Changed

Your future is a pre-existing set of events.

At least that is what they tell me. One cannot change the future only the past. I would have thought it the other way around. A bit chaotic to think of, it tends to overload the mind.

Let me explain when this all began. I had received a phone call from an old high school friend, Sam. It was not a pleasant call. Todd, Sam and I were the outcasts of our small high school, bottom rung of the social hierarchy, misfits. Before he even said his purpose for calling after all these years I somehow knew what he was going to tell me. Todd had died in a car wreck two days earlier, more than likely drunk but that will never come out in Morriston. No, all the dirty secrets are swept under the rug.

The next day I boarded a plane to pay my respects, losers stick together even in death. After the funeral Sam and I spent some time catching up. Sam had been made manager of Hansen's Lumberyard, but that was the extent of his good fortune. His wife had left and took the kids no reason just one day they were gone. Soon followed by his mother’s cancer and finally rounded out by his father’s sudden death I suddenly felt petty about my complaints. I promised him we would meet that evening after the wake over at Legends for a beer or six.

After he left I stood over my father’s grave, remembering all that I could about him. He had been gone for twenty years. I was only six when he walked in after work a dropped dead of massive heart failure. My mother always tried to keep me steady after his death. She was a strong woman; even in death she was strong.

As I sat I became aware of a jumbled mess of voices. I only assumed that someone was around in the cemetery a thought nothing more of it. Later that night Sam and I sat at the bar talking about high school and our lives after. My shame was only growing; Todd had lost everything to the bank when he lost his job. Soon after he became a regular at Legends and frequently spoke of me. He had tried to track me down a dozen times and even claimed to have been leaving messages for me at my home. What I didn't tell Sam was that was true, I wanted this chapter of my life closed. After closing time Sam and I exchanged numbers and promised to keep in touch. I was getting tired and had an early plane so I went back to my room to sleep it off.

I sat in the dark of my room for an eternity wondering. If I had been more of a friend and kept in contact could I have been the extra help he needed? Maybe another friend could have helped him pull through. Soon after I slept.
That night I dreamt of my people I had never met. Complete strangers that knew my entire life as if it was a book.

The next morning on the plane I typed away at my laptop trying to fill my mind with yet another lecture. I was really dreading my job these days; the class began to drift off the second the bell rang. Anthropology was not the most exhilarating subject.

Going over my notes the next day I came to my lecture on the Lost Mayan tribes. The strange thing was the document dated from yesterday was not my lecture. It was several paragraphs, about past lives and ones connection to another plain of reality. The further I read I was entranced by it, I could not stop reading it. Whoever wrote this knew me like the strangers from my dreams. I had had enough, I walked into class and gave the students some home reading to do and dismissed early. Something was clearly wrong, I had to go to the only person I knew that could help.

“Sigmund Freud” as I called him or Dr. Klein as he is known to the rest of the world. Listening to myself speak, I was afraid he was going to introduce me to some “friends”. You know the type with white coats. I told him everything, from the dreams to the lecture and somehow I remembered the voices in the graveyard. I asked him if maybe the guilt from Todd’s death had mad me start to lose a grip. He went into a long thought about how when someone has removed themselves from a situation they can start a self evaluation. At a primal level they begin to questions the decisions they had made and maybe this is what was happening to me. “Keep me informed of anything” he sounded normal but there was a shred of concern.

That night I stood in the bathroom staring in the mirror wondering what was going on inside my head. All at once I felt as if I was falling and suddenly I was aware again. The voices spoke, “You can change what is presently reality, and you have the capacity for change. If you are in question of your actions, reevaluate.” The messages were cryptic coming from some disembodied voice. “You wish to make a change on a massive level?” I could not tell if it was a question or a statement.
“Who are you?”
“I am your past, your present and your future. Look into yourself and you will reach the answer you seek.”
As I was listening I became aware that it was me or at least my body that was speaking.
“You can change your life with a single thought; you must choose the right course of action. The consequences can be disastrous.”

And like that it was over. I lay in my bed for hours think I was insane, I needed help. Ever since then I had often wondered if I am the only one. Am I living out someone’s altered past? Have they changed there life and inadvertently changed mine as well? Can I ever make the right decision, or will it have a negative effect on my life? The thought has consumed me I quit my job, live in total silence and have virtually cut my self off from the world. Have I been given a gift? Surely this was not the intended effect. Or was it? I have become a recluse cut off from everything, no human contact, no stimulation and no life. I feel my sanity is slipping, that is why I have chosen to start this journal. Hopefully it will give answers to those who seek them. Has someone truly changed me? I may never know.