Dreams
I had a dream last night. I dream often, although last night's dream was particularly vivid.
I was on a plane next to man who I took to be Canadian. I may have presumed he was Canadian because he was wearing a red checked shirt. Anyway, he appeared halfway through the flight. He told me that he had suffered from the "Broadport Slip". Broadport was the town where it first happened to him. From time to time, he found himself slipping forward in time. He would walk through a doorway, or wake up, and find that years had passed by, and the world had become alien to him.
He was eternally sad and detached, for every time he got close to someone, he'd find that at some point - it could be tomorrow, it could be next week - he'd suddenly find years had slipped by. Those he loved would be old. They would have moved onto new friends, new families. Or worse, they would have died, having spent the last twenty years of their lifes wondering where he was after the day he suddenly disappeard from their lives.
I've no idea where my mind gets these things from. I'm going to say that watching Doctor Who is responsible for the whole "time travel" bit. In the hands of a decent storyteller, I'm sure the story above could become a decent story. Unfortunately, I'm not a great storyteller. Still, it's fun to have an interesting dream for once.
I was on a plane next to man who I took to be Canadian. I may have presumed he was Canadian because he was wearing a red checked shirt. Anyway, he appeared halfway through the flight. He told me that he had suffered from the "Broadport Slip". Broadport was the town where it first happened to him. From time to time, he found himself slipping forward in time. He would walk through a doorway, or wake up, and find that years had passed by, and the world had become alien to him.
He was eternally sad and detached, for every time he got close to someone, he'd find that at some point - it could be tomorrow, it could be next week - he'd suddenly find years had slipped by. Those he loved would be old. They would have moved onto new friends, new families. Or worse, they would have died, having spent the last twenty years of their lifes wondering where he was after the day he suddenly disappeard from their lives.
I've no idea where my mind gets these things from. I'm going to say that watching Doctor Who is responsible for the whole "time travel" bit. In the hands of a decent storyteller, I'm sure the story above could become a decent story. Unfortunately, I'm not a great storyteller. Still, it's fun to have an interesting dream for once.