At the gates of time – other dimensions

My mother is dying. Or at least the end of her earthly existence is coming. Her consciousness is clear, she gives clear, clear answers to questions. Then, suddenly, she is overcome by panic. She begs us to leave, last night someone took her down a long underground corridor, carried her, carried her, she could hardly find her way back.

It’s been many years, but the memory of it hasn’t faded, it returns from time to time. Who took it down? What could he see there? What was so terrible for him? Was there an exit, a door or a window?

When the idea of making this cycle occurred to me, I began to look for similar narratives, stories; a door or window wide open, or at least a keyhole to peep through.

I don‘t give up my goals, I‘m on my way. In the meantime I take pictures. I’ve got this far.

Sándor Apáti-Tóth