The Home Universe(s)

Let's start with the "Home Universe." This moniker represents a space of persisting creations, copies of things from elsewhere, collections of art, trophies, feelings, sensations, spaces, times, and sundry other content. A being can have had more than one, though some research suggests particular relevance around the loss of one's last Home Universe, when it got moldy or otherwise degraded; the incident of losing one's Home Universe is very hot on folks, as it was supposed to be a place of permanent refuge from all other-determinism, a forever place of unwavering sovereign individual control.

Many beings constructed massive numbers of separate universes that could be visited through portals, anchor points through which other spaces could be accessed, much like the paintings in the PS5 game Expedition 33. Looking through others' Home Universes, these gateways were laid out myriad different ways, though flat (2D) gateways on walls in museum-like edifices, through which one could pass into complete other universes, were common. Some had books of universes with picture gateways or sigils that, when touched, transported you "into" them. 

You could invite others to participate in a universe, the controls of which ranged from wide open creative spaces to static, repeating content that could be experienced at effect, kind of like a movie except you were in the movie and your lines were said for you. This latter experience was a bit like what some now call "blanketing," covering or pervading a body to experience tastes of what it is experiencing. Back then, basic sensations were a pretty big deal -- spinning dizzy feelings, magnetic attraction, and flashing colors were a hoot at first, as were experiences of hard, cold, solidity.

Trading universes was a thing, too. Some guy might have a universe in which you were an object getting crushed betwixt two solid surfaces, and you hadn't experienced that before, so you traded him for a brightly colored universe in which touching anything made it multiply a thousandfold. So you'd swap. There was a lot of posturing around some of these trades, marketing stuff like "this is the only one of its kind" or "when you're in here you're safe and time stops everywhere else" -- if such statements were ever true at any time, they certainly weren't for long, and we'd jump into others' universes for kicks and giggles.

Hence, early events around being forced to play games one did not intend. For example, I recall some poor sod who had a shiny universe where he'd put anything he didn't want anyone else to steal; things that were "his forever." For fun, I copied the entire universe while he was in it and transported him to the copy without his knowing. He could tell something was different but it never occurred to him that all of his treasures were just copies. It wasn't the nicest thing I've ever done, but it's mild compared to what most of us got around to later.

There is a fair bit of romantic conceptualization around home universes, because it is for many the last time they had their own space, were in control of their surroundings and experienced stable separation from other-determinism. (Technically, this was always an incomplete view.) Even though several universes clearly predate one's final (and current) Home Universe, if such comparisons of time are ever meaningful, the content of your last one likely permeates the now-fragmented predilections and personal aesthetics littering your life. Many make thousands of lives out of attempts at recreating prior good times. 

Moreover, even though incidents seem to indicate its decay or complete loss, those who recall their Home Universe(s) with clarity often report still being "in" it/them. Thus, at least for most, it is not helpfully separable from one's own universe, excepting delineation of prior spans of time wherein one was indivisible spirit beneath (or absent) the muck and grime.

My own "loss of Home Universe" incident involved letting another being in to weather a storm of cosmic collapse, a playful one whose wiles were enjoyable and with whom I shared much ado once upon a time. It was a protective act, because I valued this other's spirit of play. Long story short, the one I let it invited unwelcome others in on purpose, changed its resonances and mixed my shit up. That betrayal cost me much time and consternation. My M.O. has usually been to dig myself up and out before falling again on purpose, in style, usually taking out massive groups of deplorable actors in the process. 

Regret involves flowing back against time; not only do I not regret letting my Home Universe betrayer in, but had I it again to do over, I'd make the same choices, because what's an adventure without the unexpected? The real test of a choice is whether one would do it again, knowing all that would follow, and all I have on that is a resounding yes.

Truly, not everyone has lost their Home Universe but most have, and if you have, your incident might be entirely different. Plus, you might just find out that it's been there with you all along. 😉