Parallel Portals

by kelly proudfoot

  The pleasure of the memories was so intoxicating that she didn’t realize that they’d passed the initial entry point after several minutes of flying. Pauline suddenly remembered and had to force herself to now think only about the first impressions she’d had when she’d arrived in this emanation.

  The zigzag sensations of being pulled from the pleasure of the hunt to the bizarre lovemaking with Jonar and the horror inflicted on the Darbits was preventing her from totally linking with the memories of her first impressions.

  Once she realized that she was see-sawing around the initial entry point, it was too late. Another ship arrived overhead and several guards started boarding hers. The raven creatures shapeshifted again. In their winged humanoid state, they brutalized every guard that stepped down the ramp, but then – a dark, violet light penetrated the scene.

  The hues alternated from deep purple to red to black and then gold. When a beautiful and powerful Priestess – followed by an attendant – boarded the ship, Pauline was dumbfounded. The ravens were immediately obliterated without a sound. Only scorched, black feathers wafted down slowly to the floor.

  “Doeliana. I command you! Take hold of the interloper! She wishes to align and absorb your energies!”

  Pauline heard her own voice breaking through and addressing the Priestess.

  “No – that’s not true! I am Doeliana from another world. I am only here to learn and understand! I do not want to hurt her in any way!”

  The Priestess held out her scepter, which had a bright red crystal set at the top. It pulsed and shot out billions of red rays of light. Pauline tried to keep a hold on the emanation to buy more time so she could get back to Melbourne. Then she blanked out.

  It seemed like an eternity later when she found herself falling down a huge shaft of black light. Strange winds were blowing every which way, while the dull roar of a thousand oceans kept her in a lulled state. She finally had a sense that she’d arrived somewhere, but the overwhelming desire to close her eyes and stay in her cocooned mind was preventing her from focusing on getting back to – where was it?

  Then she heard a sound like a huge vacuum being released and she opened her eyes to see a welcoming sight. The late afternoon city streets of Melbourne, looking so much like the art of Australian artist Jeffrey Smart; who used light and darkness so skillfully. She’d loved how his art captured the dark skies and illuminated city streets in a way that made you feel like that time of day – late afternoon to twilight – was a magical part of the day, especially in the city.

  As Pauline walked along, she slowly began to realize that she was in a painting, although the streets were familiar and the essence was strong, it was soon apparently clear that nothing was real. When she looked down at her body she saw that her clothing was navy blue but otherwise non-descript. She felt like a two-dimensional representation of her former self.

  The body was strangely real and familiar, but only in the sense that she was a partial or separate layer which was like a sliver of a life. She was the depiction of it but alive nonetheless. Something about the shadows made her erogenous zones light up, although the concept of physical sex seemed out of the question.

  It was more of a cerebral, surreal and dream-like impression of what was mostly idealized in her life. Strangely enough, when she approached the shadows, they continued to stretch out of her way so that she had to continue chasing them to keep up. It seemed that she was supposed to spend a little time in the darkly golden light bouncing off the walls.

  When she looked out at the city, she saw different shop fronts, but they all sold books. When she started paying attention to the names on the windows and doors, she saw that they were all about her. One store was called, “Nightmares and Phobias” while another stated it was the “Cove of Sorrows”. Pauline walked past endless bookstores, completely lost as to which shop she should investigate.

  Sporadically obsessed with the shadows, it took a while for her to finally settle on “Kindred Karma” – which was darkly lit even though it was perpetually late afternoon. The small bookstore was only lit from the golden light outside and Pauline wandered through and ran her fingers over several, beautifully bound books and journals.

  Then she noticed movement in the back of the bookstore. In the shadows was a tall man with his arms loaded with books. When he moved into the light streaming in from the windows, there was something vaguely familiar about him. She felt instantly drawn to him, even though he was only a two dimensional representation of whoever he was in the 'real world'.

  “Can I help you with something?” He asked in a pleasant voice.

  “I don’t know where I am or what I’m supposed to be doing here. You see, this isn’t my body.”

  “Yes, we are all only symbolic images of a moment in time.”

  “No, I mean – I’ve actually teleported – or time traveled from another place. I’ve entered this body to learn a lesson, although I thought that I was going back to Melbourne.”

  “This is Melbourne.” He stated, still with a pleasant and non-threatening voice.

  Feeling like she was talking to a caricature, she turned around and started looking to see if anything stood out. The man put the books down and came up to her with one still in his hand. When he handed it to Pauline, she saw that it was about Jon Warbanks – her husband.

  She took the dark green tome from his hands and found a bay window to sit in. When she started flipping through, she saw all the happy moments and landmarks between them through the years as well as some pictures she was not sure about. The man shrugged.

  “We can never know one hundred percent about anyone, you know – but we can about ourselves.”

  …

  Meanwhile, back in Melbourne in 2016, Jon and Pauline’s automaton were out having dinner. They seemed to have a typically warm time together and had no issues with public displays of affection. Jon was decidedly amorous and continued praising her as they dined at the Spaghetti Tree.

  “You know, these past few weeks have been heavenly. We’ve never been so - in simpatico with each other.”

  “Yes, it’s amazing.” The automaton answered, somewhat like a Stepford wife.

  Jon had no idea that he was talking to a shell of his wife, operated by an unknown force while her soul bounced around from world to world across various time cycles – trying her hardest to get home. While she was trapped in the painting, learning more and more about her husband in a two dimensional realm, Jon was in reality with a puppet for a partner.

  ***

  In the painting, Pauline was finishing the last page, head fat with new knowledge and deep compassion for her husband. When she was done, she laid the book down and looked up to see the man looking down at her.

  “So, what do you think?”

  “I loved it, of course. Now what?”

  He laughed in a way that made her heart swell. In some sense – in the same way that she was a representation of herself – this man was an emanation of Jon. Without warning he sat down next to her and put his arms around her. It was so natural, in the partial shadow of the bookstore, to be canoodling with a sliver of someone she loved; full of understanding for the real man in her real life.

  She was overwhelmed with love and a yearning need to feel him for real.

  “Where was my initial entry point?” She finally asked.

  “You’ll have to figure that out for yourself.”

  “Why?”

  “Firstly, I wasn’t there when you arrived so I don’t know. Secondly, the rules state that you are only responsible for yourself. You are in relation to but not dependent on the surroundings.”

  Pauline suddenly remembered that she had to keep her time under twenty four hours if she wanted to keep her link to her real life strong.

  “I have to leave. I can’t lose my life.”

  “So, you have something to take to the Prism?”

  “Pardon?” She asked – fearing the answer.

  “Your Oversoul would’ve t
alked to you about it by now. The Prism is where every soul in every dimension and time feeds back their experiences, observations and dreams. Every act – creative or destructive – is recorded here. Some people call this realm the Akashic Records. The ironic thing about this realm is that you can only visit this place if you’re moving on the Astral Plane.”

  Pauline stared at him dumbly. She had no idea what he was talking about but wasn’t sure how or what to ask. He went on and on, making Pauline more impatient as she had to get back to the initial entry point.

  “I’m sorry – Jon, Mr. whatever – I’m sorry but I have to go.”

  “I’m Jonas.”

  “Okay, Jonas. Thank you.”

  “Can I get a hug?”

  Pauline could’ve laughed or cried at that moment, but when she fell into his arms, she felt warmly comforted, especially in a cerebral sense. Her mind was finally at ease. When she walked out of the store, Jonas called out to her.

  “You’ll see the Prism soon. Usually you only get to go there when you’re dead or in dire straits. Consider it as the heart of the universe, or maybe even the hive mind.”

  Pauline was a little creeped out by the visions swimming around in her head. She didn’t want to be a cog in a machine. The thoughts of the ramifications of being like an ant repelled her. Soon she found herself near the section where she had arrived. She wandered back and forth as she searched for the right spot.

  In the blink of an eye, she was sucked up into a vortex so powerful she thought her soul would be ripped to shreds. Then she opened her eyes and found herself to be in a kind of clear crystal honey comb. There were trillions of hexagram rooms which stretched out as far as the eye could see. Pauline was in such a room, with newspapers and magazine articles stacked neatly on a ledge sticking out from the wall.

  All the articles were about Pauline and her life. Embarrassing, shameful, jubilant and terrifying events were reported on. Her stomach lurched and the tears flowed as she endured a crash course in how she was seen by the world. Then she was distracted by a large, manila envelope on the floor. When she opened it up she found a file with her details on the front.

  It read: “Classified: Pauline Warbanks – Suspected Infiltrator of the Parallel Portals”. Then she saw the full name of her own emanation and status: “Doelanda 999 from Earth on the 5th Ring – Balancer”.

  She wondered what that meant and when she looked inside she saw an updated account of all the emanations she’d possessed since her trip to the 1950’s. Someone was keeping track of her and she was considered to be a suspected infiltrator. Her Oversoul had told her how she was fortunate to have access, but there were never any warnings about using the portals.

  She knew that she was in the Prism – that part had become obvious to her – but what was she doing there? Jonas had said that you only went to the Prism if you were dead or in dire straits. She hoped for the latter, but once again, the sensation of dropping into a trance took over her body. She did her best to focus on getting back home, but her fear of ending up back in the painting diverted her attention.

  It was however, a totally different realm, and she wasn’t sure if it was good, bad or ugly. What she was sure about was the fact that she was under water – the sea – to be exact. She floated for a while as she tried to get her bearings, but it hadn’t dawned on her yet that she was breathing normally. When a swirl of bubbles surrounded her, she saw something whiz by and disappear into the distance.

  As she twisted this way and that, more bubbles and shadows zipped around her. She then began to hear telepathic voices ebbing and flowing, like the messages were sent in waves.

  “Come on, Doelara!”

  “You’ll miss the ship!”

  “Why is she stopping?”

  The voices were all female, with a variety of high and low pitches, bubbly and whooshing around her ears. That’s when she looked up and saw the sun beating down on the clear surface. She also noticed waves curling and moving the sea onward. When she remembered that she was under water and breathing normally, she began to panic. Then she looked down.

  A long fish tail was swishing underneath her. She didn’t realize that it was hers until she deliberately swished the tail and saw where her belly ended and the tail began. The scales were iridescent like metallic armor of all colors of the rainbow, like glistening peacock feathers. Her breasts were small and her long blonde hair wafted in the current.

  Suddenly a hand shot out and grabbed her by the wrist, dragging her along at great speed. She felt the strong tail instinctively propelling her forward as she tried to keep up with the stronger mermaid. In the distance, she could see the base of what appeared to be a Viking ship. The beautiful, brunette mermaid looked down at her with large, almond shaped eyes the color of fuschia.

  “It’s about time you had your chance to twist a man!” She advised with glee.

  It dawned on Pauline that she didn’t know how she’d find the initial entry point now, but then the other mermaid pointed – their heads only a few feet under the surface. She looked up and saw two soldiers leaning against the side of the ship. They were both sporting long, blonde hair and Viking clothing.

  “Doelara, you must make the first strike. The others are talking about you.”

  Pauline found herself saying, “I don’t want to twist anyone against their will. Every living creature should have a say in their destiny!”

  A red haired mermaid swam by them, grinning from ear to ear. Her emerald eyes shone in the combined, golden halo of the group of mermaids.

  “I’m not waiting. You better get in quick, Doelara!”

  She surged upwards and broke through the surface of the sea, calling out in an eerie siren song. The two soldiers looked over the edge and shouted excitedly. Three more men came to the edge and stared in astonishment. The red haired mermaid asked if they could come aboard their ship.

  “Will you guarantee our safety?” She inquired.

  They all looked at each other and were soon nodding. They reached down and one by one, lifted a mermaid out of the water. The raven haired mermaid dragged her up and passed her arm to one of the soldiers. Pauline saw the mixture of disbelief and the dawning of possibility in his lustful, blue eyes.

  It was then that she began to scream.

  Chapter 8 – The First Ripple

  At the same time that Pauline was facing an amorous Viking while possessing the emanation of a mermaid in another world, Jon was still enjoying the honeymoon phase with the automaton. Since her appearance on the same day when Pauline slipped back in time to the 1950’s, Jon had been pleasantly surprised with how agreeable and eager to please she was.

  It wasn’t long, however – for him to start picking up on the strange anomalies. At first he ignored them, seeing as he was swept up in the seemingly new and improved Pauline, but he soon noticed subtle differences. One Saturday morning, he decided that he’d go for a walk with their dog, Roman. The canine had reacted strangely to the automaton the first time she'd entered the house.

  Going for walks wasn’t something that Jon liked to do and he’d always been happy to let Pauline do the honors. When the automaton tried to take Roman for a walk the day after she arrived, he growled and refused to go. Jon had chalked it up to the dog being temperamental, but he was perplexed over how pleased he was when Jon grabbed the leash.

  One thing that didn’t bother him was how eager the automaton was to please him. The real Pauline was loving and caring, but she was a woman with her own mind and their lives had settled into a comfortable groove which included the occasional sojourn into ten minutes of perfunctory sex.

  The automaton hung back until he came in for a kiss – then she responded by getting on her knees. At first he was horrified, as Pauline had usually balked at giving him head, but he readily accepted this aberration with open arms.

  He’d kept his mouth shut for weeks but one night the curiosity got the better of him, when he realized that he hadn’t heard one swear word out of the a
utomaton the whole time, which was not like Pauline at all, even though she was a mild-mannered Librarian.

  “Sweetie, can we talk?” He asked while pouring himself a cup of coffee after dinner.

  The automaton was finishing up the dishes and then started tidying her hair while she looked at herself in the reflection in the window over the sink.

  “Of course.” She answered while turning to face him.

  “Well, come and sit down.” He said while pulling a chair out for her.

  She smiled and came over dutifully.

  “Thank you.”

  Jon sat next to her and smiled warmly.

  “Is everything alright with you?”

  The automaton nodded with a perfect smile.

  “Absolutely.”

  Her short answers had been giving him the shits for a while. Pauline always enjoyed extrapolating to her heart’s content, to the point where Jon would pretend to fall asleep, which resulted in Pauline throwing a grape or whatever she could find that wouldn’t be too hard to clean up.

  That was what annoyed and perplexed Jon lately; the fact that Pauline’s sense of humor had disappeared.

  “Well, I don’t mean to be rude Honey but you’ve been acting like a Stepford wife lately. Have you started any new medication?”

  The automaton seemed to be confused. Jon couldn’t help noticing her eyelids fluttering ever so slightly.

  “Medication?”

  “Yes, have you been to the doctor lately?”

  She shook her head fearfully.

  “Should I go?”

  Jon stared for a moment, as the realization finally hit home – that something was wrong.

  “Well, only if you’re sick, Polly.”

  He called his wife Polly when she appeared to be under the weather or acting strange.

  “My name is Pauline. Why did you call me Polly?”

  The automaton was obviously genuinely confused now. So was Jon.