Chapter 6

"Always speak the truth --"

-- Lewis Carroll
Through the Looking Glass

January 1994

It's never convenient.

They prefer to strike in the morning of the night, when you're stark naked in the pitch black and the house starts rocking and the walls start cracking and your heart pitches to and fro with them. But this quake was worse than usual, and by the time a voice somewhere inside me screamed GET UP!! so loudly that my body (on its own and still deeply asleep, mind you) flew out of bed and my feet hit the floor, sending me stumbling forward, two 6' by 10' large-brick and wood bookshelves and their contents were crashing down around where my body had been. The sound penetrated my brain when I was somewhere down the hallway of my apartment, while distant shouts and abrupt thuds from those around me accompanied my waking up -- as I tripped over nearly every piece of furniture I owned, trying desperately, commanded by some internal overseer of mind, to find a way out.

I reached the back door, only to realize it was unsafe -- a sliding glass door, leading out to a balcony above me and a 5' fence with no gate to get out. I whirled in frustration, leaped over a fallen chair, all the while trying to keep my balance while the ground rocked and I woke up more fully, running to the front door, only to realize that was equally unsafe. Rebounding and tripping I finally got back down the hall, heading for the large ground-floor window of the bedroom, but the bedroom was an impassable junkyard of shadows when I got there, so back to the back door, threw it open and hoped I'd be fine. By the time I reached it, every car, house and business alarm in the Southern state was going off, dogs were barking, people screaming, furniture crashing, structures groaning --

Typical. If Earth has her way, we never get to die in peace and quiet. It's always thundering this or that until the trauma alone is enough to do you in.

A few moments after the motion stopped, the sky lit up with the unique flash-vivid green and blue lightning of transformers blowing out, and then sudden and utter darkness crashed down around me like a waterfall. I held on to the doorframe tightly, the blood rushing through my head... then I remembered the dream about Archangel Michael, and the part about being under water. I looked toward the ocean, wondering how major a quake it would take to create a tidal wave, and how long it would take to get to me, or if it would from many miles away.

No matter how I thought about it, I figured meeting Angels can't be that common. It felt like there was a "reason" for it, and he had definitely been trying to tell me something. So maybe the dream had happened because I was going to die? I'd been fine through the jolting and crashing and all that, but as I looked West into the darkness I couldn't help but shake with fear.

I eventually wondered if living in Southern California was amplifying whatever problems I might have, just by the sheer nature of living somewhere like that, with fires and floods and riots and quakes and more fires and floods and more quakes and... I mean, who can live in the midst of constant life-threatening trauma and massive social effects without having some result?

But although many of my experiences may be near some point of social trauma (since California has simply had regular trauma for years), not all are. Also, that would indicate that these effects should not be had by people in non-trauma areas, and that a decent percentage of the people in my own population should be experiencing them. Well I could be wrong, but I didn't exactly have crowds of people telling me they were talking to angels and aliens, so I was forced to conclude it was just me.

January, 1994

I suppose I'm just neurotic but I feel like this isn't the end, like there's going to be another earthquake soon. I don't mean "the Big One;" just that there's something lurking rather close on the time line, in the grey. I can't put my finger on it... probably normal psychology from being in one, I tell myself. The aftershocks here suck. Running for the door... it is rather traumatic to be woken up so many times a night with terror. I haven't taken this very well, I admit. I've always been fine with quakes before, but something about this one just really scared me. It was different somehow, not just the strongest, but the feeling of terror nearly overcame me -- afterwards, oddly enough, not during. I'm starting to think that I'm actually picking up on everybody else's terror, like some kind of mass consciousness thing that for whatever reason I'm tuning into, is that possible?

The adrenalin this causes is interesting though. Different than the fires, but that was also interesting. The riots, the floods -- people change, delivery drivers change, people become a community in the 7-11. I'm starting to see a real social profile of different disasters thanks to the last few years.

I have to wonder how much of my nightlife is due to this sort of thing. Do you suppose the additional psychological stress of this area could be causing it? In that case, shouldn't it be happening to a lot more people? Or do you think perhaps changes in the earth cause some as yet unknown physiological change in our bodies? What I'm getting at is, do you think maybe I am physically expanding my "perception" as a form of survival mechanism?

The dreams went on, even having on occasion waking symptoms, and some of them still seemed so physical that I continued to be confused about what degree of literalness I could attribute to them.

January, 1994

Lying on a narrow, hard, slightly elevated table, I felt myself arch up to meet the man pushing inside me, and a wave of warm, deep sensuality slid over me. I was turning my head slowly, and as I slid my fingernails firmly up his sides I opened my eyes a bit -- to see the shadows of a group of people standing around watching us. Suddenly I thought, Good god! Who is this man?! And abruptly felt myself falling asleep. (I mean, in the dream, I guess.)

January, 1994

Dreams last night: a very strange, tribal painted face that looked down at me really intensely and wildly, like maybe he was looking into a lake in some ritual, saw ME, and boy was HE surprised! ha!

Someone was showing me visuals and narrating, In many lives you have refused to eat; you have refused to "receive" in various ways; sometimes this has been your physical death; you have an unwillingness to allow yourself vulnerability, and this lack of faith in yourself has hindered you.

I have these narrating kinds of dreams often and conclude I must be in some kind of school. There will be this voice just narrating something to me and I'll often be watching something like on a screen as they explain things. Sometimes as I awaken the voice is still going on and I can consciously listen for a few seconds before my awake-ness seems to close off the hearing it. It's not like it stops. It's like I leave. The subjects range wildly and are only half the time personal. Personal subjects are usually one to one, with the voice I call "The Narrator" (who seems to be "an aspect" of me). Non-personal subjects are usually classroom oriented, with other people.

By this time, the "spiritual" component of my life had begun to take on real meaning for me. I was beginning to feel deeply, intimately intertwined with it, to the point where I didn't want that aspect of things to stop. Even when it was scary, I needed it; even the bad guys I felt like I knew intimately; the confusion made me want to know more. I had fallen under the spell of the mysterious: I was fascinated.

January, 1994

Now if I assume this stuff is all in my head, it's merely symbolic. But if I grant any credence to it, then in a way, I'm forced to grant credence to all of it. If one guy I meet makes me think I've met an Angel and I feel positive about this, then another guy I meet who bashes me ought to make me feel negative -- it's not logical for one to be "more real" than another, is it? Well how do I know that the blonde guy who was the Angel isn't one of the blonde guys who beat me up, with some kind of physical effect that so affected my body that it affected my emotions, too? Ok, so it's stupid... part of me knows that can't be so. I guess I just can't shake my reaction to the bizarre coincidence of everybody being so damned blonde.

January, 1994

I'm standing in a ghost town of some sort, kind of like an old Western movie set. I'm standing on the porch of one of the long buildings, and across from me, on the porch of another building, is a group of people lined up, looking over at me. I know there's something kind of wrong with them and bad about them but I'm not sure what. Then someone (male) behind me says, This is what they do. And suddenly all their heads turned into fireballs and they (the heads) zoomed- whooshed towards our building, crashing and causing explosions everywhere they hit. I stood very still (mostly in surprise) and they missed me. For some reason this did not leave a group of people without heads. Then the guy behind me said, Yeah, like a Spielberg movie, huh?

January, 1994

It's the same old thing. I can be minding my own business, walking through the house, and I "know" that "they are coming" and I'd better get my body into that recliner. I have mere seconds before I simply lose consciousness. It seems like part of me is being pulled downward and right out of my body. And of course it's hardly convenient. I can be wide awake, 6:00 pm, getting ready to make dinner, and if I so much as go near that chair it's as if I'm tempting fate. And if it hits me near it and I don't get into it, I fear that I may fall physically into unconsciousness and hurt myself in the fall.

So when I come to (not wake up: but come to), I sometimes have memories of what went on. Sometimes... same old thing, blue pools, liquid stuff you breathe, blondes, sweet fragile ones, occasionally a tall bug-thing. Sometimes even an entity that looks like a mythical beasty, a rare and rather odd thing, I can't remember what they're called, if I ever knew.

But last night was a little different, "beings" were working with me and about 5 other people, teaching us something. I'm not sure what we were learning. Then we were doing some exercises to limber up our bodies and make all the energy flow cleanly.

I couldn't figure it out. Either these guys had a few too many arms, which was confusing me, or they had something like wings, or there were rays of light coming from them that seemed nearly solid. There was just too much going on in the upper body region and I couldn't make it out clearly. After they worked with each of us, they would sort of... "hug" a person. Like their arms/ tentacles/ wings/ light would wrap all around the person, and somehow the energy would go all the way through the inside of them.

I had the impression that if we counted time, they sat with each person for about 30 minutes; it was some kind of process. I waited until last in line, looking forward to it. But just as they got to me and we reached for each other, I abruptly woke up, or rather, pulled out of it would be a better description -- as I became conscious "here" I was still conscious "there" and I was crying out, reaching out for them, they were reaching for me, but I was yanked away.

I felt that I had done it, though. I felt I pulled away because I fully realized at that moment that it was real and was going to make a big change in me -- that it wouldn't be "just a dream" but would change my physical body and "real life," and I had ambivalence, because that change was some kind of commitment on my part. I realized it had been me to reject it and I felt lousy, because I want to evolve, that's what it feels like is going on, and I don't think I felt threatened by them. I've worked with them before and they've always been nice so far. Then I couldn't get back into the state to find them, which made me so mad!

Off to the side of "metaphysics" alone, there seemed to be an occasional experience which felt specifically different from the others. It was as if, to put it into physical terms (though that may be misleading), the "technology was different" that got me to wherever. It was darker, lower in pitch, much slower in vibration, thicker in feeling. And that slower, darker feeling ended up giving me experiences that were invariably negative, and truly bizarre... dreamy, archetypal, yet seeming so physical...

February, 1994

At first I had the oddest feeling, as if the room was vibrating slowly, as if even the fabric of solid objects were also vibrating, and a very, very low tone seemed to accompany this. I was lying on my bed on my stomach, reading, and after a few moments I finally took notice of it, looked up and wondered, Is that me? Is this my imagination? Is there some machine on nearby? I could feel it both in my head and in my body, as if the inside of my house, both objects and me, were slowly pulsing.

I sat up, wondrous. I could feel it running through me and around me. The cycle was about once every 1.5 seconds or so. I got up and went into the kitchen, but it was the same there. I walked back to my bed. As it seemed to get stronger, I decided it was pretty darn tangible and although pretty weird, felt strange yet neat. I put my book on the bedside table. My head was growing fuzzy, and so I climbed under the blankets, and (I guess) went to sleep.

When I suddenly became aware of myself I was standing beside a curtain, off to the edge of a stage, in front. I had a certain number of "knowings:" a group of individuals were planning to put on a show for a bunch of people. They had designed it specifically to make an impression on the people, who seemed almost random sorts that were filing in. My job, I felt, was just standing around, preparing to open the curtain, and in particular "to be seen." I wasn't sure why.

I was slightly confused about where I was, but told myself, Well you were doing ok this far, maybe it's a lucid dream, so just go with the flow until you figure it out. People of all sorts filed into the "theater" and I finally felt it was appropriate (I sensed a person in charge telling me, but not in words) to open the curtains, which revealed a big screen. The lights in the room dimmed and onto the screen came a number of images that made the crowd laugh, gasp with awe and seem very impressed. I was standing beside the screen, so I couldn't see what they were reacting to.

Eventually there was what seemed like an intermission, some people left and new ones came. I was bored, since I couldn't see the screen, tired of standing there, and wanted to see what was outside. I was seized by this desire to know, where was I, anyway? So toward the end of the break, when all people had been seated but a few, I was walking up an aisle toward the door.

I passed people coming down to sit, including one particular woman of maybe 35 or so. I noticed while walking past that she was dressed very nicely. A few people later, farther up, I passed another woman, a different woman, who for a brief second flickered into the first lady, then back. I stopped and she stopped. We looked at each other blankly. I was trying to figure out what the heck just happened, and I thought, Well this has to be a dream, and you know, weird things can happen in dreams.

But she had this look on her face of the utmost bewilderment. She looked blank and scared. I felt sorry for her, and was immediately distracted, and I said Here, I can find you a seat down front, and she being so confused, let me lead her like a child, and went with me back toward the stage. About three rows up from the front, she flickered into the other woman again, and back. This time the other woman saw it happen -- she was sitting nearby and she gasped. I turned to look at her, and noticed that a few other people had seen it happen as well. So it isn't just me, I thought. I had the impression everybody assumed it was a 'magic trick', along the lines of whatever amazing things had been on the screen.

But I sensed that the "main guy" behind the screen, the chief who was running the show, hadn't wanted me to interact with any of the people, but in fact just wanted me to be seen, I had the impression because I was a calming presence. I could sense he was angry at me for leaving my post, let alone interacting, and he most definitely did not want me to go outside and figure out where we were, like my lucidity made that a critical concern of his. I had the feeling he was somehow distracting me, like no matter what it took, I wasn't going to go outside and investigate.

The woman was standing in the aisle, a few rows up from the stage area, facing the screen; I was standing a couple of rows nearer the front, facing her. (We had stopped and looked around when we'd heard people gasp.) With a look of horror, she put her hands to her face as her face began to melt, to morph, to change. Slowly.

As it warped, it was clear her physical bone structure and everything was changing. The look on her face, visible through the bizarre shape changes, was one of agony, of horror. And as her face warped into a caricature of her own, she let out this high pitched, very weird scream and turned a bit; most of the audience, waiting expectantly for the show to resume, looked at her, and her face warping and her shrill animal sound caused an almost immediate riot -- other people began screaming, shouting, and people began running up the aisles to get away, and all but crawling over other people to get past them and out. It was as if they weren't comfortable to begin with, but that did it, they were scared now!

I could sense that the 'main guy' was ticked off that his audience was freaking out, but it was too late to do anything about it, and so he was determined to "show me" how lethal he was on this lady. It was like he decided my behavior being brought into line was more important than the show he was putting on. He would rather have carried out his original plan, but now he was a bit bleak, dark, and intent on teaching me about unquestioning obedience.

People continued leaving the theater as fast as they could. I felt the person doing this to the woman was now solely focused on me and her -- he was enjoying the fear and torment he was providing her, and enjoying even more the horror it gave me, but also, he was very specifically making a point with me, I could feel it. It was almost in regular words, and it said: You aren't safe from me, I can find you anywhere. Along with that was a secondary theme, which said, How dare you disobey! It was my bad luck, I suppose, that the torment had to be on another person instead of me. I would rather it be on me. I had the feeling that he knew that, and knew I was controllable because I would do almost anything to keep him from torturing someone.

Clutching her head she fell to the ground, and her whole body began warping, "morphing," not just her face. The agony she was in was apparent to me and I was horrified, and resentful of the guy in charge for doing it to her. I was very confused, and scared. I knelt down next to her as she moaned and writhed mindlessly on the floor. I felt so helpless. Into my mind came actual words from the man in charge: Watch closely. I obeyed, and stared at her face as it warped into a dozen different images, caricatures all, and finally warped into Odo, that shapeshifting creature on the Star Trek show, but exaggerated, and I felt the grim humor of the guy doing this as he chose that one to make the point. He thought it was rather morbidly comical.

Then it finally changed back to her own face, her eyes wide with shock and fear, her skin pallid as a corpse. A fresh look of horror crossed her features as this black spot, blacker than blackness itself, appeared in her forehead... it was a tiny dot, but it seemed to turn around and around, and it got larger until it became apparent that it was a black triangle, a 3-D triangle like a three sided pyramid, right in the center of her forehead. And it grew until it was large in her forehead, as her pupils dilated so much her eyes became completely black, and I don't know if she could see me, but she turned her head directly toward me and said softly, with a bizarre sort of calm, I knew I was going to die tonight.

And with that, the turning black triangle swiftly grew until she was swallowed up by the most literal nothingness I can imagine, and she was gone, and it was gone, and I was kneeling in the aisle still in shock, and alone.

The attention of the guy in charge turned to me, and I had the impression he liked the horror all this invoked in me, as if he felt this would make me behave now. But whether it was a dream or not, I believed that somehow, a person from somewhere had really just died, that he killed them just to punish me, to teach and scare me, and it terrified me.

I jumped up and dashed for the door to get away. The man reacted immediately, and the building seemed to move; by the time I reached the open door, the ground outside was halfway up the doorway, as if the whole building were sinking down into the earth. I threw myself upward and scrambled out as the building continued to move downward, barely missing getting totally squashed and split in half between the flat ground and the top of the doorway.

I felt his anger, and though I had the impression he didn't have quite as much control or threat over me as he wanted now that I was outside, still I kept running. I was on some kind of hill outside, in the midst of other hills, they seemed like the standard Southern California type, rolling hills of mostly wheat-colored grass. I seemed alone; I didn't see any of the people who had run out earlier. I ran downward, a little to the side to get out of sight of the building (which was, I gathered without looking behind me, just about totally underground by now). As I rounded the hill I saw a thin road was nearby, and I ran to it and began walking down it, tired even from the short run, breathing hard, my heart pounding as much from fear as the running.

Shortly the road turned round the hill and I found a parking lot, with some kind of building off beside it, I couldn't tell if it was some kind of utility place or what. I didn't spend much time looking at anything because back the way of the main building, but off to the side about a quarter of a mile, on another hill was another building with a parking area; and in the distance I could see there was a flashing siren type light, there seemed to be some situation over there with a couple of police cars. The need to get away reinforced itself.

I saw this big truck, a rig but with only one trailer, sitting parked over to the edge of the lot I was in, and I decided to hide inside it, as there was no cover anywhere else. Hoping the passenger door was unlocked, I jumped up on the step of the truck and pulled the door open, only to scare the begeezus out of a big fellow who was starting it just as I jumped in. He shouted "Aaauugh!," and I hastily shouted back, "I'm sorry! I'm sorry, please, can we get out of here?" He had the weirdest look on his face. He was really afraid of something, the kind of serious terror most people never get, I didn't know of what, but he was really scared, and even scared of me. I said, "Don't be scared of me, please, I'm scared too, I just want to get out of here!"

And so trembling and still scared, he finished starting the truck and I sighed with near escape relief, somehow knowing that for the moment at least, I was ok. I remember as we drove (rather slowly) down the hill, a fairly gradual, long and twisty kind of road, it became dark (early night) and I could see the lights of a city below. My memory ends there.

I didn't know what to make of that one. Even regular dreams where someone was "out to get me," the average bad dream of childhood I suppose, hadn't happened with me in so many years I was startled by the very idea. I should mention one notable thing: I was surrounded by what I can only call "a thick dread." Not just emotionally, but even physically, as if it were a vibration itself affecting my body and my psychology. I'd had one dream like that before, the "morphing terminator dream," and -- funny, I didn't notice until just now, writing this -- morphing was involved in both of them. And "big rig" trucks. Hmmn. What an odd combination.

I wasn't sure, on thinking about this the next day, if that low pitched, slow vibration that seemed to affect the whole house had created some physiological effect that translated to dread and gave me such a strange and horrible dream. It wasn't the first (and wasn't to be the last) time I had felt so physical as to be limited, tired and sore, by being out of shape, and those symptoms often continued for the next couple of days, as if it were physical... part of me felt I'd "really been" somewhere, and the vibration somehow helped get me there... but that made no sense, so I decided to consider it just a dream and skip the more bizarre interpretations.

One thing I did feel clearly: I felt that a woman had really died. That even though it obviously had to be a dream, fine, then somewhere else, a woman had been having a dream and was there with me, in the same dream, and she had really died. It was illogical, superstitious, but I really believed it. And it really upset me.

As for "the bad guy," I just had the impression that he or his group had some terrific ability, and some plot for using it that escaped any "why" I could personally come up with.

The more I thought about this, the more I concluded that I must be getting paranoid. I didn't feel paranoid, but I was mildly obsessive (though not about anything in particular), which is related to paranoia, and I had to admit I had no reason to be. But the whole scenario I was describing sounded like something that people wearing tinfoil over their head and stocking M16's in their basement would come up with. So for my own good I decided to ignore it and let it go.


Occasionally dreams that were "just odd dreams" would occur, but very rarely, as my sleeping habits weren't normal. Unlike the rare, thick-dread dreams, these were just the few fragments of "normal" dreams I would pick up if I were able to go to sleep in the morning hours between 4:30am when I abruptly woke up and the time I had to begin getting ready to go to work. I ignored them for the most part, since they didn't seem literal, they just seemed like regular dreams. There was one that recurred for a little while around this time that I made note of:

February, 1994

In a dream there was this person, I think it was male. And there were two girls there that I knew (the identities not clear except that "I knew them"), they had these bullet holes in their torsos where he had shot them. But because he had told them they were still alive, they didn't know to die, so they were just walking around with their bodies dead. I was concerned about this, not because they were dead and wouldn't admit it, but because I somehow felt he had stolen their souls or something by not letting them move past the physical world.

The next part of the dream was long and seemed to go on forever, you know how some of them do. I had another person with me, who I was trying to save from this bad guy, who was nowhere to be seen, but I knew he was following us and trying to catch us. The concept of the bad guy grew larger until it wasn't really a person, just a "bad thing of overwhelming energy."

We were running down streets in typical neighborhoods, trying to find light. All the houses were dark. It was nighttime and it was like every light in every house had been turned off. Somehow I knew it had something to do with the bad-ness; it had "darkened" every home. We couldn't stop to knock, because the delay and the noise would give away our location, so we had to keep running down street after street, trying to find one lighted house, as if one lighted house would be safety. But it was as if the entire world, as judged by that neighborhood, had gone dark and silent. Still like in death. As if there were nobody home, nobody alive, and the city (and I inferred by this most all cities) was empty of life, a shell of homes and buildings with nobody in them.

When I awoke, I was trying to think of what it could be that inspired the dream, psychological stuff, but came up with nothing. It's maybe the fourth dream I've had in a short period where women had been shot in the stomach, that seems so important when in the dreams, and where people were dead but were walking around thinking they were alive. And there's a few other fragments of dreams of late where the concept of empty neighborhoods, empty cities, everything dark, repeated. I'm wondering why I should be having these repetitive, similar dreams. They only occur in the few hours of "normal" sleep I get in the morning.

February, 1994

One morning recently, while half-awake, I found myself doing something interesting. I've been through this before, but hadn't remembered. This is difficult to explain.

There are these shapes, like geometric shapes, some complex, some simple. They're in three dimensions plus a conceptual sort of dimension. These shapes are... best way to say it is, they're a language.

They're "conceptual." As if the distance of each part of the shape (the 1 or plus or mass-part that makes up the defined part of the shape), and the space between them (the 0 or minus or space-part that defines the shape by defining the not of it), and their relationship to each other -- every possible aspect of a geometric form that could be written into a geometry equation -- like every single aspect meant something, and the combination meant something that combined those meanings and yet is somehow more, too.

The shapes are absolutely literal and exact. There is a very strong sense that these shapes make up the whole universe, as if all things are composed, actually, of geometries.

It has an almost physical component, it's as if one feels the shape inside them somehow, and it perfectly communicates something. Language as I know it is a created thing which describes one's perception of things; this is different, as if the geometry is somehow equal to the "inherent absolute ISness" of the thing being described; in other words, it's not merely a language, but somehow "is" the thing being communicated itself, and one understands it not because one has learned to translate the shape into a concept which they relate to, but rather as if one simply IS all things being communicated (even external things are felt inside oneself).

There is a definite boundary to each shape and meaning. It's difficult to put all this in words, but it's not less tangible or less definite than words, but infinitely more so. The meaning is never inexact. It's not approximate; it is quite defined, all the way through. But it is so different from English -- so much more literal -- that it's just as impossible to translate as the "abstracts."

The ability to communicate so "fully" is so much vaster than anything I know that on finishing, I'm quiet and sad for the loss of ability. I nicknamed it Geometric Conceptual Linguistics for lack of a better term. It feels on some level as if all things in existence, even objects, are composed of ideas, like ideas are physical, and all ideas -- all concepts -- are "shapes" in some deeper, truer perception.

I had some interesting vision-related experiences that continued for some months and then seemed to go away. The first was, if I were sitting in my chair with my eyes closed (and my glasses off or contact lenses taken out), after some time I would realize that I had been looking around the room idly. Except that my eyes were still closed. And without corrective lenses I am extremely nearsighted, I could not have seen the room that clearly even had my eyes been open. At first I attributed it to memory of the room and a neat mental trick. Then I realized I could see the clock. But I attributed that to subconscious recognition of the passing of time. Whatever the case, it was a rather interesting perception. It was as if I had two sets of eyes and hadn't realized it until then.

I also had some visual perception effects that were very funny. I had been playing a computer video game called "DOOM," which was a nearly 3-D interactive type of game. My computer was not fast enough for the game to run smoothly, so when I as my character advanced into the landscape, the 'reality' of the game environment came closer to me (or got farther away) in incremental frames. A bit like time-lapse photography, with few frames, so the motion is "jerky." My perception of reality began to do that on occasion. It was actually pretty fascinating. I would look over at something, say across the room from my computer stool, or at work, and suddenly my perspective in relation to it would alter. One second I was a certain distance from it, and then in those fast-frames I would seem to get closer or farther away from it. I called it "zooming in on reality." What I thought was interesting was the idea that I could perceive the same amount of physical space in completely different measurements. As if space was as intangible, subjective, and based on perception only, as time.

March, 1994

I met what I called "the blue eyes of faith" the other day. Oh god! My god! He was my Lord! He was like... gods, like this energy that WAS me, that was the most sacred part of me, it knocked my socks off, it was so exciting! I only noted his eyes for some reason, it was like somehow I "zoomed" into macro on them, connected with them, and saw nothing else. He was ME. (But he's not the blonde guy I normally see as "another aspect of me." What IS it with these white dudes anyway?) I am trembling at the thought of it. Merely thinking of him brings a flush to my body and an increase in my heart rate; a brightness inside me and a sense of glorious awe.

I felt like I met a piece of my soul, a piece I suddenly missed, suddenly realized the place for. I felt like I'd come home to God and wasn't empty, was suddenly filled with light and soul... bright light beginning as a speck in the middle of me and growing, larger and brighter, until I couldn't hold it anymore, and trembling violently had to "let go" and it spilled out of me like sunlight... I wanted to cry and cry, but I wasn't sad; I was relieved. I could feel something! He was so beautiful, so Holy, so incredible...

I love him so much the only words for my feeling is that I worship him. That's not as one-sided as it sounds. Still, for someone who hates religion that's a pretty startling admission.

Granted I'm in a more vulnerable spot for that sort of psychology than I've ever been, but... whether I wanted it or not, I don't invalidate the reality of it. He's real. He's beyond words. He's me, my innermost self, my core, my light and my love, my ultimate. And now I feel like I'm not really alone. Like there's a spark inside me, like I'm not empty, after all. I am part of other consciousness; I am part of him; I couldn't be alone if I tried. And I just cried. I couldn't quit crying. He's so beautiful. Knowing that he was there in me, he is me, he is my saving grace.

As a side effect, it makes me less afraid for my body, all this Impending Doom junk with the planet, my visions of it, I'm not so afraid anymore. I don't feel like I can be killed or separated from anything. I feel like his presence was a gift to me. I so needed it. And now I crave him and wish he would come back, please, please come back...

It's best described as meeting my soul face to face. My adoration, my worship, my being overwhelmed by his beauty and love, these haven't passed. I still have them, though my perspective on all this has changed a bit. Even though I have dark moments from time to time -- I have a hard time separating or sorting all this stuff -- for the most part, he is simply awe-some.

I don't know if he's the guy I thought was Archangel Michael or not. He feels a bit different, yet incredibly similar. Michael was powerful, mostly physically although the physical affected the rest of me. This lovely soul who is the core of me, he affects me profoundly but it's more spiritual in nature. It does affect me physically, but it's as if all this happens in the opposite direction as it did with Michael. I am overwhelmed by a sense of love, of joy, of peace; with Michael it was more like energy, power, authority. They both cause the other, though. And the difference may have been in my consciousness, my ability to receive the more spiritual aspect directly, as opposed to any difference in him inherently.

Now why they would both have such captivating blue eyes if they're not the same guy, I don't know, I mean what are the odds? Or... well, are spiritual entities limited physically like we are? I mean might there be some entity like angels that are the same species, and so all pretty much appear alike to us?


Eventually I got to a point where I was more accepting. I was getting far more relaxed about things, even though I didn't realize it consciously. More and more, my "night life" began to affect my "real world" life, mainly because it affected my decision making, my ideas, my personality, and other issues.

There was one thing which was to affect my later life, which I considered a "done deal" the moment I awoke one morning.

March, 1994

So I was thinking it was just some subconscious thing. This competes for the title of totally odd. Some time ago I woke up with this image in my head, so terrifically strong, of three letters: OTO. One of many impressions is that it was a group I had joined, or was supposed to, or something, but I couldn't tell if it was "here" or just in a dream, if it was literal or symbolic. I didn't know what it was, but I had the feeling it had something to do with consciousness or whatnot. I assumed if I'd dreamed it then I must have heard of it somewhere, like how Rosicrucians advertise in magazines, I might have seen the name.

But when I awoke, the letters were somehow a number of things at once: they were three dimensional and more, and it was like, on one level of thought they were the letters, and then there was a huge branching off into paths, where those letters stood for many different things. On other levels the letters were a number of things, like on one limb the O's were eyes and it branched off, where the T was a number of different things; on another limb the whole thing was genitals; on others arrow and rings; on another a plus sign and zeros, and then there was concepts attached in general, like fire surrounded by water and stuff, and then a whole different group of ways of thinking where it somehow represented a process instead of a thing, I mean there were so many different meanings and objects and concepts all attached just to those three letters, I couldn't begin to track them all.

Anyway, it wasn't like I'd been told to find the group. It was like I'd realized that I'd already done it. Like now I just had to carry it out on the physical, or in this place, or time. And it wasn't really like I'd been told right then -- as that I'd sort of forgotten my own understanding and had merely been reminded about it.

Uncertain that it was anywhere but on the "dream level," I chanced it and asked around the New Age Forum on the computer, though if it were real it had to be obscure I figured, and that forum's into simple commercial things for the most part, so I didn't have much hope. But amazingly enough, a couple of people not only had heard of it, but belong to it! It really exists!! They came out of the woodwork, quietly and privately, saying they don't normally talk about it much in public. (Even if they did, they would be doing so in sections I don't read, which explains why I didn't know them.)

Anyway, get this! -- it's a secret society, basically. I was astonished. Apparently it's a group that considers itself one of the descendants of the Knights Templars, Masonic types or some such. I don't know what that means really; I thought the Masons were a social group. They say they're ceremonial magicians, but I'm not sure exactly what that entails.

This guy L. and I have been talking at great length. Talk about funny: he's involved with the topic of aliens. He thinks this thing called Enochian magick is really aliens or some such thing, at least some of them. He seems pretty nice, and intelligent, especially to be part of such a dark religion (which can only be described as a cult, though technically I guess, so is every religion), but he's finally got it through my head that the organization, and magick (with a "K" they insist!), have nothing whatsoever to do with that sort of thing. Just my Christian upbringing hanging labels on everything else, as usual. And I thought I'd gotten over all that.

The story I get so far seems to be that (a) everything just "is;" there is no good or evil, just energy; and (b) everything to a degree is a reflection of Self. So magick is sort of... well, rituals, sort of another form of yoga is my take on it, that have been established, when the components are presented in a certain order and manner, to have a certain effect on the... mind. So you get to know yourself, and get to know the aspects which are yourself. To me it's hypnosis and archetype work with a little grandiose drama.

I understand that I am inherently, like innately, part of it. Not even "one part" as that I am all of it, as if it were (the whole group, all the people, all the concepts) "composed of me." Almost physically. How weird. Where did my subconscious hear of it, anyway? I'm not interested in magick, I've long avoided all such fields in fact, along with divination and the like. The result was such a "given" with me that although I know I'm supposed to find it and join, I've been looking into it, nervous about just jumping in, trying to learn more first. It would be pretty damned ironic if someone with as much experience studying theology and psychology as me ended up in some wacked out religious cult, now wouldn't it...

But odd as it sounds, it doesn't matter. I feel I belong to it, already, absolutely, period. The issues of what they believe, what they do, and all that stuff, seem almost completely irrelevant to me, and completely irrelevant to the point and the end goal (whatever that is, I have no idea).

I'm making a short story long, as usual. So I've been talking and writing up a storm with L. and others who are part of the group. They're nice enough. Most the people I've talked to seem intelligent, logical; more like the academic, intellectual and skeptical types, which seems odd (certainly nothing like the proto Wiccan personality!). I mean many of these folks majored in physics, sciences or business, in general in fields where you just wouldn't expect that personality to study magick, but I guess I don't know anything about it is why I have those assumptions.

Some others, I find, hate the subject of aliens, and disagree with those who think they're related to their... um, religion. There are many different people and belief systems working within the framework, it appears. They study Qabala, which is Hebrew mysticism I'm told, which at first glance seems interesting enough.

Bewilderness is copyright © 1993 to present to Palyne "PJ" Gaenir ( See