Long ago, I learnt this magic trick, which all of you may try. Next time you settle down, and are lying in your normal place, look around, know where you are, and close your eyes. You are still in that place, as the furniture and sounds stay with you, all of you locked in this here-and-now, which is actually travelling through space at an unbelievable, if not superluminal, speed. But, with your eyes closed, you know where you are. You can reach out and touch this or that pillow or chair or wall. Like a blind person, as it is mapped in your mind, it is in reality.
Now. Imagine yourself, with your eyes closed, lying in some other bed in your past... In college. Or in your old room in the family house. You pick the bed, the room, and the time in your life. With your eyes closed, rested, imagine yourself in that place now. Look by thinking around you, where everything was - where everything now is. You will find that it is rather amazing that you can believe yourself lying - now - in a bed of your past. Here and now, in the dark. You are essentially time-travelling, by imagining - or more easily, simply by being. Time was traversed by reconfiguring space - in the mind.
I dared to break the mould, as usual, and conveyed this, my latest nonsense, to my mother. How I can easily - virtually really - slip into some other time, this way. I said that she could try the same thing, some time. And she did. She came back and said, a little cautious or embarrassed, "It worked!" She told me how she had transported herself through the same experiment. What a delight to hear. Some kind of connexion, there, between us, yes? As if - spanning time together - spanning each other as well.
I don't know yet if she tried the same thing while on her death bed. I, myself, have not gone that far, either. Though - maybe everyone plays this trick when they pass that nebulous threshold - from time into eternal naught - as we had done from day into persisting night. May she had visited me, along such a thought tunnel and, for instance, become a bird to me, that I cusped and freed from a chimney. There is that possibility - and there is the fact that we all contain cells in our bodies which are not our own, (but which belong to our mother, and perhaps our father).
So, like little twins inside us, these cells pull us so close to our parent, that we basically remain connects, and are one, in a slight, blurred, messy kind of way. Think back to the bed of your past, and you are there - but are your there - really? Come on! It's just mind play. While, s much of the world is fine with imagining itself as if in a past bed, where shadows of dead friends and relatives live, wholly, in a fantastic way. Zipping along the ceiling, floor and walls light bright reflexions off of those spinning mirror globes. Does this make any sense? What is logical? Who really knows what is real?
The FM station I now listen to often plays the normalised, sanitised, un-danced versions of the rave songs I once enjoyed on WCPT. "Just Dance!" "We Found Love." "Can't Get You Out of My Head." "Poker Face." And, there's this 2019 song which the station like so much that they play it almost every hour: "Circles."