Shot Into the Self

It happened recently and suddenly. I was in a void, seemingly bodiless. And I came upon a great wall before me. It was gray and blurry. My peripheral vision extended as far as my forward vision. And I could see as far to one side, to the other, that this wall extended as far as I could see. Moving forward, I entered into a point in this miasmatic wall.
Immediately, like being shot from the barrel of a gun, I felt this explosive push and before me were two arms. My vision was constrained, akin to walking around while looking through the view finder of a video camera. Within a few seconds, I realized that I am Craig, this person who is writing. I was in a world of solids and followed this body around. I remember last, the wall, and all before that faded so quickly as does a dream. It seems I entered at a random point in this life, in what is called now. I found myself a male in my mid-twentites, residing on a planet that was called Earth.
I feel that had I entered to one side or the other, I would have arrived respectively, younger or older. Unlike reading a prior chapter in a book, it seems that memory is locked up, to a degree, in space-time. That is to say, that if I back out of this body, and re-enter at an earlier time in this life, I would have no memory of doing so, for in this reality, under these specific governences, it hadn't happened yet. It seems, too, that as my vision became restricted, so have most of my senses. I am only left with maybes and "apparantlies".
Apparantly, I live in Brooklyn. Apparantly, I have family and friends. Apparantly, I have written blogs on Evolver. But I know that I have never done any of these things. I, the ineffable, have taken no actions. I, the Craig identity, has done as much as words write stories. My truest self is just reading the book, along for the ride. It would seem Earthly life is but a fog of possibilites until the non-corporeal experiences it. I am reminded of a video game; until one presses play, all actions and sequences of events are just written code of possibility. I seem to feel, at this moment, that the bodily life does not itself live; more, that it is lived; as a book is read, as a game character is played.
I penchant to say that if indeed time travel is possible in this world, it is merely a fast forward, one doesn't seem like they could jump forward 20 years without aging 20 years, without having 20 years of experience and memories. A shortcut seems meaningless. If I travel back 20 years, I would only have the mind that I had then; I wouldn't know of my future. If I travel forward, I will find myself older, remembering things that happened over the years; unable to tell if I lived them out in realtime or not. I suppose, one can only leave the self entirely, then reenter, and be able to have total recall of doing so. But then again, we would also know that we aren't who we forget that we not are.