Time Travel

Last night I dreamed I could travel through time. I guess it's easier than was previously thought. All I needed was a box. Not some special, computerized time travel box. Just a plain old large cardboard box big enough for me to curl up inside.

The first thing I had to do was lay in the box, on my side, pressed down so that no part of me stuck up over the rim of the box. After getting inside, in the curl up, fetal position, I had to close my eyes, and think about the time to which I wanted to go. The trick was in my breathing: while thinking about my destination, I had to also listen to and focus on my breathing, so that nothing existed but my deep breaths and my destination in time. I always knew the moment when I had accomplished a passage from one time to the next, could feel myself being pulled through a space-time portal. There was nothing really uncomfortable about it, just sort of a warm feeling in my brain and a slight pressure in my chest.

I also learned something about time travel, that is, something different from what we are usually told about it. When I traveled through time, there was always only one of me. For instance, in movies and books, the time traveler usually sees are encounters himself in the past or future (sometimes with devastating consequences). In my method of voyaging through time, my age would always change according to the time in my life to which I traveled. When I traveled into the future, I was older. When I traveled into the past, I was younger. I would be like I was simply reliving a period of time in my life.

The only catch was that, when I traveled to the future and then back to the past, my memory was always erased of everything I'd seen or learned - so I couldn't go back into the past and try to change the future. Only memories of the past remained with me when I traveled to the future, but even those were often sketchy.

I don't know. It might be worth a shot. All I need is a big cardboard box.