Nick put the journal down and wondered if he should continue. Was this some kind of a joke? A recording of schizophrenia? He looked out the room window where the storm was beginning to worsen. Water was beginning to freeze and hail pelted the windows, the sounds sharp and unnerving. No city lights radiated in the distance and Nick suddenly felt very alone. He turned on the lamp on the bedside table and got under the scratchy covers, turning to the next page in the notebook.
October 17, 1998
Test #1—Past: First perspective
I am about to conduct my first wave of experiments, focusing on the early research of time invocation, and studying the power of the mind. I will start without the use of additional substances (a control), beginning first to try to enter a past situation. Following the instructions from Jon Schuster, I have confidence in this exercise, and I possess abilities he did not. This first step will be small, and I will attempt to send myself exactly 24 hours into the past. At that time, I was walking down the stairs of my apartment to get the mail. I had not slept most of the night, I remember, and the early morning air carried a chilling breeze. Will I experience those same sensations? Even after all my studying, I am not confident in what I will experience. There are many different descriptions and experiences. But I know the path I must follow.
The past is easier to follow than the future, as the former is already written. You follow your steps backwards and your life begins to reel behind your eyes in speedy reverse motion. I must be ready at what moment I select to return to, and I know not to linger too long. I will soon discover if this advice is enough.
Test #1—Results:
The reverse method that Jon Schuster developed worked for a backtrack distance of 24 hours. But the experience was fuzzy. It felt like I was moving through water, everything blurred and my breath was so shallow my chest barely moved. Things began to vibrate, shapes beginning to take form, and then I saw my mailbox, the number printed, the brown rust creaking the joints. I could hardly feel the breeze, images shifting in and out of focus, but I knew I was myself in a past body.
Slow clarity began to shine though and I let the scene play out and kept count in my head until my chest began to ache from the lack of breath. I struggled to get control of my body in this past presence. It's surprisingly easy to let the scene play out, but it is challenging to keep focused on the experience. Images and scenes were blurred, but some of the flashes I saw pointed out details that I had not noticed before. I saw the neighbor's cat out of the corner of my eye, the animal torn and bloody like it had been in a fight. I know I did not notice that the first time I performed those motions. But to break the set motions requires more concentration, and the ability to hold your breath much longer. I suspect using hallucinogens will prove to help clear the memories and help give me more control of my past self.
A crack of lightning and shaking of thunder made Nick jump in his place. The lamp began to flicker and he shivered under the covers. He could hear sounds in the room beside him, footsteps loud and voice prominent but undifferentiated. There was a cackle of laughter and then silence. The hair on the back of Nick's neck began to rise. He pulled the blinds shut and returned to the bed.
For a moment his mind was scattered as words of the journal morphed with lingering memories in his head…
(I wish I could remember him better…)
…And shook his head as though thoughts were dandruff in his hair. A wave of mourning washed over him. He didn't want to remember the strangers coated in sorrow, the shining coffin that encased his father's body, or the words spoken by others claiming to know his father better than himself. He wanted to remember how his father looked when he passed the coffin. Block out the outside opinions and release the anger that still bunched in his gut.
Nick remembered the realization at the age of his father, wrinkles in abundance, bald head, frail hands. He previously remembered his father with dark hair that grew in such abundance that he would get it cut every few weeks. He remembered a face with the twisted expression of an addict that would never change, a voice loud but slurred as the evening persisted. The face in the coffin was different. He struggled to look at the corpse, a single glance enough to shake his core and make him question his beliefs.
A rush of regret enveloped Nick and he tensed his muscles to try to control the ugly emotion. This journal was casting haunting thoughts in his head. He did not want to think about things he couldn't change.
Old memories wanted to surface and regret made it easy for them to begin haunting his head. Times his father would take him to the movies, bringing him into rated-R theaters by the time he was 11. It was something that would have driven his mother crazy had she been alive. His father was the irresponsible one, who allowed junk food before meals and left the TV on until midnight. Without the guiding hand of his mother, their father had no one to check his behavior.
But he adored those moments. He felt special to be in a theater with so many adults who would eye him questioningly, probably expecting him to make a big fit when graphic violence broke out or giggle at a sex scene. But Nick watched the movies in silent joy, his father beside him with a massive bowl of popcorn that would keep him stuffed for the rest of the night. Sometimes if they went to a late show, Nick would fall asleep by the end of the movie, memories fuzzy but a clear sensation of his father's arms around him as he carried his son to the car.
Nick went to the bathroom and filled a paper cup with water and downed it quickly. Thunder shook the motel and the lights flickered again. They had steadied by the time he was back on the bed, flipping the book open again.
October 20, 1998
I have gone through 4 practices of past first-person perspective and have gained the ability to travel as far back as 6 years. I have gained the ability to control my actions in this past state, and when burning the silver sage it allows me to hold my breath for a little over 10 minutes. When in my past self, able to control my actions, I make a note of the time on my watch at the entrance and exit of my trance and have concluded that the perspective of time moves at the same pace, regardless of mental state. The mind cannot trick time.
I presumed that breath was the relying factor linked with the duration of time spent in the past, but the longer I linger the more that falling sensation takes over, where I feel ready to spill from my body and get trapped in a storm of memories. Jon Schuster called it the Limbo Stage and Alexandra Baines referred to it as the In-Between—a level between the past and present.
Schuster thought there was a way back from this state. His theory was that 'the role of memory did not run in chronological order, and flash uncontrollably in a way that can make the mind slip off its hinges. But if you watched and waited, a memory would eventually flash by that was your mind in the present. If you could catch this memory, you could anchor yourself back in the present.
Baines did not believe in a return from the In-Between, and post-research agreed with her theory that "such a state was a level of insanity that crossed a line. [She believed that] future projection did not contain the consequences of traveling to the past. Memory acts as a weight that could pull you too far without the proper control. In the future, possibilities open and thought flows easier." (Baines 1960) [1]
This line of insanity was researched more by a man named Kumar Mayer, who engaged in illegal experimentation of torture and madness. He would inflict visions of the past on people that led to the most devastating of their memories, keeping their minds trapped in a state of terror. Eventually, the subjects fell into a comatose state, but their bodies would not quit functioning despite the absence of the mind. He tried various methods to bring the victims out of the vegetative state but concluded that the In-Between snapped the link between mind and body and there was nothing to repair the connection.
In my past projections, I have sent myself back to specific moments that I remember well. I suspected that change in reality would not occur, but I wanted to test the theory for myself.
This I know is true: first-person past progression does not allow you to change the past.
I did things that would ruin my present. Things that would change my present drastically. I avoided people who would become controlling in my life, but when I opened my eyes my old memories did not change. I spoke my mind to assholes that pissed me off and said things that I had always wanted to say, but when I opened my eyes I could not remember the things I said, only knowing I had tried to change things; my old memories remained. I even went back and killed someone who had taken the love of my life, but when I left the past, she was still gone.
I will admit that this discovery has the potential to become addictive. At the moment, finally having the ability to change your regrets is massively satisfying. But it is only in the trance that those actions are real. When you return to the present, all that satisfaction evaporates and you find yourself craving a little bit more.
[1] Baines, A. (1960). "Consciousness Projection Beyond the Now: Exploring Temporal Horizons through Quantum Awareness." Journal of Future Consciousness Studies