I said I would and a Saturday with plans
for seeing eye specialists seems like a match made
but not in heaven, oh no.
For Heaven is a concept I do not understand
(maybe more on that another time too)
no this match is made
in a factory that makes matches.
Set to a specific template and all that jazz.
Mirrors frighten me, not a jump scare WAHOO
kind of jolty body feeling,
but an ominous, dread building, steer clear
as best as you can, kind of unsettlement
where the skin lifts from your bones
ever so gently as wisps of hair tighten
and stand and your heart goes badump a dump,
with a bit more force than you are used to.
“But why?”
A question launched from tens of mouths
upon learning such an outlook.
“Really, mirrors?” the follow up
from a confirmed head nod.
I always take a deep breath, to steel
the reaction of confusion I know is coming.
I am fully aware of the out there nature
of this belief, but my bones feel it
and when my bones are feeling, I take heed.
“Well,” I begin, tongue probing mouth
for the least barmy line of words,
the least crackpot collection of paragraphs
to force out into this world.
“That is not you in the mirror, when you look in,”
Ah, we are launching right in I see.
“You see, this universe is infinite
and everything is possible, you see?”
A brow furrows and a head moves in circles,
how does one reply?
“Basically, if everything is possible, then truly
everything is possible. Including parallel dimensions.
So the power to get to parallel dimensions
is off the charts! Just like faster than light
or teleportation or any of those ideas.”
“…ok…”
Not the most receptive confirmation, but
they are still stood listening.
“Parallel dimensions are layered on each
other. Like wafers in a lasagne! Or pages
in a note book!
All the same except for minute differences!
For every choice ever made has a universe
and these universes FILL existence!
Literally every choice, every moment!
There are INFINITE universes!
Imagine a woven rug so convoluted
it looks more like a skyscraper,
now imagine the skyscraper reaches
up and out and down and back and forth
forever!”
“What does this have to do with mirrors?”
Ah, you are getting sidetracked again
with the wonders of existence,
reel it back in.
“Well, the closer the reality, the closer
to our own it is. If you were on page 2
of this notebook of existence, then page 304
would be so whack perhaps,
but page 1, your other side,
would be almost the same.”
“…hmm.”
There are wary eyes, and scepticism bubbles
below the surface of lips attempting to rebut.
“So the mirror,” I continue unabashed,
for I was asked and I must see this through
to the end. “Is basically the
window to the closest dimension out there.
Everything is almost the exact same!
Except it is flipped!”
Just a nod in return,
followed by that eyebrow raises that signifies
‘wow. OK. how to extricate myself from that!’
And that, my friends, is the beating heart.
I struggle to use mirrors,
and will never look at those eyes.
If I do, they will know.
They will know I know
and where do we go from there?