Pascal Walks Ahead of Me

Pascal walks ahead of me. We walk alike.

This scene is a simulation, he explains.

He is me, but from a different (earlier) timeline, and he has made it his mission to reach me here, in this timeline, (TIMELINE #295-6220-MA) to tell me something he understands to be really important and that he knows I should know.

Pascal does not talk….

I hear his thoughts, or — better yet — feel his intentions just by us standing still.

Just by us standing still and being open and receptive, that automatically puts us both in a place of safe communication.

When Pascal wants to show me something he simply slows his pace.

Pascal reminds me that, even though this is a simulation, it is simultaneously real life. The reason this is, he says, is due to the fact that the simulation sits inside of the real version of us. This simple explanation is the only primer I need. And now understand each other.

Pascal walks ahead of me.  

Then, suddenly, Pascal and I are walking together.

We exist across many time lines, but he has put us and the other versions of us at risk, insisting that what he needs to show me is of the utmost importance.

I see us now and I hate myself. With this thought, the outer layer of my skin peels away, and although this is only the simulation, I also know that it is a part of the real version of life and it is of utmost importance. I see us now, I see my skin peeling away, but there is nowhere left for me to go.

Pascal is no longer here with me. He warned me there might be a gap in time at some point, and that I could end up alone, but I guess I didn’t really consider what that meant. 

Pascal wants me to know one thing: It is extremely dangerous to hate myself. 

Pascal has reached across who knows how many time lines just to get to me and tell me something I have either forgotten or have never known: 

We can not exist in this world while hating ourselves.

This is you, he says.

But I have always had this sort of relationship with myself. 

This is you peeling away the parts you don’t like.

I didn’t realize I shouldn’t do that.

He says that doing this will solve nothing.

But how would I have known that if I had never tried?

He says plenty of people have tried to do this and they have all suffered.

So it’s natural?

The trying and suffering? he says. Yes.

He says I am not unique.

He reminds me that no one is.

After this, he puts back on his clothes (which in his universe is me) and I do the same thing here in my universe which, for me, is him.

He says that since he is older than I am, he has had a lot more time to think about these things.

He says he really does not want me to feel bad for not knowing what I did not know.

Somehow, I understand.

Taking a deep breath, I stand still, and slowly, over time, begin to blossom.

But, he says, that, too, is a process.