When Dimensions Collide

Be assured that I'm going to ignore the modern concept of eleven dimensions because it's all theoretical and because it has nothing to do with the Twilight Zone where I sometimes live.

Back to Atlantis ~~ Copyright Gwnfydd Jirlds 2024

The Twilight Zone was the subject (and the name) of a television series that began in the late 1950's. Rod Serling, the host of the show, described it like this: 

"There is a fifth dimension, beyond that which is known to man. It is a dimension as vast as space and as timeless as infinity. It is the middle ground between light and shadow, between science and superstition, and it lies between the pit of man's fears and the summit of his knowledge. This is the dimension of imagination. It is an area which we call The Twilight Zone."

I don't always live in the fifth dimension mentioned above. Instead, I seem to slip into it occasionally, remain there for a bit, and then return to the usual four that define what is generally considered to be physical reality.

In the past, slipping into the Twilight Zone was a smooth and unremarkable transition. I became aware of the shift only when unusual events and circumstances caused me to realize that I experienced augmented reality, a sort of middle ground between light and shadow. I had no control of the situation and could do nothing more than try to cope with the fear while trying to understand what was happening within the limit of my knowledge.

That all changed last Tuesday morning. I woke to a bizarre reality and could only imagine that while I slept, my normal reality had been struck by a rogue dimension and that I was living in a world stuck between science and superstition. 

Judging from the drama that resulted, the Twilight Zone must have rushed into my regular world like Lady McBeth intent on hearing the latest gossip from the guest room. 

I'm fairly certain that it was Shakespeare who said that just as you're feeling on top of the world with a bluebird on your shoulder, Fate is around the next corner, placing banana skins around the storm drain for the amusement of sewer harpies.

The Bard described it well. The collision of dimensions generated shock waves in my world that made it impossible to function. My vision was blurred and I was unstable trying to walk or even stand. It was very much like the earthquake I experienced in San Francisco while attending the Sybase conference.

After a few hours, things began to stabilize although there were at least two aftershocks over the next couple of days. It seems that my world has settled down for the most part but I fear that some parts of my world are forever changed.

It makes me wonder if my life will ever get back to what I once knew. No, that's not true. The truth is I'm convinced that life will never be the same. I don't like to admit it because I get some unusual looks from people when they hear me say it. But you know that I can't hide anything from you, my loyal public.

If you want the complete truth, I'm reserving the right to contact my agent back in Atlantis much earlier than planned. But I promise to give you advance notice before I go away. 

Until then, remember to sing in the sunshine as often as possible and laugh every day, without fail. It's all part of fierce living and without that, well let's not talk about that right now. Just sing in the sunshine and laugh every day. That's enough.

Sing In The Sunshine

We'll Sing In The Sunshine

A song written and recorded by Gale Garnett in 1964.

In the song, a woman tells the person who loves her that they will be together for a time but then she will go away. She promises him that he will always treasure their time together.

We first met Uma at a pet adoption fair promoted by Best Friends, the adoption agency. Her name then was Reeces, because her fur was dappled and spotted, and brought to mind the popular candy known as Reeces Pieces.

Only a few months old, it was clearly evident that she wasn't very sociable. In an open crate with three other kittens, perhaps her siblings, she was alone in one corner as far away from the others as possible. 

My heart went out to her when I recognized that solitary nature. You see, I too am a lot like her. I prefer my own company to that of others although I've learned to pretend well enough to fool most people. 

I knew right away that she was going to come live with me and that I was going to give her the best life possible.

About a week later, with all the paperwork and veterinary exams complete, the Best Friends reps brought Uma to our home. 

I'll never forget the sight when her carrier was placed on the floor across the room from Ms. Wonder and me. The rep opened the door of the carrier and Uma came dancing out and crossed the room to introduce herself.

When I say that she danced across the floor, I mean that she seemed to be floating inches above the carpet and moving to music that only she could hear. She never stopped dancing to that music for the next 19 years.

She stole my heart in that moment. Forever more when I spoke of her, I told people that she was my heart.

Not long after coming to live with us, she stopped eating. I was inconsolable. Her veterinarian, Dr. Barbara, told me to leave her in the cat hospital for the rest of the day so that she could work with her.

For the remainder of that day, I thought of nothing else but Uma. I stayed in a bookstore across the street from Durham Cat Hospital, so that I could get to her within minutes.

I'm not a religious person, but when someone you love is in trouble, you do everything you can to help. That includes praying. And I prayed. I didn't know who or what the prayers should be directed to, so I just prayed to the sky. Continuously.

Toward the end of the day, Dr. Barbara called me and told me that Uma was eating and that the exam and lab work were normal. I felt a gratitude so deep that I doubt I've ever felt a deeper. 

When we were back home, I never left her presence for the next few days. But during that time, Uma told me that for the remainder of our time together,

We'll sing in the sunshine

And we'll laugh every day.

We'll sing in the sunshine

But then I'll be on my way.

And she was right. She was the delight of our lives for almost nineteen years. In truth, she wasn't the most loving of our five cats. She wasn't the sweetest. She wasn't the least trouble. But even though she never weighed more than ten pounds, she took up most of the space in our hearts.

During those years, she told us that,

I'll sing to you each morning.

I'll kiss you every night.

But don't cling to me

Because too soon I'll be out of sight.

We said our final goodbyes a few weeks ago, but I can't seem to let her go. And just as she made clear so many years ago when she was only a kitten,

When our time together is ended

And I have gone away

You'll think of me every day, and you'll say,

We sang in the sunshine.

We laughed every day.

We sang in the sunshine

And then you went away.

Thank you, Uma Maya, Queen of Cats and Empress of Chatsford Hall. I hope that when it's my time to go away, you will be the first to greet me on the Rainbow Bridge. Until that time,

I promise to sing in the sunshine

And remember you fondly every day.

The New Ritual

"How was your morning at Ocean Isle?" asked Ms. Wonder when I walked in the door.

"All in all, it was a very interesting morning," I said.

"Not the way you hoped?"

"I feel good about it but, as always, we'll just have to wait and see how it turns out."

"I wish you'd tell me about it. I'll bet I hang onto every word."

"Alright, if you insist. The whole thing began as I sat brooding at a table outside Casa Blanca Cafe. It wasn't my normal brood. It was a deeper, more focused angst brought on by your insistence that I interview mental health therapists today."

"It's for your own good," she said. 

"I'd finished two double espressos and the mood hadn't budged. Even my new gray beret didn't help.  Don't misunderstand, the beret lifted my spirits more than would otherwise be the case, but... Well, it's just that I had my heart set on one of those red jobs the French revolutionaries wore to signify that they weren't happy with the status quo."

She nodded in a meaningful and supportive way as if to say that she understood the whole story of my mixed feelings about the French imbroglio.

"I gradually became aware of a commotion taking place in the alley behind the cafe," I said, "and I decided to investigate. But when I got to the alley, all was quiet."

"I walked on and eventually made my way to the Memorial Dunes, with a thought to offering a memorial gesture to our Once and Future Tribe of cats."

"That's new terminology," she said, "the Once and Future Tribe, but tell me about that later. What happend next?"

"Well, for some reason, I thought of the black-and-white feral cat that I used to see below the footbridge in Briar Creek in Durham."

"What made you think of him?"

"It had something to do with the arrival of Princess Amy.

"Oh no, tell me she didn't drive her panel truck out onto the beach."

"Well, it was the above named, and she made another of her dramatic entrances. But it wasn't her signature truck wreck. This time she came washing up on the beach like a confused mackeral and began flopping around the better to get my attention."

"You don't see that every day," said The Wonder.

"That's what I said."

"Then what?"

"I complimented her on her entry, thinking that it might soften her attitude."

"Good thinking. Did it work?"

"It seemed to work because instead of yelling something at me like, Run for your life, she simply thanked me and said that she felt better for it."

"Excellent."

"But then she started messing with my head." 

"Listen up!", she said. "You've been chosen as the dark minion for a special job."

"Oh, wow!" said Ms. Wonder.

"I couldn't think what she might be talking about. I'd never heard this dark minion stuff from her before, and so I said I have?"

"Yes, but not the minion of revolution and reconstruction. You're the chosen agent of redirection, disruption, and subterfuge. That's what she said."

"I am? I said."

"And it's time for you to get out there and get to work. All you need to do is pay attention to what I tell you. Don't ask why, just do what I say and we'll get along fine."

"Right," said Wonder, "like that's going to happen."

I must pause here, dear reader, to say that I love the way this wonder worker understands all the nuances and intricacies of my mental workings. Don't you agree? 

You can easily understand why I call her Ms. Wonder. Has there been any other like her, working in so many mysterious ways for her wonders to perform? I think she should be recognized with a Medal of Freedom award. I'll look into it. 

"And so I started to ask, Amy, But what if..."

"Let me worry about that, she said."

"And when I asked, Yes, but what about..."

"I'll take care of it, she said."

"I stared at her in silence for a passing moment."

"Well? she said to me as if she expected me to agree to her terms."

"And then, Poopsie, my mind became clear and my heart swelled. It may have had something to do with the recent memorial to our Tribe. But wherever the resolve originated, I decided that today would be the first day of a new life. That better life that I've wrestled with for the last several months."

"Here's what I'm going to do, Princess, I said to Amy. I'm going to run for my life."

"What?" she said to me in an incredulous tone that led me to believe that my words had struck a cord."

"That's right, old girl. You've often urged me to do it and from now on, I'm going to run and when I run, you're going to run with me."

"No, absolutely not, you can't do any running, she said."

"I'm running, I told her, and I'm going to get aerobic."

"No, no, no! she said. Running raises the endorphins and that's not allowed.

"Oh, but I'll feel better and so will you and that means you won't be in control."

"Don't do it she demanded."

"Here we go, I said, and with those words, I began an easy jog. Five minutes later, Amy was resting peacefully."

 

"Eventually, we were strolling arm in arm. Poopsie, I believe this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship."

"Who would have imagined it," said the Wonder, "you and Amy arm in arm. Just the way it happens in the movies."

 

We Need a Vacation

"For the last several months I've been chivied by the sewer harpies in the relentless manner of Patrizia's terrier, Snowball," I said to Ms. Wonder. 

"Let me see if I remember that story. You were riding your bike in the manner of look, Mom, no hands. Is that the story?"

"That's right," I said pleased that she remembered. "I was negotiating the sharp curve on the road that ran by Aunt Maggie's house."

"It didn't turn out well, as I remember," she said.

"Is that how you'd describe it?" I said, "The full account includes something about skidding off the road and falling to earth amid the briars and brambles of a passing blackberry patch."

"Yeah, it's quite a funny story when you take the time to tell it in full," she said.

"I didn't enjoy it,"  I said.

"That story," she said, "makes me think of..."

"No," I said holding up a hand in the internationally recognized signal that means, Go no further. "If you're thinking of something to do with Napoleon or Catherine of Russia, or if there's a mention of sea biscuits,  I don't want to hear it."

"But why?" she said.

"No relevance," I said.

"How do you mean, no relevance?" she said. "Napoleon couldn't have been happy with the way things turned out for him."

She gazed at me with a twinkle in her eye indicating that she was having fun ribbing me. I returned her's with a gaze of my own to indicate that the ribbing stopped here.

"Alright," she said. "I'm teasing but it's well-intended. I only want to cheer you up. I know that sewer harpies are no laughing matter. Have you talked to Dr. Beach about it?"

"I haven't as yet," I said, "and she's not a doctor; she's a therapist. I do speak to Feldspar about it, and it sometimes seems to help, but it's a temporary palliative and not real progress."

"Remind me who Feldspar is," she said.

"Not this time," I said. "Feldspar is part of an alternate dimension and I'm not sure you're ready to hear about him."

"Well," she said, "I know that feldspar is made up of a group of alumino-silicate minerals and is the most abundant mineral making up the earth's crust."

"Are you sure about that?" I said.

"Of course," she said, "is that what you're thinking of?"

"You do know everything, don't you?" I said.

"Akashic Records," she said as though it explained everything.

"I'll ask him about that the next time I see him," I said.

"Ask who?"

"Feldspar, my spirit guide. He's a yard gnome. I thought you knew that."

She removed her glasses and rested her head in her hands, her eyes covered. I've read about the move, of course, but this was the first time I'd witnessed it.

"We need a vacation," she said. 

"We're going to Litchfield on the 19th," I said.

"Not soon enough," she said. "We need a vacation now."

Another Day In Paradise

Castle Street basked in the glow of a golden spring morning. The storm that, two hours before, had raged through the parks, along the riverwalk, and into the downtown business district, was only a memory now. In the aftermath, the air was cool and sweet, and the damp earth released a healing fragrance. 

The city, bathed in the clear light of an early summer morning, was an earthly paradise. The skies were blue, the river shone, squirrels raced about the parks with carefree abandon, and as far as the eye could see pedestrians tootled along behind happy, carefree dogs. 

Fortunately for those pedestrians and their dogs, the ideal towards which the Wilmington city planners strive is to provide a public house for each individual archetype in the city. You can’t throw a half-brick in any direction downtown without hitting a pub, a cafe, a bodega, or a kiosk, and many of them are dog-friendly.

Scattered thunderstorms might be raging elsewhere, but inside Native Grounds Cafe, there was the peace that passeth all understanding, that perfect unruffled peace that comes only to those who have done absolutely nothing to deserve it. 

Consoled by the still, dry atmosphere inside the cafe and refreshed by the steaming contents of a china cup that read, I’d rather be surfing, I had achieved a Zen-like repose. 

I took a deep breath and leaned back against the cushions and the mingled voices around me began to quiet the sounds of the retreating storm. The sound of water coursing through downspouts had replaced the drone of soft gentle rain on the roof.

Island Irv, who was telling me all about his recent trip to the Sunshine State, is not the type to routinely leap from chairs, but suddenly and without warning, he managed a maneuver that almost made it look like a leap. 

Let me make it perfectly clear for those of you who may be new to these pages that the mothers of Shady Grove train their sons well. Once we've grasped the fact that all exhibitions of emotion are nothing more than rannygazoo, without substance or staying power, we maintain our poise even in the presence of thunderstorms and earthquakes. 

Although conscious of a certain uneasiness when Irv shot ceilingward, I was determined to remain calm. Intending to stay in full control, I took a deep breath and, unfortunately, I exhaled so sharply that a man at the next table who was eating a carrot-and-walnut muffin stabbed himself in the chin with his fork. 

I didn’t like the look that crossed his face, but then I didn't care much for it even before his chin began bleeding. His hands were clenched in fists of rage, as I believe the old saying goes. 

I doubt that he'd had a Shady Grove upbringing but even if he had, it was obvious that mother was forgotten for the nonce, and even great-aunts, those supreme enforcers of proper behavior, were not remembered. 

I realized that a word in time might provide healing balm and I searched the memory banks for some gag or saw that would soothe the savage beast and prevent a total brannigan. No need for him to punch the weasel, I reasoned.

“How's the weather on your end of the coast?" I said. "Exceptionally clement I hope."

Not one of my better gags but I had precious little time to come up with something. We will never know if the words would have brought calm because the man left the cafe without finishing his cappuccino and was last seen heading up Castle Street toward 8th Avenue.

"What about you?" I said to Irv.

"Oh, me?" he said. "I didn't realize my coffee was so hot. I burned my tongue."

"Is that all?" I said. "I thought you'd forgotten to text your wife or something equally as rotten."

"It hurt," he said.

And I'm sure it did hurt. It just seemed to be so very much animation for so little cause. But that's life on the Carolina coast for you. One never knows when the next storm is going to pop up and come sashaying around to see what it can get into.

All in all, I suppose it's what's to be expected from another day in paradise.

Happy summer, my friends. Thank you for supporting The Circular Journey with your time and attention. Don't forget to leave a comment.

PS -- I borrowed that comment about throwing a half-brick from P.G. Wodehouse, who the author of Proverbs must have had in mind when he wrote "a word fitly spoken and in due season is like apples of gold in settings of silver."