Steam rises from my coffee mug like a tiny mountain peeking out of a pitch-black sea. I've been holding the mug between my palms, waiting for it to cool down. Perhaps it will never do so. Maybe the protons in my drink need to decay before the grip of entropy can touch it. I tried blowing on it earlier to make it more drinkable, but the miniature figures conquering the mountain of steam just shook their fists at me.

  There is a cardboard coaster under the mug. Winston likes to use them. It saves on cleaning and keeps the table surfaces looking tidier. Drink stains or ceramic utensils are unlikely to damage this table. If crystal stars could be used to make furniture, they would definitely look like this. The table also illuminates this small and homely nook.

  But this light and this corner are just for me. I’m not present to the other people in this space. Even though I'm sitting exactly where I always sit. My home is right there but incomprehensibly far. Winston always keeps the café lights dim so that the grain-colored glow of Saturn can work its magic. The word "longing" is too weak to describe this feeling.

  There is a shimmering surface like a blue lake on a sunny day in front of me. It lets through a dreamlike image of my true reality. I can almost step into this illusion; walk across the freshly mowed lawn, surrounded by the rustling of green-leaved birch trees in early summer. The lake has a slight mossy scent.

  Winston recently attempted to tell me the name and species of the customer who moved between realities. At that time, my mind was not yet ready to hear such words undulating here and there. There is no such restriction now.

  His name is Geber, and he is human. Geber's world derailed at some point, and it never returned to normal. I'm the first being who can communicate with him at this level. Others, while accustomed to our strange universe, cannot match me. No one else has slipped this far. I'm stuck in a pocket of reality that is not actually part of any other reality.

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  Geber and Dig know each other. Who wouldn't know Dig? It was her idea to invite a soulmate of sorts to the café to offer aid. Right now, I would really like to sit at the same table with Dig and chat about the events. Instead, I get greetings from the other side via Geber. Although it's nice, it's somewhat confusing to watch him bounce across that strange, flickering border. He can't control it. But its still nice he can come and go.

  When Cook first told me about my task, he began to steer my mind in the right direction. It was one of my most significant experiences. I wrote about it in entry 007. If necessary, we were to break down a doorway through the wall inside my mind. That time never came. Now there’s just collapsed ruins all over the bumpy surface of inner self.

  Nonetheless, I feel that I'm heading in the right direction. The transition to this state was just too fast. The cliffs and lack of guardrails along the new pathway do not exactly increase my sense of security. My vivid imagination doesn’t make things any easier. I'm accompanied by two jackrabbits and a turtle. We sprint now and then, but no one can get ahead of the others. It's hard to distinguish fantasy from reality. I'm not even sure if there's much difference between them here.

  Fortunately, my laptop bag made it to this side during my little reality slip. My pen and graph papers were also there. Pouring the things I saw during my first strange moments onto paper, were probably the reason for some of my fuses remaining intact. I tried to leave my scribbles on my familiar corner table. Hitting it was just damn difficult. It is right here but elsewhere.

  Pearl has surely made her own interpretations of the pictures I've left, as well as the texts I've attached to them. Hopefully, she didn't add them to my diary... Oh well, who am I kidding? You've probably already seen them all.

  I see my friends sitting at the opposite table. They are right next to me, but I can barely make them out. I wave to them. No response. Do I exist? I wish I could be with them. Babaru is the closest thing I have to a true friend. If things continue as they are, Dig will soon earn the same title. She exudes a strange warmth that doesn't choke but envelops you in its embrace. It's similar to Pearl's immediate caring nature. Except that Pearl's grip on my soul isn't very gentle. It's a fist in a velvet glove.

  Till next time.

  

  
• Johnny