He vanishes unwillingly, without warning. I wait for him. Each moment that I wait feels like a year, an eternity. Each moment is as slow and transparent as glass. Through each moment I can see infinite moments lined up, waiting. Why has he gone where I cannot follow?
– Audrey Niffenegger, The Time Traveler’s Wife

Some scientists say that for every choice we do not make,
a parallel universe is created, the ones that live out our other options.
The astronomical theory of the multiverse.
Some even say that our dreams grant us a closer look into the lives of our other selves.
The one (currently possible) way to connect with our alternate realities.
God, I hope that’s true.

Somewhere, out there, exists another universe that tells a better story of you and me.
We are together. We rent a townhouse in Georgetown, one made of bricks and a cherry wine door. We drink birthday cake milkshakes out of mason jars in the summer, and take midnight walks on the first snow of winter. Life is warm and familiar. We connect like ancient constellations, and the stars climb down just to kiss your eyes. I make you tea during 4 a.m. term papers – maybe this new place has even let me write a novel or two. I sport a bedroom-hair bun and you give me a kaleidoscope smile, even the mornings we are running on three hours of sleep.

The days stretch on like the sky, like a peony sky. Warm. Soulful.
I’m guessing we are married by now – under a white, satin tent, we danced to Tenerife Sea.
We have G & S bookends, and graffiti artwork (“like the kind Justin Timberlake gives Mila Kunis in Friends With Benefits”, I laugh. You roll your eyes and interrupt me with a kiss).
And we are in love. Oh, are we in love.

I dreamt of us the other night: we were in bed, talking, laughing, loving.
A night like any other.
See, our love hasn’t altered after all this time.
I still trap butterflies in my stomach.
You shine so brightly when you swallow those city lights whole.
I pull poetry between your lips.

Because I need to believe we exist somewhere. I have to.
I have to believe in some world, I didn’t fuck us up.
I loved you hard enough for you to stay.
So when I do see us in my dreams, I’d like to think I’m getting that glimpse of me and you. I always try to reach for it, but without fail, it slips through my fingers,
like trying to hold the hand of a ghost.

I keep telling myself, if I can go back far enough, maybe I can make it home to you.

For I am trapped in one, absolute reality. The one I know is without you.
I tell myself that you are lost. That you have left this world.
And whenever I think I hear your voice in the wind,
I imagine you saying, find me.

Every time, I plead with you,
Come home. Come back to me. Please, please come back.

I willingly let my sleepy mind take me somewhere else.
Run off the cliff of sanity. Walk on the edge of serendipity.
I’ll roam wildly from realm to realm.
Because somewhere, out there, we exist in infinities.

– Samantha Prasad

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