The Dervish Sanders Multiverse

In the Dervish Sanders Multiverse, there are many versions of Dervish Sanders. Below is a listing of the alternate versions of Dervish Sanders that have stories chronicled on this blog. I have decided to refer to the alternate version of Dervish Sanders as "parallels", though Dervish Sanders Prime (myself) may refer to them as his "counterparts".

1. A Senior Fellow at the Progressive Ideology Foundation (PIF), a far left think tank. This version of Dervish Sanders exists in a world much like our own.

2. This version of Dervish Sanders is also a PIF Senior Fellow, though existing in a mythorealistic world. "Mythorealistic" is an adjective defined as "relating to a world or narrative where mythical or supernatural elements are seamlessly integrated with realistic settings and events". This series is titled "Messages".

3. This version of Dervish Sanders exists as a digital simulation, as per "The simulation hypothesis", which suggests our reality is a computer simulation. Though a real world version may also exist (as per The Matrix). But (so far) none of the stories told take place in the Real World. This Dervish Sanders is also a PIF Senior Fellow, as well as a sometimes private investigator. The title of this serial is "The Inceptrix", which is a portmanteau of Inception and The Matrix.

4. A version of Dervish Sanders set in a Dungeons and Dragons inspired fantasy world. Dervish Sanders Adventures chronicles the life of Dervish Sanders, as told by The Biographer. Dervish Sanders begins his adventures in Englaland and later travels to Mauretania.

Copilot Suggestions (none of which I will likely use)... Here are a few ideas to further enhance your blog descriptions of the "parallels" of Dervish Sanders: 1. Add Unique Traits for Each Parallel: Highlight something distinct about each version of Dervish Sanders, beyond their setting or role. For instance: The Senior Fellow in the real-world parallel might have a penchant for cutting through political red tape with razor-sharp wit. The mythorealistic version could carry an heirloom imbued with supernatural significance, reflecting his world's blending of myth and reality. The simulation version might question his existence, leaving subtle hints of existential doubt amidst his investigative work. The D&D version might have a specific quest or a legendary artifact he is searching for, tying into his character's motivations. 2. Expand on Themes: Add a sentence or two about the central themes or conflicts for each parallel. For example: "This version of Dervish Sanders wrestles with the moral complexities of left-wing political ideologies, striving to align his ideals with real-world outcomes. Also, "Amidst angels and faeries, this Dervish Sanders grapples with reconciling the mundane with the divine, as his world teeters on the edge of mythic upheaval". 3. Integrate a Unifying Element: Is there a thread that connects all the parallels? Perhaps a recurring symbol, memory, or existential question that ties back to Dervish Sanders Prime. For example: "Across all versions, Dervish Sanders remains haunted by the notion of true identity, pondering if these parallels are reflections of himself or wholly unique entities". 4. Engage the Reader: Add a personal touch or direct address to your audience, like: "Which parallel resonates most with you, dear reader? Dive into their stories and uncover the many facets of Dervish Sanders across the multiverse".

The Convergence Gate...

"Wow, you're pretty awesome!"

Dervish Sanders opened the door to another universe.

He found the door in an old, broken down cabin while exploring the woods behind the house where he lived. One day, while walking in the woods, Dervish stumbled upon an old trail. Curious to see where it would lead, Dervish followed. A deer, startled by his presence, raised its white tail and took off.

Following the path, Dervish found an dilapidated shack, paint pealing from rustic boards. climbing the two steps to the porch, Dervish tried the door. It was warped and stuck, but opened after a few pulls with a groan.

The hinges squeaked as he entered the dimly lit room. It was mostly empty. It was probably built by hunters, he surmised. He's seen other illegal structures in the woods. Mostly duck blinds. This was different.

A old cot, a stone fireplace, a table and chair. And a trunk. Dervish opened it, but found nothing.

Then he noticed a door on the opposite wall. Probably a rear entrance/exit.

What he found was quite unexpected. Beyond the door stretched an endless plain, its short, brittle grass whispering in the absence of wind. The sky was eerily colorless, bathed in a stark, sourceless light. Was this a gateway to another dimension? It couldn't possibly be, yet he suspected it was.

He stepped out and the door swung shut behind him. Setting out, his feet crunched the gravel of the path that cut it's way though the short brown grass. Not far ahead he came to a suspension bridge. The earth seemed to end abruptly. He stood on the edge of a precipice. Peering over, he saw no bottom, only gray that went on forever and ever.

He decided to cross to the other side. Placing one foot upon the bridge while clasping the rope handrail on either side, he heard the wood groan, but hold. It seems sturdy enough. He took another step, then another. The bridge swayed slightly, but was sturdily constructed, he decided.

After a few minutes he was enveloped in gray clouds that partially obscured his vision. Then he saw, unexpectedly, a man traveling in the other direction. He continued walking toward the stranger and the stranger walked toward him.

Then he came more clearly into focus. The man seemed to resemble himself, which Dervish found odd. "Hello there", he said, greeting the man. The man said the same thing at the same time.

"Hello there", the other figure said. Their voices echoed as the bridge slighly swayed in the windless void. This was too creepy. Perhaps he should turn back?

For some reason he pressed forward until he was face to face with the stranger. It was as if he was looking into a mirror. Though the stranger who uncannily resembled him was more handsome, muscular and self assured then he.

"Do I know you?" both Dervish and his somewhat doppelganger said at the same time. "I do know you", Dervish concluded. It didn't make sense, but he felt it, intuitively. This other person was him. Or another version of him. He accepted it without question.

They continued walking toward each other until they converged. Their minds became one. The memories of the other Dervish became his own memories. Strong emotions of love and loss caused his heart to ache. He remembered that he had great adventures, constrasting starkly with the dull, exceedingly boring life the other Dervish lived.

"You have to turn back", he told himself. If each continued on, then each would have to live the life of the other. They would be switching places.

"You aren't prepared to take my place", the more confident Dervish told his counterpart. Dervish knew deep down this was true. He must turn back. His other self agreed.

"Keep my memories, and write of them", the second Dervish thought. The first Dervish decided that sounded like an excellent idea. He would transcribe the memories of his alternate.

They said goodbye, turning, each journeyed back the way they came. Dervish returned to the cabin, closing the door behind him. Looking back, he could barely believe what had transpired that day. Eventually he decided he must have imagined it.

Indeed, when he later returned to the cabin he found no rear door. The door he remembered wasn't concealed, it simply was not there.

"Oh, well", he told himself. "I shall transcribe these memories anyway". They remained, though they faded. As all memories do. But somedays they would come to him and he would sit and type them out. None of these things actually happened. To him, or to any other version of him. He was the only version. This other person was completely fantastical, a product of his imagination.

Or so he told himself. It couldn't be possible that another version of himself actually existed. That was the stuff of fiction. Or perhaps the delusions of a mentally ill mind. And he was fairly certain he wasn't crazy.

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