if in reality you are not a whole, but only bits and fragments that can only be contained in the precise split second.  After that time has passed you are no more and are not yet a person in the future.  Oh dear, I just am not wise enough to figure this out. It is like the words in an old popular song where I think they were speaking of aging and I am speaking of my selves: Slip sliding away, slip sliding away , You know the nearer your destination, the more you are slip sliding away. No one I will discuss this with me.  In fact, they think something  is wrong with me.

Journal entry:  I can't stay in one realm but choosing between the realities is becoming more than I can bear.  My heart beats until I think it will explode and the hives are a constant companion in my indecision.  I am now seeing a shrink, but how can I discuss the reality theory with her.  She is just like my parents.  They think I must be having periods of Disassociative Behavior.  I saw my chart last week.  The teachers say I spend all my time day dreaming.  If only, that were the case.

Journal entry:  They have put me in an institution, hospital, loony bin, psychiatric ward, call it what you may.  I feel I could belong here.  Maybe I can be green jello and slip under the door, go unnoticed by fate.  I spend my days reading as much as possible.  It keeps me from having to make decisions that are life altering.

Journal entry:  The months are slipping by and still I do not have any comprehension of how many lives I lead.  Plus, when I find a new one it is extremely difficult to get back to the last one.  I have no control.  I count the ceiling tiles, the floor tiles, the knobs on the cabinets, the steps to the restroom. Sanity is an illusion.

Journal entry:  More tests and more tests. Questions like, "What color is Grant's white horse?" Today, I gave all the opposite answers in hopes that they will just give up and let me find a place that is my life. Some of the people here are no longer thinking beings.  But, who knows if that is worse than being lost in your own lives.  Not knowing which one is the real thing. Has any one of my lives led a direct path?  Does all of the lives jump back and forth like a knitted scarf? Are all of the strands the same length?  Or do some of them die before others?  Are there just a certain number of lives each person can hold? If a new one is created how many can that one create?  Do they all have souls?

Journal entry:  I can not remember the last time I wrote.  I have been here a long time.  There are no calendars to mark the passing of one's life.  At least they have given up on trying to medicate me.  I got a new therapist last month and the meds stopped with her arrival.  She asks me to tell her about my dreams. I have been telling her some of them.  We are working on lucid dreaming so that I can control what happens in the dreams.  Last night I was in a shop: all glass shelving and china pieces.  The most delicate pink and white cup was knocked from the shelf and I mentally made it not fall. I can not tell you the joy this gave me.  To find some control. Frequently, my dreams are of things like watching the fish in an aquarium only after blinking my eyes they are not fish but kittens trying to get out. Then a blink later they are small monkeys of all colors. 

Journal entry:  Today, I will share with her one of the earliest divides that I can remember.  I was five.  It is Spring. I have on shorts, a multi-colored shirt and a red and navy Roy Rogers sweater with my cowboy boots.  I am swinging as high as I can on the tire swing.  The next thing I know I am on top of a tall slide. Not in my backyard but at the school play ground.  I slide down and when my feet hit the bottom I am on the last step of the gymnasium stage.  I take another step and I am in my kitchen.  Totally confused and scared.  Then life went on again for months and months before I remember another switch. I suggested that life changes with every choice we make and she agrees that is quite possible as she has had other patients with the same views.

Journal entry:  After I told the therapist about my first memory of sliding she said she would make arrangements for me to meet a couple of her friends. I am looking forward to meeting someone similar to me.

Jurnal entry:  Therapist arranged a meeting at her home with a few of her friends.  I was not given their real names.  So I will call them zero, zero1 and zero2.  They were ever so happy and seemed extremely content being together. It was a fun evening outside the normal walls in which I have contained myself.

Journal entry:  I am spending less time in avoidance since meeting the new friends.   Not getting "better" according to my parents or the staff here.  But, I am feeling relief as my lucid dreaming gains control.  Not as much a victim of my dreams.  Now, to figure out how to control the lives.  What is happening in all of them?  I am the same person in all of them? Or does my intelligence, personality and morals change from life to life?  Of course, my morals have to change.  Say, I choose to take an item that does not belong to me then that self is not as moral as the self that choose the road where it did not take the item.  Do I have any control over those other selves?  I think not. 

Journal entry:   I have found that I can switch between selves when there is the feeling of "been there done that".  But, any decisions that I make just create more selves that go off on their own merry way.  Are you getting the idea yet?  24 hours a day, 7 days a week, 12 months a year every time you make a decision it creates another self that is out there leading a parallel life and everyone of them are creating more selves leading parallel lives.  It is the reason I am lost.

Journal entry:  My therapist calls me the young sage.  But, I know that a sage is supposed to be wise and I am anything but that.  I am wanting, desiring to find escape.  I tried to get off the merry go round once.  But, I am still here.

Journal entry:  I have left the hospital and have been living in an artist community.  Still not settled and in control of my life, but definitely doing better. Art and reading are great evaders.

Journal entry:  Enjoying the friendship of several artists and even going to social events with them. Perhaps they are kindred souls.  I do not share my multiple lives with anyone except my therapist whom I am still visiting on a weekly basis.  The government is now doing sleep study research to find the individuals that are the multiples.  They want to use them for studies that will not make the evening news. What did make the evening news is that one person escaped and told his story at 6 and 10. 

Journal entry:  Therapist tried hypnosis today.  No luck.  I resist all techniques.  My therapist tells me there is much in the news about stepping up the number of people signing up for the governmental sleep studies. They are even offering money/credits now.  But, as always there are leaks to the media. We know individuals are being confined for testing at a special facility against their will.  My therapist feels this is wrong and says she will help me find a safe haven.

Journal entry:  It has been several weeks since I have written again.  We have a plan and I will leave Earth for a planet of my own in the outer regions of our galaxy.  The planet we have found is mostly water with a small island.  My therapist says that in all probability I will no longer experience the lives of my parallel selves and in doing so finally find some peace of mind.  I am so anxious.  It is not a journey I am looking forward to.  I will be leaving everything I know behind.  But, the good thing is that I will have contacts on earth and other planets for technology and other things that one needs to exist.  I leave at midnight.

Journal entry:  We have been traveling at night by the back roads.  We are in a desert waiting for our contact person.  Tonight is the launch night.  There are many crates and packages on the dock.  I guess they are also going along, but at this moment I am just too tired to notice much. I will sleep the duration of this journey. Hopefully, when I awaken I will still be the same person. I have named my new home:  Island sans Sage.  My new name is Sage.  I am an artist. 

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Today, is another rainy day. I have been doing mundane chores.  Checking websites.  Downloading a widget for mine.