Christopher Walken was there.

We played poker together in a room that constantly changed. One moment it was luxurious with deep dark wood oak tables. The next moment it was cheap and dusty. Well lit, light and bright one moment, contemporary and cool the next.
I was experiencing this life while an extension of me was fiddling with the past. As the past part of me tweaked the previous circumstances, the poker room I was experiencing now shifted. But all time led here.

Previously I was the past part of me. In a not so subtle or discreet way, I could send people back through ages and join them.

I sent her back. She was 20 something, beginning to be a lady.
I sent her back further. She was15 or so. She was vibrant and beautiful. I declared, “We’re friends!” and we danced and danced. She was so pure. Her smile was so wonderfully innocent and sincere. She had her whole life ahead of her. She could be anything.

I sent him back. The posters were brown and cream, phallic and disturbing. I tried to understand. But I couldn’t.

There was a dark blue bathroom stall. I was represented by Matt Damon. Some Gwyneth Paltrow look alike was in the stall. She kept talking about naughty and slightly obscene things. I was confused but interested. I watched another form of myself walk in with a black backpack. I watched myself pondering entering the stall where Paltrow look alike was talking or using the urinal. After contemplation, I watched myself choose the urinal.

The game mattered. The chips mattered. The room mattered.
It just kept changing and shifting.