posted September 29, 2015 11:09 PM            

For starters, like most kids, I had an imaginary friend. Unlike most, however, I was fourteen when I 'met' mine; long past the sane and rational age for such things. I was also deemed completely sane and rational.

I also wasn't awake. I was never awake.

That was when I first began having dreams of a particular archetype: a clever youngish man, who seemed to be around his latter-twenties; fair hair, skin, and light eyes. The polar opposite of me: strawberry blonde to my deep auburn (though I'd been born with the former), and blue eyes to my dark brown. (We're both a bit frightfully pale with a tendency to ruddy, however.) His voice was memorable, though; clean and resonant with an accent I couldn't place if I tried. He, at times, seemed 'from everywhere'.

But that's perhaps due to his claiming to be transdimensional. I'd never even fathomed the word until 'he' had said it. Though, whether he was merely a figment of my imaginative psyche, attempting to be clever, I could never say. It would be a few years before I would begin delving into quantum mechanics, studying temporal relativity, and the concept of dimensional travel. Up to that point, I was intrigued by time travel, but dimensional travel wasn't anything I'd even explored. I wasn't sure what it would even seem to be like, or for what purpose it'd serve.

The years would see several more such dreams; different locations, always a chance meeting. I was likely reading into what seemed a growing interest in me, ever since I'd let slip that I was aware of our very first 'encounter' for lack of better, being a dream. It seemed he'd naturally assumed that I wasn't -- or hadn't been aware. There was something that grabbed his attention about it immediately, that very first time. (I remember, because his attention was not easily acquired nor held, heh.)

They were almost pedestrian. We did a lot of walking, and talking. Whenever we 'met up', having 'crossed paths', we'd stop whatever had been in progress (it typically wasn't much) and go walking. He used to amaze me by literally changing the landscape around us, to reflect whatever point he was addressing. So, we'd end up walking through many locations in a single walk. Everything from an abandoned water park to the Sequoia National Forest, to places that don't exist on Earth.

I'll admit; he fascinated me. It was almost too much for my fifteen year old brain to process. But I delighted in every time I would run into him, and the incredible walks we'd take. While he was tight-lipped about his personal history, and background details -- it even took a few times just to get his bloody name out of him -- he had opinions on everything, and most of them were sensational, a bit contrary, and almost encyclopaedic in nature -- as if he'd devoured a library and it was just bouncing around up there.

He was quiet at first -- even a little tetchy. You always got the sense you were interrupting him, but could never quite get what you were interrupting. That's likely what caused him to be distracted, but otherwise polite. Low-key, even a bit pensive. But when you got him onto a subject he enjoyed, or even something he knew a lot about, he'd light up like a Christmas tree. Almost manic then -- like a switch had been flipped. He'd gesticulate and openly support his words with his hands, often theatrical in his expression. He was a lot of fun to be around then, carrying on a bit fanatically, and fully engaged.

But, you could be sure he'd go right back to normal if you pried even slightly into himself. Not wanting to be rude (later), he'd just change subjects, or kindly say it wasn't relevant to the conversation. That was fine. I preferred the grand discussions and debates about everything under the sun.

He was always philosophising, and ultimately optimistic. But I could see the deep pain within him, especially wrapped around everything he wouldn't say.

The one thing I did successfully get was his name. Theit. Pronounced 'THAY-it'. He'd warned against trying to spell it, as 'my alphabet wasn't sufficient to do so'. He was probably right, and that's the closest I've ever come to it.

By sixteen, I was knee-deep in a series of complicated recurring dreams that were a sea change from what'd become the standard fare. I was involved with some sort of organisation, and was a kind of operative for one of the branches or divisions. I knew very little then; only how I would go to a few particular locations, await contact to be made, in which I would receive intel that provided a name of, I suspect, the individual I would soon end up tranquilising. (For some time, I feared that I was killing them.) I can't say whether this series of recurring, sequential, progressive dreams just happened to coincide with a period of my life that got me involved with intelligence work, but in a very limited capacity.

I did later tell my father about the dreams, and was pretty shocked to find that he had a similar series when he was around my age.

... Coincidence?

It would come to my attention in college that the organisation was referred to, or thought of as, whether officially or not, the Jabberwocky, or just Jabberwocky. There was a very Matrix-y feel to them, and I've only seen anything similar when I saw the film The Adjustment Bureau many years later. A lot of the time, I was running, or fleeing from all kinds of threats. I figured I was just stressed, and this series of dreams was continuing as a means of my psyche communicating that. It was college, after all.

But then I saw him again.

It had seemed more time passed than usual in between our encounters, or I just wasn't sleeping as much. (It was college, after all.) But, as usual, we were glad to see one another. Even if catching up was mostly my relaying more recent or significant events of my life, and him offering none of the same.

He grew concerned when I sought his advice, however, regarding Jabberwocky -- and what I seemed to be doing for them. Really, if he knew anything about the situation at all, being 'transdimensional', and no such agency or organisation existing 'where I'm from' (which was often how I referred to my 'waking life'). He was almost angry that I'd been so complacent; that I hadn't asked questions, or demanded answers, or to see who was in charge. It overwhelmed me.

I admitted that I have no control; he said it didn't matter. I should still try; go to someone with greater weight. I realised he didn't understand and clarified that I have no control over being there. I still stumble into him, and I don't even realise what's happening until it's happening. I have no preparation; no known amount of time -- nothing. He seemed disheartened then -- even angrier, or possibly disappointed. Somehow, I knew he was almost condescending to me, for my lack of ability. For how I so starkly differed from him, and couldn't do what he did.

He told me to be careful -- and he really meant it. He also warned against my continuing to do what I was. That I could really regret it. I had no idea what he was talking about or referring to, yet his words haunted me. I felt as if he was ... disappointed in me, and that hurt far worse. I tried to apologise -- even if I had no clue for what, but he was dismissive; the way he had been when we first 'met', which was now several years ago. I could tell he knew a lot which he was intentionally not relaying to me, and he had deep concerns about all of it. He was clearly familiar with the organisation as well, but I possessed no knowledge of how. I couldn't even try and deduce. He'd kept his background blank enough to where there was (conveniently) nothing to connect. To link. To anything, really.

It was the last time I saw him, too. There was no contact of any kind after that.

The following year, independently, I'd begin creating a novel with a good friend of mine, and my former astrophysics lab partner. It would become one of my most personally influential series, featuring a particular transdimensional criminologist and vigilante serial murderer, with golden blonde hair, blue eyes, and a captivating voice. Dr Penderan Fauste, and his alter-ego 'The Hatter'. It would take me awhile, actually, to recall the roots of Fauste in Theit. It wasn't my first works with a transdimensional blonde; that was at fourteen, called The Dimension. (I know; brilliant title.) It would only come into its own as a short story, Existentia, where a pragmatic young woman encounters a quirky transdimensional traveller, a blonde man now known as Chet.

The was barely a year before creating Hunting Alice, then the first novel of Subproject 10/6, and the debut of Fauste. I'd not even realised how predominant the archetype was becoming in my work as a burgeoning writer. Penderan had a very different role than Theit -- or 'Chet', however. Perhaps -- at least, it seemed -- coincidence, that he would be the image first connecting to Fauste. Or just inevitable.

I wasn't eager to tell my friends who were becoming a part of the audio drama adaptation -- including the young man in the actual role of Fauste -- what the true roots were of the character. I was pretty convinced that I had a merely overactive imagination, and could let it rest at that.

Perhaps I purged a bit of it, the year after that. The project was acquiring an oddly cult following, and a prequel novel was desired. So, in Hatter, I began to explore the psyche of my young heroine, Riley Wingate, very similar to the late Alice Liddell. Namely, her fanciful 'relationship' with her imaginary-friend-of-sorts whom she only referred to as 'Hatter', and claimed a lengthy, curious association with the young, but decidedly older, man, somewhat literally of her dreams. She'd compile these various adventures, or simply their conversations over tea, in journals throughout her youth.

And yes, of course, one day, as she's approaching thirty, and her life has been essentially going nowhere she'd hoped it would, she meets him. Having long since given up the dreams of her youth, and the bold aspirations of even her late adolescence, she's in little mood to meet her imaginary friend. In reality.

And, frankly, so was I.

But, I suppose just as one's beginning their first Saturn Return is as good of a time as any, no?

I've still got no true understanding of such a concept, and I've not encountered any others with a similar experience. But it's undeniable, that 27 January, exactly 9 years from the day I'd penned Fauste's first words -- 'do you believe in the fancies and witticisms of childhood?' -- I did see a blonde man, with blue eyes, a pale complexion that was plenty ruddied, seated upon the convention floor in a side room, indulging two women in fantastic bespoke Victorian dresses, in their fantasy of a pretend tea party.

I believe that's the last day my life made any sense. Or, conversely, I began the long journey into understanding why it had never made any sense to begin with. Both seem equally true. That's not just logic -- that's Schrödinger.

posted September 30, 2015 03:28 AM            

I'd like to borrow a quote that was recently used in another part of the forum (and, coincidentally from a play that has exceptional significance for me personally):

quote:

---

"There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio,
Than are dreamt of in your philosophy."

---

Aren't we missing the forest for the trees here when we get into the business of trying to neatly package our relationships and experiences into nicely labeled boxes which we can organize and classify? What is to be gained from making sweeping generalizations such as "If boxes B, C, and D are ticked, this relationship is a Twin Flame - proceed to Appendix II for information on how to receive your free copy of the "Twin Flame Handbook". If no boxes are ticked, this relationship is karmic - proceed to the front desk for tissues and a bar of consolatory chocolate." Soul mates and karmic relationships are falsely labeled TFs and TFs live their lives in complete ignorance of the extensive astrological and experiential checklist used to validate their existence; regardless, in both circumstances the relationships still fulfill their intended function. Looking for answers outside the relationship doesn't change the purpose of the connection nor does it suddenly invalidate/validate extraordinary experiences and unexplained syncronicities between two souls - most importantly it has no bearing on the lessons one is to learn from it nor does it imply that freewill is no longer a factor (i.e. Twin Flames must now head out into the world to spread their light and joy or whatever).

The most important takeaway from any connection is the recognition that other souls are our greatest teachers in this life and it is our interactions with them that ultimately act as mirrors to our own internal strengths and failings. We can choose to focus on that within ourselves and grow or we can continue to focus our energy on trying to control and master that which is outside ourselves completely missing the key to our spiritual development and ultimately our ability to understand the big picture.

As Shakespeare so eloquently pointed out, we can't help but be largely ignorant of the bigger picture because we are limited in our capability to understand the Universe and our general existence. We aren't here to master the Universe - we are here to master ourselves ("we" as in all of human consciousness for we do not exist as individual entities but as one). In doing so, we are able to open ourselves up to the mysteries of our existence because we have come to a place where we can finally understand it - we cannot do one and not the other.