Time travel

He noticed something was awry when he realized he was upside down and the car had no points of contact with the road. Small lapses of consciousness had been happening ever more frequently and now one had caught him as he was speeding down the highway. The bank lifted one corner of his car and the inertia of two thousands pounds did the rest to flip the car over and send it off the road and over the guard rail. He did not know what was physically happening to the car. The driver only knew that he was upside down and then he knew he was in the kitchen of his childhood home.

He was holding a juice pouch and was playing a game where he would squeeze it until the juice travelled up the straw. Gently pressing, watching the purple color the yellow straw. He stood there fascinated at his own game on the linoleum floor of yellow marigolds. The driver was there in the kitchen but not as himself playing this game with the juice that he loved so much but as an observer, a fly on the wall, a third party who knew that his mother was about to yell at him and tell him to drink the juice and not play with it. Even knowing that his mother was about to bellow those commanding words, when they came the little boy in the kitchen was still startled and squeezed and squirted juice all over the floor. Seeing all of this unfold in memory also gave the man a start and sent him back to the tumbling car.

In reality the car touched ground and jolted the man back to present day, but the current time frame only lasted an instant.

As the car flipped and continued its descent, broken glass and twisted metal embraced the driver. But he was gone again, this time to second period algebra in high school. The familiar sounds and energy of adolescents made the man happy and he saw himself again in the corner, too scared to talk to Molly Bennot. He and she were the only two not taking part in the raucous preclass melee. The driver cursed himself for not engaging Molly in conversation but he also knew that he had nothing to say to her. He was an unpopular kid in high school and while she was far from an it girl, everyone was out of reach for him. The teacher walked in and the sound of a car crashing through a tree brought him back to his tumultuous demise.

One last jump took him to the wedding of his best friend, Brad Taggert. Who was marrying his high school sweetheart, Molly Bennot. The driver was there at the dinner watching himself give a toast to the couple. His words were correct but his eyes never left Molly’s. And for once she didn’t look away. “For better or for worse, these two were meant for each other,” he joked. The laughing crowd masked the warble in his voice. The driver laughed it off and remembered how the rest of the speech went. He cried. Not for joy that his best friend was getting married, but for the melancholy he felt for himself and the pitiful life he was weaving.

These lapses started shortly after his first suicide attempt. After some research he decided that pills were the best way to go peacefully and out of the way of anybody. They would have worked but his poor constitution rejected them and he vomited and fell face first into the bathtub. He was in a sort of coma for a couple of days but he eventually woke up, alone, in his house, in his bathtub, incredibly hungry.

Five days later he had his first lapse, but they had never involved dislodging from the temporal plane. He usually just blacked out and woke up a few seconds to a few minutes later. As the car tumbled down and his frail body rattled within it the man started to see over the plane of reality that housed all man. He saw heaven and it was exactly as he had imagined and how the descriptions described it. The same with hell, with flames and blackish-red overtones. He saw nothingness and he saw a light. In the distance he heard murmurs for many virgins, just he wasn’t too sure of how many or even how that all worked. A supermarket for the almost dead opened to him to choose a new body.

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