With the rain clashing on the pavement and the tin roofs, amidst the realm beyond dreams and the here of any given night, she found herself alone in the darkness, arms and legs receiving a numbness. It started from the tips of her fingers, coursing through her skin like a dense, slowly burning and heavy wave. A heat akin to infinite, thin needles causing her hairs to stand on end. It was reminiscent of waves induced by people raising their hands synchronously in packed sports stadiums; a living, euphoric surge circulating all around. Just like those waves of human foam, but replicated in millimeters on the skin, that was the sensation on that dawn, and she couldn’t manage to wake up in her bed.

     She was in a floating litany. In a desperate and inanimate limbo, feeling her body over-energized here on this side of the world, but according to her; she was very, very far away. Lost in an uncomfortable almost-dream.

     So went a long while of impatience and incarnate static, which then, with a sudden jump and palpitations, was interrupted and brought back, as if she had been given an electric shock to revive her. Waking up startled but immobile, face down after the jolt. And unable to move much, drooling a little on the sheet, she could barely with one eye glance at the old metal clock on her bedside table, all silhouetted by a lantern shining from a yellowish yet dark street just at the level of her windows on that second floor. A steady light, but still swaying outside to the beat of the wind and the rain pounding in all directions. A storm that had been lashing and swelling the glass and wood for three months now, as in ancient times, when water was abundant, that is; without much respite and from all sides. That particular night it was doing so with monumental force.

     And inside the apartment and still unable to move, amidst a kind of bars made in the moment of her own locks and a blurry white pillow, she saw the clock marking 05:22 in the morning, but not just any day. Because between sleepy eyelashes and a tightly twisted head due to an intense headache, she felt very different.

     Because then, after a few minutes of quiet recovery, she wanted to move a little, trying to open her eyes wide, but a paralyzing headache prevented her from reintegrating. When she tried to do so, it was a cave of an echo of constant metallic pounding, freshly engraved in her nightly shift, now resonating in her inner walls. So she thought; because Nina attended daily, a busy restaurant during the day that transformed into a lively, bohemian bar at night. A business she set up recently with a couple of childhood friends, whom she fortuitously met years ago on that same street. A few blocks down, at the end of one of the many inclined slopes leading to the civic part of the city. On the sidelines of wide, stony, moss-greened paving stones, firmly crossed with fine luminaries. Amidst those repetitive staircases, she pleasantly found them, as she descended from the hill, bouncing lightly towards the avenue, near the docks of the oldest sector of the port.

       And it was precisely all of that which she recapitulated in flashing images. In the midst of the dark silence and the rainy outside in her bedroom, while water slid in continuous strips through the window of that second floor. That all of this was worth it. That’s what she reassured herself. She felt joy and delight, already laden with some part of the sleepy dream. Her beautiful place on the ground floor of that same old building, and all the moments with her recently reconnected friends, made a new home for her. Where so far everything was building a good and tranquil life, and where now she had abruptly awakened for no reason; amid some pains. With images and emotions invading her on that dawn, which she could barely recognize with difficulty.

     Because, already struggling quite a bit to move, in lucid seconds of attempts, it was difficult for her to recognize where she was. The sensation was very strange because despite everything, it was her home. And suddenly it became clear, and she began to observe her surroundings. It seemed very foreign to her; as if everything had been stirred in her bedroom and then put back in the same place, but with small differences. A strange feeling, but more associated with a whispering behind her neck, almost mocking her consciousness, whispering new things to her. Different smells, like that of a waxed floor coming from somewhere in the old building, of which she had never noticed before. A soft blend of old wood and a hint of sweet paraffin. She also noticed another equalization, nothing in particular but rather the general sound entering her ears. With a different quality, all very clear and with another depth. Just like the shadows, somewhat thicker and darker, with more presence, it was all very strange. The thing is she didn’t know if it was better or worse, but it was all different; of that she was sure, as if her receptors had been altered. She didn’t understand much of anything that was happening in those moments. The minutes began to jump in short and blurry moments, and then, suddenly finding herself less upset, she found herself sitting in the middle of the bed. Still dazed and with some intermittent pains on the sides of her skull, with a dry mouth and a sharp and permanent ringing in both ears that continued to distort her most basic notions. Then, right there, in the darkness of the room and in a clear moment of tranquility, an uncompromising and impertinent question surprised her. That would peek into her head without permission and froze her.

     «Could it be happening again?» She heard herself repeating it in a low and frightened voice. «Again the same thing?» she murmured. Because it wasn’t the first time it happened. And now again facing this known and always strange possibility for her, her heart began to race. And the atmosphere turned from yellowish to pale like her face. And the room went from comfortable to breathless oxygen. Yes, this was the fifth or sixth similar experience in the last fifteen years, but no less surprising. And on that night of intense rain and shadows of yellowish lights flooding her bedroom, she was once again shocked by the idea of having apparently woken up somewhere else.

    «I died again?!» She said, with no one else in the place, repeating it a couple more times. «Yes, I died again, yes, I died again in another place.» But as strange as it may sound, she said it much calmer than on previous occasions. Especially the first times, which were totally different, disruptive, and unsettling.

    And finally, she reacted. Agilely, she got up without even contemplating the pain, now relegated to a secondary role. She didn’t even know how she got there in less than two seconds, standing in front of the wall mirror in a white bathroom to see her reflection. She took sips of water to calm herself down, and indeed, she looked different. She stared at her eyes and found her anemic and nervous countenance, and she really felt different. She wet her face, head bowed over the sink, surprised to notice under the fresh flow of water from that tap, that through her closed eyes, the quality of light was different. And then, she noticed the colors coming through the windows, illuminating everything in a different way, everything somewhat whiter and brighter. Not like those of other days; «recently» different.

    But, still, she was sure and at the same time didn’t want to be. So, she did just as the last time this happened to her; around 2017. She checked her memories to make sure she knew exactly where she was. If indeed she had «jumped to another very similar place» again, and that she wasn’t as crazy as she should think.

     Because in that she believed wholeheartedly; «a crazy and unreal idea.»

That every time this happened to her, it was a sign of having died elsewhere, and that she and her consciousness woke up in an almost identical reality only with some imperceptible changes. Except for her, because only she, for some reason, noticed the differences. She had stumbled upon by chance a strange discovery, other laws of life that she now embodied. She lived with a very particular set of personal beliefs. She was deeply convinced of this kind of frequent resets, which could happen at any moment in life. Any day of the week, minute, year, or stage it may be; and for some strange or perhaps erroneous reason, she at some point many years ago could already glimpse them. That, even to this day. Because inexorably only an idea of that kind – despite how absurd it may seem – was what she argued at the moment of living these very personal events. Because that, or straight-up declaring herself as a crazy and troubled person, because she had no other choice. That’s how it truly was structured and experienced in her mind.

     And now, being in this; her most recent and apparent reintegration into the game of worlds through which she strolled. She no longer felt fear, just a little frustration – because it’s a big portion of that what she feels -, especially at first. But ultimately at that precise moment, she only felt, for a few seconds, that the real thread of things was lost again, that all of hers and theirs lost continuity, a conjugation of versions replacing versions. But it was a passing meditation, just a few minutes. Since now, after years, the conviction was different; that life itself was about that. A constant reliving of scenes, which by strange coincidences she recognized, finding herself each time with more details, like someone reading a book more than once, to discover and enrich the depth of the plot of the story. And accustomed already to this very strange concept, taking it into account, she immediately thought something different this time.

                     Something happened, she thought. «I have to reconnect something, that’s why I’ve come back,» she told herself. That idea crossed her mind innately, a feeling trapped viscerally that no one else provided but herself. And with that feeling seeping in, and still with her ears ringing, with a new heightened sensitivity very different now on her skin – which wasn’t the same as usual – she dressed lightly, with nothing too synthetic because now those fabrics bothered her, unlike in the other body and place she had recently left. Now she carried an increased hypersensitivity that she gracefully managed before heading straight to her furniture to search for something in her special drawers. The «pile» of other even more special things. Papers and clippings of all kinds, and very personal items with a meaning that only she understood.

     She calls them «anchors»; a myriad of simple things that she collects and keeps since she started with this new view of the world. They have a singular mission; to remind her of her origin. Her first memories, an initial reality, which she insists on remembering and comparing with any reality she might find herself in today, or possibly not. And it’s not about things so complicated, but rather common and ordinary. Residues and data, which she noticed and wrote down in her own handwriting or drew. Where any change meant for her a warning, an alarm that she might have «shifted.» Because that’s what she said, since when it happened, she felt a bit disconnected.

     She had a giant map of the world stuck on her wall, scratched with various colors and pasted with other grafts that built a totally different Earth. With other lines and names, both surplus and missing, as she even understood another geography. Sometimes other anatomies, faunas, biologies, and stories. Living people who shouldn’t be alive. Historical events; like a picture of Tiananmen Square where the famous tank man lay sprawled in a smear of dust, a totally different image from the man today who enjoys very good health. The current one, fortunately, an image of a more civilized Earth.

     And also the lyrics and melody, or the beat of a song. The contour of her cat’s eyes, and the color of a pair of shoes, and then she laughed at the appearance of some lost species – a fact that is becoming more common today – which in essence had never been lost so much. But that just wasn’t where she and hundreds of thousands more came from without realizing it (according to her), in short and in general; a long list of signals of all imaginable and unimaginable types for any person «who doesn’t notice,» but that she uses and constantly checks with outstanding precision, to confirm whether she is in the same version among possible worlds or not. And indeed, this time; waking up abruptly in her room. Checking her anchors, she noticed that there were many differences between this new reality and her initial memories. Belonging to a place that only she remembered, and that had perhaps already been left behind. And it was a big leap that she deduced; because the differences, especially now, were too obvious. But as mentioned earlier, only to her.