The Fourth Wall
Entry and artwork by Coyoty.
Once again, I find myself reading entries in my own journal, some of them accurate accounts of lives I’ve had, some of lives I may have in the future, and others that are obvious fantasy. I hope.
I’ve experienced some strange things, but I don’t look forward to being an Elvis-impersonating ostrich, if that’s to be an eventual incarnation. At least I’d be prepared for it. “Review” incarnations have come in handy for avoiding physical danger and personal embarrassment. They’re also very frustrating.
I’ve yet to read any clues as to why this is happening to me or how to bring it to an end. Or if I should end it. Am I to be a great hero who needs these experiences to defeat a threat to all these worlds I’ve passed through? Am I dead and in Purgatory? Just a brain in a virtual reality rig?
Or maybe I’m a false person with false memories in a simulation created by a Solaris-type entity. (I really hated reading that book and concept.) Worse yet, am I really just a round-robin shared-universe character doomed to live out the scripted whims of my “fans”?
Having been celebrities and series authors, I can see the satirical commentary opportunities for that. The catalyst for this world’s “Dexter’s Journal” is a musician named Matthew Ebel. As usual, I’ll submit an entry with the hopes that he would actually know the answer to my questions and be open enough to the possibility that I’m actually “his” character to give me some answers before I
Editor’s note: I don’t know either, Dexter, just keep moving. Nothing to see here.