The Fray Theory: Resonance (13 page)

“And what about on a
cognitive level?” he asks.

And Neve realizes she’s
never bothered to assess her mental state during one of her episodes. She was always
preoccupied with steadying her breathing, or holding back from breaking down in
public.

“At first,” she starts, “the
thoughts in my head are jumbled.”

“Jumbled how?”

“I get flooded with all
these random thoughts that make absolutely no sense. It’s hard to explain, but
it’s almost like there are ten of me in my head, and each of them is saying
something without letting the others finish. And it’s not a coherent
conversation either. They all talk over one another about totally unrelated
topics.”

Galen’s fascination dims
into something darker.

“But they’re
thoughts
,
not voices,” Neve clarifies.

“That must be maddening.”

“It is. In the beginning. But
then eventually all the scrambled thoughts…
blend
. They combine into one,
unified thought,” Neve exhales the tension in her gut. “And then I can breathe
again.”

Without breaking
eye-contact, Galen leans back in his chair. He rests his elbow on the armrest
and rubs his lower lip with the knuckle of his index finger.

His stare is intense. He
looks like someone who is gauging the risk of an impossible leap.

Has she done it?

Has she passed his test?

Will he now give her the
answers she seeks?

“What I’m about to tell
you,” he intertwines his fingers, “is difficult to understand, and even harder
to accept. It is a ground-breaking revelation akin to discovering that the
world isn’t flat.”

His intensity is subtle,
but quite powerful. And his analogy is far too bold to take lightly.

“Can I trust that you will
keep this information to yourself?” he raises his brows.

She’s already come so far.
How can she turn back now? “Yes. Yes, of course,” she reassures him with an
eager nod. If what Galen has to say can shed even the faintest light onto
what’s ailing her, then this will all have been worth it.

“Are you familiar with
‘Modal Realism’?”

“Modal
Realism…” Neve samples each word like a fine wine, trying to trace back to its
origin, but instead she finds herself standing amidst a barren vineyard. The
words sound so ambiguous and bland, she can’t even venture a guess.

“I’m afraid I’ve never
heard of the concept.”

“Modal Realism is a theory
proposed by American philosopher, David Kellogg Lewis. It claims that
all
possible worlds exist
, and are
just as real as the actual world
.”

“What do you mean by
‘possible worlds’?”

“Exactly that: if
something is possible, it exists.”

“Like in a parallel universe?”

“Yes, but not quite. A
parallel dimension would mean that there is only one alternative to our
reality. But Lewis was convinced that there are
infinite
other
dimensions out there. He believed that a possibility in our dimension is the
reality of another dimension. And vice versa.”

Staring, Neve licks her
lips. What does any of this have to do with her dreams?

“That’s a very interesting
proposition,” she says.

“Indeed,” Galen nods. “But
here’s the catch: Lewis thought these alternate worlds are isolated from one
another. That each dimension is self-contained and cannot influence the others.”

“And I’m guessing… that’s
not the case?”

Galen’s smirk broadens
into a full-fledged smile. “Can you imagine?” he nearly whispers. “Can you just
imagine
the possibilities if Lewis was wrong? If there actually
was
a way to access alternate dimensions?”

“But how would that even
be possible?”

“Through us, or course,” Galen
fans out his hands. “Through our minds.”

Neve drops her gaze to
keep herself from staring. What Galen is claiming sounds far more like fiction
than science. Or even philosophy for that matter.

And considering just how
many possibilities there are in the world—how many combinations of people, things,
and events—‘infinite’ is just way too big for her to even conceive of. And to
claim that
all
of these possibilities actually exist?

“Have you ever wondered why
you often dream in third-person?” Galen asks. “And why you always look slightly
different in your dreams than you do in real life?”

A tight sensation grips
her core.

She
has
. Countless
times. But she always assumed that’s how dreams work. That dreaming is just a
way for the brain to take a break from reality, and play.

Was she wrong? Is there
more to it?

Neve’s gaze crawls back up
and meets Galen’s.

“We look different in
dreams, because dreams are windows to our alternate realities. When you dream
in third person, you are observing another ‘you’, who
does in fact exist
.”

Neve’s throat is closing
up. The air in her lungs is trapped. Her stomach feels heavy. Why is her body
so quick to react to such an absurd claim?

“A dream, Miss Knightly, is
simply a glimpse into the life of your Proxy.”

Neve rummages through her mind,
remembering some of her most vivid dreams. She recalls one of her alternate
selves who was running for her life, but was caught, nonetheless. And another
‘Proxy’ who somehow understood Japanese. She even remembers a dream where she
had a younger brother she raised by herself after her parents—
their
parents—died in a plane crash…

Those other Neves were all
so different, but while dreaming, their lives and their realities made perfect
sense. So much sense, in fact, that Neve never found herself questioning anything
in her dreams.

They felt…
real
.

Suddenly the idea doesn’t
feel as absurd anymore.

Neve had no reason to be
dreaming those dreams. And it was always a mystery why her mind would fabricate
scenarios that have nothing to do with her reality.

She looks up at Galen who
happens to be smiling, patiently waiting as Neve wraps her mind around his bold
claims.

Every possibility in
our dimension, is reality in an alternate dimension
…

Come to think of it, given
how many possibilities there are in the world, it is a bit odd that only one of
them becomes reality, and all the others are wasted.

It’s a shame to think that
so many beautiful things that
could
happen never do. But if Galen is right,
that means
no
possibility is ever wasted.

It means that the universe
is far richer than Neve could’ve ever imagined.

“Is that why a dream doesn’t
have a beginning or an end?” she asks.

The crow’s feet around Galen’s
gray eyes crinkle as he smiles. He nods with a slow blink.

“Dreams appear fragmented because
they’re not
entirely
the constructs of our minds. They’re a blend of our
alternate realities and our subconscious. And this phenomenon—establishing a connection
to your Proxy—is called Resonance.”

Resonance
…

Is that why Galen seemed
intrigued when she said neuroscience didn’t ‘resonate’ with her?

The outline of Galen’s
face is starting to blur, and Neve simply can’t understand why she’s having
such a visceral reaction to Galen’s claims.

Philosophy isn’t
science
,
it’s speculation
, she
tries to rationalize, but it isn’t suppressing her panic.

“So… what you’re basically
saying is that dreams feel real, because they
are
real?”

“This isn’t an easy pill
to swallow. Surprise and doubt are both perfectly warranted reactions.”

“What happens when you die
in a dream?” Neve asks and watches Galen’s expression harden.

Was that a dumb question? Or
is Galen reluctant to discuss the subject because of Dylan?

“If what you’re saying is
true,” she says, “then if I dream about dying—”

“You are in fact
witnessing the death of another you,” he completes her sentence, and looks
away.

Does Dylan know all this? He
must. The theories must have come up at some point. Even if not in a
conversation between a doctor and his patient, then surely in one between a godfather
and his godson.

Is that why Dylan believes
he’s doomed? Does he think the death of his Proxies is somehow related to his
own?

Neve immediately banishes
the thought. Because accepting Galen’s claims would in a way be the same as
acknowledging Dylan’s nightmares as a kind of reality—as brutal tragedies that
actually
happened
to him. And that is not something Neve is willing to
accept. Not without putting up a fight.

“Is there any proof to
back these theories?”

“The proof is all around
you,” Galen indicates his surroundings. “
Whenever you experience something out of the ordinary, you are
Resonating with one or more of your Proxies.”

“What exactly would be
‘out of the ordinary’?”

“The near-magical nuances
of life which lie just outside the realm of science: premonitions,
déjà vu, dreams.
Pretty much any topic which falls under the category of
‘peculiar’ or ‘paranormal’.”

“Paranormal? As in
ghosts?” Neve squints.

“Yes. Even apparitions are
accounted for.”

“How?” she slides to the
edge of her seat.

“Would you like to venture
a guess? Keeping the existence of multiple dimensions in mind?”

She mulls it over for a
moment. “Well, if there are
infinite
alternate worlds out there, then
there must be infinite alternate versions of the same person.”

“Proxies,” Galen allows.
“And you are absolutely right. Some of these Proxies are highly similar to one
another, and others are vastly different.”

“So how do ghosts play
into this?”

“Take yourself for
example: at this very moment, you have countless Proxies who are sitting
exactly where you are right now,” Galen points to her seat, “but each is contained
within her own dimension.”

“But, how is that even possible?”

“This is where Lewis fell
short. He believed Proxy dimensions are contained in isolated bubbles, when in
fact, they are spatially overlapped. They all coexist in the exact same space.”

“So, right now there is another
me
sitting here?” Neve asks, half-expecting to be able to feel her.

“Correct. And it’s quite
possible that she is yet to have this exact conversation with
my
Proxy.
And as a result, she has absolutely no idea that
you
exist. She is
unaware of you, just as you were unaware of
her
a few moments ago.”

Neve sinks into thought.

If she has a Proxy that’s
sitting exactly where she is, then she must also have a Proxy who decided to
skip today’s session. And another who never even met Galen in the first place.
And so on and so forth, until every single possibility is played out.

And suddenly all she can
think of is the dandelion stemming from Elliot’s grave.

The one she blew into the
wind.

She envisions the white
umbrella seeds, luminous in the sunlight, floating backwards through the air
and reuniting with the bulbous stem. She imagines the white globe folding in onto
itself, converging and un-growing in time, until the flower has reverted to its
marigold self.

Young, and full of
promise.

And then she finds herself
back up on that diving board in the Aquatic Center, tightly clutching a metal
anchor. And she realizes how having done just
one thing
differently, she
would now be living a whole other reality—one that one of her Proxies is living
because
she
did things differently.

Because every single decision,
regardless of how seemingly insignificant, has the power to derail.

Because it’s in the nature
of paths to diverge.

Neve’s heart breaks,
realizing that she has in fact lost Elliot more than once.
Far
more than
once.

But if so, wouldn’t the
reverse also be true?

“When someone dies, there
are still infinite living versions of them in Proxy dimensions, aren’t there?”

Galen nods. “And Resonance
allows you to catch a glimpse of them through your Proxy’s eyes.”

A ghost is just a Proxy in
an alternate dimension? Is that why there are people who swear they’ve seen
ghosts move objects?
Oh Jesus Christ
.

Despite her efforts to
contain her emotions, she is welling up. “Is that why when someone we love
dies, we can still feel them? Like they’re still with us?”

Galen confirms with a
single nod.

Neve still can’t bring
herself to believe him, but a part of her desperately wants to. Because then,
if she ever was to see Elliot again, it wouldn’t be as a faded memory, or a
daydream of what could’ve been.

She’d be seeing him as he
is
.

“What else?” Neve asks
softly.

Galen leans over and grabs
his mug.

“There are multiple ways
in which someone can Resonate. And far more often than you’d think. For the
majority of the population, it happens almost daily,” he takes a sip from his
drink.

“Daily!?” Neve’s brows
shoot up.

Galen chuckles with his lips
tightly-pursed, then swallows the gulp of coffee in his mouth. He leans to his
side and puts the mug back down on his table.

“Daily,” he nods. “And not
just through dreaming.  Any time you think an unprovoked thought, or are suddenly
overcome by a groundless emotion, struck by an epiphany, or conceive of a unique
idea, you are in Sync with one or more of your Proxies.”

Neve’s mind wanders to the
first time she caught a glimpse of Dylan’s blood-red hair. Her gut tightens as
she recalls the explosion of nervous pleasure in her chest the first time their
eyes met.

“Love at first sight?” she
asks, hoping Galen won’t find it a juvenile question.

“It is the experience of
meeting someone you have loved intimately in a Proxy dimension. And that is precisely
why your first-ever meeting feels more like a reconciliation of two split
halves.”

This is big
, Neve thinks.
This is way bigger than
discovering that the world is round
.

“But if what you’re saying
is true, then that means each of us—through our Proxies—gets to see and do
everything
there is…”

“You are absolutely
correct,” he smiles. “
It is what I like to
call cross-dimensional self-actualization:
no place left unvisited. No action untaken. Absolutely nothing
of what life has to offer missed out on.”