Dream within yourself. You can have the most exciting life . Read a book. My life has just begone because of my kids, and wife. My professional life sucks at this moment. But I am still dreaming. In fact I will tell you a strange dream.... you will have to find it on my page some day. For you think men have control. Of what? I do not have much to say on food, entertainment, even driving privileges if I wanted to do something for myself. Maybe it is you have to find the right person to surrender to.. love is that way sometimes. Love for another. Women's dreams are wonderful.. Full of vision. The world could use more vision from those that care about life more than power. The issue is power. Who controls what? At present neither man nor woman control much these days.. The dreams of someone else are controlling this situation far more than me or you. Some say the creator, other say the demon he made. To those not Jewish.. The creator is the one that bet with a son of God that Job would not fail. You see if you read the Jewish stories a bit. You find out that Job was to be the father of the gentiles and provide them with their text history. The scary part of this is after the book of Job what were we suppose to believe? To trust a deity that would use us as betting chips in a galaxy gambling arena? What did either of them win? What is a soul or spirit worth? Job's spirit was worth his sons. And daughters, and servants that were destroyed or killed? What did they do? What did they gain? Greed is what you are talking about for men. I am greedy I realize this. I want a ole bookstore or a library someplace quiet so I could read more books. I could and can live within myself while outside crumbles.

Ender had just gotten into the Baucus. He worried that all you could eat bread would be out. He asked if there is any left. The cute waitress replied, “There’s plenty left.”

He opened the first book he got from the bookstore Enter the Magical Bookstore of Mirror Realities, the title “Mirror realities and their gateways” by Sir Richard Francis Burton. After reading the first chapter about how a column in a mosque in Egypt had a way for it to hear the entire world and if asked brightly, you could listen into anyone or their thoughts, Ender exclaimed out loud, “It’s not real.”

The cute waitress looked at him. Ender was kind of odd in sort of teddy bear fashion, but his exclamation coming from reading a book while eating hotly baked bread and soup noted a b normal person, she thought to herself.

The next bread and soup arrived by this time an old man came by. Ender knew him. Malcolm Storm. His great-great-grandfather used to own all of Bozeman and their old mansion now a frat house was on an enormous block with much of it looking like a park walked by. Malcolm said, “So you have just seen the other bookstore?” Ender replied, “How did you know that?”

Malcolm laughed and sat down. He then went into a story about one of the many stories about him purchasing books from Mr. Whoo. It was quite a story.

Ender asked, “How does one get back there?” And Malcolm with a wink says do not look, just do what you were doing when you found the bookstore for the first time. To which Ender thought for a while. He had just be wandering the streets of Bozeman, like Robert M. Pirsig had did thinking how much time and money he was wasting on non-practical ideas being thrown out to him and when questioned? The professors always seemed to take offense to their ideas being asked to be explained. That was why he was thinking of quitting the whole thing and if not finding a circus to run away with, find a cooking school to go to.

A visit to a bookstore

Author Clinton R. Siegle

Ender Talon is walking down a street when he notices a new bookstore. The sign hanging over the door “Enter the Magical Bookstore of Mirror Realities”. Thinking this would be of interest, he went in. To his surprise, an owl perched behind the sales counter. Not thinking much about it, he went looking around. Searching for this is that book that might interest him.

He found “Mirror realities and their gateways” by Sir Richard Francis Burton. He knew the name. He just could not place it at that moment. Thinking something that a noble wrote about might be fun, he previewed the first page.

What you are about to read will change your life. Are you sure you want to continue? Well, that’s an opening hook for a book, thought Ender.

He added it to his side and continued to read through the shelves until he came upon the most odd book. It was one of a kind because opening he saw it handwritten and filled with news clippings and what looked to be references to hyperlinks to stories references by the writer Clinton R Siegle. The title page is “The wondering mind through the multiverse”. It was a catchy title, so he added it to his side along with the other book.

Then he found himself in a shelving area where there were maps. Now this was exciting. The maps according to titles listed some most interesting places and seemed rather detailed from Ender’s memories of reading stories about the land of Oz and Wonderland. He found one with a collection of different themed stories he loved as a child. The author Claw the pirate made him laugh. Wondering how on earth a person could use that? Then again, he supposed they could use pen names in any manner of fashion.

With these three books, he went back to the entrance. He set the books down and looked for someone to ring him up. The owl hopped down from his perch and was about to touch the books. Ender said, “Ah?”

The owl replied, “That will be seven gold pieces, please.” Now this was earth, and talking owls were something new to Ender. His shock must have registered something on the owl’s face.

The owl said, ” First time here I see?” To which Ender was a bit taken back. For this was his first time hearing an animal outside of parrot talk. Ender replied, “Um, yes, and who are you?” The owl sort of fluffed his feathers and said, “Mr. Whoo, at your service. I own the place.”

Ender was wondering it valued what seven gold pieces in dollars? He pulled out his Mastercard. Ender said, “I was wondering if you take Mastercard?” Mr. Whoo looked at the card and at Ender.

Mr. Whoo said, “So, you are not a normal person, are you?” Now this was something to think about for Ender. Because as far as he knew, he was as normal as could be. If some might be wrong with him, abnormal or below normal for most people. Ender’s expression must have registered something with Mr. Whoo., who then went to a book, opened it up and looked through several pages.

“Well, according to time and space, light currency money exchange would be 2100 dollars. However, that is with inflation for the time you were living in to that time of it being written. Which does not seem fair? So, according to time travel placement of the books and you seemly un-normal way of just entering my store Willie nellie the first book original sold for 8 pounds English which is in today’s dollars 24, the second sold original for free to a person who picked up a personal diary of one of the few Mandela Effected people to survive the movement of souls to the eighth realm of reality however I paid two books worth 10 dollars and need a profit so I will sell it to you for 12 dollars, and the maps book?” Mr. Whoo looked it over. He appeared to be thinking for a moment. Then said, “I will sell it for a storybook of yours once you get back from some of these places or for 16 dollars?”

Now Ender was thinking. He was off to go to cooking school, and traveling to anywhere was not in his plans at that present moment in time. So, spending 42 dollars on what he had expected to spend 24 to 18 was a bit more than he had planned on at that moment in time. However, this being a mystery that he did not remember having special powers to speak to animals nor wanting to miss out on the stories he thought must be in the books he pulled out his cash. He paid the money and said, “Mr. Whoo, may I ask where am I? I thought I was walking the streets of Bozeman, Montana, and evidently I am no longer anywhere near there?”

Mr. Whoo chuckled with a reply “Sir, you are where you think you are. However, who or what or how you got to this shop is a mysterious to me as your shocked face was to me when you heard me speak.”

Ender wondered for a moment. And thought before leaving. “May I look around once more, because if this is not a dream there were books here I wanted but just felt like not touching at that moment because they looked too expensive and I am curious about what I might miss out on?”

Mr. Whoo replied, “Why certainly, sir.” And with that went back to his perch, leaving Ender to wander the shelves once more. He went back to where he had seen the book titled “The true ending of two of the daughters of the House of Romanov”.

Ender picked up five more books of various interests and went back. Mr. Whoo was excited and added everything up to 83.50 this time, and Ender asked for a card or street directions back. To which Mr. Whoo chuckled with the reply, “When you least expect it, you will find me again, sir.”

And with that Ender left the bookstore and found himself close to Baucus, his favorite of all you can eat soup and bread cafe in downtown Bozeman.

Ender had just gotten into the Baucus. He worried all you could eat bread would be out. He asked if there was any left. The cute server replied, “There’s plenty left.”

He opened the first book he got from the bookstore, Enter the Magical Bookstore of Mirror Realities, the title “Mirror realities and their gateways” by Sir Richard Francis Burton. After reading the first chapter about how a column in a mosque in Egypt had a way for it to hear the entire world and if asked, you could listen to anyone or their thoughts, Ender exclaimed out loud, “It’s not real.”

The next bread and soup arrived. By this time, an old man came by. Ender knew him. Malcolm Storm. His great-great-grandfather used to own all of Bozeman and their old mansion now a frat house was on an enormous block with much of it looking like a park walked by. Malcolm said, “So you have just seen the other bookstore?” Ender replied, “How did you know that?”

Malcolm laughed and sat down. He then went into a story about one of the many stories about him purchasing books from Mr. Whoo. It was quite a story.

Ender asked, “How does one get back there?” And Malcolm, with a wink, says do not look, just do what you were doing when you found the bookstore for the first time. To which Ender thought for a while. He had just been wandering the streets of Bozeman, like Robert M. Pirsig had done, thinking how much time and money he was wasting on non-practical ideas being thrown out to him and when questioned? The professors always seemed to take offense to their ideas being asked to be explained. That was why he was thinking of quitting the whole thing.

He then noticed his book on maps. Claw the pirate. A piece of paper or map was hanging out. He reached for it and pulled it out. The realm of the Baucus sort of swirled away. Somehow he was sitting on a bench in a forest near water and he could hear the most beautiful voices ever. He looked around and his pack with the eight books was there and three loaves of bread and his wine glass was there, but to be anywhere in Bozeman? He had no clue where he was at?

Putting on his pack adding the loaves of bread and drinking the wine storing the glass in his pack the best he could he checked his shoes, socks, and found that he still had the service cloth napkin which he was thanking God for because he was out of Kleenex. After this preparation, he left towards the singing. To make sure he could find his way back? He walked in a straight line using stones and twigs, picking up other items every few feet so he could look back and see where he came from.

What he thought was a river turned out to be a beach for a rather large lake or an inland sea, for the water was not salty. The music or singing he finally found was a party. Now, the singing was in some language Ender had never heard before and was wonderful. There were women playing in the sea, and to see the other creatures dancing around Ender thought he had gotten stuck in some Mad Hatter story. For there was the best custom party Ender had ever been, or there was a real life goat boy, a girl who modesty made Ender think maybe he was in some sort of Mardi gra, for she was dancing with either nothing or very little on. And the ladies in swimming? Ender wondered about the wine, for they had fins, tails and no legs. Maybe Disney’s new theme park?

But, how? When a man walked by with a pitcher of? Well, Ender did not know but somehow the glass that he for sure had in his pack was in his hand and now full of what was white wine. Seeing others drinking it, Ender went with the flow.

After the first sip? Ender was sure he stood and watched a cloud for maybe two weeks. The clouds were there, and the party went around him. However, time itself? He was sure he was just watching and not doing anything. And then? A person showed up he recognized. At Baucus the cafe the painting of the drinking deity was there and this? Well, this was almost an exact replica. Or Ender had ended up in the picture, maybe? Who knows? All Ender knew was Baucus was there, and the Mermaids were now transforming into some of the most beautiful women Ender had ever seen.

Ender had known some beautiful women. How? Being abnormal, he was one of the few people that would make a person feel connected if they ever were given a chance to talk with him. And? He had listened to some of the wildest women and men in the world. His world, at least. How? He wandered into places that people often were lonely. Why? He was looking for food. When he would sit down, they would come up and tell him their stories. From Seals, to wild women, to murders, to drug users. He had survived two reservations and other places, realities that many of his friends or people around him had not lived.

So when Ender looked and realized the most beautiful women were there and the music was lovely and they were dancing, he asked to join in. Now how? First, he used his hands to show could or would they mind? At first there was a bit of a lag. Meaning Ender's dancing moves was like syrup, considered to the women and other creatures dancing around.

Then a hush came over everyone. A lady and gentleman showed up. A whisper and this time Ender could understand the words. Whatever the wine was, allowing him to hear. It was high ole German. The word rae or king and queen reached Ender’s ears as people were bowing to the two.

Just looking at the two Ender realized who they were. He had seen them in pictures of a book describing some Scottish pastor being kidnapped a long time ago. Ender bowed, even though he felt no need. Ender was, after all, a citizen of the United States. after all was he not?

The king looked at Ender. And spoke. Now it was not speaking, it was a dream or thought.. Ender felt the future and saw the king of fae and Ender drinking under a mountain watching a cloud for two weeks. And the complete story. Then?

The Mermaids paired off with faes and other creatures until there was a cute one dancing alone with Ender. They danced until? Who knows, it might have been one day or months. For Ender, the entire experience was like a dream. Her smile was pushing the boundaries of scary for Ender. For watching the rest he could see the shameful acts going around him and wondering where all this would end up.

Finally, Baucus came by with the King of fae again and a third man or Merman for his beauty was truthfully like those of ladies. The Merman then said something and magically the Claw the pirate map book was in his hand. The three sort of stared and looked at Ender for a moment and then laughter which was so wild that if Ender was not normal he was sure madness would have occurred.

Then the conversation happened and the next thing Ender recalled that everyone and everything was under the sea. Seems like a glass fish bowl wherever the sea was at.

Ender, looking down, found looking down that he had fins now and was moving with the lady who had been dancing still and her smile was that of something else. Something that showed such pleasure he was a bit worried about what had happened. She came up and said only one word, “Rico”.

With that word Ender found himself back on the bench where he had first entered this reality. His pack was still there checking all the books still there. The wine glass now had changed into a goblet of some metal. Wondering what to do he checked for the cloth for a napkin because a Kleenex is one of the most important things on any adventure. Sure it was there along with something else a new map. Was it from the Clae the pirate book? Ender was not sure. However, looking at it he found that the bench was the entry point to what looked like a path to a sea and a city under the sea.

Field agent Clinton R. Siegle reports. Target was a philosopher student from Montana State University. I had just finished a Phi Mu, a woman who for the world of me, I did not know what her major was or how she fit into the grand plan of things. They had given me this assignment last minute. Meaning? I should have gotten a time off before my next assignment, but something back in the field office was failing. Reports of ripples in time were being reported about ideologies and people doing things they were not supposed to either do or should not do to stop the grand plan of the evil ones.

To think I am working with the evil ones? Why? The ideology was more complex. That their recruitment for me was a bit more complex than a statement was or is or will be something to think about when that happens yet again. It will happen the question is, will my mind accept the new upgrades or updates?

To realize all this is for rich people to play out their evil imagination is beyond me. Why would they not just be good and stop war and work towards world peace or a Star Trek reality versus? Versus what I have heard lately is that they are going to accept the plan by the Borgs. Why? I think the latest news was Unlisted on Netflix. It tells the story perfectly to make a world of compliant workers and? Well, that is the ideology problem, is it not? They will still have their wars.

But they wanted to stop God from ruling reality. I think that what makes me rebel! in that the more you learn that all this is second in God’s time, yet for their souls, it will seem like thousands, even millions of years. I wonder if anyone realizes how many soulless people there are in reality these days? Playing the unknown part of crushing someone with a soul to keep the game of reality alive for one more play.

The student turns a corner. Wait a minute, I have been on this block several times before. Where is that light coming from? There should be an alleyway there, not a? What the heck is it?

A bookstore? I can understand why he would go there. But? This is not from this reality. I knew that much. I knew all the used bookstores, and this? This was to be an alleyway which if I took would take me back to a frat house. Not a bookstore.

I look up and read the bookstore’s name. “Enter the Magical Bookstore of Mirror Realities,”

Well, this was certainty, something to report back on and find out where my target went. I was not supposed to lose him, was the assignment.

I entered and could see no one? There looked to be a stuffed owl behind the checkout counter. I went down each of the 10 aisles to find my target and he was nowhere. And there was no obvious bathroom or study nook or chairs he could hide in.

I had lost him. I went to the counter saying in a mild voice, “Excuse me, is there a back-way out of here or a place where someone might have disappeared to?”

The owl’s eyes opened. The owl’s reply frightened me. I had seen magical creatures before in Lame Deer. Many, in fact. But owls? They were the bird of death according to those who saw them. The angel of death was always not far behind.

The owls reply, “No, perhaps you should browse and see what there is to read?”

With that, the owl closed his eyes.

Since I was sure that the target was here, I made sure. I checked each shelf. And like the owl said, I sort of checked or looked at the books. I picked up a journal I had heard about in the training class. Which, according to legend there did not exist. If it was here. I might as well purchase it and read it. https://www.minds.com/.../a-bench-leading-to-wonderland... Then going down the next aisle, I found a book by Clint Siegle. To see a parallel reality book by myself was interesting enough. I grabbed that one too. https://www.minds.com/.../a-visit-by-another-person...

By the time I got back to the counter, I had six books. And saying, “And the price is good, sir?” The owl flew down from his perch and looked through the books.

The owl said, ” That will be eight gold doubloons.” I used an old equation because we were on earth in 1995. I say, “So what is that in US dollars? Like 65 dollars? Right?” The owl replied, “But of course, sir, forgive me. I did not check the reality outside.”

That explained how my target had gotten away. A dimensional portal. It also would explain why an alleyway in Bozeman, Montana, would have been converted into a bookstore overnight, I suppose.

Since, I had lost my target to time, space, or reality itself. I looked around the shop. No. Most likely I would not see a place like this again for a while. I was polite and found out as much as I could. I asked,” My name is Clinton R. Siegle, and who might you be and where might this be?”

The owls reply, “I am Mr. Whoo, and this is that which is and was and will be to come.”

So much for simple answers as to a place and location in time I was at. With that I talked with Mr. Whoo for sometime about wars, politics, religions, and other realities. He was like that all you want or know, professor who collected stories in such a wide range you could ask him almost anything and he would let alone know about it. He most likely had a book from the original source making him something of well special.

We were together for some time after some rather wild story swapping. I asked where I might get some tea. Mr. Whoo replied, “Why next door? Cafe Shi is open, do you not recall?” Now recall? This was my first time here as far as I knew. However, realizing that I must have been here in or as a parallel reality traveler, I apologized, replying forgive me, this was my first time here that I knew of? Mr. Whoo chuckled, ” Oh, I see. I knew you better half some time ago. He sold me one book you have. You are like a double of him or let’s be honest, there are or where or will be seven of you plus all the mirror realities Borges talks about.” Now I had trained in reality jumps. Meaning one. Not mirror worlds or seven jumps. And the recommendation of a single jump is time and realization that you are not with actual people or people you knew. For they are not really real or you are not really there. That Mr. Whoo’s reply, “about many worlds, along with many me, got me lost in the realization of how special this place was.”

So thanking Mr. Whoo. I went next door and found Cafe Shi.

Clinton R. Siegle stared down into the room. A memory flashed. A memory from a long time ago. Before the latest brain wipe. 1978 USSR invaded Afghanistan. A secret service member had murdered JFK. In that reality, in a blue limo with only four people in it. Before he could expose that, humanity had been in contact with aliens. Since 1950s in the United States. For the German timeline wars that had not happened yet, they were in contact with aliens in They rushed him-the 1930s. The difference between space/time/realities/is parallel in many or events. But so difference in culture and reality time agents could get caught. Just by slipping up, just by replying, Abe Lincoln was a senator in their reality.

The memory? Minot, North Dakota Air Force base in 1978, the missile alarms going off. A young Clinton R. Siegle was being moved to. Well, from his memory, it was the kitchen area. To the outside, where the cement section of the delivery area was being pushed up by huge pistons. They rushed him down into the basement. What happened there?

Looking around, he recognized the seven at the table. The Bookworm society, and other flash but to a different time and reality. 1989 Close Up trip he had wondered off the White House tour via and stair case next to Abe Lincoln’s bedroom. Going down four flights of stairs, he found himself in the White House staff cafeteria. Where he ate a meal with? He was an elderly black man. African American Political correctness was not in vogue, and he was an American. We spoke about tales of another time and other realities. Mostly spirits and what we had seen of ghosts and dreams.

Then an officer walked by. A military dress man that looked like Clinton R. Siegle but could not be. He was like in his 20s. While Clinton R. Siegle was 18 or 17. He followed the man out without saying much to the elderly black man.

Others joined the military man. They all looked the same. Clinton R. Siegle wondered about clones? He sure as heck did not feel like a clone. They walked to a spiral staircase and walked up it. Clinton R. Siegle followed. He figuring at least he would get out of the underground of Washington Capitols building. After opening three doors, he walked into a room with no lights, then poof. Lights. In the room was the four men along with six others. They all looked the facial wise but with different military and clothing styles. The window which had a door to the side of it when looking out was the Library of Congress.

“Well, well, so you joined us after all,” said the military dressed that Clinton R. Siegle had followed. He continued, “Take a seat and listen.”

Clinton R. Siegle sat down and listened to tales that would make your heart beat faster. If you realized what they were saying was true. That each of their realities was or was exactly alike in yet so different. Once, everyone was a round telling a tale. The man in military dress he had followed said, “Your turn.” And Clinton R. Siegle told the tale he had from his childhood. All this memory being brought to him as a flash. For the moment before entering Cafe Shi. He had no clue who they were and what was here.

The seven at the table Clinton R. Siegle recognized. His fingers glowed as hell fire seeps into the hand for combat. For along with those memories. The memories of the time wars. Clinton R. Siegle having to kill almost everyone of these people. In mirror realities were there. Several he had had to deal with more than once.

The hostess of the cafe Shi glided up a beautiful lady. Until Clinton R. Siegle recognized who she was. A daughter of Cain. A dragon. Behind the pirate dressed member of the Bookworm society. Clinton R. Siegle recognized the bear. A member of the legendary Claw Legion. Both were the hardest to kill for he had taken those here through hell many a time. He figured that this might be another time? He was truly unsure which timeline or space or reality he had just wondered into via Cafe Shi. There seemed to be someone behind Clinton R. Siegle. He without thinking, he danced into the defensive position. A shadow boy. He had seen them many a time. This one floated over to the table and took a seat. The dead among the Bookworm society?

Keeping bear and dragon in view, Clinton R. Siegle relaxed his fingers. Shifting them back to flesh. He looked at each member and recognized the three other potential dangers. Von Siegfried, Ender, and the third he remembered a tale. One where he did not survive, but he remembered it. however the name of the person slips from his mind.

There were now nine members of the Bookworm society. Still two missing. Ender spoke, “More wine, please Ms. Mu.” She served hot sweet Chuma Triago to all. A sip and the table was like in a dream state or world. Each of their stories unfolding, sharing memories. Of times, wars, fights, loves, heart aches, dreams of power influence. Similar or like heaven, only this was storytelling at its finest. Because the stories came from the viewers’ point of view. And if you wanted, you could enter those views of the others being interactively. And see reality for the others.

Clinton R. Siegle visited the Red Apple. A timeline mentally blocked in his reality. When Turkey was Christian. When myths were real. And mysterious myths of the universe were being told along with sold and purchased in the open market. A sort of stall appeared with some of the oldest and rarest books. Along in the bookstall? Clinton R. Siegle recognized Mr. Whoo. However, he was much younger and did not seem in charge here. A man whose accent was in ancient Greek was weird. Clinton R. Siegle knew his language translator implants. They should work, but the words were.. Magical.

A whisper behind him made him jump the shadow boy. A vampire in the Red Apple? The word from the shadow boy with the word magical Clinton R. Siegle translator worked. It was not just Greek. It was fae or fairy Greek where humanity did not exist, where fairyland or fairies realm was and humanity? Was a horrible tale they told naughty fairies to keep them in line if you do not behave we will send you to earth of the humans.