A comic about life, love, death, and literature, in about three colors.
Destiny Turns on the Radio
Just because this is a cartoon doesn’t mean it isn’t true.
I really do remember the future. Sometimes.
Two nights ago I had a dream. The next day, I read my dream, scene for scene, frame for frame, in The Watchmen, a book I had never read before.
I could have easily written it off as a coincidence, but I have had three such insights just this past week.
But don’t get me wrong; I am no mystic. Everything has an explanation. The way I figure, there are three probable scenarios:
Time’s arrow is merely an illusion of a handicapped perception. My brain, for whatever reason, is privy to select out-of-sequence events, random and trivial though they are, and attempts to process them within the usual confines of perception: as memories.
The events in question are in and of themselves unremarkable and my brain is mistaking predictability for premonition.
My damaged brain is inadvertently filing experiences away redundantly, but distorting the chronology. That is, my brain is filing away the memory of the experience along with a memory of having remembered the experience, but at an earlier date.