Author Description

"Stay calm," they told me. "Stay light," they reminded me.I was the Light Line, a life line of sorts. As long as I stayed calm in this reality, this dimensional frequency, my Real Self could go off fighting battles, defeating foes, conquering the forces of evil. As long as I played nice, boring (at times), and relaxed, my Real Self could keep going. It was like She could tap into me, use me to harness energy, hope, a reason to go on. Sometimes, in the thick of a really hard situation all we need is one Happy Thought to keep us going.I am that Happy Thought.If I weren't so pertinent, I'd be damn angry at my Real Self, off living adventures, off doing battle for the sake of humanity.Instead, there was me, sitting pretty, chain smoking and giving speeches at the local grocery store.I knew who I was. I knew about Her.But I wasn't allowed proof. My Real Self would be in danger if I knew anything close to an iota of truth. Sure, She could tell me, but what validity rests in the imagination of a psychopath?That was another way my Real Self 'protected' me (Her own ass); whenever she was in a real good pickle, she would rile me up, harness my energy, then have my realm of peoples lock me up in a mental hospital. "Keep her safe, put her on lock-down, sedate her a few days and have her forget any of that happened," the order would go through channels, and there was me, in a hospital gown downing pills and doing magazine cut-out collages, feeling like a hopeless fool."Stay light!" my Real Self would battle-cry across the cosmos, until this version of me- the one writing this- would have to focus on something positive, toss my hands around in the air, or worse, sit silent and do nothing."Oh yeah, real fair," I'd complain in the luxuries of a comfortable life; meanwhile my Real Self would be knee deep in a swamp, or at the heights of a mountain, or wadding through a river of blood. She was probably carrying some lethal bo staff, crunching skulls or casting high magic, using the p