Parallel universes started as a plot device in science fiction. The idea is that every possible decision in the stream of history actually went every possible way, and that all of those possibilities still exist as part of a multiverse.
– see Star Trek - Mirror, Mirror, Season 2, Episode 4 1967

Caught in the beginnings of an ion storm, Kirk, McCoy and Uhura interrupt their negotiations with the Halkans for dilithium crystals, to return to the U.S.S. Enterprise. Scotty beams the landing party aboard as a burst from the storm hits the starship. The transporter malfunctions, sending Kirk, McCoy, Scotty and Uhura into an alternate universe. In this world, they soon discover the "Galactic Empire" is maintained by fear and assassination. Now, aboard the Imperial Starship Enterprise, the four must find a way to remain undetected until they can return to their own universe.



It is Christmas in the heart that puts Christmas in the air

My warmest seasonal greetings to you!

So here I go, this is the time of the year when I send out my usual brooding, self-indulgent account of the past year. Not so much that I’m assuming that you are at all interested in my life, more that I might at least give you a giggle and make you feel better about your own lives.
Ahhh, but this year is different. I’m feeling quite joyed. You see I've had quite an extraordinary adventure . . .
pour yer’self a nice cuppa tea, pluff up the pillow . . . let me tell.
A rather tall tale I shall unfold . . .



This past October I happened upon the opportunity to go visit a good friend in East Tennessee. Even under ‘normal’ circumstances this would be an unusual trip. Remember the movie ‘Deliverance’, in-bred hillbillies, banjo playing weird kids, no electricity, mountain men with sodomy on their minds, genetic deficiencies . . . you get the gist. Nice family film.
While there, Carol was so kind as let me use her jeep so that I could explore. This I did one early morning. Filled the tank, popped in an ambient chilled CD compilation, lit a ciggy and hit the back-roads. I began heading for the foothills of the Great Smokey Mountains and The Appalachians. the countryside was beautiful.
No idea where I was going. No idea when I would be back. I was in my element.
Around mid-day I noticed a worn and rustic sign ‘Clinch Mountain Winery 40 miles ahead’ Fantastic! Feeling a little thirsty, the day still young, my spirit for adventure awakened.
Not too long before I caught sight of what must be the winery. The sun had begun its decent into the surrounding hills casting a golden light into the trees. I didn't see a soul in sight.
Ventured in. Place reeked of musty casks, rotting grapes and something that brought back a uncanny glimpse of my childhood. “Can I help you” came a voice. Not from any particular place, more that it seemed to fill the room. She then appeared, a woman, probably in her 70’s at the very least. I introduced myself. She was much amused by my English accent, I too by her Tennessee twang.
Virginia was her name. Born and lived all her life in these parts.
After exchanging pleasantries, Virginia offered me a few tastings. Bloody awful. Guess I’ve been used to the quality of the Northern California grape, this could not compare. She must have seen it in my face. “May I suggest that you might like to sample something we keep in the cellar and only bring out once in a while?" "Why not” I said. With that she disappeared. Ten or so minutes later she came back holding an ancient green glass demijohn containing a murky concoction. This she explained was fermented using a grape that only matured in the surrounding valley. This raisin de tout univers paralléle was rumored to have been brought to this region by an enigmatic wanderer in the 18th century. Stranger still was its reported mystical properties. After drinking, people had talked of visions, an induced capacité de voir or in some cases a somewhat expérience religieuse.
Its ‘bouquet’ ( a word I normally associate with flowers and other things of pleasing aroma) was certainly not the word I would describe this experience! Still this was 'my' adventure and I decided to proceed.
I poured a glass and put it to my lips, the flavor subtle, somewhere between a full bodied pinot and the armpit of Sumo wrestler. “Stay with it young man” . She called me a young man, I began to warm to her charm.
At that moment as I recall, everything slowed down. My peripheral vision blurred. For a moment I thought I might be entering into one of my usual panic attacks and then . . . it all changed. In the background I heard Virginia breathe “And now you’ll get too see”
I see a villa on the Island of Ilyria. Modest and comfortable, I think it must be mine. Sitting on the veranda enjoying a nice glass of Sangria is a person that looks like me, looking closer . . . yes it is me. There are others. The company laughs at my jokes. I can see I have a good stock of friends and looks like we meet often. Very casual dinner parties on the patio sure look like fun.
My wife is in the kitchen conjuring up what smells like yet another wonderfully rich concoction. We are all enjoying a good smoke. It seems that here people are unconcerned with counting calories, exercising and what-not. I see myself turn and smile, my teeth look nice and white, just ever so slightly crooked. I have the most adorable small lines around my eyes, evidence of a life of joy. Even at my age my hair is full and thick and seems to lay nicely.
I catch parts of our conversation. I paint for a living and must be having a show coming up.
Wait, who are these? Well I must have a boy and a girl, 2 cats and a lovely golden Labrador dog.
We all talk of recent travels, I gather I travel just often enough to make the year seem so full and yet with enough time to be grounded. Snippets of the conversation indicate that I enjoy a small farm on the south coast of England and a beach cottage in California. Seems that I'm not famous but liked by many. I'm not ridiculously wealthy, but looks like I have enough to always pay the bills and also exhibit a little philanthropy.
Further talk reveals that I enjoy all types of music and dance often. I have completed 5 books and hundreds of paintings. I'm very spiritual and have no doubt that this earthly experience is just part of the journey.
Then without warning, the sights and sounds muffle, the room in the winery fades back into view. Virginia is sitting just a few feet in front of me, a warm smile. “Now wasn’t that a treat my dear!”
Sitting here back with my lovely girlfriend in our rented two room ‘garden shed’ in Ocean Beach, California, I think back on that experience in Tennessee fondly. At first glance my life might seem diametrically opposed, not so idyllic, but heck who's is?
Ilyria exists because I believe it exists. Ilyria is that wonderful place that resides in our dreams. Ilyria is that place lying between the country just ahead and the one you left behind. A faraway land, where the only enemy is convention and love is free to weave its golden thread where it may . . .*
Keeping our dreams alive is what keeps us alive.
How is your life on Ilyria? Have you tasted the same grape?
Wishing you all a very Merry Christmas and great new year.
Look forward to hearing how you all are doing.
Much love, Trev

*A few plagiarized lines from 'The Blood Oranges' beautiful film by Philip Haas, circa 1997