The Nomad Chronicles

I am wandering in a large library in England. I feel there is some hidden knowledge. Reality peels back, and I see the real library underneath.

I am in some weird alien interdimensional Hall of Records, the Akashic Records.

A glowing white man, with a face that is feline and reptile, maybe even insectoid all at the same time approaches me. His voice sounds like a thousand trumpets.

"Well, hello, wanderer. You have finally came. You want to find The Book. Everyone does. Everyone starts with That One."

"Uh... What is The Book?"

"The story of your life, your lifetimes, your soul's journey, from inception to end, and back again."

"I want to unlock the mysteries of the universe."

"You are a beautiful mystery unto yourself."

"Am I?"

"Yes, all things living and non-living, sentient and non-sentient, even the comprehensible and nonexistent things are lovely mysteries."

We walk to a simple leather bound book on a glass pedestal. I open it. A white light pours out of it, and grabs my face. I get sucked in to the picture. I am in some other life. I am having a picnic on a mountain with a beautiful woman in post-warII Europe, but I am in a different Europe, in a different Earth, a different dimension.

The dream explodes. I am in hundreds or thousands of dreams in many dimensions simultaneously.

I feel like I am grabbing my soul and pulling it out of my mouth, simultaneously melting my face off and slapping it back on like hot salami.

Everything compresses. Hunter S. Thompson is sitting across from me in a hotel lobby. "This is some good shit, this DMT stuff, boy. Hell yeah. I am going to do this shit this entire afterlife, kid. Mahalo." He is cutting a powder on the table.

"Uh, Hunter, is that cocaine?"

"No! And even if it was, who gives a shit? This is our dream, and we are going to do whatever the hell we want."

He yells his head off.

"ISN'T THAT RIGHT? YOU FUCKING STUCK UP CONCIERGE PRICK! I AM DREAMING, BITCH! FUCK YOU! I SNORT DMT IN DREAMS. HAHAHHAHA!"

Hunter turns into a giant albatross with a can of tuna with two mice in it on his back. They turn into Ralph Steadman, and Ralph the Motorcycle Mouse, and then, Hunter flies off.

Now I am in The Rescuers. I feel confused. I get dizzy and puke.

I wake up in a hotel bathroom. Johnny Depp is slapping my face. I cough. Smelling salts.

"Holy shit, kid," he says, turning into Hunter. "That was some crazy shit you just snorted pal. Why don't you take it easy, and just go kill some lubricant aliens. They keep trying to infect my fucking wormholes. See, I got water on the brain, from being in the desert. My skull's bloated man. Don't you get it, you asshole? I thought you were my lawyer, you worthless Samoan. HELP!"

Hunter has a heart attack, and explodes. There is blood everywhere. I freak out and scream.

I am in Hunter's den. He's writing a suicide note. He burns it and chuckles.

He loads a revolver.

He looks at me. I realize I am looking at him through a mirror.

He points at his reflection. "FUCK YOU."

He lifts the gun to his head. I leap through the mirror as he blows his head off.

I freak out and beat the crap out of his body. 'YOU ASSHOLE! WHAT THE HELL.'

His ghost taps me on the shoulder.

"It's all green gravy, kid. No use crying over spilled blood. HAHAHA. Hey, I was planning on it for years. I didn't want to go through any of that old age bullshit. Can you blame me? Now I am free. I am going to a angel or demon or something write? Get it? Write. See I am speaking to you telepathically, so you can see what I am saying. Anyway, aren't you supposed to give me a pair of wings, kid?"

"No, I am just a human, you idiot!"

"Dammit! Don't lie to me!"

He throttles me.

"Fugg yew! Here!" I cough. I summon a pair of cheesy red costume bird wings. He puts them on and flies up. He strums a harp, then shoots red arrows.

"I am going to play Cupid for awhile, Nate."

"That doesn't make any fucking sense!"

"Hey, fuck you kid. I will now proceed to wander through Heaven and Hell as I so choose."