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Dark Ages

Posted by Nate

Gun lobby

Blood money

Another mass murder in an American school.

The usual lip service by Republicans.
Not true, not Republicans anymore.
Trump servants, ones that sold their souls to evil: Money and power.
Faust is never getting outdated.
Another shooting.
And my first reaction - not again please, it is like a bad dream.
I am lost in dystopia, terrible dark age dystopia.
I have to wake up, enough is enough!
And then the somber realization - it is America today, it is real.
Anger overwhelms me, anger and a sinking feeling of hopelessness.
American children, America's future is being systematically murdered.
One school after the other.
One mass murder after another.
Speeches of support and condolences.
And nothing is changing.
Same terrible hopeless routine.
The so-called people's representatives offer a prayer.
A prayer.
And I want them to tell me how they feel.
How they think the parents, brothers and sisters of the murdered children feel?
Do you think that your lip service, your hypocritical condolences ease their pain, their tragedy?
Did you try to imagine your children in this school?
Being murdered one by one?
I am asking you, the Trump party - are you capable of real feelings - sorrow, shock, anger, love?
Or is your love only limited to money and power?
Terrifying question, realization comes to mind - our democracy is disintegrating.
Our rulers - they are fine with these murders.
They want us to live in fear.
To fear to take our kids to school.
Fear of immigrants.
Fear of science.
Fear of the real world, of real facts
Fear of the truth.
As any dictator, any military regime knows, it is easy to control when the population is in fear.
This works for them, this fear gives them power over people.
Trump and his willing servants - they love it.
This scary dystopia – this is what makes them feel powerful, it gives them riches that they worship.
And what is the worst by far – many support and re-elect these politicians.
Meanwhile our children are being murdered.
Not by terrorists who climbed over the wall, not by foreign agents or North Korea.
No. By Americans. Born and raised in America.
With help and support from our Government.

The nightmare continues.

Mass shootings

American kids being murdered


Good People.

Posted by Nate

How you define good people? 
An important issue, very important for me, is a moral issue. I was watching the candidate, Trump, and then President Trump. I am absolutely convinced that this man has no morals at moral convictions. He acts like an egomaniac, a narcissist. This person makes fun of the handicapped, he incites violence.  This person, Trump, was elected President of the United States.
I am having a hard time trying to understand why many voted for Donald Trump, the ignorant bully and a known crook. I think I can, somehow, understand why some rural, small-town folks, out of desperation, would vote for Trump. But what is still puzzling to me is why so many educated people are still supporting this very dangerous man. And I am pondering the morals of his voters. Do they think that moral issues are not an important factor for the president? Then the next question arises: how important are moral convictions to these Americans. Do they consider themselves "moral" people, good people? Because if American people are disregarding moral issues, we are doomed as a country.
What is the definition of a good person, of good people? 
I hear from people about someone they know who supports Trump: "But they are good decent people. They are nice people with good families, ready to help their friends." And yet these nice people, by electing and supporting Trump, are contributing greatly to the demise of our Democracy.  With their support Trump is isolating America, actively undermining our country's standing in  the world. Trump declared war on the independent press, called news organizations the "enemy of the people"...just like Stalin and other dictators.
These nice people are helping all kinds of hate groups to become emboldened, to promote hate and violence. And yet many educated Russian Jewish immigrants support this con man. Nice people are helping to destroy the environment. Granted they may not be doing all these things directly, but they support Trump and his party who are doing all these bad things. So are they "good people"? And again how about their moral convictions? Do they have any? And what is the meaning of "good" people?
I tried to google the definition of "good people, good person" and I was not able to find a clear definition!
Good people.
Good to whom? To their families, friends? How about the country? The world?
Trump managed to sour our relations with our allies and friends around the world and is pushing America into the outcast club who's members are Russia, Iran, Syria, North Korea.
And these "good" people are supporting Trump and his party. A party that is promoting hate and divisiveness. The Republican party is no more. It became the Trump party. Anti-environment, anti-global cooperation, anti-education. And perhaps many of the good people don't really want to encourage and support all these bad things? Maybe.
Does that change anything? Aren't these "good people", out of ignorance, accomplices in crimes against America's Democracy and the world's well-being?
Ignorance is not an excuse, it is not a virtue. 
I keep asking myself: why did these "good" people vote for Trump and why are they still supporting him?
"They are basically good people", my friends are saying. Maybe they just don't know what they are doing? They are just not informed.
Ignorance? Is this result of ignorance? But why are they ignorant, the good people, Trump supporters? Why is there such unwillingness to learn, to read, to listen to other points of view?
An inability to analyze, to understand the facts? The facts, not the "alternate" reality. And do these people know who Trump is and are they in agreement with him? The question of morality comes up again.

Witch hunting comes to mind.


Witch burning at stakes.

Good people? Just ignorant? Don't know what they are doing?
I suspect a much worse reason. I suspect that Trump was able to convey to all haters in this country who were afraid to speak up that it is OK now to go out in the open. It is OK to hate Jews, minorities, immigrants, gays. It is acceptable in Trumpland.
So I don't know the exact numbers but it does not matter.
The "good people" who are supporting this regime in the White House are together with neo-Nazis, white supremacists, KKK and other hate groups.
The good people.
Are they?

The Loop Part 4

Posted by Nate

Time travel

Train of Time

The train of time.

We were at the concert.

The quartet was playing Beethoven. Beautiful music. Listening, I sometimes lose touch with reality.

I was listening, and these beautiful sounds were flying, gliding into the past as soon as they escaped the musical instruments. The sounds were slow and elegant or fast and furious. Elegantly dancing, waltzing, holding each other and then, suddenly, rushing upward, away. Away, in the past. Bittersweet experience.

And I was wondering: what if these sounds did not just disappear but remained, alive, in the past?

And if, somehow, the train of time would go back, it will catch the music. The sounds, the music will return, one note after the other. I am listening to music and riding an imaginary train catching the notes again and again.

Is time reversible? Today's scientific opinion says that the arrow of time cannot be reversed.

But I don't want to stop thinking about it. Of course, my excuse is not being a scientist.

I am imagining riding on the train, looking through the window, watching the world go by, disappearing behind me.

Also, though I cannot see it anymore, I know that the forest and the lake and the houses are still there, just my space and time have moved forward, with me. But I remember, I can visualize the passing images.

And when the train will go back, I will see the trees, the lake, the houses again, in the same space but in different time. The arrow of time would move everything I see not in space, but in time and our forward and backward time arrows would intersect, meet again.

The train will pass the now familiar images, stop and reverse its movement again so I will relive the experience again, but in different time.

When I am watching old movies, I know that the actors have been dead for a long time, but they are very much alive in the movie. And I imagine that somewhere, in the past, in the other world of the past, they are still there, alive and well. Somewhere in another universe, just left behind the by the passing train of time.

Maybe, just maybe these people and their world, present in our consciousness, our thoughts, exist on another plane, in another time, another reality.

“I regard consciousness as fundamental. I regard matter as derivative from consciousness. We cannot get behind consciousness. Everything that we talk about, everything that we regard as existing, postulates consciousness.” – Max Planck.

I would add that there is no matter on the fundamental level. All there is is just information. The universe, our universe, on the very basic level, is just information, changing and creating the world directed by some algorithm. What or who created this algorithm? Nobody knows.

And information, to the best of our knowledge, cannot be lost. So maybe there is a way to retrieve the past, relive it in another reality. Maybe within some limited closed environment.

We sometimes are reliving our past - childhood memories, our youth, being with the departed. And I want to believe that if they live in our consciousness, they exist somewhere, in the reality of the past - my past, their present. They also travel in time, but behind me, behind today's us.

If our imagination allows us to travel against the arrow of time, in some realities we are moving in continuous loop. Reliving our memories, or lives, without realizing what is happening.

We all know the meaning of deja vu and many of us have experienced it. Of course, it may be just tricks that our mind plays with us. But it is more exciting to imagine the time loop and some accidental discrepancies, malfunctions in the fabric of space-time that brings the déjà vu.

Alternate realities and time loops.

As I thought that I was moving between realities during my hospital stay when I was in coma, another thought occurred to me after a while. What if I, we all, are really moving in time loops? Let's say I lived through my cardiac arrest and after a few years the loop kicked me back. Perhaps I had a dream reliving my experience and was back there as my old self, still asleep in the hospital, creating new reality back in time by dreaming about it.

Our consciousness, or any consciousness, is a crucial part of reality. Intelligence, any intelligence, is reducing the entropy in certain areas as a result of its activities, while increasing the entropy overall.

Prevailing opinion is that the arrow of time is not reversible because the entropy is increasing with time. But what if in some circumstances, due to intelligent activities for example, the arrow of time is reversible? Reversible in a particular area of the universe.

We all have strange dreams sometimes. And we either dismiss them, blaming too much food or booze, or we just forget these dreams.

Science is still not sure why we sleep. And why we have dreams. So, I feel free to fantasize about dreams, the meaning of dreams. What if our dreams give us a glimpse into another reality, another possibility? Another version of us, the result of us making choices?

October. I am walking on the trail, leaves started to fall, laying in the asphalt, whispering something to each other, to me maybe. Trees are becoming red and golden, getting sleepy and tired of hot summer.

I could feel icy freshness in the air, first reminders of things to come. I started to think about time, remembering earlier ideas about dreams, times, realities and other weird stuff.

I like to let my imagination roam free, wherever it may bring me. I never claimed that any of these ideas are scientifically solid. I don't care, it is fun to come up with strange stuff.

Besides, I am pretty sure that reality is weirder than we can imagine anyway.

Does it make any difference in my life, what reality and what time I am in at present? I don't even know what “present” means anymore. We don't really experience “present” because it takes time for our brain to absorb “present” so by the time we see it, the moment is gone, becomes the “past”. No, I do not really care what particular reality, space or time I live in now. It does not make any difference in my life as far as I know.

But, sometimes when I think of my days in the hospital after cardiac arrest, I feel anxiety. In the back of my mind, I am afraid to be thrown into a different realty, in space or time. Or both. So, I do not want to go through this experience again. In time loop.

We know, understand so little of the universe. After writing the previous pages, I decided to Google the meaning of dreams. And this particular author is very close to what I think about alternate realities.

But this is a thought experiment so we can ask: If the many worlds framework is correct and dreaming consists of counterfactual simulations of what might have been and what might be for the dreamer in a world that branches off of the dreamer’s parent world then is it possible that dreams actually depict what is going on in the life of my counterpart in the alternate world he lives in? If that is the case then my dreams are portals into the life of one of these branching worlds predicted by the MWI.”

(As I stated before, many scientists consider that at the very basic level, our universe is information.

But does that work for multiverse?) And information changes, influenced by our consciousness.

Robert Nozik suggested that if we can imagine something, whatever we imagine exists somewhere in the multiverse.

We humans complain that our lives are so short. But maybe, just maybe, our lives continue in some other reality, in other time/space.

I recently read that after the heart stops, brain activity continues for about 20 seconds. What if during this time, the brain imagines itself to be in another reality, so without knowing it, we-our counterparts live forever? It is exciting to think that somewhere, in place and time unknown to us, there is or will be another me thinking, imagining the same weird realities that I am thinking about.

Will we, the humanity, ever find the answers to our questions? Will we ever know the right questions to ask? I don't know.

Meanwhile, I live my life, enjoy the company of loved ones, friends, good movies and books and whatever else I am doing. In any time/space reality.

Time and realities.

Life is beautiful and complicated.


Price of Freedom.

Posted by Nate

Guns in America

Another tragedy.

The price of freedom

Another massacre

Innocent people murdered

Lives cut short for no reason

The madman armed with a military arsenal

So sad, so infuriating.

The feeling of doom, helplessness.

So many innocent lives, hopes, loves

Brutally ended by evil.

Sons and daughters, brothers and sisters, lovers and friends - gone.

Grieving families and friends, trying to understand.


Is that the price of freedom?

The price of freedom. Is that freedom?

Is being murdered in cold blood for no reason – freedom?

One moment full of life and joy, the next moment dead - is that what some call freedom?

So who is free and who is paying the price?

Is that freedom - to be able to murder at will, to end somebody's life?

And these people? The murdered.

They are us! Our families, friends. They are our children, our friends.

Are they free?

All these people who witnessed this horror - are they free?

As for these demagogues with their pronunciations about the price of freedom.

I wish you were there, in this crowd, under a rain of bullets from automatic weapons.

I want you to experience the horror, the pain, the panic.

I want you to see all this close up, to see the blood, to see death, to smell it.

I wish all proponents of “freedom” would be among the mass of screaming, running, falling, dying and dead.

I want all of you hypocrites screaming about freedom, freedom of buying arms, any arms to be there in this desperate crowd.

I want the blood of those murdered around you to be on your face and your hands.

But even if you were not there you have their blood on your hands.

I rarely hated anyone in my life but I hate you.

Heartless greedy monsters that are getting rewards for pushing, for allowing this “freedom”

Freedom to kill.

Why is the ability to take others lives considered “freedom”?

Isn't the ability to go to school, to a concert, to church, a synagogue or a mosque, to walk the streets and parks without fear – isn't that freedom?

To be free from fear for your life - isn't that what we call freedom?

Freedom to live. To live without fear for your loved ones being murdered for no reason.

No reason other than madness and the abundance of guns.


Source of profits for some, source of power for others.

Profits for gun merchants, power for Republican members of Congress.

Congress of the United States of America.

These power hungry, greedy, soulless monsters.

Are they representing us, The People? Are they?

Another massacre.

And another

Nothing changed

I feel desperation.

Anger, desperation and helplessness.

Death merchants always win. Always.

And more innocents die.

And more will die.

I cannot allow that

We cannot give up. It is not an option.

For our loved ones, for those that perished, were murdered.

For our sanity, for our freedom.

We will fight.

Gun lobby

Blood money


Anger and Shame.

Posted by Nate


An impostor.

Trump Land, it was called America once.

Seems like a long time ago.

Land of the free. Beacon of the world.

People have dreamed about this land, the land where they would not be afraid to speak, to walk, to live; the land where one can start a new life, fulfill a dream; the land that accepted, welcomed the oppressed, the hungry; the land for the dreamers; the land that has been loved and respected around the world.

America - hope for humanity; America - the leader of the free world.

This land, this America, that accepted, welcomed those looking for a new beginning.

This America is no more.

I feel anger, anger and shame. How come the land of the free elected this man - a pathological liar, a con man, an impostor, a man totally devoid of human virtues, of all that makes us human.

Sometimes I try to imagine how it feels being Trump, how our so-called President sees the world. No compassion, no understanding, no knowledge of the world, no desire to help your fellow human.

How does it feel to not have any friends, real friends? How does it feel to live in a world it which the only reality is TV ratings and money? How does it feel when your world conforms to your lies, to your reality? How does it feel to live without a rudimentary understanding, a knowledge of how this world functions?

Trump has no morals. He is not a Nazi, or a member of the KKK. He is not a fascist or a communist. But he can be any of these. He approves of anybody who supports him.

That is why Trump will not condemn those who support him. He will love Nazis, communists, alt-right, alt-left. All that matters to this mentally impoverished person is who supports him, him - the Trump - the greatest, the smartest - Trump - the beautiful. Whatever, whoever, as long as they improve his “rating”.


Now what?

This caricature of a human being is now in the Oval Office, pretending to be the President. Just pretending. He will never become one, because everything is about him, for him, for his benefit. And, if not, he will stab you in the back, no matter who you are.

And this person, a phony, an empty shell of a human, has the power to decide the fate of millions.

I am trying to express what I felt when I read that Trump wants to end DACA, the Dreamers Act.

The Dreamers. What could be better, more noble then these young people, who were brought here. Yes, their parents came illegally. But for their children, America is the only country they've ever known and love.

And a cruel, heartless force decides to throw these young people out of their country, to send them to a place they never knew, to exile them, through no fault of their own.

Forget for now the economic impact on this country (which will be significant), but the ability, human ability of fairness, compassion - where is it? My heart breaks when I imagine these kids being devastated, their lives, their dreams shattered by an evil, merciless man, the man who by an unlikely set of circumstance is occupying the Oval Office.

Now imagine what the world thinks about our beacon of the free world, that destroys the lives of millions of innocent kids.

I feel anger and shame. My dreams are gone.

Trump supporters

Trump army.


The Loop Part 3

Posted by Nate

Alternate realities.

Dreams and realities.

And then an idea came to him: to try to write about his experiences, his dreams and fantasies about these dreams – dreams about different worlds, other realities. Different worlds but closely related at the same time. First, he called these worlds parallel universes, but later he decided on alternate realities that interact with each other.

Parallel universes would be susceptible to “butterfly effects” and could not closely resemble each other as his alternate realities would.

So, he started writing without much concern about the scientific value of his theories. Thinking and writing about all that weirdness helped ease the anxiety of these persistent thoughts and feelings of the unreality of the world around him, the strangeness in his life.

So, he continued to theorize about all this. He actually enjoyed trying to construct the world, the reasons that might be at play here.

He thought that this terrible accident (was it an accident?) that happened to him pushed him, showed him what might be happening...made it easier to think about life's secrets. He tried to sort out in his writing his experiences in the hospital and after, whether real or imagined...about realities and entanglement.

Different realities are somehow connected, entangled. When realities are branching out, when one makes a decision in one reality, it remains entangled so that changes in one reality affect other realities.

So why do realities interfere with each other, and not remain separate?

The universe is nothing more than information, he thought. We know that computers can run several programs simultaneously. Asian philosophers claim that the universe, everything in the universe, is just vibrations. Different frequencies result in different “planes” or forms of existence.

So maybe all these realities are just planes of slightly different frequencies?

Or maybe time itself is digital and different realities are occupying different time slots and that is why some kind of abrupt shift pushed him into another reality.

All his adult life he was trying to understand, to imagine what it is, our universe? What is “reality” and what is “illusion”? And if there is an ultimate reality - what is it?

And if all this is an illusion – what is an illusion? And does it make any difference?

He remembered the movie, Matrix, and he thought that maybe there is no city of Zion.

And then a disturbing thought. Am I the same person, is it really me, the same guy that lived before the cardiac arrest? So, if I am in another reality now, who am I?

How do I know? Or anybody else? My wife – how would she know if this person, her husband, is really him, the person she loves, the person she married and had children with?

So, this thought distracted him, led him, his thoughts to branch in different directions.

But even without the cardiac arrest, am I the same person I was 40 years ago?

Just because my name is the same? My body is totally different, every cell in my body is not the cell from a few years ago, my memories are changing and I forgot a lot from my younger years.

Are we becoming a different person constantly during our lives?

And if the answer is yes, then what difference does it makes what reality I am from?

* * * * * * *

He was enjoying the afternoon sun while sitting on the deck. Surrounded by trees, flowers of all shapes, colors and fragrances, the singing of the birds and bees buzzing. Without thinking about anything in particular, not concerned with the past or future. He felt as a part of the world, a part of these sights, smells, music of life.

His wife was doing something with flowers in the garden. She loved her garden and was proud of it. And he smiled inside – she is here, with him.

He half closed his eyes and absorbed it all, he was expanding, becoming one with this symphony of life, of reality. The play of bright patches of light and shade between the leaves, the smells and sounds – it became him.

Life was a wonderful thing. He was in the moment...enjoying it.

And that was the reality he accepted.


The Loop Part 2

Posted by Nate

Alternate realities.

What is a dream and what is reality?

He was laying in this hospital bed pondering, thinking about what was going on. He vaguely remembered his life, was it a dream maybe? The botanic garden, the colors, sunshine, flowers. Was it just a dream? What is our life, our reality? Reality? What is that - our reality? Who knows. To him now, it all seemed not that real, maybe a product of his wishful imagination.

He was laying in this room and that was his reality now - this little world, the 4 walls, his bed surrounded by some blinking clicking stuff, his wife...

Maybe this is just a bad dream and he will wake up at home, in his bed, or on the couch just dreaming. Bright day outside, wife working in the garden, birds singing, Luke his dog sleeping and probably dreaming of being young and chasing rabbits.

He liked this thought. He was scared of this dark room, of being sick, of not knowing whether he was awake or dreaming.

What is wrong about dreaming, being deep inside your mind, not seeing all this scary stuff?

He glanced at the TV - some show that he did not know, nor cared to know. Why is it in black and white? Is something wrong with his eyes? Or is the stupid TV broken?

He looked around with more attention. The things around him - they looked different, not the way he remembered from last time. Was it in his dream or was it real last time in this room? This room? He wasn't sure anymore. He wasn't sure of his memory.

Fear crept in. What is wrong with his head? He decided to try to sleep. It will be better in the morning, all will clear up.

On and off he drifted to sleep - lucid dreams, hearing noises, nurses coming and doing something with him and the equipment. Eventually, finally, it was getting lighter outside. He could see buildings, cars moving in silence. Something strange about these buildings, the cars. What was it? He tried to analyze what was bothering him about this picture?

He now could see the room. Again, something was not quite right. What was it? Colors or the lack of colors?

The picture on TV was still black and white - maybe the TV was broken. But other stuff - people, voices, even the air felt strange. Holy shit, I must be losing my mind...he panicked.

His wife woke up, moved around, turned to him.

It was her all right. Same women he loved. And yet... He could not quite put his finger on the strangeness, some nuances.

Suddenly he felt lost. He remembered being lost in his dreams, many times. The strange and desperate feeling when you recognize the place – kind of – but at the same time you are lost, have no idea where you are. In his dreams, he was waiting for his wife to find him. But now here she was and yet he felt lost.

Maybe because of this anxiety or maybe because of the medications, but his mind was working feverishly building explanations. Of course, the first and easiest one was that he was losing it, his mind, his touch with the real world.

Real world - what is it?

There are many theories about our reality, our universe. Multiverse, an infinite number of realities. The theory that everything that happened, or could happen, is already there and one's every choice moves you to a certain reality. Realities are constantly crossing – meeting and separating again. That is why the butterfly effect is negligible between realities.

But, he thought, maybe some extreme circumstances cause not a smooth transition, but a jump between realities, creating a ripple, a detectable jump.

Maybe his cardiac arrest caused the jump and he is able to detect it.

One thing he knew - no matter what he said trying to describe his feelings, his observations, no one will take it seriously. Most likely he will get more medications.

* * * * * * * *

Do some of these people see anything different, strange about him? If yes, do they just dismiss it as not real? Are they wondering or blaming their imagination for this “nonsense”?

He was getting better. Strong enough to walk with a nurse. He talked to nurses during these walks and noticed some strange unfamiliar words and expressions. He kept this to himself. They noticed it too in me, he was sure of this, but he knew nurses would attribute it to him being an immigrant or not well yet.

In a way, it has been exciting to imagine or maybe to know that he actually travels between realities. An adventure. I don't care if this is happening just in my head. For him it was real, it was his secret, even from his wife.

* * * * * * *

The nurse looked at this strange patient, still in a coma. He was delivered to the E.R. after cardiac arrest and doctors managed to revive him and he has been improving.

His breath was deep and even. All vital signs were decent. And yet, he was still in a coma.

If there are an infinite number of possible realities, he thought, then I died in some of them. That was an unsettling idea. How would this jumping between realities work? You are sick and this is a stupid idea, he decided, you shouldn't think about it anymore.

But he couldn't stop thinking about it. Are these realities subjective and exist for each person? If I die in one reality does that mean this reality ceases to exist?

* * * * * * *

The nurse could not understand what was happening to this patient and why.

His breathing was getting shallow, vital signs were slowing down. He was dying peacefully, in deep sleep.

The nurse called the doctor. They looked at each other. The doctor was at a loss. There was no reason for this. And yet, they were losing this patient.

Finally he was strong enough and was released from the hospital. He was sick of this place but he could not complain about service which had been excellent.

He hoped that once he was home and back to normal, all these strange things would go away. All this nuanced strangeness would disappear, these dreams mixed with reality, all unfamiliar and yet very familiar – would not be so scary and strange anymore.

Little by little life returned to normal at home. He slept better, strange dreams that were so real almost disappeared. He enjoyed the company of his wife, kids and grandkids.

And yet, sometimes these strange thoughts, weird feelings would come back, and he felt strangely lost. He would push this strangeness away.


The Loop

Posted by Nate

The loop

He tried to look around. Small, dimly lit room. Clicking noises, something humming. Flickering. His bed – metal, like a hospital bed. Hospital? What the hell? Window to his right. It was dark outside. He saw his wife looking at him. Where am I, what is going on? Why? Why are we here, not at home? She just looked at him. “You got sick.” Let's go home he said and started to get up, turned to put his feet on the floor. And he noted some tubes inserted in his body. "What happened to me?" he finally asked. "You got sick and will have to stay here in the hospital for a while."

But he had a hard time concentrating, keeping his thoughts together. He felt dizzy and thoughts were coming and going in no particular order. He couldn't remember his questions and her answers.

So he kept trying to get up and she softly would explain again where he was.

The door was open on the left and the light was coming into the room. He saw a TV on the opposite wall in front of him - it was on but no sound. Some show he did not recognize but it made no difference. It was all foggy and unreal - the room, the light, the TV, him being here.

He would fall asleep, wake up and sleep again. Somebody came through the door - the nurse. She did something with his body, looked at some displays and left.

His wife was unfolding the couch and laid down on it.

Little by little the darkness outside retreated and he could see the buildings, the street, cars moving. He did not hear any sound through the windows and all this looked like a silent movie. He did not recognize the street.

He tried to get up and go to the toilet several times but again his wife softly stopped him trying to explain that he had a catheter. In a few minutes he tried again and was stopped with a smile and a patient explanation.

Little by little the world came into focus and his mind started working. But still the whole thing - hospital, being sick, nurses coming and going.

Faces of friends, relatives and his kids and grandkids were like a blur. Surreal.

Days went by. Time was stretching and flying by his semiconscious mind poisoned by medications.

He dosed off during the day, woke, ate and looked at TV without really watching it. The world outside was getting dark and lighting up in rapid succession.

He knew that he did not like any of this. His wife always by his side was his anchor, his connection to the world. He felt the need to be near her at all times, he felt lost when she was not near him.

The doctor allowed him to get up and walk with the nurse and that helped his body and mind to get stronger. His wife told him what happened. Cardiac arrest - his heart stopped while they were in the bedroom. She saved his life.

He thought about it, wondering about his miraculous survival and wondering if what he was seeing and experiencing now was real. He remembered science fiction stories and parallel universes. His imagination was playing out different versions. What if he was really in the other universe and just didn't know, did not see the subtle differences?

Finally the doctors allowed him to go home. His kids came to help. They all walked to the car helping and supporting him on the way. As they drove he was looking at the buildings, the streets, trying to notice if there was anything different, strange about what he was seeing. He could not see any differences from what he remembered but he still was not sure. He thought that memory loss would prevent him from noticing anything different.

It took him a while to get used to normal life again. Some things were hard. Especially at night. He could not sleep normally in bed and in the dark room.

Panic and anxiety were choking him. He would get up and walk, try to sleep in his chair, on the couch. Drink some tea. Trying to calm himself. He could not sleep close to his wife or hug her in bed - he did not have enough air. He would sit in his chair and count hours, waiting for the morning to come.

Pills helped some but he had a hard time getting up in the morning. He felt better during the day.

And all this time since he woke up, there was a nagging feeling, almost subconscious, about being in a coma, still laying in a hospital bed, about the reality of this world. What if all his life after cardiac arrest, life after death, is just his dream? And if it is true, what difference does it really make? After all, we don't really know what reality is.

But as time passed he was getting used to the daily routine. Company of friends, spending time with kids and grandkids. And his wife, his life companion, always by his side. Almost back to normal. But he still has a hard time planning ahead.

When THIS happened he did not feel, he did not know what happened to him Until he woke up 3 days later in the hospital. What if he had not woken up? He wouldn't even know that he lived and died.

But... How does he know he is really alive? How do we know what “really” being conscious is? Do we realize that in deep sleep a dream is not “real”?

The spring came. Birds, the sun, the flowers. Thunderstorms and winds - he lives in Chicago after all.

All this can end without warning, in the blink of an eye. And that scared him. But he tried to push away the thought.

The weather was great. The Botanic Garden was waking up from winter slumber. It is a different atmosphere in such places, maybe because a certain type of people go there. Bright blue sky and, emerging fragile and yet unstoppable, the awakening of all kinds of plants. It soothes the soul. He was just wandering around with his wife with nothing in particular on his mind.

He tried to look around. Small dim lit room. Clicking noises, something humming. Flickering. His bed – metal, like a hospital bed. Hospital? What the hell? Window to his right. It was dark outside. He saw his wife looking at him. "Where am I, what is going on? Why?"

Often we do not remember our deep sleep dreams. Maybe there is a reason why.   

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