Going out of my way to make things better

I had an appointment to visit my therapist, Madeleine Pelletier, in 1907 in Paris, France. I like to open up and tell her my embarrassing woes and fears because if she tells anyone what I reveal, I wasn’t born yet, and I can skip the public humiliation.

But I missed my appointment because the past was temporarily jammed. Occasionally the time-travel tunnel lanes to the past break down. They wear out a lot because most people travel back in time, trying to make sense of things, or fix really dumb mistakes. Mice make the tunnel’s repairs. Mice are the main maintainers, but there is also one ocelot.

So I was left feeling edgy and frustrated with my backed up neurosis. Then I had the wild thought to travel to the future and unload my feelings. I’d be totally safe because if I went far enough forward in time I’d be long dead, and I definitely wouldn’t care who knew my distortions.

I set the time-place configurations to San Francisco, the year 72,385. I arrived to a thriving city, with of course, flying cars. But there were no humans. There were living beings that looked like jello. They were square shaped and transparent, wobbled when they walked, and were either red, green, or blue.

I chose a red being to make contact with because that’s my favorite color. I can’t get enough of red. When I was a kid, I wouldn’t wear clothes unless they were red. Kids at school used to tease me saying that I was a fire hydrant, not because I helped put out fires, but because dogs constantly peed on me.

I said to the red being, “Excuse me, but can I have a moment of your time?” The red being stopped and wobbled in place. I told the red being everything that was going on in my heart and mind. It listened with unconditional love. I felt free for the first time in my life. The red being remained silent after I’d finished. I ate it. It was cherry flavored.