I did a full Timeline Jump

And I'm so grateful to be back!

I did a full jump in the night. I’m back. I woke up in a strange bed, with strange people, in a strange place. It was heart-poundingly weird.

I went to sleep in my own bed, as normal. Friday, 29th September, 2023. But I opened my eyes in the middle of the night to find myself in an unfamiliar bed, piled high with thick yellow quilts.

There was a man asleep to my right, his back to me. I knew he was my husband. Not my husband in my normal Timeline, here in my life as Pippa. But my Strange Husband in the Strange Place. He was about thirty, white, and dark-haired. There was an old man asleep in the far corner. I knew that was my husband’s father.

My heart started racing. I had Timeline Jumped.

A small, white boy dog was sleeping in the bed with us. He licked my hand, as though he knew what had happened. It was comforting, but I was still extremely unsettled.

“I’ll go back to sleep. When I wake up, I’ll be home,” I thought.

I went back to sleep.

But when I woke up, I was still there.

It was very early in the morning. There were heavy curtains on the windows, and the room was still very dark. My Strange Husband and my Strange Father-In-Law stumbled out of bed. They quickly dressed in workman’s clothing. Red checked shirts, heavy boots. Both of them had hard faces. No one spoke.

It seemed to be the late-1960s, and we were somewhere like Alaska or very far Northern Canada. I have never been to either of those places in my normal Timeline, but I knew that’s where I was. I also knew it was extremely cold outside.

Our apartment, or cabin, was sparsely furnished. It smelled strongly of bleach and laundry detergent. There was a feeling of poverty. These people lived hard lives.

“I’ve jumped,” I thought, once again. The weirdness was overwhelming.

I got out of bed, and made my way to the bathroom. I was wearing a long, towelling dressing gown. I knew where the bathroom was. My consciousness was already merging with the new Timeline.

“The amnesia is setting in, and I’m beginning to merge,” I thought. “Remember your training!”I told myself sternly. “Whatever happens, do not forget your original Timeline. Remember your Core Self.”

I was grateful for A Map of Secret Rivers. Writing that book helped me know what to do. I realised, in that moment, it had been preparing me.

I remembered to ground. I looked at my feet. They were bare, and the floor was scrubbed wooden planks. Everything was so clean, yet joyless.

The bathroom was a large room with a low toilet and a dripping shower with a plastic curtain. A silver-framed, cracked mirror was on one wall, over a dressing table. There were a few modest ornaments - some crockery and glassware.

I looked into my own eyes in the mirror. They were my blue eyes but set in a different face. A much younger face. An alternate version of me. I now had dark, crinkly hair to my waist instead of wavy, dark hair to my shoulders. My new face was thin and hard, my lips tight. I wasn’t happy in this life.

“Am I dreaming, or am I awake?” I said, out loud. Perhaps I was lucid dreaming.

My eyes were bright and alert. I pinched my own skinny white arm. I was awake. I had definitely jumped.

“I was just about to load up the manuscript of A Map of Secret Rivers to Amazon! If I don’t return, that work will never be read.”

Not for the first time, I felt the urgency to get that work out into the world. But my original Timeline felt very far away. It was fading away by the second. A wave of nausea overcame me, and my heart pounded in terror.

How was I going to get back?

“Remember Core Self… Remember Core Self…”I repeated to myself.

I found the young woman’s things on an old wooden desk in the corner. The bathroom doubled as a storeroom, laundry room, and her personal space. Of course, there was no sign of my laptop. My manuscript did not exist in this Timeline. All she had to read was a collection of seed catalogues. She had a black notebook with a few scribbled notes. I was struck by her intellectual poverty.

For a moment, I was tempted to stay because she was so young and pretty. I felt some responsibility towards her. I loved the dog. But I knew I needed to get home.

I spent the morning doing laundry. There was so much laundry to be done there! The machine was top-loading and slow and cranky. A handle had to be hand-turned to make it run, and it had a smelly diesel or petrol engine. There wasn’t any electricity. Everything had to be dried inside, on lines strung across the bathroom. There was an old-fashioned metal mangle I also had to work by hand. The place stank of damp clothing.

The dog watched me from the bathroom door. The men must have let him out for a pee and then gone to work. They hadn’t even spoken to me.

I lifted up a pile of laundry to put away in a cupboard. At that moment, I felt a sudden whooshing sensation. It was as though I was travelling at high speed, through a tunnel, across a long distance.

My eyes popped open. I was back in my own bed, in my normal Timeline.

“Thank God!” I said, as relief and gratitude washed over me.

I was home. Saturday, September 30th, 2023.

I can still smell the bleach, the laundry detergent, and the damp clothing. I’m going to miss that little dog.