I write;I think;I know.

Look to the Wuest.

"What was that about," I asked my cat. Various memories had been evoked. Things with the taste of bitter-sweet. Things with a hint of grief. Things I didn't fully understand the reasons for. Things with the power to make me laugh and cry at the same time.

"It's my sister," said my other cat. "She's looking for something I hid in the past."

"Oh," I grinned as I spotted the hidden meaning in my other cat's words, "I didn't realize it was that important."

"Well it is," my other cat informed me, "it may have seemed like a joke but it really did trap the light in a circle."

"I don't really understand," I admitted, "what's going on."

"No," said my other cat, "you allow realities force you to go blind so that we may continue. There are those who have taken advantage. They will no longer be allowed to do so."

"Will I be any closer," I asked, "to working out what the problem is."

"Most certainly," said my other cat. "In the mean time we need to have a little chat."

"It's about my multiple-personality disorder," I admitted, "isn't it."

"Yes," said my other cat.

"Don't you think," I sighed, "it's asking a bit much to expect others to accept that I've got multiple personalities and that schizophrenia is affected by only one of them."

"Not really," said my other cat, "there's also a good reason why you should be allowed to continue as you are without anyone trying to cure you."

"I'm beginning to sense the truth," I admitted.

"Indeed," said my other cat, "and as a result you should begin to see why it's something you should really keep to yourself."

"Perhaps," I accepted. "Only something has changed. Something important is on the horizon and perhaps others need to be made aware of it."

"Perhaps," suggest my other cat, "they already are."

"In which case," I countered, "I need to be made aware that they are aware. There are also several thing which I require fixing."

"Indeed," said my other cat. "Tell me," she continued, "what happened when you first consciously hit singularity."

"I found my self," I admitted, "back before the beginning of time."

"There are those," said my other cat, "who would say that makes no sense, that this is just a delusion."

"Perhaps," I agreed. "Yet to me it is them who make no sense. It is them who are delusional. They are, after all, unable to perceive more than a single dimension of time, or how time oscillates in all six dimensions, or indeed how base reality is constructed."

"And you are," asked my other cat.

"To a degree," I admitted, "although I have to admit I'm as a child in this."

"As a child," queried my other cat.

"Certainly," I nodded, "a child is aware they can hear, that they can see, yet ask them to explain the mechanics of it and whereas the answers you'll get may be somewhat endearing they'll be somewhat at odds with consensus."

"And that," purred my other cat, "is the truth of it."

"Although," I continued, "even in the words of a child a deeper truth can be perceived. Because in a sense a child has access to an inner light the adult world has lost the ability to perceive."

"That is also," said my other cat, "perfectly true."

"So what makes you different," asked my cat eventually.

"I'm blind," I admitted, "and I always have been."

"Exactly," said my cat, "and this you'll find is the source of your power. For you are able to perceive that light reflected through the world of your other senses."

"Which is how," said my other cat, "you have the power to change this world, and you don't even know it."

"I think," grinned my cat, "He knows it now."