Alternatives

I open my eyes and peer at the mobile phone on the nightstand. 1:37 am. I’ve been asleep for almost an hour. It would be so nice if I could get straight through even one night. The past month has been torture. I have got to stop reading the news. This whole coronavirus epidemic is getting way out of hand.

I push the blankets aside, bracing against the chill in the room. Moving so as not to awaken more than necessary, I make my way to the bathroom.

Returning to bed, I snuggle under the covers, pulling them around me as I roll onto my left side. I tuck my arm under the pillow and my eyes start to close.

A slight twinkle from my closet catches my attention. I open my right eye a slit and look into the closet. Nothing there, it’s either a trick of the light or the beginning of a strange and lucid dream.

As my eye begins to close again, the twinkle returns. No, not quite a twinkle. More like a fracturing. I roll onto my back and stare at the ceiling, letting out a small sigh. Another ocular migraine. It’ll be gone in ten minutes or so. Nothing to worry about.

Except the aural fracture is now in my left eye, not my right. And it’s still coming from the closet.

Pushing the blankets aside, I get out of bed and head over, turning on the closet light when I get there.

The closet is a walk-in. My shirts and pants hang on the right side, and my laundry basket sits below them inside the door. On the back wall and to the left is a small dresser for my underclothes. In front of the dresser and behind the door is a folding chair. When I dress in the morning, I like to close myself in and leave the world out for a few minutes. It’s a tiny sanctuary for me. I have a strict rule that my mobile phone, nor any electronics to speak of, is not permitted inside.

Nothing looks amiss. As I turn and shut out the light, the fracturing appears again. It’s coming from the corner behind the basket. I can see it out of the corner of my eye, but when I look at it it disappears.

I turn my head away enough for it to reappear. I ease down on my hands and knees, pull the basket away from the wall, and reach into the corner. It feels fuzzy. My hand tingles. I explore farther. I’m startled to realize my arm must have passed through the wall into my neighbors apartment.

I pull my hand back and look straight at the spot. I can’t see much, though, because the light is out. I reach out again and touch the wall. I turn my head away, the wall fractures, my hand passes through.

Curiosity killed the cat, I thought as I crawled closer and reached farther. I’m feeling… a carpet.

Screwing up my courage, I poke my head through.

It’s my closet. On the other side of a fracture. I go the rest of the way through. Did I get turned around? Am I walking in my sleep? I’m too tired to deal with this. I close the closet door behind me and crawl back into bed.

I jump at the chime of my alarm. I need to download a quieter ringtone. After a quick stop in the bathroom, I head to my desk and wake up my computer. Despite my promise last night, I navigate to the NPR website. The headline on the main story… doesn’t make sense.

“Clinton Sends National Guard to Michigan”

Clinton? I read the summary.

“In a decisive move, President Clinton sends the National Guard to Michigan in an effort to quell protests against the state's coronavirus lock down measures.”

President Clinton? I clicked on the headline and read the story in utter confusion. Not everything had happened the way I remembered it. Yes, Donald Trump had been tweeting as furiously as ever. Right up to his “liberate” comments that sparked the protest. But, the US was not the world leader in the number of cases and deaths. Every state has all the supplies they need. Aggressive testing and tracking was being done. The US is sending supplies and help to other countries as well.

I must still be asleep. I must be dreaming. This is a fantasy. And then I remembered. Last night, as my mind worried about the situation, I fantasized what it would be like if…

I Googled the 2016 election and almost fell out of my chair. Trump had won the electoral votes in the election. But, in an unprecedented move, the Electoral College chose to vote in Clinton by a narrow margin. Tim Kaine is the vice president. Trump spent millions contesting the election. When that failed, he began a Twitter rant aimed at fomenting unrest that has been going on for the past three years.

What the hell happened?

Ah. The fracture in the closet wall. Was it a portal into an alternate universe? What else has changed? I open Facebook and scroll through the posts and my Friends list and the groups I belong to. I can’t tell if anything is different - there’s just too much.

I feel a moment of panic. I activate the connection to my office computer. That still works and I’m still employed. My work email inbox looks as it should.

My stomach grumbles. Breakfast will be a great distraction while I ponder the situation. I love to cook; it’s relaxing for me. I cook my usual - scrambled eggs, bacon, and rye bread toast. The eggs are soft-cooked to perfection. The bacon has just the right amount of not-too-crispy. The rye bread is delicious; I buy it fresh-baked from a local market and keep it in my freezer.

As I wash the dishes, it occurs to me the only fundamental change is in the administration. Everything else is the natural result of those in charge.

But, why? Is it because that’s what I was thinking about when I passed through the fracture? Did it somehow pick up my thoughts and deposit me in a universe where my wishes came true? If so, would I be able to do it again with something else?

I think, perhaps, I should hang around in this world for a while. I’m not quite ready for more adventure, and I need to understand it better.