Six long months had passed since I started my brutal training regiment to stave off the visions of Churros. I could now block out the intrusive visions indefinitely with only a few minor glitches here and there. My mind had been tempered in preperation for the decisive battle that would bring peace back into the land of Churros, but something felt strange. Something was clawing at the back of my mind, scratching, gnawing for a way out almost.

Soon after I began my training in the Acclimation Chamber I started to have strange dreams. They were often blurry and distorted and I had a difficult time even remembering they happened at all. After the first month they started to get more powerful. I started to recall more and more from the invasive dreams. Not every dream was the same, but I would usually be surrounded by people that seemed to know me. I could see them clearly but never quite make out their faces. I was sure I'd never met these people before when I would recall what happened in the dreams. Still, I couldn't shake the feeling that I had a close connection with the figures in my mind, that they were important to me. Perhaps it was the other way around; maybe I was important to them.

By the third or fourth month I could no longer call them dreams. They could only truthfully be described as full blown visions or even hallucinations by that point. I figured it was all part of the acclimation process so I never bothered to mention these episodes to Caramelina or Erik. The sensations inside the dreams became so profound that they started to bleed over into my consciousness. It became common for me to have short and intense waking dreams throughout the day. It felt like something was slowly pulling me into another world. I would catch myself staring off into space, my gaze steady and unyielding. My visions were consuming me like a black hole devouring every spark of light that tread a single pace outside its humble course.

After five months of honing my mind and blocking out the illusions of Churros, I finally realized that I hadn't improved at all. I had almost completely blotted out Churros, but in doing so, I had left other routes to my mind vulnerable beyond repair. These hallucinations didn't seem to be the result of some malevolent force pushing its way into my consciousness. It felt more like being naked in a snow storm, exposed to the biting duress of the elements. Every day I could feel my mind slipping further from what I had previously precieved as reality and more towards this ever growing existence beyond the limits of my own sight.

The ever accelerating tangibility of this alternate me was frightening at first, but the closer that world felt to reality, the more comfortable I became with it. My senses felt sharper each time I gave in and let myself succumb to this dream-like state of consiousness. I soon found myself welcoming these spontaneous jolts into this mirorred existence. Despite a thin fog obscurring anywhere I looked, the sensations felt more real than any virtual reality game I've ever played.

I could feel the soothing tingle of cool metal on my finger tips. The dull echo of murmuring voices reverberated through the walls. Tubular white lights embeded in a low ceiling stretched down a narrow passage; their dull glow revealing the mesh grating softly clinking beneath my boots as I explored beyond. The fog was persistent, but I could just barely make out a door awaiting me at the other end of the hall. As I closed the distance, I could tell the chattering was coming from behind the door. I crept forward at a cautious pace with nothing more than the tapping of boots against metal and the steady hum of the lights to serenade me. A small touch screen affixed to the wall beside the door lit up at my arrival. A blue symbol in the shape of a hand lay at its center.

I could feel the sweat gliding down from my forehead. Just a moment ago I would have described the climate as cool and dry, the perfect conditions for most of Churros' inhabitance, but now it felt nothing short of sweltering. I supposed I didn't have any real reason to fear who ever was behind the door, but I couldn't help shake the feeling that something wasn't right, that I wasn't myself. My hand started to shake as it inched ever closer to the touch screen. My breathing was labored and erratic. I finally built up the nerve to go for it and quickly pressed my hand against the screen. Just as the door retracted, a dense wall of fog rushed passed me, throwing me into a panic and causing me to fall back to the floor. The subtle echo from before quickly grew into a roaring cacophony of desperate muffled cries.

"James, can you hear me? Wake up!" shouted Caramelina as she shook my shoulders. My vision, still clouded by fog, slowly started to focus as rough figures took shape before me. I gasped for air as I vigorously rubbed my eyes. My whole body ached and was drenched in sweat. I could feel the damp cloth beneath me from the bed I was laying in. When I opened my eyes, Caramelina and Erik were standing over me, both with concerned looks on their faces.

"What happened?" I asked in a groggy voice before leaning over the edge of my bed and emptying my lunch all over the floor.

"Oh dear!" exclaimed Erik before shuffling off to another room.

"How long have I been out?" I asked with ragged breaths.

"Slow down, James. Just take a second and relax." Caramelina insisted as she sat on the opposite side of the bed and rubbed my back. Caramelina let out a soft sigh.

"You've been gone for almost a month now." My eyes widened in shock.

"A month!? How is that possible?" I asked with a slight stutter. Up until this point my episodes had only lasted any where from a few minutes to a few hours. A month drifting in a sea of dreams seemed unfathomable. The last time I went to the other side it seemed like it was already over in an instant.

"Your time trapped within the visions was getting much shorter from the training, but we did notice that you seemed to be experiencing them more frequently as of late," Caramelina explained.

"We didn't think it out of the ordinary since Erik often went through cycles of rapid consecutive visions during his training. But the last time you went out you didn't seem like you were going to come back. Erik never experienced such long episodes before. After a few hours we decided to move you into the Acclimation Chamber with the hopes that it would bring you back to us, but you just wouldn't wake up. We were so worried about you, James. You were just laying there in a deep sleep for so long we weren't sure if you would ever wake up again, that is, until just a moment ago. I came in to check on you and your whole body was convulsing and shaking."

Erik hurried back into the room holding a glass of water.

"Here my boy, drink this." I slugged down the cool glass of water and sighed as it relieved my burning throat.

"Can you remember anything about the visions, James?" prodded Erik. I stared up at the ceiling for a moment and tried to recall what happened. I closed my eyes and the memories came flooding in like a burst dam.

"I was in a corridor, like, uh, a ship... maybe? It was cool and dry. The walls were made out of this smooth pitch black metal with grooves and patterns etched into them. I remember walking down the corridor towards this door. It had one of those hand print verification touch screens next to it like they have at Sweettooth inc. I heard voices coming from the other side of the door so I went to open it, but when I did, this strange fog envelopped me. I coudn't see who was talking through all the fog, but the voices grew louder and louder until I woke up to you shouting at me. I guess that explains the voices at least." A flash of emberassment spread across Caramelina's cheeks for a moment.

"Yes, well, I had to make sure you were going to wake up this time after all. At any rate, I have to return to my work, you know, keep up appearances while I'm still a guest in your world and you look like you could use some rest, well, maybe not that. You get what I mean, so um, I'll be back tomorrow to check up on things." Caramelina rushed out of the room as fast she could to hamper any possible chances of emberassing herself any further. Erik let out a soft chuckle.

"You would think after all these years living in our world, she would have figured out how to talk to humans without getting so flustered. You should have seen her right before your little date night. She forced me to rehearse the whole thing with her for weeks. I thought she was going to melt where she stood when you walked through the door. I still can't believe she had me watch the whole damn thing to 'make sure she was doing okay' like it would have made a difference in the first place. Sorry, now I'm just rambling. You should stay in the Acclimation Chamber for a while just to be safe. I'll bring you some real food tomorrow, that is, unless you've aquired a taste for the nutrient paste we've been cramming down your gullet for the last month." I stared down at the pile of mush stagnating by my feet.

"Is that was that taste is?" I asked as I grimaced at the thought of that sludge pouring down my throat.

"Only the best for our treasured guest. Sorry to disappoint you but I'm afraid you'll have to start chewing your own food again," Erik quipped as he casually paced out of the room.

"I think I'm starting to get a headache," I thought to myself. Erik's head poked back through the door way before slipping away again.

"Oh, and try not to fall asleep for the time being. Shouldn't be too hard with all that rest you got earlier. Good luck."

The door to the Acclimation Chamber slammed shut with Erik's leave. I layed back down in the soft bed, staring at the ceiling in contemplation.

"Wait, did he say 'date'?" My thought was interrupted by the rancid oder of my cold solidifying vomit.

"That yammering scientist didn't even give me anything to clean up my mess and I'm suppost to stay in here all night?" I grumbled in frustration. I pulled the thin sheet from the bed over my nose to filter out the stench and focused back on the pale ceiling before me. I couldn't stop thinking about what I saw in that last vision.

"Where exactly was I?" I wondered. I couldn't help but feel like something important was behind that door, like there was something I was supposed to do there.

I kept replaying the events of the dream over and over in my head, eyes unblinking and fixated. The more I focused on the images in my memory the more vividly they appeared before me. I could almost see them as clearly as day, dancing before me on the blank ceiling above. I could sense all it again; the smooth metal walls with the etched grooves rumbling beneath my fingertips, the cool crisp air, the dull hum of the lights. There it was, the door, staring back at me. I needed to know who or what was behind it. I felt inescapably drawn to it like nails to a magnet. My breathing started to pick up like before. I edged ever closer to the door yet again. I started to feel heavy and restricted, like my whole body was covered in sand. I could no see the white ceiling in front of me, the acrid smell of the vomit, or the soft padding of the bed. I could only sense what seemed real to me now; the narrow metal corridor I was in, and the door that stood before me.

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

My hand met with the scanner at last and the door slid open with ease. I walked through and found myself in my room back home. Everything was there, just as I left it.

"But, how is this possible?" I wondered. I drew back the blinds that shrouded my room in a comfortable darkness and looked out the window. Every thing still, almost, frozen. People on the sidewalk standing in place, birds suspended in the air, the early morning sun smoldering halfway above the horizon. Struggling to process what I was seeing, I sat down in my computer chair and stared, mouth agape, at the inanimate world in front of me. I looked back over to where the door I came through was, but it was gone, just my normal blank wall.

"How am I supposed to get back? How did I even get hear in the first place?" I pondered for a moment.

I snapped to attention as I heard a loud crash echo through the house. I jolted upward and peeked outside my bedroom door. I could hear the banging and clanking coming from the kitchen downstairs. I didn't waste any time and started sneaking down the stairs, keeping my head ducked just above the banister. Once I reached the bottom of the stairs I glanced around for anything I could use as a weapon. All I could manage to find was my sisters pink umbrella leaning up against the wall by the front door.

"It'll have to do," I whispered to myself. I clutched the brightly colored umbrella with both hands; my arms winding it up like I was about to crush a homerun at Fenway Park. I took a deep breath before leaping around the corner to meet the intruder.

"Who the fuck are you!" I roared, as loud as I could.

"Holy shit, jesus fuck!" bellowed a seedy bearded man as he fell on his back in shock, flinging a jar of mayonaise acrossed the kitchen in the process.I towered over him, pointing my pink umbrella at his face, still clutching it with both hands.

"Why are you in my house!" I shouted at the portly vagabond. He looked to be in his late 40s, face covered in a long scraggly black beard with streaks of white, his tattered rag-like overcoat covered in slices of my baloney.

"Jesus christ, what's the matter with you? You don't just jump out on people when they're making sandwiches like that. Didn't your mother ever teach you any manners?" retorted the man as he rose from the floor and brushed the baloney slices from his chest.

"Manners, man, who do you think you are talking about manners, huh? Just walking into peoples homes and going through their shit?" I replied, umbrella still ready to strike, my legs firmly planted in a power stance. The shaggy man sighed as he lifted both his hands up in surrender.

"Alright, I get it, you just went through the door for your first time, everything's all weird and frozen and some random guy you've never met before is in your kitchen making sandwiches, so, you don't know what to do right now. Well, I'll tell you what you can do. You can either listen to what I'm about to tell you, or you can try and massage me to death with that Fisher-Price toothpick you got there." I looked down at the umbrella and then back up at him.

"Door? What are you talking about, how do you know about the door?" I asked, umbrella wobbling in my shakey grip.

"Okay option one, I like it." The man scooped up the half-empty package of baloney from the floor and returned to making his sandwich with some white bread left on the counter.

"Everyone here knows about the door, dude, how else are you gonna get here? Look, man, you synchonized with the universe or whatever and then you went through the door and popped out on the otherside at your anchor point. Get it? It's simple."

"Simple? What do you mean simple? Synchronized with the universe? The hell is an anchor point?" I asked as I realigned the tip of my umbrella with his head.

"Come on, dude, enough with the umbrella already. You look like Marry Poppins after she went down the wrong street in Detroit. You're gonna trip over your Sketchers and poke my eye out with that thing." I lowered my improvised weapon and took a deep breath. The man began explaining where we were while stuffing his face with his freshly prepared baloney sandwich.

"This place we're in is like a reflection of the real world. Its got all the same people, animals, trees, but what it doesn't have is time to put it all in motion. That little detail right there is what makes this such a great place to resynchronize with different time-lines and universes. You see, time tends to slow down the closer you are to the center of the universe and every strand of time in that universe eventually orbits close enough for you to hitch a ride. An anchor point is a unique place where you end up in this timeless space. Everybody's got one. You should thank your lucky stars your anchor point is a door that leads to this nice house. Mine is a manhole next to that Indian restraunt on 5th street. Not sure why they tend to be around peoples homes. Pretty cool though right?" I let out a sigh as I rubbed my forehead.

"Look, if you're just going to stand there and eat my food in my kitchen then at least tell me your name, okay? The man abruptly halted his vigorous chewing and set down the rest of his sandwich before dusting the crumbs off his hands.

"Fair enough. The names Weston Krantz, but you can call me West." Weston extended his hand towards me. I glanced down at his filthy hand and hesitated for a moment before giving it a firm shake.

"Okay, West, I'm not really sure what you are talking about with all this universe synchronization nonsense, so why don't we start with something more down to earth. Why are you in my house?" I asked with a raised eye brow.

"Well, I'm what you might call, 'Economically Challenged' and the Time Bubble, that's what I like to call this place, is a pretty convenient place to take shelter, seeing as how everyone is frozen and therefore don't have much use for their cold cuts and beds. Your house just happened to be the catch of the day." Weston raised up his half-eaten sandwich and smirked before returning to finish the job.

"How did you make it to this 'Time Bubble' place to begin with? Actually, how did I even get here? The last thing I remember doing was staring at a wall while I was day-dreaming then all of the sudden I was in some weird corridor with a door at the end." I scratched my head as I stared at the ceiling. Weston made a quick gesture, tapping his finger against the side of his head.

"Sounds like you got the thing, man. The gift or whatever you feel like calling it. You must have done something or had something happen to you to pop your mental synchronization cherry. For me it was a tap on the noggin from some asshole that didn't know what stop sign was for. Not everyone has the gift, but for those of us that do, we get the pick of the litter, man." Weston explained before taking the last bite of his sandwich and dusting the crumbs off his hands yet again.

"Pick of the litter? What is that supposed to mean?" I asked as I crossed my arms.

"Alternate time-lines, universes, places, people, dude. Any time period you want to go check out, countries, people you want to be, hell even other planets if someone actually lived there once. You hitch a ride on any one of these infinitely expanding time strands and you can experience life as if you were actually what ever person you synched up with, man. Just a few hours ago I was Ozzy Osbourne the day he learned about cocaine. Cool, right?" Weston leaned back against the kitchen sink and crossed his arms, recalling all the recent fun he had.

"But what if I want to go back to my own time and, you know, be me? Some people need my help and I should really get back to them." I started fidgeting with my hands and tapping my feet.

"What are you talking about? Where you not listening to my super scientific explaination earlier? We're in a Time Bubble, dude. There's literally no rush. You can't just cross over the multiversal barrier between time and space and not take a fresh time-line for a spin. Come on man, it'll be fun. Just jump in one real quick, enjoy the ride, and wham bam your back here in no time. You can meet back up with your pals and pick back up right where you left off." Weston's exaggerated arm waving and huge grin reminded me of a child at a playground.

"Okay, I guess, but, how do you even do it?" I asked while rubbing my chin.

"Should be easy now. You made it here so you're already synched up pretty good I'd say. All you have to do is think of a person or place you want to be. It helps if you really focus on the finer details. Image their surroundings and what they look like, their name and what time period they are in. Oh, man, I just got a great idea." Weston punged his hands into the pockets on both sides of his coat and started rummaging around for something.

"Yeah, here it is!" Weston pulled an old dirty polaroid photograph out of his left pocket. It showed a younger man in the picture sitting on a couch and smiling with a pair of scissors in his hand. A name was scribbled on it, but it was far to smudged to make out.

"This was an old friend of mine from when I was a lot younger and my life was a lot different. He always had these crazy stories he would tell me and my friends. He would tell us about all these wild adventures he went on and insist that they were real. We never believed him and thought he was just pranking us. After coming here for the first time though, I started to think maybe he really was telling the truth the whole time. I thought about jumping into his personal time-line to find out if he really was just pulling our leg or not. But he passed away a long time ago and it just didn't seem right. It's one thing to hitch a ride into a dead celebrity or an ancient ruler, but it's different when it's your own friend, know? Just seems wrong. So I want you to do it. I still have to know if he was telling the truth or not, I just can't do it myself. If you're up to the task, just jump in and when you get out you can give me the scoop. What do you say, man?" Weston extended the photograph out towards me. I grabbed the photo with both hands and stared intently at it. I glanced back up at Weston.

"So I just have to imagine being this guy?" I asked, unsure if this would really work.

"Easy as that, man. Just focus up and let that time-line magic do it's thing." Weston replied before letting out a rumbling burp.

I sat down on one of the tall wooden chairs I had next to the kitchen counter and began staring, unblinking, into the photograph. I started to imagine myself looking into a mirror and seeing his face. I thought about how the cushy couch he was sitting on would feel. The weight of the scissors in my hand and the flash of the camera that took his picture. My vision started to fixate in the center of the image. Everything around that point started to warp and blur. My body felt heavy again just like when I was talking towards that door. The colors of the image started to get brighter and brighter until they were almost blinding, then there was nothing but darkness.

I felt strange. I was calm and almost weightless, like I was floating. Then the sounds came. Rushing all around me like my head was under a waterfall. I gasped for air and opened my eyes. I was laying in bed, but it didn't seem like it was my bed. All of the sudden I felt sick to my stomach and had an extremely strong sensation of deja vu. I rubbed my forehead and tried to remember what I was just doing, but I wasn't sure why.

"I couldn't have been doing anything a moment ago. I was in bed so I was obviously just sleeping, but why can't I remember my name?" I thought to myself.

I looked around my room to see if anything would jog my memory. It looked like the same old room I'd always lived in. I shrugged off the strange thoughts and chocked it up to early morning grogginess. I slumped out of bed and walked into the living room. There were piles and piles of paper stacked up on the coffee table in from of the couch. I opened my front door and walked down to my mailbox to see if there was anything important today. Just a newspaper and a few bills. I sorted through them one by one, giving them each a quick glance. Then the name they were mailed to caught my attention. I squinted my eyes and held the envelope up.

"Oh yeah, I remember now. How could I forget. My name is Chet."