There is just a wonder from the youngest child all the way through the oldest adult, run away with the funny man in the blue box. When was the last time, where you wished for the split second of time back, or better yet to run ahead of the pack just a few hundred years to watch the future unfold?
I can tell you here and now that I am there with you, I am that dreamer and find myself begging for seconds, minutes, hours, even years, which never come. The blue police box just flies over head, the companions are chosen and I am left to dream. And dream I do.
Yet, it was not until the Doctor Donna’s father’s questioning of time travel in which a painful paradox crept into my head. And like a splinter just out of reach within the palm of my hand I could never truly pull it out.
I love my mother, I love my wife, I love my son, I love my friends, and as the saying goes, “I would rather suffer a million tortures, a million deaths rather than to cause those I love any pain.”
So here we are again with my savior in the funny little blue box and my wishing to run away with him. And round and round we go, to the fields of Trenzolore, Planets of Diamonds, Daleks and Cyber-men, but still the paradox of Love crawls back to the front.
The paradox my friends is a simple one, but cruel non-the-less. Now I could easily just tell you the paradox and wait for the denials, conflicts and arguments. I am not so kind and knowledge just given is never truly understood. We must earn our knowledge in steps, this makes it easier to understand, but more readily accepted.
In order to see this paradox for what it is there must be a set of rules (Which I will ignore and break throughout this, but rules make people feel comfortable.) to bring this to life.
First we find ourselves walking down in the park when a gangly man in a fez runs by. But what was that, he dropped his passport. Well don’t just stand around looking like a thoughtless ape, pick the darn thing up and run over to catch him. Return that passport.
So rule number 1: We are trapped by our own nature.
Secondly you find ourselves chasing the gangly man with the fez down the street trying to return his passport. Oh but why is he running? Is it even his passport? He darted into the alley, oh how curiosity gets a hold of us. And here we stop. There is one thing chasing a man to return a passport but a completely different thing to blindly go into an alley.
So rule number 2: Curiosity is a dangerous thing.
We stop and think and take a look at the passport in our hands. Is it even a passport. It is nothing but a notepad with a blank piece of paper inside. There is nothing written on it and looks rather old. The sudden grip on your shoulder causes you to turn and come face to face with a police officer. As the man in uniform confronts you to your suspicious actions you argue with your mind about how just once you would like to be a person to be able to get out of trouble with the police. As he takes notice of your small notepad with the plain piece of paper inside he apologizes for disturbing your work, whatever it may be an leaves.
So rule number 3: What just happened?
Third point in our story from behind you and in the alley a smart as voice echos. “Psychic Paper,” followed by a small funny laugh. With all your might you fight the urge but the curiosity is to strong. You head into the alley and meet the wonderful man and his blue box. You head out in your adventure to the past to the future to the end of time and back again. The dreams which come true and the ones which almost cost you your life.
So rule number 4: He doesn’t force us to come with him.
Finally my little friends we get to the issue at hand. The nail being driven into our mind in order for us to forget. But it happens every time and every trip. When we step into the little blue box which is bigger on the inside, we do it. We cause the pain to return, the suffering, the loss, the worry, and all because it is the paradox of the doctor. It is the cruelest point of life which we wish not to see, for seeing it would cause us to deny our nature.
Every time we step in the box and head out with the doctor a timeline is created and though it is destroyed when we return, every time a new one is formed and in those created and destroyed time-lines our love ones suffer the loss of us, we leave, we disappear, we vanish without a trace and they live through it. For our little fling may be erased from memory when we return, and we may not see it ourselves, the paradox exists and without it we cannot enter the little blue box.
This is the end of the intro and will be followed by more of this paradox and other Doctor Who slivers of love and loss.