Admittedly, I am not an expert in cosmology or quantum physics, and my knowledge of the multiverse is pretty much limited to stuff I picked up from science fiction TV shows and comic books. But I’ve read quite a few articles about the theory of alternate universes, dimensions, and timelines, about “daughter universes,” “bubble universes,” and “braneworlds,” and the gist I got from these articles is that there is plenty of room in our infinite and ever-expanding universe for other realities to exist, containing other versions of our world and other versions of us.
None of those articles, however, explained how or why one might travel between universes or swap places with an alter ego. I suppose it really doesn’t matter, because the truth is I find myself here, in this uncharted universe, living a very different life than the one I had planned, and I’m not the same person I was.
Which means that somewhere out there, on some other timeline, in some other plane of existence, another version of me is living the life I had planned. I picture her to be a peacefully content, self-assured supermom and a bit of a smug know-it-all—very likely an insufferable pain in the ass. I’ll try not to judge her, though, because, bless her heart, she means well and doesn’t know any better.
After all, that universe, my old universe, was safe and predictable.
My new universe is not safe or predictable. It has dinosaurs, bears, giant spiders, and dragons. It has the sinking of a great ship on its maiden voyage and preparations for a zombie apocalypse. All purely in a metaphorical sense, of course. Except maybe the spiders.
What follows is a travel journal of sorts, a collection of essays recounting my years in this strange, unsettling, humbling, enlightening place – my alternate universe.