What would it mean, how would it operate, for time not to be one-dimensional?
What if its dimension were less or greater than 1?

Why not a fractal dimension with a value hovering so close to 1 as to be mistaken for the perfect unit until one found a way of squinting at the very small hidden tempi of things or was able to gaze -- without moving -- at the passage of the universe; or pondered at the way past is never obliterated by the present or the present is always permeated by the future or the way it is part of both, sometimes just behind and sometimes just ahead of itself?

But wait: what if the dimension of time could be altogether more radically, more abundantly, more extravagantly different from 1. Instead of fractally meandering backwards and forwards along a temporal coastline, just missing intersecting its tracks, racking up dimension by packing moments as neighbours to themselves, suppose instead of this crimped and dense economy, time were opened out ?

What if time were 2-dimensional?

Why not time as a surface? Time no longer linearly ordered. Time spread out as a stain expanding from an unidentifiable beginning. The landscape of time, a chronoscape with deep gorges, rolling hills, dunes, inclines and declines, mountain peaks, and the wind-swept plains of uninterrupted, uninhabited time. On such a surface there is much to take one by surprise, always the possibility of more than one future.