Many Versions of Self

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Try telling this one to any therapist and watch them shut down...

I was sleeping and heard this very loud laughing. I thought "This is annoying. This is rude." So I slowly wake up, only to realize that it is me laughing hysterically.
Whatever was so funny left this ripple, a chuckle tickle that made me continue laughing quietly, even though I had no clue what was funny.

Keeping an eye on this, I determined that there are many versions of me, each with a set of memories and most of these versions not sharing data.

I kept messing with "it" until one day, coming out of the grocery store, I "shifted gears" and realized a few things that can be very disturbing.
These are likely a few of the many reasons we pick a version of self and go with it as our waking self personality.

I didn't know if I drove or walked to the grocery store. Followed by, I don't know if I have a car.
Yet I knew enough to check the keys in my pocket, and that none of these keys was a car key.
Then it was a shocker to realize I had no clue where I lived, or which direction it might be.
All the while carrying bags of groceries, with my reasoning in place. Thinking that if I have a few bags to carry, it can't be that far.
It will come back, just give it a minute... tick tock... nothing.
So I walked around in ever-increasing block circles to see if anything looked familiar to me, which it did not.
About the time the tears started, I saw a place that looked right, so I tried the keys and the door opened.
Again going down the stairs "felt" right, and it led to only one door, and another key fit. 
Once inside, looking around, I wasn't jumping back to "normal", so I looked on the posterboard and there was the name of a doctor, who I called.
They actually came over, gave me a shot of B12, and told me that I better eat better or something.
I actually had no clue who they were or how much they knew about me.
I remembered all of this as I slowly got back to being me and having my usual and comfortable memories return.
I imagined how many times I have not been me, out in public or doing things... and it makes me shudder to think that we are not in control of our being, not as much as we fool ourselves into thinking we are.
How many levels deep does that go?
How many memories and dreams are stuck in other versions of self?
What can other selves do that I am not aware of? How psychic are these?
And on and on into madness, sitting on the park bench in shabby clothes, wondering if I'm Jethro Tull today.
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