Humans are four dimensional creatures. The first dimension is length, a line; the second dimension introduces width to the line, creating a plane; the third dimension is depth, what we are able to perceive as humans; the fourth dimension is time/duration, which we also experience as humans.
Changes happen to our bodies and our environment as time (as we perceive it) passes. Births, deaths and everything in between all occur within the realm of time. Humans are at the mercy of the fourth dimension, but cannot yet manipulate it. Any one split second of a moment is but a single 3D frame in our ongoing 4D world. However, if a human could be viewed in the fourth dimension, everything that person was, is, or will be could be seen all at once in a long progression of conception to death.
The closest humans have come to manipulating the fourth dimension is the still photograph.
June 22, 1995 I remember being in a dimly lit room. I tried not to lose lucidity, but the light just wouldn’t get brighter. I left the room into a classically kept general store with wood floors and a residential lounging cat. The sunlight was pouring in through the windows, but there was still a stark contrast of light and darkness, more-so disorienting than anything. Not a soul to be found. So, I made my way onto the street through the only door I could find. It was not nearly as bright as it seemed in the store, but there was more life. The big classic movie theater of the town was just down the street from here. The roads were clean and only a few cars occupied them, so I rode a bike over to the university to see if I could still enroll. Excited to start learning in a college environment again, I was able to locate the administration building just in time. The meeting was short, with classes starting the same day. I was able to cut straight through campus for most of my classes. But after what seemed to be a week, I started to notice I was completely neglecting a core course I signed up for. When I realized the mistake, I knew I had to make it there on time to rectify it – which was in five minutes. I ran through the hallways and got there late, but so did the professor. They didn’t even know I hadn’t been there. Now time to eat, I have to catch the bus home. I have my notebooks, I forgot my textbook. Okay, now I have that book, but maybe I should bring these other two as well so I can get some work done early. Shit, what about this mess of papers? I don’t have time to go through them, so I’ll just put them in my bag and go. Halls are emptying, I finally find the front door. The buses are leaving. I guess I’ll have to go find my car. The parking lot wraps all the way around the large building and people are still scattered about loitering. I run halfway around campus before I find the Geo. The trees are green, the air is fresh, the sun is shining. Before I knew it, I found myself at the center of town by the memorial. There were some new food trucks there so I wanted to try something out. But I only had $2.60. I had already ordered something for $4.80. I started to panic for change. I found a quarter in my pocket and a nickel on the ground. The vendor was mad, but he gave it to me anyway. And I ran. I ran as far as the end of the street before realizing I was going the wrong way to meet my friend in time. And before I could get there and finally eat my HotHamDogBurger, I woke up.
The biggest problem I have with this dream is that I had no control over it. I wanted more light, I had no light. I wanted to catch the bus, I missed the bus. Everything was just out of my control. I don’t want to make that a habit.
Maybe I need to relax on the weed.
November 23, 1993 Deejafar was the kind of girl who lived like there was no tomorrow. Each sunrise for her signified a new beginning, a new opportunity, a new frontier. She was excited to try new things, to meet new people, and go new places. Nothing was out of the realm of possibility for her. She loved people. She believed in friendship and love. She was optimistic and saw the good in everyone; in the world. She is survived by her cat Muffin.
WRITTEN IN RED Deej – Did not follow obituary format; Not realistic.
WRITTEN LARGER IN BLACK That school was a huge mistake.
The last time Deejafar went to the doctor for a checkup was shortly after her last relationship. The health care provider told her she had syphilis and she didn’t even flinch. “Well, at least that’s a new one.” Treatment was swift and she continued to follow her dreams. But this time around, she started to feel symptoms first. Slight nausea, abdominal discomfort, and now bleeding during sex.
“Are you okay? Does it hurt?” most of her partners would ask. “Honestly, I didn’t even know it happened.” With a sigh, she pulls her underwear up. “But since this is now the third time I’ve bled, I think I have to make an appointment.” She snaps her bra into place. “Maybe you should, too.”
She went to the clinic on her own dressed in her favorite sweat pants – because if she was going to be uncomfortable in public, she might as well do it as comfortably as possible. The wait was long – nearly two hours – but she utilized the time to meditate and relax in a couple of chairs in the corner of the waiting room. The room was cool, but not cool enough to cause any chills on the skin. A couple of TVs played softly in the lobby, one sounding like medical drama and the other like reality drama. Light coughs occasionally carried through the space, but overall the environment was calm and quiet.
A name is called by the receptionist that was not Deejafar, so Deejafar goes back to her mantra (“I am alive and the world is still here.”) and starts to dream. A plane in the sky lazily flies by with its engines reverberating through the air. Bright sky, strong wind, wide horizon, fresh air. Without warning, Deejafar is knocked to the ground. Startled, she opens her eyes to find herself on the floor of the waiting room. She shakes her head attempting to regain her bearings when a hand is offered to her. Instinctively, she grabs the hand to help herself up. The hand was cold. “Oh, thank you so much….” Without looking up, she got to her feet, still shaking her head. “I must have fallen asleep and….” “DEE-JAY-FUR.” Deejafar’s eyes snap open and she is suddenly wide awake – sitting in the same chair in the waiting room, nobody sitting near her. “DEE-JAY-FUR, am I saying that right?” Deejafar slowly crept back to reality, “Yes! That’s me!” Not bothering to correct the receptionist’s mispronunciation.
June 23, 1995 I don’t write. I am not a writer. But something on the TV startled me and I don’t know where to go with this.
It was confirmed today, somewhere in Europe or Asia. The original manuscript they found a year ago is, in fact, fiction – all Western religion is a lie. They say there is no God, maybe not even a Jesus. The Holy Bible is now considered “the greatest metaphorical work of all time.” HOW CAN THEY SAY THAT.
I don’t know what to think. I don’t know what to feel. I’m so lost and confused. What is life if it is ultimately meaningless? I can only help so many people, who will save the rest if there is no God? How can we live in a world of suffering without hope? I’ve always felt like an alien about my beliefs and now that has been confirmed with the rest of the world.
I feel helpless. Hopeless? I feel lost. Shocked. Numb. I don’t know what I feel. Everything is different now. Everything is terrifying. How can I trust anyone anymore? What are their motives? Petty crime is no longer petty – now nobody even cares if they are doing the right thing or not.
On the news. Riots. Pointless murder. Mass theft. And nobody cares. “This is the world we live in.” Nobody believes in anything anymore. Not even themselves.
Who can I help if they won’t help themselves?
What do I do? OH GOD, what do I do?
Marcus finally took one of his vacation days at the last minute. Administration let it go through despite the blatant disregard to policy because he had never taken a vacation day before. Never in his nine loyal years with the clinic. He needed a day to think, to reflect, to really work through all the worries he had been carrying the past year. They all came to a head the day before. World news. Religion is a sham. Now what? His belief in God was real. His undying love for God was real. Nothing else ever made him feel like he did when he truly prayed. He felt one with God. He never questioned the legitimacy of his spirituality.
Five years ago. A library akin to the Great Library of Alexandria was unearthed in Europe. All kinds of astounding texts were found and translated. We rediscovered so many anthologies and technologies, the human race rejoiced.
One year ago. The supposed original manuscript of the Holy Bible/Qur’an/Western religion was found – the ground zero of the “Western” idea of “God.” Dating of the parchment confirmed it. The absolute original collection of writings from various contributors needed to be meticulously translated.
Today. The text was read. Somewhere in the middle of the script, the text clearly states that the work is a complete metaphorical guide to how human beings should live their lives – according to a small collection of conspiracy theorists thousands of years ago. In essence, it is a manifesto of a few adamant and potentially insane men. Despite its helpful nature in guiding a human through the treacheries of life, it is nothing more than a work of imagination. The “God” image was created as an easy symbol for people to conceptualize, already feeding off their primitive ideas of how the world worked. It invoked fear if one chose to stray from this path to becoming “the perfect human;” follow the rules or there will be serious consequences. It’s a brilliant book. But it’s just that, a book. There is nothing authentic or holy about it. Proven by science.
This landed on Marcus’ shoulders like a ton of bricks. A lot of people had “turned” atheist in the past year, but he felt so strongly about his God that he was one of the few who kept believing. And now it had been proven that what he believed was a lie. His entire life was a lie.
His first day back to work was bitter sweet. He felt a lot better getting back to helping those in need, but his thoughts still weighed on him.