... of this I am sure. But more than just when is the future, also where is it for surely it is a place, a place to arrive, but maybe also a place to leave. Is there only one, or a myriad? Over the years I have come to believe that communication takes place, in fact further, maybe even physical journeys; that time is more complex than a mere linear chronological journey is something of which I am sure. I have read to much science fiction I hear you comment. Well true I have...but it is the real life experiences I have had that make me speak thus, and not just words within books. I will recount two such stories for you...
It was in the summer of 1994 I think that I first laid eyes upon one of the most exquisite women I have ever seen. She was a vision, and it was not long before I had laid more than my eyes upon her. She was proof to the benefit of outbreeding, having genes that probably represented each of the four corners of the world, hailing from Antigua, lately of London. During our short affair I became aware that she had a young son, who at my time of meeting must have been around 3 years old. He had a very individual look (and an equally individual name), having such a beautiful mother, and I presume an equally attractive father, who I believe had some South East Asian blood; the point is that the boy's look was distinctive.
The relationship lasted for a couple of months, and shortly after I found myself in the throws of an episode of illness, and underwent the almost obligatory 'tours' that seem to accompany such times. I found myself in a mosque in the city of Liverpool, during the holy month of Ramadhan if I recall correctly. I was sat with my back against a wall, when a young boy hobbled into the masjid. He and his friend made directly for me, sat and began to speak with me. I was speechless, and slightly more than a little worried, for I was sure that this 15 year old was in fact the very same son of the girl I had been seeing a short time previously. We spoke and this fear passed from me, after all it was simply absurd to think such a thing. This boy was plainly a scouser, he spoke with an authentic colloquial accent, and from what I could gather was native to Toxteth. I asked the boy why he had a limp, to which he replied that he had hurt it during a game of football. We spoke for a little time, and as the boy left and we exchanged salutations of peace I enquired as to his name....and as he replied, I froze, for his name was the very same name, a highly unusual name, that the son of my girlfriend had had....
A couple of years later, I was again in one of my heightened states, what I like to call being 'Sufied'. I was living in west London, and visited Holland Park on a daily basis. The park having multiple entrances allowed me variety in my method of entry and exit, and I found one road in particular attractive, lying to the east of the park, and leading to an area that was north of High Street Kensington. It was around this time that my internal dialogue was interupted by a voice that I recognised as not originating from myself. I began to hold long debates with the voice, who eventually revealed that she was the voice of my wife. I was of course confused as at the time I was not married. The voice informed me that she was my wife in the future, and having no evidence to prove otherwise I took her at her word. As I walked down the specific road the voice drew my attention to a house, and I interpreted that this must be where we lived in the future, good news really as it was a particularly attractive residence. The conversations continued, and I was informed that we had strong and intelligent children, and that life on the whole was fulfilling and good. On my walks down the particular road, I noticed that opposite to the house of my future was a middle eastern embassy. Subsequently the embassy took on deeper and deeper meaning to me, culminating in me removing the plaque from the embassy, which I then attempted to use as an oversized credit card at a local shop to purchase some cigarettes. Surprisingly they neither saw the humour, or the inherent credit value, and a short time later I was stopped and ultimately detained under the mental health act.
I met the mother of my children in the latter months of 1999, at a gig of some mutual friends. It was not long before we were married, and an ex colleague of hers helped us arrange the wedding which took place at a west London masjid. We arrived at the house of her colleague and we spoke on many subjects, one being how they had met. I learned that they had worked together in a middle eastern embassy to the east of Holland Park. My mind became still and I enquired; 'Do you remember an episode where the plaque of the embassy was removed?' My wife's colleague replied; 'Oh yes I do, The police said a drunkard had done it. In fact it was while you were working with us...' and the colleague gestered toward my wife. I guess the Police had to say something other than a wandering Sufi had removed it....
