Cold Feet

Admittedly, I’m starting to feel like my travel plans are a mistake.

Why should I continue to live in the past?  Even if I was Phil, what’d that prove to go back?

And what are the odds that I was him in the first place?  I’m pretty sold that I was John Harris, and that’s an easy thing to swallow, but Phil Dick?  Really?  Even if the things I remember are incredibly banal, the odds are billions to one.

Also, I can’t get over the thought that I should have transcended if I was him.  Why would I come back to this grubby earth when I was so sure I was going to be freed from the clutches of the Demiurge?  I think I’d rather believe I wasn’t him than believe the alternative, that there is no transcendence or that I was fundamentally wrong about something.

That fear looms large… I’m reasonably sure there is something to reincarnation, if John’s life is any indicator, but beyond that, what else can I say?  A Gnostic or Buddhist view on the subject can give me hope but what if that hope is as false as the hope of simply not existing any more, or going to heaven and not coming back?  What if our whole existence is tied to this material plane and its resultant entropy, and we will continue being reborn until we attenuate along with the universe, some part of our consciousness living long enough to feel its atoms ripped apart?

I might just spend this trip trying to forget the thought ever crossed my mind, which will ironically be rather hard considering I’ll be right there in Point Reyes Station.

There’s always cheap wine if it becomes too much.  I can’t scrub on the trip because I’ve already spent money on this… I’ve got the car and hotel.  My petard is well and truly hoisted so I might as well go on and get it out of my system once and for all.  And once I’m on the ground, if all goes well, I’ll see for certain that this isn’t a place that I knew at all and that I was freaking myself out over nothing.

The point of this trip is now to prove to myself that I couldn’t have been this man.

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