Alexandr Korol

And then there was a third dream. There was a girl, an actress — I don’t remember her name — she was in the film “The Adjustment Bureau” with Matt Damon, that actress. I don’t know who she is or what country we are in. And she says that she, being so unworthy, was nevertheless allowed, and how could it even happen that she had the opportunity to speak with me. And I say to her: “What?” And she says that I am some kind of noble figure, of some lineage, I didn’t quite understand — a count, maybe not a count, but someone of that sort with those kinds of titles. And that she is very happy that she was given such a chance, that such an opportunity arose for her, to be able to speak with me.

What happens next? I wake up, and I don’t forget any of it — I write it all down. And suddenly I begin again to recall this key that has been highlighted to me for the last three or four days, about how I reflect myself in the past, the future, and the present. I don’t know, I have many versions of this theory, and they may not be correct yet, but I want to record all of this. The first thought that came to me was this: if I am now thirty-four years old, but if I, the one I am now, can reflect myself, already manifest myself — then perhaps it is inevitable, as though this labyrinth in which we live, the system, is arranged in such a way — that if I exist now, then I also exist as an older man. That already, right now, there is an older version of me somewhere in the future. And that the connection between that older me exists with the connection of me now, the me who is thirty-four. I don’t know what the distance is — how this matrix is supposed to distort time. And “distort” is not even the right word... If I am here now at thirty-four, then how old am I in the future? It would be interesting to calculate this with scientists, although as I understand it, I am already calculating it myself. Suppose, if I am now thirty-four, then in the future perhaps I am sixty, or maybe fifty. I don’t know what that future is. Or maybe the difference is only ten years. I don’t know. But the point is that simultaneously I am also living in the future — or rather, not in the future, but I am living as the old me. But what is most interesting is that also right now, in parallel, if I am thirty-four years old, there is also some young version of me, perhaps ten years old, perhaps twenty, who is also living somewhere, doing something, and it is as though