Time Warp

It must be very strange to be in a time warp—to come out the other end of some supernatural, deep space travel into a completely different time and place, losing one’s orientation to such an extent that one doesn’t truly know where one is. To land somewhere you have never been, yet to which you have some sort of kinship must feel like Alice in Through the Lookinglass, reaching out to touch that which is merely a reflection, yet seems real to the touch. Being somewhere and not truly knowing “what” that “where” is makes one improvise in order to exist.

A time warp must be akin at least in some way to jet lag. Everything just seems so unreal. Like you are familiar with it, but that it is really not there. The deep-seated feelings of home, after returning to it, seem to have been lost in the journey somewhere and the soul seeks desperately, reaching out to find it

Coming back to a place that was home after having been in my mother country for 5 weeks feels foreign. Yet, my fingerprints are all over this image, indicating to my psyche that I must be home (because, hey, all of my things are here.) But, because everything seems surreal at the moment while my body recovers from these time changes, it is like I am observing a place in which I had once lived rather than coming home to a nest warm in receiving me. The time warp--like I am here, yet feel as though I have stepped into something in which I do not belong. I await some extremely strange occurrence, like bumping into myself in the bathroom peeing or something. Those clone commercials in America were freaking me out for some reason, I guess.

It makes you wonder about Doctor Who. I mean, the Doctor was basically always in a Time Warp. He had no home of his own in that he was always traveling through space and time. That must mean that his life was always like some kind of mild jet lag not unlike what I have now. It must mean that his whole existence was surreal like the one mine has been in the last few days. Poor doctor. I guess that’s why the one with the long scarf always seemed like the most aptly suited doctor personality. He was so “fly by the seat of your pants” in his ways, and random in his expression. He was the kind of person who might just be able to enjoy being in eternal surrealism brought on by his endless time warp.

I am not such a person. Frankly, the uneasiness of it all is just about to drive me mad.