It’s 2:30 of a rainy morning, and as the clock chimes the half-hour I begin to write. I looked at the clock whilst lying in bed still: it was 1:20, too early to get up for purposes of taking a pill; and yet I need to get up to frequent the room où le roi va à pied — where even the King goes on foot — plus, after an hour and half (all precise times) of lying on my back, I have some trouble breathing and my back feels lie it could become a problem my morning, and the back of my knees are beginning to sweat because they are supported by a pillow with a pure rayon cover. I lie there going in and out of my two alternate minds, sometimes conscious, sometimes not, snorking, until I look at the clock again and it’s 2:20am. I get up, with much pain in the process, trying to be as silent and still as possible so as not to disturb her, and go into the bathroom. I could have gone from pillar to post s is my wont, with left eye open and right eye shut—Pillar A the toilet and Pillar B some drink to wash down the pill, then back to bed. I think myasthenia gravis has something to do with my right eye wanting to stay shut after I get up, either in the middle of the night or in the middle of the morning. But just now it did not have much trouble opening, which I took as a sign that I could write down some of the great stuff I just had been writing in my mind, ergo in my sleep: écriture automatique, to a point. But by the time I had finished with mon petit pis-pis, I could no longer for the life of me recall any of it. What I did think worth writing—that other having been lost---was that in fact I had been composing in my sleep, or in my alternate mind. I am quite used to hypnogogic hallucinations; but in the past few days, but only rarely, I have been going from one mind to the other at night. Hypnogogic recitations, or even perhaps realty, alternate reality, or dreams, are not contiguous, and not sequential, perhaps therefore, and are isolated from each other, hopping from one scene to another completely unrelated scene. But what is happening now, in my dream time, is somewhat lie I was experiencing in Gresham in April, at the time of the trip from hell, or to hell, or in hell, where I was not the only one cracking up. (But nobody noticed mine.) I have my main reality, in which I am presently operating, writing this, reporting it; and then I have another, minor reality going on, and when I go out of this one I go into the other one, like changing channels on the TV. The question I have not yet answered, but only think I know how to answer, is, Does the minor reality pause when I am in this, the major reality, or does it continue to play on while I am in the major? As with the TV—if I am watching a show on the History Channel, and switch over to baseball, I catch the bottom of the fifth. Then I go back to the History Channel. The ball game does not stop: these are real players playing in real time. So when my history program is over, I go back to the ball game, and it’s the top of the seventh. But! If I am watching the ball game, and I have a movie pulled up on demand, if I go over to the ball game, the movie pauses. Then I go back to on demand and it starts up where it was. I happen to know that, in God’s view and in reality, there is only one reality. So how does this Doppelgänger reality work? It’s a function of my mind. And if I have two “realities” going on, not to mention the little bite-size realities, almost like mini-éclairs of hypnogogic hallucinations, and two is bi, am I beginning to go insane, entering into some bi-polar condition? So far, my alternate reality is much like the major reality. I don’t curse or do—mentally—evil things; but there are those who have lost their marbles, or moorings, and their alter-self is a nasty, profane Id, some Dionysius let loose from the abyss. Besides, which one is the pleasanter?
