What If I'm Really Dead
Today is the fifth anniversary of the World Trade Center disaster. All week long there've been having memorial ceremonies remembering both the disaster and the many people who lost their lives.
In one such ceremonial broadcast, they scrolled the names of those who perished as they display in the background assorted images of "ground zero" immediately after the fall of the twin towers. I wasn't really looking for any one in particular since I didn't expect to see the name of anyone I knew. Then I saw it. "Joseph Henry" scrolled by amongst the others. I felt a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. It was quite unnerving to see my name on that list.
Of course, it was a different Joseph Henry; I don't have exclusive rights to the name. And I obviously didn't die in the attack, but I started thinking ...my feverishly imaginative mind went into hyperdrive. I had lived in New York and, for a brief period, I worked in downtown Manhattan. Being as I am an avid fan of science fiction and anything to do with time and temporal distortions, parallel universes, and the true nature of time and space, I started to imagine if perhaps mine was a parallel existence, one that splintered awhile back and that the name on the list was one of the myriad "possible" realities having played itself out.
Mind you, this is all just fanciful thinking, and I in no way mean to diminish the memory or lessen the significance of the "Joseph Henry" who died then. But I can't help the way my mind works.
There's the concept of limbo. Every story that's had a plausible plot involving an earth-bound spirit was based on the premise that the entity hadn't passed on, because of some unfinished business and, as depicted in "The Others", they hadn't faced the reality that they were really dead.
What if I'm just some specter of the me I was, and I'm really dead. What if I'm imagining that all around me is my reality, when actually I'm just moving through it, unnoticed by those who actually occupy the space. Everything around me seems solid enough, but even Patrick Swayze learned to interact with "the living".
I always thought is was weird that when I left New York, the plane had a "bomb on board" and [we] avoided disaster by only minutes. What if that was "fate" trying to tell me that I didn't belong, that I was not supposed to be leaving New York. And now I can't pass on because I need to go back to New York and do what??? For the life of me, I can't think of anything that needs closure.
And that's not the only close call I've had. Suppose [they] weren't "close" at all and the reason I've escaped tragedy is because I wasn't really there. What if the scenario I'm remembering is only my mind restructuring things into a "reality" I will accept.
So I guess I'll continue to haunt San Francisco until I discover what strange force drew me here from the other dimension ...and what I'm supposed to do now.
In one such ceremonial broadcast, they scrolled the names of those who perished as they display in the background assorted images of "ground zero" immediately after the fall of the twin towers. I wasn't really looking for any one in particular since I didn't expect to see the name of anyone I knew. Then I saw it. "Joseph Henry" scrolled by amongst the others. I felt a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. It was quite unnerving to see my name on that list.
Of course, it was a different Joseph Henry; I don't have exclusive rights to the name. And I obviously didn't die in the attack, but I started thinking ...my feverishly imaginative mind went into hyperdrive. I had lived in New York and, for a brief period, I worked in downtown Manhattan. Being as I am an avid fan of science fiction and anything to do with time and temporal distortions, parallel universes, and the true nature of time and space, I started to imagine if perhaps mine was a parallel existence, one that splintered awhile back and that the name on the list was one of the myriad "possible" realities having played itself out.
Mind you, this is all just fanciful thinking, and I in no way mean to diminish the memory or lessen the significance of the "Joseph Henry" who died then. But I can't help the way my mind works.
There's the concept of limbo. Every story that's had a plausible plot involving an earth-bound spirit was based on the premise that the entity hadn't passed on, because of some unfinished business and, as depicted in "The Others", they hadn't faced the reality that they were really dead.
What if I'm just some specter of the me I was, and I'm really dead. What if I'm imagining that all around me is my reality, when actually I'm just moving through it, unnoticed by those who actually occupy the space. Everything around me seems solid enough, but even Patrick Swayze learned to interact with "the living".
I always thought is was weird that when I left New York, the plane had a "bomb on board" and [we] avoided disaster by only minutes. What if that was "fate" trying to tell me that I didn't belong, that I was not supposed to be leaving New York. And now I can't pass on because I need to go back to New York and do what??? For the life of me, I can't think of anything that needs closure.
And that's not the only close call I've had. Suppose [they] weren't "close" at all and the reason I've escaped tragedy is because I wasn't really there. What if the scenario I'm remembering is only my mind restructuring things into a "reality" I will accept.
So I guess I'll continue to haunt San Francisco until I discover what strange force drew me here from the other dimension ...and what I'm supposed to do now.
posted 11 September 2006
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