How To Go Back in Time Book One: Chapter One

THE FUTURE
“Wake up, Mr. Sander.”
“Wake up…”
“Wake up now…”
I opened my eyes and softly rose up. There was no light inside this room, save for a television
playing nothing but static. In between the lines, I saw faces staring back at me. And in the wake of it’s
light, little specks of dust and grime floated. I had approached a threshold. This I would later come to
find out.
My eyes darted to the left, and there I saw it. A burnt, rotting, corpse. No eyes. Just a smile, and
for some reason, perfectly straight teeth. Burnt white from the ash. And then, it spoke: “Hello, Mr.
Sander.”
* * *
The hero dies. And on this bitter note, the story shall begin. During this, keep an open mind to
all things. This is a metamorphosis. A plunge into the dark abyss, just to scavenge whatever we can
from the bottom. A rose growing out of cow shit. A rise.
I remember my first instinct waking up to be hunger. The birds weren’t silent, and the air was
not still. The top of my tent would fold inward, and then the entire thing would shake. You’d hear it at
night and it’d just attract a bunch of animals.
With a yawn, I climbed out of my tent. Far ahead, and over the mountains, was the sun sitting
there and illuminating the valley. It looked like what the ancients would call a divine place. With one
step out I could see miles ahead. Down the mountain, through the stream, and all the various crevices.
I had been staying here for quite some time. Sunrises blurred into sunsets, and those swirled
into starry nights. It was a like VCR pressing fast-forward in my mind. The same old ritual. Day in, day
out.
What I had come here to accomplish was not simple. It was a fool’s errand. Basically,
completely stupid. But I wanted to try anyway—just to see. I wanted to travel back in time.
Being me, I had always been obsessed with esoterica and hidden knowledge. I had read the
Bhagavata, the old texts on hermeticism (even the footnotes), and gathered knowledge here and there
throughout my life. But it was when I traveled there, to the mountains, that I became obsessed. It would
be the gateway to turning back the clock.
The truth is, my life never added up the way I wished it would. Everyday I’d remember that
there was something missing. A point in time where it all went wrong. Maybe it was just life. Maybe
that’s how everyone feels—but I didn’t wanna take it. And this was my chance to try.
I didn’t need to hunt that morning, as I had food prepared. I’d really only spend a couple days a
week hunting. Free time was usually spent in meditation, or reading. Sometimes I’d just pick a direction
and start hiking—wouldn’t return for days. Except for a full moon.
The isolation could be deadly. Think, fits of raging and screaming. But then I’d run low on
supplies, and have to hike back into town. That would quell it for a while. Sometimes when it got bad,
I’d grab my drum and bang on it in a pattern while meditating. This way I could speak to someone.
“What am I doing wrong? Any tips?”
“Doesn’t the sun look beautiful?”
“Now, look at how the trees are curved—and the clouds. Like a dream.”
“This is hopeless.”
My guests and spectral visitors would always respond with a matter of gut feelings and visions.
Sometimes nudges. You could never tell if you were really talking, you just knew. You were halfway in
the material world, halfway out of it. A threshold.
It was night when I stumbled out of my tent again. More time spent reading the same passages.
With a rolled cigarette between my lips, I gazed out and saw the full moon. This meant I could attempt
the ritual again. I could travel back in time.
I first started by drinking mescaline. Imagine how poisonous sand would taste in your mouth,
and you have the flavor of mescaline. I had barely got all of it down before I sprawled out on the floor
with incense burning. I had painted several sigils on my flesh. Tattoos.
My eyes cracked open and glowing, color-shifting, lines covered my entire body. They were
fluorescent. In the background, a gong being hit over and over. It was so loud, with each crash I felt my
spirit rise from my body. Until eventually, it got so loud I was out of it completely.
Rising out of my tent, I saw a ball of white light. It dangled just out of my reach. But I stretched
for it with all my might, and I grabbed it.
I was back in my tent with my arms on fire. I ran around in circles, screaming as my flesh
melted away. Then it was my chest, my legs, my ears, and then my eyes. They dripped right out of my
skull.
Until I collapsed on the floor without a pulse. The ritual had worked. I would be going back in
time.