(My Subconscious)
Doctor Strange felt an overwhelming sense of disconnection from reality as he got sucked through the Convergence rift.
At first, he was suspended in a dark void, a feeling of mystical energy leaving his body.
Then in an instant, before he could react, he was surrounded by cascading streams of binary code, each line of 1s and 0s forming intricate symbols that resembled cryptic runes.
It was as though he had been thrust into an alien language he could not decipher. Doctor Strange's brow furrowed with confusion as he struggled to make sense of the bewildering patterns and digital data that surrounded him.
Gigantic pixels whirled around him, constructing pixelated versions of faces he recognized.
Spider-Man swung by on jagged, pixelated web strands, and the Hulk transformed into a blocky, disjointed figure.
Doctor Strange was at a loss, unable to understand what crude dimension he was in, the disconcerting sensation of being out of place and out of time overwhelming him.
His transition to the next dimension was abrupt and disorienting. It felt as though reality itself had been torn apart, and he was thrust into a violent whirlwind of shifting memories and sensations.
In an instant, the binary code and pixelated characters gave way to a violent rupture, and Doctor Strange felt like he was plummeting through a chaotic vortex.
The world around him twisted and contorted, and he was consumed by a sensation akin to free-fall, his cloak unable to maintain his levitation.
Suddenly, he landed with a jolt in a gritty, dystopian cityscape. Neon signs flickered ominously, casting eerie shadows on the rain-soaked streets. The air was thick with an unsettling blend of tension and foreboding.
A series of high-speed, adrenaline-fueled race cars frenzied past him, missing him by mere inches, but disorienting him. He realized that he was falling through dimensions, now standing in the middle of a highway.
The cityscape around him blurred into streaks of neon lights and towering skyscrapers. His heart raced as he hastened to do magic and get himself out of this hell-hole, but he was interrupted by another rupture in reality.
The world around him fragmented into a kaleidoscope of colors and shapes, and Doctor Strange was once again in free-fall, hurtling through the chaotic dimensions.
Each transition brought him to a new and bewildering realm. He soared through abstract landscapes reminiscent of surrealist paintings, where gravity had no meaning, and geometry bent to the whims of the surreal.
Then, he found himself in a realm of fantastical creatures and mythical landscapes, like pages torn from the pages of ancient legends. Here, he encountered creatures of lore and mythical beings who regarded him with curiosity and wonder.
In another dimension, he was submerged in a sea of vibrant colors and shifting patterns, like a living work of abstract art. The sheer visual overload left him feeling both mesmerized and disoriented.
Time and space seemed to lose their meaning as he continued to plummet through one dimension after another. Each transition was a chaotic whirlwind, and Doctor Strange could hardly comprehend the bewildering diversity of realms he encountered.
The common thread in this surreal odyssey was his persistent sense of disconnection from reality. He had become an unwitting traveler through the limitless landscapes of imagination, navigating realms that defied the laws of physics and reason.
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All the while, his attempts at creating portals to plunge him back to the reality he knew were constantly, and abruptly interrupted, as the realities warped.
As he continued his descent through these bewildering dimensions, Doctor Strange couldn't help but wonder if there was a way to regain control and find his way back to New York.
(New York)
As I slowly opened my eyes to wake up, a sharp, blinding light glare assaulted my senses, making me squint and shield my eyes.
I retreated deeper under the covers in search of a momentary refuge from its unwelcome intrusion.
Wait... Something dawned on me and I jerked upright in bed, casting the covers aside.
I looked around, noticing the familiar environment surrounding me.
The walls were adorned with framed comic book covers and posters. The collection of action figures standing proudly on the shelves. The computer desk with multiple screens sitting in one corner, surrounded by a tangle of cables.
I was in my bedroom.
"That must have been the craziest dream I have ever had." I mumbled to myself, confusion clouding my thoughts.
"But, how did I get here?" I wondered to myself. "Did I sleepwalk from the auditorium or something?"
Unable to come up with a reasonable answer, I sat there contemplating about the bizarre short-lived dream I had had.
"Being in DC as Doctor Strange was thrilling." I said to myself as I recalled how powerful I had felt as the mystical energies surged through me.
"How did it end though?" I wondered, trying to piece together the fading memories of the dream.
"Green Lantern...Wonder Woman...Gotham... Blinding light..." Aaargh. I gave up trying to recollect my memories.
Maybe I would remember when I least expected, and then it would be worth it.
With one foot clumsily draped over the edge of the bed, I embarked on my morning odyssey.
It was Monday morning at 0700, giving me just enough time to prepare for work. I had apparently slept through the whole weekend.
What the hell had happened?
The bathroom beckoned, and my reflection greeted me with the enthusiasm of a potato.
Hair, thoroughly committed to its state of rebellion, stood at every possible angle, as if trying to communicate in a secret bedhead code.
The sink played host to a symphony of toothbrushes, each one seemingly vying for my attention. I selected the toothpaste like a contestant on a game show, hoping it would have the miraculous power to transform my day from drab to fab.
Despite my best efforts to appear remotely functional, I remained convinced that I was, in fact, a sentient zombie who had forgotten to register for the apocalypse. This illusion persisted as I moved on to the kitchen.
The coffee maker, my one true ally in this early morning battle, stood sentinel on the countertop.
With the precision of a seasoned barista, I measured out the coffee grounds, performed the ritualistic dance of water pouring, and hit the brew button.
A faint, heavenly aroma began to fill the air, promising to elevate me from the depths of sleep-deprived despair.
As I waited for my elixir of life to materialize, my attention was diverted by the relentless ping of my email notifications.
Work awaited, like an unwelcome guest who had overstayed their welcome. I sighed, preparing to embark on another day of IT wizardry.
It was at this precise moment, as I stared blankly at the glowing screen of my laptop, that his presence graced my kitchen. He materialized quietly before me, with a desperate, but amused twinkle in his eye.
"Finally. Something that makes sense." He spoke to himself as he looked around my apartment.
Meanwhile, I had shifted my blank stare towards him, my thoughts racing wild with suspicion.
Was I still dreaming?
I raised my right hand and landed a blow on my right cheek, half-expecting to wake up from another dream within a dream.
He still soared there, looking at me with further amusement.
His facial features, his attire and his display of the power of levitation. I had been him in my dream and felt his power.
So the only reasonable explanation here was that I was hallucinating or maybe going mad.
Countless times had mama warned me of my vivid imagination telling me to tune it down. And now here I was, hallucinating fictional characters in my wake.
"If I assume this, maybe my mind will go back to normal." I thought to myself amid a raging desire to panic.
For a man who had just witnessed the arrival of a renowned superhero in his kitchen, I exhibited all the observational skills of a distracted squirrel.
Doctor Strange, with his flowing crimson cape and otherworldly demeanor, remained as conspicuous as a neon sign in a dark alley. Yet, I continued to type away at my keyboard, completely oblivious.
"Where am I?" He asked, more a sigh.
I blinked and swallowed hard as my muscles tensed.
The sizzling and bubbling of the coffee maker served as a welcome distraction, breaking the tension in my body.
Maybe a sip of the steaming coffee would knock me back to my senses.
"But wouldn't that just make my hallucinations more profound?" I paused as I lifted the cup I had poured the coffee to, to my mouth.
"It's better than nothing." I took a sip of the warm coffee.
"And who are you?" He asked another question.
I spat out all the coffee that had filled my mouth, splashing a mixture of coffee and saliva all over my laptop.
I couldn't ignore this any further.
"Ok. You're a construct from my mind. A figment of my imagination and I need you to leave like right now." I shouted to Doctor Strange, squinting my eyes and blocking my ears with my fingers.
I opened my eyes, and to my disappointment, he was still there, saying something.
"...stic Arts and the Sorcerer Supreme." Was what I heard as I unblocked my ears. "I have been swirling between dimensions for sometime now and this is the first time I've been a place that makes sense since I fell into the rift."
"What?" I gasped my confusion.
"Nothing could be more real than that experience." He continued. "I am real, and I need to know where I am."
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A/N:
This is where the MC begins to realize that he hasn't been dreaming all along.
Doctor Strange has been falling through the memories in my subconscious. I get to interact with him, and he reveals some strange things.
Thank you.
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