March 7, 2023
Two ancient beings sit at a lunch counter in the diner at the end of time. One has a velvety brown fedora angled over his eyes à la holodeck Captain Picard. The other, emulating a woman, wears a wide-shouldered gray gabardine jacket and pencil skirt, open-toed high heels, and silk stockings with perfectly straight back seams.
They don’t worry about being overheard, since they converse telepathically.
I heard the last of the dark forces was routed from the bunker in the center of Earth yesterday.
Oh, excellent. The being projecting as a female curves her mouth in a remembered smile. Time to put in for shore leave.
Her companion nods. All the battles are over. Peace, abundance, and unity can now prevail everywhere. So what do we do next?
Two officers from the most honored, venerable military order in all the galaxies look at each other in silence. Identical grins break out on their humanlike faces.
In unison, out loud, they say: “Whatever the heck we want.”
Considering the reality I see around me, it’s no wonder my imagination was drawn to that scene. I was kneeling on the floor, minding my own business and giving my cat Reiki, which I finally realized was what he wanted, when the phrase the diner at the end of time wrote itself across my inner creative whiteboard.
Oh, how I long to be there! Is it wrong to want to put much of my life in the rearview mirror? To be done with caring for sick cats and fragile humans? To pop out of bed in the morning feeling no pain or restrictions, bounding into the joy that’s in store for me that day?
I’m weary of trudging through time loops that are nothing like joy. It often does feel like a time loop, endlessly repeating actions needed to care for self and those who have been placed in our realms, and we in theirs, for purposes we’re not allowed to fathom.
After the last of the dark forces are routed, and peace, abundance, unity, and Love prevail, and there is only one timeline still standing—the glittering promise that arrows straight to reunion with Source—what then?
It wouldn’t surprise me if many of us are some version of those two officers, swapping stories at the end of time. Remember when you were blown up and reassembled in a med bed and back at the front the very next day?
Perhaps even now, when our death grip on preferred reality is forcibly loosened by sleep, we’re having such conversations as we fling ourselves elsewhere in time to when this wretchedness is all over.
That time can’t be soon enough. Just when I think people really are starting to wake up, I see something that’s a pure throwback to early Covid fear days.
I often notice a couple of adults walking children home after school along our dead-end street, following the path by the creek after leaving La Patera grade school. The large adults hold hands with their charges, heads bent attentively to listen to the young ones’ chatter. How sweet, I usually think.
Yesterday I did a double-take as first one pair walked by, and then the other a few minutes later, both adults breathing freely as God intended, and both small children smothered by tightly fitted blue N95 masks.
I think I had a moment of that infamous cognitive dissonance. Supposedly, “normal people“ are waking up. Overwhelming evidence proving that masks are ineffective as well as damaging (especially to children), that Covid vaccines are extremely unhealthy, and that Covid itself was created and released as a bioweapon, are in the mainstream now. Right?
If that’s so, what source of information bulldozed these adults into smothering their children? It was like watching a couple of preverbal cavemen lumbering into view, dragging their innocent young by the heels because they don’t know any better.
Sick cats, fragile humans, and people so brainwashed or frightened they’re actively harming their own children, are anathema to my sense of what really is.
Which makes no sense. What really is, is all those things. Those people really did walk by with their kids in masks, my cat really is ill, my elderly family member is frail. I can’t bound out of bed in the morning and jump into the unmitigated joy of life, a shining purpose before me to contribute to our march into Light.
I must be no more than caveman level, myself, since apparently I’m not enlightened enough to manifest the reality I want.
The two ancient officers of the most venerable starfleet of all have finished their coffee. The plates that held cherry pie, and the thick, white china mugs with creamy dregs, are whisked away by a holographic diner waitress.
So, what’s next? The woman gets a dreamy look on her face. Now that Earth has been fully freed, the energy and the light will be joyful beyond belief.
True. The man pushes his fedora back and absently scratches his forehead. I haven’t gotten a new assignment, have you?
I don’t think there’s going to be any more assignments. The woman takes a lipstick and compact from her handbag and touches up her deep red, bow-shaped lips. I think everyone’s primary purpose now is very simple. “Be joyful.”
I think you’re right. So, destination Earth?
Destination Earth. Destination joy. I’m ready to expand to my full potential on my way back to Source, how about you?
The diner at the end of time twinkled in the twilight on a no-name planet in a faraway galaxy. The holographic waitress turned off the lights. Her last customers had flicked into stardust and then vanished as if blown by a heavenly puff of breath, back to the Earth of their dreams and the joy and freedom of a promise finally fulfilled.