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***** SOON TO BE PUBLISHED *****

ELYSIUM'S PASSAGE NOVEL SERIES

THE ASCENT - THE SUMMIT - QUANTUM LEAPS - SURREAL ADVENTURES
MYSTICAL ROMANCE - THE ELIXIR - THE RETURN.

The end of this post has a brief summary of each of the novels

THE RETURN

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Book Seven... first half

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The following eight chapters are approximately one-third of ELYSIUM'S PASSAGE: THE RETURN, my seventh and last novel in the Elysium's Passage series. 

I'm posting this for a short time to provide a sample of the series. It summarizes the series, giving the reader a taste of what came before in the previous six novels. Currently, I'm searching for a literary agent to represent the series to publishers.   

Copyright. Elysium's Passage: The Return. All rights reserved, Neil Meyers 2024  

References are in the ENDNOTES at the end of each chapter

Book Seven of the Chronicles of Elysium’s Passage, The Return, begins where Book Six, The Elixir, ends as I’m about to reawaken in my physical body.

SPOILER ALERT

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CAUTION: THE INTRODUCTION AND PORTIONS OF THESE FIRST

CHAPTERS MIGHT BE A SPOILER FOR THE ENTIRE SERIES

(Maybe skip the Introduction)

 

INTRODUCTION

Nothing real can be threatened. Nothing unreal exists. Herein lies the peace of God.
                                                              – A Course In Miracles

 

BOOK SEVEN of the Chronicles of Elysium’s Passage, The Return, begins where BOOK SIX, The Elixir, ends as I’m about to reawaken in my physical body.

 

As the sun was setting below the ocean’s horizon, the skies flared surreally with a blaze of red, orange and yellow streaks on a canvas of wispy clouds. Without saying a word, Julie took my hand to lead me away, strolling along on the warm sand on the cliffside path, her arm holding me tightly while walking barefoot in eerie silence.   

The tall grass and shrubs appeared luminescent in the eerie glow of the sky. I wondered how far we would go before turning back to rejoin the others. Still, she walked on in silence.

I glanced behind me to see how far we had gone. I saw no one, nor could I hear traces of the fading voices behind us. I saw only an orb of light glowing brightly in the darkening eventide.

‘What is that?’ I asked. She didn’t look or answer. I began to wonder, what was happening? Something didn’t feel right; had they all gone? Had they all left me… and where was she leading me?

In silence, we reached a narrow prominence on the cliffside, where she led me to an area that jutted out over the sea. By now, it was almost dark as a bright, clear moon began to rise on the eastern horizon. With my back to the precipice, she began to sob deeply. I embraced her as she kissed me anxiously, almost frantically, though not with the ecstatic abandon of passion I often delighted in.

Then mysteriously, if not frighteningly, she asked: ‘Will you still find me if you don’t know who I am?’

I looked at her, deeply troubled. 

‘What are you talking about, dear?’

She then detached herself from my arms, took a step back, and stared at me in a way that sent a shiver through me. Suddenly, her countenance changed. Never before had I seen her like this. Again, I asked, ‘What is it, dear?’

Still, she didn’t answer as the tears on her cheeks dried. Then, after a few moments, composed and resolute, she said her final words to me.

‘It is your wish to be with Julianne. So shall it be… and so shall it be.[1] As I loved you in heaven, I will love you on earth.[2] Goodbye, James. You must now leave; Julianne is waiting!’

And with that, her right hand swept upwards towards my chest as she took a swift step towards me as if to shove me off the cliff. My eyes widened with shock and bewilderment. I didn’t resist; it would have been no use.

Before her hand touched me, a mighty blast of light flashed out from her hand, throwing me off my feet, over the cliff and far into the sea.

As I was catapulting, I saw the blinding flash from her hand explode into a massive fireball.

Though it happened in a moment, I saw it all, one frame at a time, as my airborne body swiftly retreated far off into the darkness over the waters. Nothing remained where I stood, embracing her only seconds ago. As quickly as it appeared, the blaze disappeared in the darkness, and with it, she was gone… annihilated.

While descending, I was powerless to change my course. I was helpless, unable to teleport. Everything had changed, as the same terrifying scene from a year ago again played out before me, swiftly freefalling as a blurred projectile through space, my twisting, gyrating body tumbling toward the ocean.

I can only describe what I experienced as being timeless in the eternal now as my spirit’s heightened awareness flashed before my inward eyes.

Suspended by a cushion of cool ocean air, there’s nothing more than the swift wind rushing towards me from below. As I fall, I again experience my earlier flight through the mountain abyss. It feels the same, so where am I now falling… away from the world I had been lodged all this time?

As the sea nears below, I brace myself for the impact, yet I feel nothing as I plunge into the dark depths of a gyrating vortex, stripped of my body and all I had ever experienced. So, where am I destined? It doesn’t matter; I no longer care.

In this void that defies any possibility of explanation or description, I’m changed, as though I’m outside of myself, yet I sense a curious melding to all that is. Whatever remained of my identity is now subsumed in a baptism of overwhelming belongingness.

Why would I ever wish to leave this bliss?

The further I swirl deeper into darkness, all the markers have gone. Beyond any continuum of time or space,[3] my soul is raised into a new sea of conscious awareness, embraced, enfolded and consumed in the brilliance of divine light. I have no words, no thoughts; it just is… pure beingness, dwelling in the splendour of love. I experience no past, no future, only the present… with no thoughts of separation; I am one with the essence in this eternal moment.[4]

I feel no judgement, no opinion; I don’t reason, I don’t think… I just know, observing nothing out there, all is contained within. Nothingness, nothingness, nothingness, these words resonate as an echo from somewhere in time,[5] telling me all that appears as being separate is nothing, an illusion and shadow. There is one heart, the centre of all, the core of what I am; at one with I AM. The all that is; the all that can be. As within, so without.

Will this be for a moment or a timeless eternity? Regardless, my soul is content to remain in this plenum of all and nothingness. A peaceful, assuring love surrounds me, buoyed in brilliance. It is enough; I’m complete. It is all I ever wanted: entwined in total tranquillity, rest and peace.  In the words of one greater, I’m ready to pronounce: ‘CONSUMMATUMEST.’[6]

Though I wish to remain embraced within this sweet mysterium, something awakens within me, as with the first glimmerings of dawn’s sunrise in the east… an awareness of time and space that feels like I’ve been on a long quest. And now, that journey is over, I’m no longer who I was.

Inwardly, I understand it will no longer be possible to remain in this mystical realm of Oneness.[7] I’m called to return to a world of separation.

My soul is drawn out of the void towards a soft glow of blue light, where a loving presence whispers to my mind. ‘You are not alone, James; I am with you… now and always.’

‘Are you the Christ?’ I asked.

‘You are the Christ… as you allow the Christ.’

‘Who then are you?’

‘You know me; I am your guide; I am your angel; I am your love. I am Selaris.

‘I don’t remember your name.’

‘Yet you have heard my voice and followed my light.’

‘I don’t remember.’

‘I was with you, James, as your soul parted your mortal body down a mountain abyss; you heard my call to awaken and arise. Then you followed my light through the shadows.’

‘Shadows?

‘Later, on another mountain, my light shone forth from its inner entrance to show you the way through the darkness of your fears. My guiding light was only as adequate as you perceived. When you lost your faith, you lost your sight, only to be restored by he who smote the boulder of your fears with the mighty Excalibur.

‘You must now return to the body that brought you to your Summit. When you call on me, you will know I am with you, for you will see me through the eyes of your love.’

As she fades in blue luminescence, I hear a voice wafting towards me. It’s the haunting voice of a woman singing about Maria! I knew Maria. I loved Maria. Enchanted, I wish to follow the voice. Yet, as in the passing of a beautiful dream, I can’t. 

As I descend, I’m being drawn into a familiar density where I didn’t wish to be. Was I not the infinite ocean? – now, only to be poured into a body bag, mummified. I fear I might suffocate, constrained like a boa constrictor tightening around my soul.

I hear a faint sound from somewhere… an annoying beeping, louder and louder. In the distance, I see a light, as a lone star shining in the clear night sky. Closer and closer, it looms, its sharp rays penetrating my head. The sound and light irritate me, yet what can I do?

It’s unsettling to be drawn back into what I had been, although I’m no longer sure what that was. I only wish to remain as I am… or was.

I feel a piercing light as muffled voices grow louder, now blaring around me. I open my eyes; all is blurry as images gradually begin to focus. I see bodies, smiling, laughing and celebrating as though someone has just risen from the dead. Maybe me?

It's all so bewildering… what am I doing here? Last I remember, I was climbing a mountain somewhere. So, who are these men… and that lassie holding my hand…  she’s in tears. Wait a minute… I glare at her for a moment. Then something deep within me shouts in an angry rasp. ‘YOU!’

 

 

 

CHAPTER ONE

 

WHERE AM I?

 

 

Again, I’m gone… as if fainting. For how long, I don’t know, maybe hours… maybe days.

As I awaken, all is quiet except for an occasional beep of a machine nearby. There’s no bright light overhead. It’s gone, like everyone else I thought I saw.

I’m now alone, lying on a bed in a small room. What in bloody hell am I doing here?  

I see a clock on the wall in front of me… says 03:14. Slowly, I turn my head to look out the window. It hurts. It must be the middle of the night –dark outside; rain is splashing against the window.

Wait, I’m not alone; someone’s beside me. It’s that pretty lassie, the one with those men in white. I think she held my hand. Why did she do that? Didn’t I shout at her?

I stare at her as she sleeps, slouched with a black raincoat draped over her body. She’s not wearing that gown, just faded blue jeans and white sneakers. So, why is she here? Do I know her? Cute… wonder what her name is. It looks like she brought me flowers. I search her face. Something about her seems familiar, as though from a dream.

I can’t move… muscles don’t respond. I look at my withered hands. Good God, ol’ chap, you’re in bad shape. I shut my eyes, trying to remember what I saw with everyone looking down on me… three or four men and this woman… all getting excited about something.

At first, I thought they were laughing at me, yet she was crying… had tears running down her cheeks, yet with such a radiant and happy face.

So why would I shout at her? I must have been angry. What did I yell? Oh yes: You! as if accusing her of something. Why would I do that when I don’t even know her?

I smile as I remember a bright blue light hovering near me in space. I imagine a presence enveloping me… so warm and loving. And, oh so feminine… a beautiful angel. Are you still here? That would be nice, except I don’t believe in angels… but for you… I will; I inwardly laugh.

Stay with me, whatever you are; it seems you’re fading. Didn’t you tell me your name while I was floating on that cloud? Something like Solaris, a sun revolving around me. You’re far out… out of this world. Cool, everything’s groovy. Groovy? That’s funny… archaic slang… makes James laugh. What a weird conversation we’re having.

Look, letters floating by as in a cartoon strip. I laugh as I try to swat them down, except my hand won’t move.

You’re losing your mind, James… that’s your name, right? You seem to think you’re still riding high in the sky… wonder what those men in white shot me up with. Good stuff, whatever it is… wonder where I can get more… wanna stay high.

This babe sitting here… she’s asleep… must be my babe-sitter, I laugh in self-amusement. Oh, that was good, James, you’re so clever… and crazy. I bet she likes it when I’m crazy clever.

Maybe she’s my warden… that might be fun. I look up and see more letters floating by. By Jove, this is jolly good stuff. I laugh, though I hear no sound coming out. I guess the laugh is on me; I laugh again.

 Such a funny guy when high! Guy and high; hey, that rhymes. Look at me; I’m so damned funny… come on in, everyone, there’s a party going on in me! Get high with the guy! I laugh some more.

I look over at my sitter. She might not be impressed if she wakes up and reads the words I’m thinking about her as they float by.

I hear her gentle breathing. God, she’s beautiful! I wonder what’s under her coat… hmm. I laugh again. You’re so, like, stoned, James… and disgusting.

What does she want? Probably me… must have slept with her once. Yeah, lots of lucky women out there. I need to get her number before she leaves; maybe take her out tonight if I’m not busy.

So, dude… what happened? What are we doing here?

Ah, yes, it was that mountain; it’s all coming back now. I was in Chile… pretty sure that’s where I was… climbing somewhere. Don’t think I’m there anymore; that water closet sign is in English, not Spanish. God, how long have I been asleep? Seems like a long time… and how did I get here, wherever this is?

Ah, I remember. I was on some ledge trying to get to the other side, then fell through the air like a crazy cruise missile gone rogue… must have taken a chance. That was stupid, James, really stupid… and yet, what a rush. I can see the mountain’s craggy cliffs flash past as we tumble through the air. Probably, I’m just lucky to be alive.

Okay, I get it; now I understand why they have me drugged… must have bumped my head on the way down and got shaken up. That’s jolly, so long as they give me more good stuff before the buzz wears off. 

I think I saw some bright orbs up there where I was trying to get to. Aliens! I laughed; they’re everywhere… still feel like I’m spiralling through a vortex on a blue cloud… probably, they dropped me off here.

Probably, that’s one of them in the chair, my babe sitter. I think she loves me. Thanks for the lift, sweetheart… might not have made it without you.

I look at her again. Sorry for shouting at you, space girl; that wasn’t respectful. After all, I’m a man of extinction… ah, I mean distinction. Ha, that was funny.

So, why is she sitting here? I see flowers on the table; did she bring these? Lovely. She’s lovely, too. I study her face. Nice lips… nice everything, even those little freckles on her nose. Cute! Very cute. I’m in love. I laugh. This time, I heard myself laugh.

With that happy thought, I’m gone, though for only a moment or two, when I feel a warm hand softly touching my cheek.

I open my eyes; she’s staring at me warmly, taking my withered hand and gently squeezing it. Her eyes are moist with happy tears, like when I saw her with those men under bright lights in the room… probably doctors.

‘James,’ she whispered, ‘remember me? I was with you last night as you awoke in the operating room. I’ve been waiting for you for a very long time. We thought we lost you.’  Then, after a moment’s silence, she kissed me on my forehead and said, ‘Welcome back, Dr Phillips!’

‘Who are you?’ I asked. ‘Were you singing Maria?’

‘Yes, at least in my mind, I was. That’s amazing you heard the voice of my inward canticle.’

‘It was beautiful, so why did you do that?’

‘You are my friend, James; we’ve been together for a very long time, even as you slept.’

I smiled, then out of nowhere, I heard myself say: ‘Yes, it’s me… I have oft come to you. I paused a moment, then heard myself say: that we may escape to a home built on earth, made in heaven.’[8]

Suddenly, her warm smile gave way to astonishment. Tears welled in her eyes again, seemingly shocked by what I said.

I couldn’t understand why she was getting so emotional, so I squeezed her hand and asked if she was the warden in the prison I escaped[9] and if she was going to put me in cuffs so she could have her way with me. I thought I was being funny, so I couldn’t understand why she began to sob again. Before I could say more, my words fell away as I fell back into my slumber.

The next thing I knew, my eyelids fluttered in the streaming sunlight through the window.

I look around… not dark anymore. Clock says 08:15. All this equipment just for me? – I must be special,’ I laughed. Yet something’s missing. Oh, it’s that girl. Where is she? Maybe one of those cartoons in the air that floated by me? Probably, I  hallucinated her after whatever they were doing to my head… feels like they were poking something into it… got a splitting headache… need more drugs.

Ah, now I remember… that young lassie sitting by me. She’s Maria, or was that the song she sang? Who cares? She kissed me… unless I imagined that, too. But these flowers… at least they’re real. I think she said she brought them. So why would she leave me now?

I hear voices; then suddenly, bloody hell breaks loose! Someone starts shouting, ‘He’s awake; he’s awake.’ Everyone starts running into my room, including a janitor and a couple of doctors.

What’s with this; he’s awake? Okay, so I’m awake. It’s what you do after you sleep. So, why are they so excited? It’s not like I just returned from somewhere… unless I did.

Still, I just want to know… that girl, where is she? I need to see her!

[1] I heard these same words before. Not long ago, Julie said them to me so despondently, the night before we left for Vienna. At the time, I wondered why she was repeating these same melancholy words. In the next moment, it was clear… I had my answer.

[2] Only recently have I come to realise how similar her last words to me were to what I wrote Julianne in the last line of my poem to her: I will love you in heaven as I loved you on earth. The tense makes all the difference giving me goosebumps whenever I think about it.

[3] I had no point of reference, and only looking back on this ineffable experience, I identify with what Plotinus wrote almost two thousand years ago: Man is not the centre of the universe; rather, the universe is in the centre of man. (Enneads). Or, in the words of Richard of St Victor: In the spirit of man, the summit is one with the inmost recess – through the ecstasy of the spirit, we are transported beyond ourselves or within ourselves into the contemplation of things divine.

[4] This was the complete, all-inclusive love the Greeks identified as Agape, being the total consuming essence of God, experienced as the oneness of Love itself. As stated in ACIM, Heaven is not a place or a condition. It is merely an awareness of perfect oneness and the knowledge that there is nothing else, nothing outside this awareness, and nothing else within. ACIM, Chapter Eighteen, Beyond the Body.

[5] Based on this experience, I’ve recently concluded that enlightenment is not merited, only gifted for an eternal moment to those who wish the receive it. Yet the awareness of having the experience is enough to alter one’s life forever, as it has for many others. Illusory material values no longer have significance; only spiritual worth has relevance or meaning. And to ask how long I was in this timeless state would be absurd since there are no measurements staked on the mystical path. Time did not exist for me, so I cannot tell you how long, in sidereal earth terms, my spirit may have drifted along in this nirvana state if that’s what it was doing.

[6] I now realise these words were the echo of the audible voice I heard speaking to me one night long
ago while camping in the mountains.

[7] It is finished, the last words of Yeshua on the cross, when his mortal body died.

[8] This was repeated from a poem I wrote to her in her dream. See Book Six, The Elixir, Chapter Seven, The Dunes.

[9] In this same Chapter Seven of The Elixir, Julianne had written me a poem earlier that said: Come to me now, away from your prison house. Later, in my poem, I replied: Away from the prison I have escaped

 

CHAPTER TWO

 

WHAT HAPPENED NEXT

Over the next year, I lived an exotic and tumultuous life after recovering from nearly a year of being comatose. During this time, I had no recollection of my alternate reality or any of the adventures I experienced there, except odd flashes I readily dismissed.

Curiously, a woman kept appearing in a recurring dream. Even though I couldn’t make any sense of who she was or what she was doing, except that she reminded me of that young woman I saw by my bed in the hospital. Then, after a while, I thought nothing more of these than being projected fantasies of those few minutes we shared.

I assumed it had nothing to do with what happened while I was in a coma. Obviously, I had been unconscious the whole time, at least according to what I was told. One of the doctors who had been attending to me told me there was nothing in my brain scans that indicated anything other than bodily maintenance. Only later did I find out he wasn’t directly involved in monitoring my condition and so wouldn’t have been aware of the occasional upward blips in my EEG charts.

It didn’t take long for word to get out among acquaintances that, against all odds, I had awoken from my coma and was recovering in a health facility. Several visitors came by to wish me well, particularly some faculty colleagues and, surprisingly, a few ex-girlfriends.

With me now becoming a bit of a curio to the doctors, I was required to remain for further observation at the auxiliary convalescing facility near the hospital. Within weeks, however, my body regained its strength and agility as I arduously worked out each day, and soon, my physical abilities exceeded anything I had experienced before, even in my prime. That amazed everyone, considering how it was supposed to take several months to regain my muscle mass.

At the time, I didn’t know about the new DNA strands that had been activated in me until I was told later about the microcurrent laser experiment that had been performed on me based on some mysterious equation.

After a few weeks in the, I was ready to make my break when an angel took me under her wing and whisked me away to a posh health facility in Switzerland.

Prior to this, my angel, Kiko, was an undergraduate student I had in my class a few years ago who may not have displayed much interest in philosophy, but plenty of interest in me. In a lecture hall of over fifty students, she would sit in the front row, close to the centre, where she seemed to listen to every word I uttered in rapt attention.

However, I’m not sure how much she actually understood. I don’t remember what her final grade was, yet in my mind, I might have given her extra marks for cleavage and distraction. Lecturing was never so hard.

She had it all: looks, body language and boundless sex appeal. I would have loved to take her out even though she was much younger than me. For professional reasons, however, I kept my distance even though she enjoyed baiting me in my office to see if she could negotiate a higher mark. It was tempting; still, I held firm and treated her as just another student, even when she pouted… most enticingly.

What I didn’t realise then was that she was from Hong Kong, the daughter of a multi-billionaire shipping magnate. Upon graduation, she planned to enrol in LSE, the London School of Economics, to earn an MBA and prepare to run her father’s company one day. An only child, she resembled her Japanese mother more than her Chinese father – quite the knockout!

Then, one auspicious day, without notice, she came by to visit me at my recovery facility; appearing as stunning as ever, dripping in diamonds and pearls, she proposed to arrange for my transfer to a well-respected Swiss health facility where I could stay until I fully recovered.

It was more than I could ask for. By now, I realised that with my flat relet and furnishings gone, I would soon be homeless. Without a residence, money or a job, I didn’t know what I would do once I was discharged. I had no place to go.

So, of course, I said yes; I didn’t even have to think about it. Classes were over for the fall semester, so we travelled to Switzerland in a private jet and then took a limousine to my new convalescence facility. After only a few days, I was discharged; there was no point in remaining when it became apparent nothing was wrong with me. I had fully recovered.  

Kiko insisted I move in with her at her luxury chalet overlooking the mountains not far from Devos. Why not? It would beat being a homeless vagrant roaming the streets of London.

Once settled in, it felt like heaven. Not surprisingly, with my oversized libido, it didn’t take long for us to become intimate, which I’m sure was her plan all along, not to say it wasn’t on my mind, too. At first, she wanted to give me massages… for therapeutic reasons, of course. Not only was she very good at rubbing my body down, it seemed she enjoyed this as much as me. Soon, they became something much more, leaving nothing untouched.

Nor did she object when I offered to return the favour. Though we had separate bedrooms, by the third night, she crawled into bed with me as we made passionate love all through the night. She was surprised by how much stamina I had, considering I had just been discharged as a recovering patient. I impressed myself, too, seemingly making up for lost time after being asleep the last year.

By morning, she was exhausted, most happily, but I was ready to go again. She told me I was a Greek god and that I could stay as long as I wanted, even though she would have to return to London to resume her classes in a couple of weeks and then return on weekends to be with me.

Again, this decision was not difficult, considering I had no reason to return to London; I had all I needed here, including all the mountains I wished to climb in the Swiss Alps.  

Although I had no money, Kiko lent me whatever I needed, saying I need not be concerned about repaying her unless I should want to someday. At first, I was reluctant to accept her generous offer, but with mine being cancelled for non-payment, I had little choice. With my credit ruined, there was little hope of being offered another card until I had a job with an income stream.

Swallowing my pride, at least what was left of it, we went shopping at the most expensive shops in Devos upon her insistence. Somehow, she had an eye for what was most costly. Apparently, it wouldn’t do for me, as her escort, to appear less than what was deserving of her.

Even before we left London, she told me of her father’s wealth and that her budget was far in excess of what she could spend. If she required more, she could have it; after all, it would all be hers one day, possibly not in the too-distant future. I wondered what that might mean for me if I could hang on to her; would I be rich, too?

Never before was I so well apparelled, with designer clothes and the most stylish hiking gear. Heads turned when dining at the most expensive restaurants. Indeed, we were among the beautiful people there who had it all.

Her father, now in his second marriage, was over forty when Kiko was born. Though he intended to remain the chairman of the board of the company he built, it was his intent for her to take over operations as CEO within the next few years when he felt she was fully prepared and sufficiently competent to handle all the corporate responsibilities.

She admired her father and was determined to prove her proficiency by doubling the value of the company shares over her first five years while experiencing all the world had to offer: money, sex, and power.

For now, she expressed no interest in getting married or having a family. Life in the fast lane was fun, making it known to me that she could have her pick whenever she wished… just so that I clearly understood where I stood. Still, I liked my odds since no man could pleasure her the way I did.

Meanwhile, I had all I wanted for now, including the Jag F-Type sports coup I always coveted and a rugged Jeep Wrangler for my mountain adventures. Until further notice, I would bide my time; however, I suspected her father wanted her to marry an accomplished businessman, not a philosopher. Such a profession would hardly be compatible with his corporate culture, which I would not wish to be entangled in.

A doctorate in business or at least an MBA would have been much more acceptable to this corporate milieu. You don’t go around discussing Shiller and Plato in the boardroom and expect to be taken seriously.

It occurred to me I could reeducate myself, become a corporate man, and remain a wealthy sell-out for the rest of my life. But no, that wasn’t me; they would have to accept me for who I was and on my terms. On the other hand, would I prefer to live my life as a homeless, cap-in-hand urchin begging for another part-time lectureship? 

So, at least for now, I would remain her boy toy or, for all I knew, one of them. Though I didn’t feel great about my subordination, nonetheless, I was being taken care of while deciding what I wanted to do with my life and how I would do it.

Over the next few months, while she was in London, I climbed one or two mountains each week while reading all the philosophy books I had put off over the years. I especially enjoyed reading Plotinus, the Neoplatonic philosopher I most admired yet understood the least. Another was Alford North Whitehead, who was perhaps the most challenging. Should I return to academia after all this, I would be sharper than ever.

Yet, while reading these books, it felt a bit strange, if not eerie, as though I had read these before… like in a dreamy deja vue reality. In any case, for the first time, I was able to grasp the concepts effortlessly, something I had never been able to do before. Did I somehow get smarter while in my coma? And yet, that’s not supposed to happen after the brain cells atrophy.

One writer I had no intention of reading again was the Swedish mystic and seer Emanuel Swedenborg. In my early graduate days, his writings intrigued me, but I later moved on and decided he was too out there to take seriously, especially with all his talk of spirits and the afterlife. Respectable philosophers, I was assured, did not countenance such musings.

Imagine, I thought, claiming to travel throughout the celestial spheres for nearly thirty years while physically disembodied – most preposterous! I don’t know what he was doing in the heavens; nonetheless, his book, Divine Love and Wisdom, seemed to call out to me from an upper shelf in a quaint Devos bookshop. That’s nice, I thought, then smiled and walked away. Yet later, for whatever reason, I returned the next day, thinking I would give him another chance, realising it was one of his more philosophical books. Possibly, after all these years, it might even have something intelligent to say to me.

After purchasing a copy, I sat in a coffee shop down the street and began to skim through the passages where a phrase in section two caught my eye, saying: Every kind of spirit turns toward his or her ruling love. That got me thinking… so, what was my ruling love? Sex and materialism? It seemed these qualities pretty much summed up my life these days. And yet, that felt abysmally shallow, especially for an intelligent philosopher like me. There had to be more to life deserving of me.

The more I thought about it, it became apparent… I had no idea what ultimately ruled me. Hopefully, I hadn’t become a self-consumed narcissist, though I was getting a bit cynical since there was little in my life that seemed to have meaning these days. In fact, I couldn’t take credit for doing anything purposeful except possibly being a gigolo. (And a damned good one for which, in many ways, I was well paid.)

As I read on, it seemed the Swedish sage was suggesting only divine love and wisdom were worthy of our ruling love; all else flows from that. To me, that statement was provocative as I realised my ruling love had lost any pretence of human dignity, now reduced to little more than vacuous self-gratification.

Again, after all these years, that haunting voice from the mountain meadow echoed nothingness to my soul. Was Swedenborg calling me out? If so, it wasn’t flattering.

Specifically, though, how was I being ruled… and what master was I serving? I didn’t have an answer. Was it torpedoing my Jag down the Autobahn at 200 km/hr or scaling the Matterhorn from every approach? Exciting, yes; still, no one was watching, no one cared, so why would I spend the rest of my life indulging in meaningless endeavours? Remaining a kept man to amuse no one but myself would be a parody of what I was built for, though I was no longer sure what that might be.

It was evident that I didn’t know myself, even though every philosopher of antiquity, from Hermes to Pythagoras to the Oracle of Delphi and down, implored us to Know Thyself. For the next few days, I thought about this – not what I did, not what I had accomplished, but rather, who, in my essence, was I. Without knowing that, how could I be authentic to myself or anyone else?

Was I, like everyone else, just a fluke of nature that, by time and chance, oozed out of the primal swamp? – a collection of microbes that, out of nowhere, somehow became human. That seemed to be the official line of scientists and humanists, so I didn’t question it… they were the authorities in my world. I mean, what was the alternative: divine creation? No one in academics could go there and survive, so why would I?

When Kiko returned the following weekend, I brought up the subject of ruling love and how knowing that might help set the course for our lives, although, even as a philosopher, I wasn’t sure what mine was.

After asking if she knew her ruling love, she replied that was an odd question when the answer was evident: to make more money and lots of it. That’s what she loved, and so, that’s how she would know herself… as rich and powerful. At least she was being honest.

Still, I persisted. ‘But what lies below these qualities, you know… like, what you are within?’ She looked at me as if I was daft. ‘I already told you… riches and power.’

‘And what about sex? I laughed.

‘Yeah, that too,’ she giggled as she jumped on me, taking me down.

That said it all; there was little else to her: a lot of fun but no desire to cultivate an interior life, but then, I wasn’t much different; most of my life was centred on the accomplishments of my mind and body, not on love and wisdom as Swedenborg suggested.

No one earns a PhD studying abstractions of spirituality, yet what is life without knowing who you are? An excellent question that I began to ask myself as I continued to read the book. Though he wrote this book several centuries ago, nothing had changed; it remained as relevant as ever.

I didn’t know what to do with what he had to say about angels and spirits. It all still sounded so far-fetched; nevertheless, he inspired me to examine myself, much like Plotinus and Pascal advocated before him. Wasn’t it Socrates who said the unexamined life was not worth living? So, how about mine… was it worth living?

While in a coma, it seemed something had happened to me; somehow, I had become more reflective and interested in my interior life than my outward life, which was ironic, considering my new circumstances and lifestyle. Maybe it was because I was satiated with good times requiring no thought or effort. Regardless, I determined that forthwith, my life quest now would be to go within to discover who I was.  

However, as an agnostic in good standing, any notion of love and wisdom for me would need to be contextualised within the purview of humanism, not religion.

By springtime, her classes were over, so she remained in Switzerland with me, although most of our time was spent touring many of the surrounding countries in Europe. Then, before the fall semester, we visited her parents in Hong Kong, where I was suitably impressed with how large and prosperous their shipping company was. I learned they had offices in Tokyo and Seoul and were considering opening one in London.

Her parents seemed to find me acceptable enough. I find it easy to present myself as a charming sophisticate when I have to, although I could tell I was a bit out of place, if not clumsy, in their world of commerce. There was little we had to discuss except my seafaring days on a merchant ship.

Surprisingly, that seemed to earn some points with her father, although it was hardly the kind of merchant vessel they operated worldwide. Far from my chaotic seafaring days of brawling with scallywags and drunks, their milieu was of money, power and prestige. Yet, he, too, had come from humble beginnings, relating to my past, fascinated with my Mediterranean seafaring as a young sailor.

Still, I had little to offer their business world, with almost no knowledge of finance or concern for the latest stock trends. Without them saying anything, I suspect one of their most significant problems with me, other than my total indifference to acquiring a massive fortune, was that I practically had no family pedigree, having been an orphan for the first several years of my life.

That was about as bad as being an unemployed, part-time philosopher. I’m sure this wasn’t what they envisioned for their only daughter and potential heir of their family’s future legacy. It was apparent Kiko’s devotion wasn’t just to their shipping company; it was the approval of the father she worshipped. He controlled everything, including Kiko. Regardless, I determined I would not be bought; whatever happened, he would never control me.

Later, when I tried to explain to her Swedenborg’s concepts of love and wisdom, she commented that her father was the wisest man she knew, taking the shipping company’s value from just a few million yen to several billion in less than thirty years. To her, acquired wealth was the proof of wisdom.

I didn’t bother to explain the difference between inner Buddha wisdom and clever business acumen; likely, that would have gotten us into another fight. Kiko didn’t like to lose, preferring to be right rather than happy. After all, if you’re that wealthy, you must be right; at least, such was her attitude.

It was apparent that I would never be a fit for her or her family. Meanwhile, I had one helluva a good time spending their money, living in luxury, travelling and, best of all, having wild and kinky sex with her almost every day we spent together. She was the perfect companion to keep up with the new libido drive I had recently woken up to in my recharged body.

As an example, without going into too much erotic detail, she seemed particularly aroused when I accelerated to over 200 km/hr while on the German Autobahn. That’s when she would come down on me, forcing me to pull off the highway before crashing over a cliff while having an orgasm. Reckless abandon and danger seemed to turn her on, seemingly because she thought she was invincible.

One of her favourite fantasies, she told me, was to make love on her father’s long boardroom table. And so, late one evening, while we were still there, we did. The long polished table, probably worth over a hundred thousand pounds, represented her irresistible lust for power.

It was kinky, although, for her, I’m sure the symbolism was rich; there was no better way for her inner Aphrodisia to conquer the old patriarchy than to capture the seed of her Greek god to become the indomitable goddess that would birth her empire. Possibly, that’s why she liked to be on top. Though a tad disrespectful, it epitomised her wildest passion for power, wealth and sex; they went together, and soon, it would all be hers.

I knew she loved me, at least physically, although not as much as she loved her father’s shipping company. At some point, I knew there would be someone else, a corporate superstar or celebrity, and I would be gone. That didn’t mean I couldn’t enjoy the ride.

Or, who knows, Kiko might opt for a double life, marrying someone acceptable to her parents while continuing to keep me safely ensconced in Switzerland as her readily available sex toy. An allowance of, say, a million pounds a year might be enticing and would be nothing for her. Yet, did I come into this world to pleasure someone as their exclusive gigolo?

Before continuing with my libidinous drama with Kiko, let me share what was going on in Julianne’s life just after we had that brief exchange from my hospital room.

After waiting until sunrise the following morning after my coming out of my coma, Julianne finally went home, having spent half the night at my side. She was still stunned by those few lines I recited to her from that magical night in Camber, which I knew nothing of when she had awakened from sleep as if in a trance, to quickly scribble these lines in her diary. And now, I had recited some of these words back to her. In her mind, there was no mistake; these were the same.

Before climbing into bed, she slowly reread the poem and smiled. There was no doubt… this man who had just awakened was with her that night and had returned to her in the flesh. And yet, how would she be able to tell him any of this? Likely, he wouldn’t believe he was present with her while in a coma. It didn’t matter; when he was ready, she would find a way. 

As fortune would have it, her predictable life in London was about to be put on pause. Before awakening that morning, she received a phone call from Melbourne, Australia, where her parents lived at this time of year. Her mother, Adeline, was in a panic. Her father had just suffered a severe cardiac arrest, and it wasn’t evident if he would survive.

Immediately, Julianne booked the most direct flight she could find available from London to Melbourne, then quickly packed her clothes and took a taxi to Heathrow. There wasn’t much time, yet she made it.

While waiting to board her flight, she called the hospital staff to explain her situation. She had no idea when she would return; it may be a few weeks or even months, depending on whether her father survived. If he did, she would remain there with her mother to care for him to help ensure his recovery.

By the time she arrived, the doctors were feeling more confident he would likely survive, though he may not fully recover. Julianne then arranged a lengthy leave of absence from work to assist with her father’s rehabilitation as much as possible.

During the months ahead, she reflected on her life and where she wanted to go with it. Though she enjoyed nursing, psychology interested her more as she continued to contemplate becoming a psychotherapist.

Not only did her father survive, but with her professional assistance, he had almost fully recovered in the next six months. While in Melbourne, she enrolled in a few evening psychology courses at the university so she could later transfer her credits to a Master’s Degree programme back home. Still, she wondered how she could afford to live as a student after returning home.

Meanwhile, she continued to pay her portion of the rent at her London residence so nothing would be disrupted. As for me, I was becoming just a fond memory of an unfulfilled dream. Still, it haunted her whenever she recalled how it seemed I had responded to a poem she had earlier written to me. At the time, it felt like there was a soul connection, even though whatever was there was now long past; probably, I didn’t even know her name.

It wasn’t until much later that I found she had written a short letter to me from Australia wishing me all the best, explaining why she had to leave the next day after visiting me that night in the hospital. She addressed the letter to a nurse, trusting it would find its way to me.

Unfortunately, by the time it was delivered to the hospital’s auxiliary rehab facility, I had already left. No one knew where I had gone, only that a young Asian woman had taken me somewhere out of the country. That was where the trail went cold, so Julie assumed I must have had a prior relationship with this woman she hadn’t known about. Evidently, there would be no place for her in my future.

After pinning so many hopes and dreams of us having a glorious relationship in the future, she resigned herself to never seeing me again. Yet, in her heart, she was never able to forget me and what could have been. Of course, it would still be a long time before I knew any of this.

As for me, I only had that short bedside encounter with her, so I had no idea how she felt towards me or how much she had devoted herself to my recovery. Nor did I have any way of knowing her role in introducing the equation’s laser technology through a network of scientists and doctors, not to mention the taxi driver.

Still, I remembered my overwhelming attraction towards her that short while in my hospital recovery room, not only because of her appearance but because of something more that I didn’t yet know or understand. And yet, it was as if there was some mysterious spiritual bond, although I never believed in such things. And though I wanted to see her again, I later learned she had moved to Australia. Since no one knew when or if she would be returning, I had to let her go, except for occasional dreams that reminded me of her.

One night, I had a dream I couldn’t get out of my mind where it seemed she pushed me off a high cliff far off into the ocean. I remembered how, when I awoke in the operating room, the first thing I did was to shout… You! Who knew it was possible to dream in a coma and then later dream the dream again?

Later, in another dream, I made passionate love to some phantom that reminded me of her while we were in some darkened mountain cave. However, I didn’t take these fantasies seriously, assuming this was just me projecting another fleeting memory of her. Still, it was a mystery to me why I would continue to have this lingering connection to her.

After all, I had my hands full with Kiko, quite literally; she had it all: looks, sex, and unlimited money. However, after returning from Hong Kong, I suspected the relationship with my Asian lover would likely end in heartbreak, just as with many other women in my past. If I didn’t bring things to a close first, she might beat me to the punch. That was the pattern I had lived with for years, and now, it was happening again.

By the end of summer, I became increasingly annoyed with her when all she wished to talk about was business and what she would do once she took over her father’s company. That was her obsession and dream, but not mine. From what she said, the plan was for her to be inserted into upper management after she graduated from LSE and then, after a few years of experience, she would become the CEO.  All before she was thirty.

If, by chance, we decided to marry, I would have to be part of her life by moving to Hong Kong to become part of her corporate culture. The very idea made me nauseous, yet it seemed that’s where things might head if we continued together.

Excitedly, she would share her schemes of what she would do to make her father proud with her shrewd business savvy. For days on end, she would describe how she was planning to set up shell LLC corporations in tax heavens across the globe while undercutting smaller shipping companies.

 Even if it meant taking a temporary loss, she would drive them out of business and then buy their assets at substantial discounts. It was ruthless, but then, she was determined to get whatever she wanted, including me. Meanwhile, I often thought about what other mountains I could climb, preferring more sublime heights to conquer than her corporate world.

Again, I found myself back to my graduate student days in Canada while camping alone in a meadow in the mountains, when, three times over, in the dead silence of night, I heard a strange voice. Each time, it said nothingness, although I never was able to make sense of what happened or what that meant. But now, it occurred to me it might have been a message that nothing in this world could have meaning unless it first had meaning within. Consciousness is all there is. There is nothing, nothing, nothing more; all is within – esse est percipi.[1]

Yes, something in me seemed to have changed; there appeared to be a significant shift in my values and priorities since my coma. I now cared much less about what this earth had to offer and more about discovering who I was and what I had to offer. As Swedenborg said, it was about turning inwards to what was real, what I loved and valued most.

Though I wasn’t sure what that was, at least I knew it wasn’t about building larger shipping companies. Nor was it just about philosophy; even though I still loved to philosophise, the words now had to speak not just to my mind but to what was higher in me, although I hesitated to use words such as spirit, soul, or heart. I guess I was still too linear to appreciate the nuances of rational transcendence.

Nevertheless, over the last six months, while reading and contemplating life, I learned much about myself. I also learned how Kiko was just the opposite; her life was exterior, mine interior. A balance would have been nice, yet as we continued to shift in opposite directions, there was none.

No wonder our conversations bored and irritated me even though I went along with them, considering how entertaining my nymphomaniac could be. Still, it didn’t seem to occur to her that I wasn’t on board with her aspirations or material values. So, that September, just before beginning her final year at LSE, I told her I wanted to return to London to visit my old colleagues and inquire about the status of my academic credentials to resume my professional career.

She was most unhappy with my suggestion, strongly suggesting I remain in my Devos paradise where her life could remain nicely under control… meaning her life with me. Or, possibly, she wanted to be alone in London, where she could carry on with more extracurricular fun. She loved men’s attention, and it was easy for her to receive as much as she wanted. If I were to move back, that might spoil everything.

Nevertheless, I insisted on returning, telling her I would find a flat if she didn’t wish me to stay with her. That seemed to surprise her, so finally, she reluctantly agreed, knowing I was determined to be my own man. Yet, it might have seemed more of a bluff if I were to say I was prepared to live on my own, having no resources of my own, only hers. Nor could she understand why I would wish to return to part-time lecturing when I had all I needed or could want with her.

Not long after I moved into her London flat, things quickly soured. After visiting some of my colleagues and meeting with the university administrators, I told her I had no intention of returning to Devos. I knew I had to make a decision: to do as she desired by returning to Switzerland or to move out. Finally, she evicted me, saying she needed to be alone while attending LSE, where she had space to concentrate on her studies, citing this was necessary for her grades to be acceptable to her father.

I told her, fair enough, I understood: I didn’t wish to be a distraction, yet to move my life forward, I needed to remain in London where I could further my academic career. That really jolted her, taking it personally. How could someone with nothing refuse everything? And yet I saw things much differently, refusing nothing when I, in a sense, already had everything within.

Feeling shunned for not getting her way, she ranted on until I left. That night, with only the clothes on my back, I slept on a park bench. How differently life had become… and yet, how glorious it was not to be owned by anyone.

That’s when everything in my life changed… again.

[1] To be is to perceive, as stated and affirmed by the 18th-century philosopher George Berkeley.

 

 

CHAPTER THREE

 

THE PARK

 

Since Kiko paid for everything with her credit cards, I barely had enough change for transit, so it occurred to me to visit the hospital to see if they still had my clothes and wallet in storage after I first arrived in the Emergency ward almost two years ago. If so, I hoped there would be enough to buy breakfast. Unfortunately, I had brought none of my clothes or possessions with me; possibly, my wallet remained in Santiago or was lost in transit.

Next, I went to the university administration office to see if, on the off chance, I might have some back pay. As it turned out, I did. The administrator I spoke with had heard of me awakening out of my coma last year, so she was surprised I hadn’t earlier claimed my wage. After adjusting the ledger, a new cheque was issued, which I immediately cashed at the bank, where I still had an account.

I was now set up with sufficient cash for meals and lodging for a week or possibly two. But then what? Going back to Kiko was out of the question, although I’m sure she would have taken me back if I apologised, promising to return to Switzerland like an obedient serf.

After a hearty meal, I decided to walk along the Thames as I had so often before. Having gone some distance, I decided to find a bench to contemplate my life and where I might find some inexpensive lodging for the night. I was about to walk a little further along the path to find an unoccupied park bench when I noticed a lovely young woman sitting nearby, seemingly engrossed in a book.

Why not, I thought? I realised I didn’t look my best, having slept outside unshaven and unkempt; still, I hoped to strike up a conversation with her. So I casually sauntered her way with a big, friendly smile. Nevertheless, as I approached, she remained oblivious to me, not even looking up. Not wishing to intrude into her space, I positioned myself at the far end of the bench, ostensibly to watch the pigeons.

There seemed something vaguely familiar about her. I wanted to sneak a furtive glance, yet didn’t wish to appear too obvious, or worse, creepy, should she notice me staring at her. After sitting there a few minutes, I thought I’d say something to see if I could begin a conversation with some innocuous comment, such as – nice day, eh? Or… do you think it might rain this evening? Yet I didn’t wish to disturb her with her since she seemed intent on highlighting a book she was studying.

Finally, I could no longer help myself; I had to look at her, pretending to look past her at the pigeons should she catch me. Damn, she was good-looking, even wearing little or no makeup.

She wore a black Peabody coat, a bright fuchsia scarf wrapped around her neck, faded blue jeans, and high black boots. Her hair was shoulder length, light brown with blond streaks. It seemed I had seen her before, although I had no idea where.

Now curious, I was determined to start a conversation, though I still couldn’t think of anything clever to say. It wasn’t like me; generally, I had dozens of lines, yet none seemed appropriate since, most obviously, this wasn’t a pickup bar. Besides, it seemed she was so intent on what she was reading I was hesitant to interrupt her.

Then, slowly looking up, the young woman stared, not at me, but ahead towards the Thames, presumably in deep thought. I wondered if my furtive glances had distracted her.

Okay, James, I thought, you’re likely making her uncomfortable, so now’s the time to strike before she gets up and leaves.

Despite myself, I finally blurted out: ‘Good afternoon, lovely day, eh!’

I could hardly believe I could be so trite. Was that the best I could do? For one thing, it wasn’t a nice day, being overcast and threatening to drizzle as it’s wont to do in London.

Slowly, she turned towards me, saying nothing, her face expressionless. It was one of those drop-dead looks I occasionally receive from lovely lassies at a pub after having a pint or two, too many.

‘Sorry,’ I said, ‘I didn’t mean to be disruptive or trite, although it appears I managed to be both,’ I chuckled. ‘You appear vaguely familiar to me; don’t I know you from somewhere?’

Still, there was no response as she stared blankly at me. It wasn’t necessarily a look of annoyance, yet it was unsettling as she silently searched my face. I had no idea what she was thinking, yet it felt most unsettling.

Not knowing what to say or do, I returned the favour by staring back at her, looking intently into her eyes, saying nothing. The longer I stared at her, the more I felt something mysterious going on between us, more subtle than words could express. Indeed, I had met her somewhere before, but I had no idea where.

Then, surprisingly, I noticed tears welling up in her eyes and running down her cheeks. With her eyes glistening, she smiled at me and gently said: ‘Dr Phillips?’

I was taken aback. ‘Yes, indeed, as a matter of fact, I am. How did you know? Was I once your instructor in a philosophy class?’

‘James,’ she said quietly, ‘I know much more about you than just your name.’

‘Oh really?’

‘Don’t you recognise me?’

‘I seem to,’ I said, ‘yet I don’t know from where. Was it perhaps in a beautiful dream?’ Hopefully, that wasn’t too flirtatious.’

She didn’t laugh or say anything but continued to stare at me as if in a daze. Then, I thought I heard her whisper below her breath: I don’t know if I know you.  Then, after a pause, she softly breathed, yet you visit me by night.[1]

‘Pardon me,’ I said, ‘I’m not sure I heard you correctly. There was something eerily familiar with what I thought I heard you say – something about visiting you at night. So, in what dream did you visit me?’

‘Oh,’ she said, snapping out of her spell, ‘I’m sorry; I don’t know what came over me. Well, actually, I do; I just don’t understand why I said that.’ 

‘You know, we’re having a most curious conversation; your words intrigue me, yet I don’t even know your name. Although I’d like to if I may.’

She moved closer to me on the bench and offered her hand. ‘My name is Julianne; however, if you wish, you may call me Julie… all my friends do.’

‘I’m honoured to meet you, Julie. It seems we may have met before. Are you sure it wasn’t on campus?’

‘Dr Phillips, until about a year ago, I was with you almost every day and many long nights. You don’t remember me because you were sleeping.’

‘I must say, I recognise your voice; so familiar and soothing… the sweetest voice I can ever remember hearing.’

‘There may be a good reason for that. I was one of the nurses who cared for your body while you were in a coma. We weren’t sure you would make it,’ she said as tears rolled down her cheeks again.

‘Every day, I prayed that you would wake up until, finally, your spirit heard me. And now look at you; I’m so grateful you’re alive and looking so healthy.’

‘Oh, of course, now I remember, at least vaguely! You were by my side not long after I awakened. You must have been waiting for me.’

‘Yes, I was; I had been waiting hours for you ever since you awoke in the operating room where I was. Then you later said something in your room that made me cry.’

‘What was it? What did I say?’

‘For reasons I don’t understand, it had to do with what I just whispered to you a moment ago.’

‘You mean about meeting at night?’

‘Yes, after you came out of your coma, you said: I have oft come to you… that we may escape to a home built on earth, made in heaven.’[2]

‘Most exceptional, and yet, why would I say that?’

‘Because, while you were in your coma, I wrote a poem to you with some of these same lines. I have it in my drawer at home. I cared for you for a long time, and it seemed you came to me in my dreams. So that’s why I wrote it. I had no idea you saw it, and yet you must have, or you wouldn’t have recited these same lines to me as you did.’

‘This conversation is becoming more peculiar by the moment, Julie,’ I laughed. ‘How could I have seen it, much less speak to you in your dreams when I was unconscious?’

‘It sounds silly, I know. Yet what if you weren’t asleep but somewhere else, even though your body remained in the hospital?’

I just looked at her and smiled. At first, I thought she was joking; the question was ridiculous. But when I saw how earnest she was, sitting straight up, looking intently at me with wide-open eyes, I didn’t wish to disillusion her by saying how impossible that was.

‘Julie, I often wondered what happened to you after you visited me that night, so I’m delighted to meet again finally. In this metropolis of over ten million, what are the chances?’

‘Two in ten million,’ she said, laughing as she got up. ‘I’m sorry, Dr Phillips; I must be off to class now.’

‘James, Julie. To you, it’s James.’

‘Yes, of course, James, to me, you always were James. But everyone else in the hospital referred to you as Dr Phillips, the clever professor who took a long nap after a terrible fall..’

‘It certainly was a long nap. Sometimes I feel like I’m still waking up,’ I smiled.

‘Yes, I’m sure it must have taken plenty of time to heal; nonetheless, I must say, you seem to have adjusted rather well. I hardly recognised you; you seem a different person. Last time, your face was gaunt, and your body emaciated. Now look at you; you’re the perfect picture of health. I would never have realised you were so handsome.’

‘Before I could reply to her compliment, she got up. ‘I really must go, or I will be late.’

‘Wait – before you leave, Julie, allow me to give you my new mobile number. If you wish, text me to let me know when you have some time to visit. I’d be delighted if you did.’

She wrote down the number in her book as she smiled charmingly. Then, without saying another word, she walked off. Possibly, she sensed I was watching her as she glanced back, waving her hand without slackening her pace.

I watched her as she quickly walked into the distance, likely rushing to catch a bus. I lit a fag and stared at the river, reflecting on what just happened and what she said. I could still see her tears and every expression on her face. Evidently, I had evoked something in her.

Possibly, she was just glad to see me. Yes, that would make sense. From what I saw in the mirror this time last year, I wasn’t much more than a corpse-in-waiting. Still, I couldn’t understand why she remained so dedicated to what little I had to offer.

And what about those strange lines she whispered as if in a trance? That was weird!  Had I actually said that after awakening from my coma? And what was that part about meeting her at night? I’ve never met her at night, although she said it was in our dreams. I’d love to meet her there again, or anywhere else, for that matter, I thought, smiling to myself.

Damn! I let her get away without getting her number. I gave her mine, yet that won’t help if she decides not to call. If she thinks I’m with another, she might not. Still, I need to stay in contact; women like her don’t come along very often… not ones that recite lines from their dreams – a most remarkable woman, and intriguing, too. Move over, Kiko; I might have finally found the love I’ve been searching for… and it’s not you, baby.

What was I thinking… not even asking her last name? Maybe I should go to the hospital tomorrow to see if I can track her down, although if she no longer works there, they might not know where I could find her. Besides, I didn’t wish to appear to be skulking her; I’m not sure that would be good form and, in the end, likely counter-productive, especially if she’s in a relationship.

No, it’s better if she calls me; then, maybe I will know where I stand. I wonder if anyone told her how a beautiful young Asian woman abducted me to be her off-shore sex slave. Sorry, Kiko, that wasn’t fair; you really were good to me.

God, I hope Julianne calls or sends a text message… anything! I so much want to see her again. Though she says she was my nurse and took care of me, why do I feel she was more than just that?

If she felt I was just another patient, she wouldn’t have teared up unless she was so overwhelmed with how well I had recovered. No, there was more to it than that, although I couldn’t imagine what. That’s why I had to see her again… and soon!   

Julianne barely made it to class on time. Her thoughts weren’t on the lecture as she thought of the fall guy’s atrophying body and how she had struggled to keep him alive, whispering in his ear while massaging his body and pleading for him to return. And now, he’s back, fully recovered, with such a pleasant voice and gentle personality, just as she had imagined.[3]

He says he wants to see me again, but what about Freddie… he’s still in my life, although I’m not sure why. We seem bored with each other, with even less in common now that I’m no longer working near him at the hospital.

So, what am I to do with Dr Phillips… what’s his situation? The last I heard, he made off to Switzerland with a young Asian student, probably travelling with her to China and other parts of the world. At least, that was the rumour. Someone said she was studying at the London School of Economics for her MBA.

Did that mean they were now living here together? If so, it would be best not to interfere if he’s happy with her. And why wouldn’t he be? From what she heard, this woman was exotically beautiful and charming, coming from a very wealthy shipping family in Hong Kong. What more could a man ask for? He’d never have to work another day, provided he could hang on to her.

So, under these circumstances, she wondered if it would be appropriate to call him since she had no desire to get involved in a relationship where she found herself involved in a couple of love triangles: Freddy, James and her, along with James, her and this woman. That could get complicated.

She tried to reach him from Australia, although that was before she learned how well he was being taken care of and, from what they were saying, in high style. Her roommate, Karen, knew a student from LSE who was acquainted with this Asian woman who made no secret of her prize, so it wasn’t long before word spread about my happy fate, at times with a few snickers because of the age gap.

Observing the tenor of her thoughts, she asked herself if she was jealous. It was possible, yet why should she be? If he was still with his woman, why would he be wandering forlornly in the park with a backpack, unshaven face, and unkept hair as if he had nothing better to do with his life?

Then she remembered all the books she and her roommate had stored in her closet. He wouldn’t have known about that. Probably, there were over a thousand copies. Funny, it never occurred to her to mention that to him. Of course, he must be missing them and would want them back. If so, she would ask for his address and deliver them to wherever he was living. That way, she would find out whether he was still living with her.

A few days later, she sent me a text. Meet you tomorrow at the deli shop below where you used to live – cu at 4:30.

Obviously, I was thrilled to hear from her. I wondered why she picked this location and how she knew I once lived above the shop.

[1] These were lines Julianne repeated from a poem she wrote James while in Camber.
[2] This was repeated from a poem I wrote to her in The Dunes, Chapter Seven of The Elixir.
[3] While I was writing this and the previous narrative, Julianne inserted her impressions so the perspectives would reflect what she had experienced and been thinking.

 

 

CHAPTER FOUR

 

A SPECIAL DATE

With much anticipation, I waited for her to arrive… more than I ordinarily might have in meeting a woman. But then, nothing seemed ordinary about her, only extraordinary. Yes, she was attractive; still, I’ve been with many such women, and most of the time, things didn’t last for long.

Julianne entered the deli on time with a bright smile. I stood up from my table and was going to offer her my hand when, to my surprise, she hugged me as if I were an old friend she had known for a long time, although, it was true, she knew me for almost a year as her patient, even if I didn’t know her. Her hug was brief, yet it felt more like a warm embrace than a perfunctory greeting, maybe because that’s how I wanted it to feel.

‘Julianne, I was pleased that you were finally willing to meet since I wasn’t sure if you were.’

‘Actually, James, I’ve been looking forward to visiting with you, and again, it’s a delight to see you appear so much more vibrant and, if I may say, even debonair from when I saw you last at the hospital..’

‘Thank you, I’m pleased to hear that; most likely, I wasn’t looking my best last time we met.’

‘Sorry for the delay in responding; I had a few exams to prepare for, so I’ve been rather busy this week. Thankfully, that’s behind me now, and I won’t have to rush off to class like last time. With it being Friday, I plan to take a break from my studies for the weekend before completing my final term papers for the semester.’  

‘That’s splendid you could take some time to meet. So what may I get you?’

‘Just a chi tea, James; thank you.’

We went to the counter to order. Though I paid for Julie’s tea, she insisted on buying us scones.

‘I’ve been thinking, Julie, ever since we met on Monday, my recollection of you in my recovery room seems so surreal after my awakening, likely because I was high on some meds. So high, I’m almost afraid to ask what I said.’

‘I think you asked if I might be your warden and if I would release you from your prison. You seemed to have a fetish with cuffs. I  was wondering, did you have something kinky in mind?’ she giggled.

‘Really? That wouldn’t surprise me,’ I laughed.

‘Regardless, you were all talk, falling off before you could finish whatever else you had to say, which was probably just as well,’ she smiled with bemusement.   

‘I remember after I awoke later that morning, I kept asking about you. I wasn’t sure if you were real or a combination of my imagination and morphine. No one seemed to know that you were in my room that night, and yet there were flowers by my bed. Were they from you?’

‘Yes, James, I left them for you. I guess you didn’t see my note attached. Only one nurse on the night shift knew I was there. After our brief chat, I left your bedside to go home to get some sleep before returning to work in the afternoon.’

‘But you didn’t return.’ 

‘No, I didn’t. That morning, before waking, I received a call from my mother in Melbourne. She was in a panic. My father just had a massive heart attack, and it appeared that he might not live, and if he did, likely, it wouldn’t be for more than a few more days.

‘So, I caught the next flight that connected me to Australia, where I stayed until this summer. Fortunately, my father survived, and so I remained his nurse for several months until he safely recovered at my parent’s home in Melbourne, where they spent most of our winter. Together, we returned to London this summer as I continue to monitor my father’s health while enrolled at St. George’s.’[1]

‘I’m pleased to hear your father recovered.’

‘Yes, I believe he will be fine, having proven himself incredibly resilient.’

‘You know, Julie, I often thought about you while convalescing in an auxiliary health facility even though you didn’t come to visit me. Nor did I know where you had gone. I couldn’t ask since I didn’t know your name, not that anyone there would have known you.

‘Still, I wanted to express my gratitude for being with me that night. After almost a year, you were the first person who came to be with me since my fall.’

‘Are you sure about that?’ she asked.

‘Is that a trick question?’ I smiled.

‘I don’t know, James; it seems some rather spooky things were going on between us while you were in a coma.’

‘You mean like exchanging poems in your dreams?’ I laughed.

‘And perhaps much more. I might tell you sometime if and when you’re less sceptical.’

‘I’m not sceptical, just rational, but let’s leave that aside for now. I’m happy that, after all this time, I can finally thank you for your overwhelming support. You might be interested to know that just before I left for Europe last year, I returned to the hospital to see if I could find you to give you my regards.

‘While there, a charming African caretaker named Jeremiah told me you had just moved to Australia. That’s why I was so surprised when I met you along the Thames. I wasn’t expecting that, presuming you were still down south.’

‘So what else did Jeremiah have to say about me? We often worked the night shift, so we became friends, particularly regarding our mutual concern for you.’

‘He told me the extent of your care and devotion to my body, day and night and that you would often talk to me, or at least to my body, even though I couldn’t hear you.’

‘Your cells heard me, James, all seventy trillion of them. Somehow, I felt you would make it, although I often had doubts after talking to the doctors. I wish I could have been there to help you recover after your coma, but I understand that you received some excellent treatment in Switzerland.’

‘I wish you had, too. After being discharged, I lost hope of ever seeing you again.’

‘And yet, I did return; only this time, it wasn’t for work. After returning to London with my parents, I enrolled to pursue a Master’s degree in psychology. For some time now, I’ve wanted to become a psychologist; however, I could never afford tuition and living expenses without working.

‘I don’t know where they got the money; regardless, my father insisted on paying for my education when I told him about my dream. So, after being accepted at university, we returned to London in August so I would be here in time to begin classes.

‘That’s what I’m doing now, and with my Melbourne credits and night classes, along with this last semester, I expect to soon graduate with my Master’s Degree. Then, I plan to set up a practice as a licenced psychotherapist.’

‘I’m happy for you, Julie, and pleased you returned from down under so I could see you again. You’re just as pretty as the sweet warden I woke up to,’ I laughed.

‘I would not expect to hear such flattery from a serious university professor,’ she laughed.  

‘If I take a few liberties, possibly it’s because I was once a merchant sailor or because I thought I knew you from somewhere in the past, yet that’s hardly possible unless we bumped into each other before my coma, maybe right here in this deli.’

‘I doubt it; I’m sure I would have remembered you had we met, although I never thought you would remember me after I left to fly off to the other side of the world. Though you were in some stupor that night, you still knew how to flirt,’ she smiled.

‘Couldn’t help it – part of my rakish sailor charm,’ I laughed. ‘Apparently, I still have it, even after my coma.’

‘I’m sure. Yet why would you want to meet me now since I understand from my roommate that an attractive young woman of means took you to a luxurious health facility in Switzerland to assist in your full recovery? So, are you still in some relationship with her?’

‘I was, at least was until a few days ago, although much of the last year she remained in London attending the London School of Economics while I stayed in Devos. However, I’d rather not talk about that; it’s complicated, and I’m not sure I’ve heard the last from her. She’s very controlling and possessive. That’s one of the reasons I walked; I value my freedom more than her money and whatever else she had to offer.’

‘Well, at least you received care during that critical time. It’s good to see you so healthy; last year, I would not have considered this possible.’

‘Yes, it’s jolly to have recovered so well. The doctors were amazed at how quickly my muscle mass was restored, along with my cognitive abilities. By the way, there’s something else you should know, and it’s not about that woman; it’s about you and me.’

‘Oh, really? Please tell.’

‘After you visited me that night, I remembered having the strangest dream while I was coming out of my coma, likely induced by drugs. And even stranger, you were in it even though we hadn’t yet met. I don’t know why I feel so certain it was you; it just seems I have an inner knowing it was. I can’t explain that; it’s not rational.’

‘Most interesting; so what happened?’

‘Well, as I recall, we were on a high precipice, overlooking the ocean in the middle of nowhere. It seemed twilight as I held you tightly while you sobbed in my arms. Suddenly, you stepped back and said something that frightened me, though I don’t remember what.

‘Then, catching me off guard, you stretched out your hand and, with a brilliant ray of light, shoved me off the cliff, where I catapulted far off into the ocean. I don’t know what happened after that.’

‘Are you sure it was me you saw? As you know, morphine can muddle time sequences, especially in dreams. Or, you might have dreamed it while in your room after seeing me.’

‘I suppose so, although it seemed the dream occurred before I regained consciousness.’

‘Ah, you’re right, James; it had to be before coming out of your coma. I just thought of why.’

‘Okay, so why?’

‘Did anyone tell you what you said in the operating room while regaining consciousness?’

‘All I recall were doctors standing around me, excited about something. I guess it was because I had finally come to.’

‘Do you remember if there was someone else besides the doctors?’

‘No, not really; who was it?’

‘It was me, holding your hand. You looked directly at me for a moment, then shocked us all when you shouted.’

‘And what did I shout?’

‘One word. You shouted: You! Then you went under again. It was most bizarre.’   

‘God, Julie, you’re sending goosebumps up my spine. Now that you mention it, I think I remember saying that. That was one bloody dream; so poignant, I remember it clearly.’

‘If it was a dream, James – if it was.’

‘What else could it be?’

‘I don’t know, but I have a question for you. Why did you recite those lines in your hospital room? Were you aware of what you were saying? – you seemed in a zombie trance.

‘You mean like you were when we first met in the park? I smiled.

‘Yes, I admit that was a strange experience. Nevertheless, your words came to me in a poem I received from you in my sleep several months ago while on a weekend retreat in Camber. I got up out of bed and recorded it as best I could. That’s why I was so startled when you recited these words in your room; they seemed to answer the poem I wrote you that night.

‘So, James, let me ask you: if you didn’t speak those very lines to me while I slept… who else could have?’

‘Most curious; likely, you were just reciting what you dreamed and attributing it to me. I suppose we’ll never know.’

‘Or maybe we will. I’ve been researching hypnotic regressions and dream interpretations in my psychological studies and have even taken a separate course outside the university curriculum. Many psychologists practise this with remarkable success.

‘Since I plan to be soon certified in administering regressions, why not let me practice with you? I need volunteers to gain more experience. Then maybe we’ll find out what was behind these words.’

‘Sorry, Julie; I don’t believe in any of that. I’m sure you might be able to conjure something out of my Oedipus complex, although I doubt it would explain anything of significance. As for dream interpretations, we can explain things any way we wish. In the end, I’m sure they’re all insane. Regardless, why would you push me off the cliff in this crazy dream?’

‘Maybe because I thought you were a pushover,’ she laughed.

‘Good one, Julie. So, what do you think Freud would say?’

‘Is it not obvious, James? You don’t have to be Freud to figure that out. It was time for you to return, and you needed someone in a dream to push you off your coma’s cliff so you could return to your body. How else would we be having this lovely, if not bizarre, conversation.’

‘Again, that was a splendid interpretation, Julie; I like women with active imaginations. I mean that sincerely. I apologise if I seem sceptical; at least I’m more open to alternative explanations than before my fall. There was a time I would have outrightly dismissed your conjectures. Now, however, I’m not sure about anything.’

‘Oh, really. That sounds encouraging.’

 ‘For example, I don’t know why it seems I’ve known you for a long time after having just met you on the park bench. In all my years of philosophical studies, nothing has given me an answer to such mysteries unless it’s one of those strange déjà vu moments our brains like to trick us with.’

‘Don’t you find it interesting how we’re sharing these same mysteries?’

‘Blimey, it’s enough to drive a sceptic to distraction,’ I laughed.

‘James, have you ever read Hamlet?’

‘Of course, it’s my favourite Shakespearian play; why do you ask?’

‘Do you remember what Hamlet said to Horatio? He might have said the same thing to you.’

‘So what did Hamlet say?’

‘There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy.’

‘Yes, I remember that line. It’s a good one.’

‘That’s one of my father’s favourite responses when he thinks someone is being close-minded or if he doesn’t know how to answer a question my mother asks him.’

I thought about that for a moment. I remember hearing this quote recently, yet I couldn’t remember from where, nor had I given much thought to it. Nevertheless, it seemed Julie was on to something, even if I wasn’t about to admit it since I was supposed to be the clever one.

‘If Hamlet was right,’ I said, ‘possibly there’s more going on in this universe than I’ve dreamt or even suspected. Can I tell you something, Julie? Something I’ve never told anyone before.’

‘Of course, James, what is it?’

‘Sometimes I think I’m going insane! I mean it… quite literally. I’m not sure what happened to my brain when I fell; I must have really whacked it on the way down the mountain because sometimes it feels I’m not even the same person I was before my expedition.’

‘So, what if, while in your coma, your brain was reset to expand your consciousness beyond what it was limited to before? I’m not saying the fall necessarily did this; perhaps something later jolted you into a higher awareness.’

‘So, are you saying that I might not be crazy?’

‘Oh, you are that too… most assuredly. We already knew this when the Santigo doctors told us how you, on your own, attempted an impossible mountain assault.’  

I laughed. ‘You make a good point, Julie. I probably was out of my tree even back then.’

‘You know, James, what I’m learning in my studies is that the mind doesn’t understand much until it accepts its inner guidance. The truth is the mind is lost without the heart. For the soul to be whole, both must unite as one.’

‘So you’re saying that the mind needs to learn from the heart, whatever that is, or we’ll go off the deep end like I did,’ I laughed.

‘Which, it appears, you have done more than once, first down a mountain, then again into the ocean where you say your lover pushed you.’

We both laughed. ‘You are sharp, Julie. I like a woman with wit… as long as she doesn’t unwit me! Philosophers have a reputation we try to protect, you know.

‘James, have you read Pascal?’

‘A little, he had many profound things to say. Why do you ask?’

‘Are you familiar with him saying: Le cœur a ses raisons que la raison ne peut pas savoir?’

‘Yes, of course, I’ve often quoted from his Pensées; the heart has its reasons which reason cannot know.’

‘My mother is partly French and remains very heart-centred and sometimes likes to quote that to my father. He then sighs c’est la vie… such is life.’

‘I’m impressed your mother knows that saying; it’s most profound. Recently, while in Switzerland, I read a book by Emanuel Swedenborg. He was a Swedish scientist, philosopher and mystic a few centuries ago. That’s when I began to ask myself if I’ve lived too much of my life from the perspective of my mind and not enough from my heart. So this is a very timely conversation we’re having.’

‘So tell me, James, how can you love someone with just your mind?’

‘I’m not sure if I know how to answer that.’

‘I’m not prying into your love life… unless you have something you wish to disclose,’ she laughed.

‘I think you already are, so what am I going to do with you, Julie?’

‘What do you wish to do with me?’ she smiled coquettishly as she got up to get us more hot water for our tea. ’

I smiled. Julie left the door open, but I thought it best not to walk into that trap… too dangerous. It seemed she had me every which way.

Once again, this felt like another déjà vu moment, an echo of what I had been asking myself recently about Kiko. I could love her with my mind and body; it was easy, fun and natural, but I couldn’t love her with what was more interior, or as Swedenborg might say, my heart. She would expose and engage her body but not her soul.

Most evidently, she was in it solely for the gratification of her body, just as with me in the past. And so, after we made love, no matter how ecstatic, I felt only momentary satisfaction. Though that might have been enough for her, it was no longer sufficient for me since it felt we had no lasting connection.

Inexplicably, I had changed. I wanted more than my lover’s body; I wanted to feel the essence of her being. I still didn’t know what brought about this change; I just knew I had become bored with Kiko and all her worldly ambitions and wanted out of the relationship to find someone I could genuinely love… body, soul and mind. Someone like Julie… should I be so lucky.

‘Don’t worry, James,’ she said as she sat down. ‘I was just having a little fun with you. I know you may see me as someone you just met, while I see you as a friend I spent almost a year with. Even if you couldn’t talk to me in the hospital, I suspect we had a great deal to share, at least on some mysterious plane we’re incapable of understanding in this waking state.’

I smiled and said, ‘I wish it were so; that would be wonderful. Still, I don’t believe that’s possible. By the way, Julie, of all the places we could meet, why did you choose this building where I used to live in the flat above?’

‘I love the scones they bake here. Besides, it’s not too far from where I live. I’ll show you.’

‘Show me what?’

‘My bedroom. Are you coming, big boy?’

‘Of course, if that’s where you want to take me,’ I laughed as I got up from our table. ‘So, why your bedroom?’

Winking, she said, ‘There’s something special I have for you. I promise you’re going to like it.’

Having set my mind ablaze, we caught a cab and climbed into the backseat, where she intentionally sat in the middle, close beside me. Under normal circumstances, that should have surprised me, yet with her warm personality, it felt natural… and most delightful. I wanted to take her hand, yet I didn’t wish to push my luck.

It was only a ten-minute ride before we arrived. Without hesitating, Julie paid the fare with a generous tip. Her residence felt vaguely familiar… as if I had been here before, except I hadn’t. After we walked in, she introduced me as Dr Phillips to a young man in the kitchen making a sandwich.

‘And this is Anthony, one of my roommates.’ 

‘Pleased to meet you, Anthony. If you would, please call me James.’

I wasn’t sure if he was just a roommate, although I supposed she wouldn’t be bringing stray men like me into her bedroom if he was anything more.

‘Excuse us, Tony; I’m taking James up to my bedroom,’ she said, smiling mischievously.

‘By all means,’ he said as he winked at me. ‘Enjoy your time… I won’t disturb you unless you make too much noise,’ he laughed.

I smiled wryly, not sure how to respond since I had no idea what this spirited young woman was up to or what she might do next. At every turn, she seemed to enjoy catching me off guard, though I liked the direction we were going.

As we climbed upstairs and entered her room, it too felt strangely familiar, as if I had been here before, just as it seemed when I entered her home.

‘This is a cosy bedroom… with a warm, welcoming feeling. I especially love that large mountain mural on your wall; it looks so real and natural, as if I could walk through it and be in the midst of the mountains, breathing in the fresh alpine air. It’s a masterpiece; who painted this?

‘I did. At one time, painting was a passion of mine until I got too busy with a lot of other things, such as work. Then, a couple of years ago, suddenly, I awoke after a deep dream with this image emblazed in my mind as it still is.

I was so enraptured; I knew I had to paint my dream. It was so tranquil as if I had just slept there. I guess that explains why I later painted this other picture next to it with a bed suspended in the foreground of a cave.

‘It seems surreal, something Salvador Dali would paint. It even has the same quilt as on your bed, only pulled back as if you just got up. So, in your dream, were you sleeping in some mountain cave?’

‘I don’t know, maybe I was. Do you believe in parallel worlds?

No, not really; so what’s this,’ I asked, pointing to a poster taped to the wall; ‘why have you written MXY 23LZ=YZ4 01 in large letters with bright-coloured markers?’

‘Oh, that… it’s just an equation I happened to come across.’

‘Yes, I can see it’s an equation, but what does it mean?’

‘I can’t say, except we used it to jolt you out of your coma. You wouldn’t be standing here without it. I bet you didn’t  know that.’

‘No, I bet I didn’t,’ I laughed. ‘Seriously though, what does it represent?’

‘I think it has something to do with light frequencies. Somehow, scientists used it to configure a code into a pulsating laser beam, then directed it point-blank at your pineal gland to reboot the synapsis in your brain. Though I don’t understand all the technicalities, I was told that by stimulating the DNA receptors with powerful photons, every cell in your body was able to respond to the higher frequencies, kind of like with a tuning fork. Supposedly, there’s nothing like it in this world.’

‘Really, Julie? Your story just keeps getting better,’ I laughed.

‘It’s not my story, James; it’s your story.’

‘You're right; I apologise for being dismissive. I’m sure there must be some truth to this. I even recall one of the surgeons who had administered the laser treatment saying something along these lines, although I had no idea you had anything to do with it. If so, that’s astonishing.’

‘There is so much more intrigue surrounding this equation that I’m not sure if even I know half the story.’

‘Well, if true, it sounds like you might have saved my life.’

‘Isn’t that what nurses do? Still, I was only a messenger. Some very brilliant scientists and doctors were involved in deciphering its code.’

‘So, where did you come across this? Didn’t you say you found it?’

‘Or perhaps it found me,’ she smiled.

‘Okay, that’s jolly, but how could it do that?’ I asked.

‘You wouldn’t believe me if I told you the story, James, so I won’t. At least not yet. I think we first need to get to know each other better. So, how do you like my bedroom?’

‘It’s a strange feeling… like I’ve been here before.’

‘I wouldn’t doubt it, you scamp,’ she smiled.

‘Ah, if only,’ I grinned, enjoying our flirtations.

‘So, James,’ she asked, looking about as come hither, sexy and sultry as a man could ever hope, ‘do you want to play a game of hide and seek?’

It might have been my imagination, but it seemed a couple of buttons had become undone on her blouse. She seemed to be enjoying herself too much, amusing herself in this little set-up.

‘Close your eyes, James, and keep them closed until you count to ten, very slowly, then see if you can find me. If you can, I have a big surprise for you. Are you ready?’ she laughed.   

What was this minx up to? Was she coming on to me? I had no idea, though I could hardly wait to find out.

I closed my eyes obediently, trying to hear where she went as I counted aloud. I thought she might have gone into her clothes closet, yet I wasn’t sure. So, what kind of kinky sport would this turn into? She seemed so playful and full of mischief that nothing would surprise me.

After I finished counting, I looked under her bed and then opened the closet door, surprised to find a sizeable dormer room walk-in closet full of clothes, more than I would have expected.

‘Ready or not, Julie, here I come… for you.’

I thought I heard a slight giggle somewhere behind the next row. Probably, she was hiding between the hanging dresses. 

As I spread out her clothes to walk between them, I found her grinning at me from behind several piles of books stacked almost to the ceiling, along with several boxes, presumably containing even more books. 

‘Well, James, that was easy, so now that you found me, what more would you like to see?

I stammered, not knowing what to say.

‘She then slowly unbuttoned her blouse, stopping midway down while staring intently at me, fully aware of what she was doing to me.

‘James, do you see something you would like to hold?’

‘I… ah, well…’

Completely caught off guard, I was hardly aware of a silver cross dangling between her breasts. Do you recognise this, James?’ she asked as she held the cross up closely for me to see. It is yours. I’ve been wearing it ever since you arrived unconscious at the hospital over two years ago.’

‘My God, Julie, are you saying this is the same cross I lost in Chili after my fall?’

‘It is,’ she said as she lifted it off over her head, placing it around my neck as she kissed the cross.

‘You have no idea, Julie, what this means to me,’ I said, my eyes moistening. ‘You may not realise it, but it once belonged to my old nanny from Greece, who gave it to me just before the authorities came to take me away the day after my mother died. After that, I never saw Maria again; I think she died shortly thereafter.

‘Nor did I see this cross again until a few years ago when I found it in an old box containing some of my mother’s papers and jewellery along with a few old pictures of her and my father. It had been left behind at my Great Uncle Albert’s house, where I lived as an adolescent.

‘Though I’m not superstitious, I wore Maria’s silver cross while on my expedition, thinking it might in some way protect my life.’

‘I’m sure it did she said as she rebuttoned her blouse. More than ever, James, I’m pleased I was able to save it for you before it became lost again. I also have your ID pendant in safekeeping.’

‘Again, I can’t thank you enough, Julie. But I must ask, where did you get all these books piled up at the back of our closet? There must be hundreds here; are these all yours?

‘Not really; I stole them for you because I know how much you like to read. So take whatever you want; I’m not sure when I’ll ever get to read them all. They seem to be the kind you would enjoy.’

‘I picked up one lying on top of a pile. You’re right; I’ve even read this book… and this one, and this one... Julie, these are my books!’

‘Oh really, so then why not just keep them?’ she giggled. 

I laughed. ‘You sure are full of surprises; that’s not what I expected.’

‘Oh. So what then were you expecting, your silver cross or something more?

Just then, Tony walked inside the closet to join us.

‘That was a helluva lot of books, James. We had to borrow a friend’s lorry to move them from your flat before your landlord threw them out. He was more than happy to get rid of them. By then, everything else was gone in your flat except some of your files and papers that had been dumped on the floor. We saved them in one of these boxes, including your doctoral certificate. Everything else was thrown out or donated to a thrift shop.’

‘I’m delighted you did this for me – thank you. I was distressed last year when I found all my earthly possessions were gone, yet nothing upset me more than my books being gone.

‘The only problem now is, I have no place to put them until I find another flat. My old one has been relet, not that I would want to go back there again. Since returning from Switzerland last week, I’ve been staying at a, how shall I say… cost-efficient hotel.’

‘If it’s okay with Julie,’ Tony said, ‘why not stay here until you find a more permanent place to live? From what I understand, you took a rather big hit a couple of years ago, so you might need a little more time to get back on your feet. We’ll have a spare bedroom next week when Karen, our other roommate, moves out.’

‘What do you think, Julie? Would that be okay with you?’

‘I’m sure we can negotiate something, she said with feigned business demeanour. Do you have a job, references… anything?’  

‘No, I’m sorry, I don’t, at least not at the moment. As you know, I’ve been laid off for some time, so I only have enough money for another week or so. I don’t even have a credit card. I must say, life has become rather challenging as of late.’

‘Don’t worry,’ Tony said, ‘we’ll take you in, won’t we, Julie? If you wish, you can pay us after you earn some money.’

‘How could I say no to the best patient I ever had?’ Julie laughed. ‘So compliant, never complaining, always taking his intravenous…’

‘I’m sure he won’t cause us any problems, Tony said, ‘considering all these books he has to read, he’d probably be quiet enough.’

‘Provided he doesn’t read them at night in my closet.’

‘Unless he’s a closet reader,’ Tony laughed.

‘Thanks to both of you, I would be happy to accept your generous offer. After your roommate, Karen, moves out, I’ll stay temporarily and pay my share as soon as I return to teaching at King’s next month. I hope to be reinstated to my part-time sessional position next semester. If not, I can do some bartending until I get things sorted out. Either way, I’ll soon have enough saved to find a flat.’

‘Unless you wish to remain here,’ Julie said. ‘That way, you won’t have to move your books, and it will be far cheaper to live since we split the rent three ways and share the living expenses.’

[1] St George's University of London is the UK's only university dedicated to medicine, science and health and is located in the same area as the hospital where Julie worked.

 

CHAPTER FIVE

 

PLEASED TO MEET YOU

 

A few days later, Karen moved out of her room, and I moved in. The next couple of weeks were a time of transition while setting the course of my new life in London.

It was good to remove myself from the old hotel and its dubious evening clientele and settle into Julie’s home, where I could share the kitchen and cosy living area with Jule and Tony.

My next challenge was to recover my suitcase and belongings from Kiko. I dreaded contacting her, anticipating she might have, in spite, thrown everything away after jilted her, not that she would have seen it that way.

Nevertheless, she made it easy for me. After texting her to let her know I planned to pick up my clothing that evening, she replied I could come by anytime since she had no use for them.

When I arrived, I found my suitcase and a few other items on the doorstep of her townhouse. I rang her doorbell, thinking, out of courtesy, I would like to thank her for everything and ask how she was doing. Apparently not; it was most evident she had no interest in seeing me again.

I don’t know if she was still angry or just happy to be rid of me, knowing I wouldn’t be interfering with her studies, as she said, or whatever other activities she might have going on. Fortunately, Tony had an old car and was kind enough to offer to take me so I wouldn’t have to lug everything back on the Tube and bus.

My next order of business was to formalise my employment status at the university for the next semester. I earned my colleagues' respect long ago, having achieved a reputation for my lectures and dialogues with the students. Not surprisingly, my contract would remain a part-time sessional, meaning my wages would be no better than before; in fact, they would be less since I had fewer classes. For now, though, while living at Julie’s, that would be more than enough. In the interim, I did some part-time bartending at the King’s Arms pub to pay my share.

Over the fall, we had many animated discussions in the living area about life, philosophy, psychology and everything that interested us. That’s not to say we didn’t have many trite things to talk and joke about; we did; still, that wasn’t our focus. However, when classes resumed in January, we seldom saw each other during the day, with her studying at university and me lecturing at King’s again.

I would have liked to have bonded with her more while living in the same house, yet I thought it might be best if I rented a flat as soon as I got further ahead. Though I was comfortable with my living arrangements there, one of the reasons I thought I needed to move on was the Freddie factor. It was apparent I wasn’t the only player in the game.

For whatever reason, Julie hadn’t told me about Freddie; nevertheless, not long after I moved in, he dropped by one day to see her. I later learned from Tony they had a long-on-and-off-again relationship. Since I didn’t wish to complicate things for them, or, for that matter, myself, I backed away from making whatever overtures I might otherwise have made towards her.

The first time I met him, he walked in the door without knocking, expecting Julie to be home. Instead, he found me reading in the living area, where I was preparing fresh material for my upcoming classes since I found myself questioning much of what I had believed and taught before my coma.

‘Dr Phillips, what are you doing here?’

‘I live here; who are you?’

‘Ah, this is awkward. I’m Frederick, Julie’s friend. Sorry for the intrusion; I was expecting her to be home.’

‘Pleased to meet you, Frederick. So, how did you know my name?’

‘We all knew you at the hospital. You’re quite the legend there, and I must say you’re looking much better than when I last saw you over a year ago.’

‘Thank you; much has changed in my life since then.’

‘I heard Karen was moving out, so you must be Julie’s new roommate… interesting.’

‘Yes, having returned from living in Europe recently, I’m here temporarily until I can save sufficient money to make arrangements to lease an affordable flat. So, do you work at the hospital, Frederick?’

‘Yes, I’m an intern doctor while doing some medical research at St George’s.’

‘So, Dr Phillips, how did you meet Julie?’

‘Please, if you will… James. I just happened to be walking along the Thames and sat on a park bench where Julie happened to be reading a book, presumably studying for class. That’s when she recognised me, having been one of my nurses. To me, she appeared vaguely familiar, although I only saw her while in my state of drug nirvana shortly after being revived from my coma.

‘As it turned out, she had stashed my books away in her closet, so, upon her invitation, I came over to claim them, and that’s when she and Tony invited me to stay here since Karen was about to move out. So here I am, at least for now.’

‘Well, I’m pleased it all worked out. By the way, you might be interested in knowing I might have had a small role in the new laser technology used to awaken you out of your coma.’

‘Really? I’d be interested in hearing more about what was behind that. Julie said it was based on an equation configured with a special light frequency. She also suggested there was some curious intrigue behind it that she thought I would be too sceptical to believe. So she didn’t tell me.’

‘I was just as sceptical, so at first, she was reluctant to tell me much. Finally, she did after I promised to mention the equation to Dr Leonard Levinsky, a respected scientist and friend of mine.

‘After he put it out there, to our surprise, some physicists in the scientific community were interested in deciphering it, possibly because no one knew where the equation came from or who devised it. Since it seemed there might be something to it, word spread online until a young Swedish mathematician and physicist got hold of it and attempted to uncover what seemed a hidden photon frequency.

‘After discovering the code, its harmonic resonances were interpreted and configured for a micro-current laser. And that’s where you came in since you were well on your way out. It was our Hail Mary to you and science. Yet, look at you… here you are; you caught the ball and took it the distance. I was shocked and amazed yet pleased I had a small role in this breakthrough.

‘I’m not a New Age type like Julie seems to have become with all her angel cards, crystals and hypnosis. However, I had a couple of dreams that seemed to indicate the equation’s LY and YZ represented light and sound. Lenard suggested this might be a tip-off to help decode the equation.

‘Interestingly, Leonard, with all his impressive scientific credentials, has a deep appreciation for some of the more esoteric wisdom in his faith’s Hassidic Kabbala tradition in which he was raised. That might be why he took me seriously when I reluctantly told him about these dreams. He now calls me Joseph.[1]

‘Though he didn’t understand what any of this meant, he felt it might be a symbolical relevance to an implicit harmonic resonance within the equation’s structure.

‘Before I approached him, I was concerned about being compromised by something so off the wall. Had Julie not pressured me to tell him, I probably wouldn’t have said anything since it didn’t sound credible, particularly after she told me where she got this.’

‘Most intriguing, Frederick. So where did she get this, since Julie won’t?’

‘That’s not surprising; it took me some coaxing to get it out of her.’

‘Let me get us a couple of pints, and you can tell me what you know and why you thought this might be compromising to your career.’

‘Sure, thanks, and call me Fred; it’s less formal and how most address me, except Julie, who prefers to call me Freddie, possibly because she finds that amusing,’ he chucked.

‘Anyway, cheers!’ he said as we clinked our glasses. So, if you’re ready, hang on; this gets really weird.

‘Apparently, Julie came home late one night from the pub with her friend, Bridgette. While paying the fare, the cabbie gave her his card after scribbling something on the back. It was very late, so she didn’t bother to look at it, assuming he gave her his number so she could hook up with him for drinks sometime. After all, they had a most fascinating, if not provocative, paranormal conversation on the way home.

‘It seemed the driver was from Jamaica, and since Julie seems to have a thing for black men with foreign accents, like her janitor friend at the hospital, she suspected she might have unintentionally sent him some wrong signals. In any case, she found his card in her purse the next day and was about to chuck it out when she noticed the equation scribbled on the back.

‘You mean our infamous equation?’ I exclaimed, looking at him with a you’ve got to be kidding expression.

‘Yeah, bonkers, for sure,’ he said. ‘Except it’s the same jolly equation we used to raise you from the dead. And yet, the story doesn’t end there. Just when Julie was about to throw it away, she noticed the cabbie had written something else below the equation that stopped her cold.’

‘And?’

‘You won’t believe this, James. It was your hospital room number.’

‘What do you mean, my hospital room? Are you sure?’

‘Of course, Julie showed me the card. And, if you asked nicely, she might show you too.’

‘So why didn’t she tell me? – considering how that would have implicated me with the equation.’

‘I guess she didn’t think you were ready to hear this since she probably understands that you, being a modern philosopher, are just as reductionist as me, a scientist. So, who better to hear this story than from another cement head, as she sometimes calls me; possibly that’s why she’s not home yet.’

‘So what’s going on here, Fred? What you’re saying seems even further out than Julie. You must have some explanation.’

‘I don’t; still, after all that’s happened, I wonder if Julie’s not right about some of her out-thereness. Just don’t tell anyone I said so,’ he laughed. ‘I have a career with ambitions.’

‘I know what you mean; she’s come up with some rather strange claims… things of what I supposedly told her in a dream, although I find much of it hard to refute after examining the evidence.

‘Such as what?’

‘Well, just after I came out of my coma, I said some things to her that I shouldn’t have known about… yet she knew, even having proof from what she had written down. Spooky things happening, Fred,’ I laughed.

Since I didn’t want him to suspect something might be going on between her and me, I didn’t say anything about what Julie told me about us exchanging poems while I remained in a coma.

‘So, Fred, what else can you tell me about what happened with the equation?’ I asked.

‘From what Lenny told me, Anders, the young Swede genius deciphering the equation, couldn’t make the big breakthrough where it all came together. Just as he was about to give up, the most surreal thing happened after catching a taxi to MIT. That’s when everything changed for him.

‘Amazingly, the driver had some critical information the mathematician was missing. So, by the time he got to his destination, he had enough clues to figure things out with a new grid. 

For one, the equation’s matrix is implicitly quantum, whereas he had been applying algorithmic assumptions that didn’t provide for superpositions of non-locality. The big clue was Planck’s Constant. That gave him a whole new template to work with, and within a short while, he had cracked the code for a frequency the laser scientists could adapt.’

‘Okay, let’s back up. Just who was this driver? He sounds much like Julie’s cabby friend except on the wrong continent.’

‘He certainly does, and you know what else? Apparently, he too was from the Caribbean and about the same age.’

‘Another happy coincidence, I would say. Can it get any more peculiar than that?’

‘As a matter of fact, it does. When Julie saw the equation and your room number together, she knew something was up and had to get to the bottom of the strange confluence. Finally, after some effort, she ran into her cabbie busking as an opera singer near Trafalgar Square.’

‘What the hell?’

Fred laughed. ‘Bizarre, eh? So they went for a tea nearby and talked about the equation and get this… he claimed you were an old friend of his, supposedly a sailing buddy.’

‘A sailing friend of mine? I have none, at least not since I was a merchant sailor before enrolling at university. I find it extraordinary he could have known that.’

‘Anyway, he didn’t tell her why he linked your room number with the equation. It almost seems like it was a game to him. Or possibly, he wanted her to figure it out for herself, knowing that would really draw her into his scheme once she made the connection.’

‘That was clever. So what happened next?’

‘He snuck out the backdoor, not to be seen again.’

‘That’s it?’          

‘Not quite. Before Julie got home, he had come by and gave Karen a note he had written to give Julie.’

‘So what did it say?’

You’ll have to ask her; she didn’t tell me, saying it was private and wouldn’t make sense to the rest of us uninitiates.’

‘I think I need another pint, Fred. What are we supposed to make of all this? Did this cabbie ever give her his name?’

‘Yes, he told her it was Rhom.’

‘A rather strange name, I would say, but then, everything else about him seems to be out of this world.’

‘Stranger yet, that’s what he seemed to suggest to her… like he’s some off-worlder. But who cares if he messes with her mind; without him, you would have been long dead and gone, never to return. So what do you say to that?’

‘If all this hadn’t come from you, I doubt if I would have believed any of it from Julie. However, since you’re a scientist, this story at least appears more credible than from her. She was right not to tell me. To her credit, she seems to have an uncanny intuition of what we don’t get, as annoying as that might be.’

‘Indeed!’ Fred laughed. ‘I should be going now since it appears Julie isn’t coming any time soon. She’s terrible at returning text messages.’

‘Thanks for cluing me in, Fred... until next time.’

‘The more I thought about it, I realised this was a set-up for Fred to come over. She texted him to come by, yet never said when. When he asked how late, she didn’t respond. So, it seems the plan was for us to meet where things would unfold as they did.

Just as she contrived, Fred made her story more objective and believable so she wouldn’t have to put up with my scepticism. Clever, Julie! Still, I had more questions than ever, such as where the equation originated and how this eccentric cabbie, sometimes opera busker, got hold of it.

Further, how could he have known about me and my hospital room number? And what about claiming we sailed together at one time? If so, when and where? Was it one of the merchant ships I sailed on the Mediterranean over a decade and a half ago? Not likely.

Another thing: What was it about the laser frequency that made me feel like a new man? Could anyone explain that? I now had the vitality of a twenty-year-old and the sexual stamina of a stallion, and my recovery was almost immediate. Even my fractured neck had healed within days of awakening.

I was still thinking about these questions when Julie finally arrived home.

‘Did Freddie come by?’ she asked.

‘He did, and we had a splendid time getting to know each other. Since he knew about the strange drama surrounding the equation that you wouldn’t tell me about, I was fascinated to hear what he had to say. And yet, his bizarre account raises far more questions than answers.’

‘Well, at least you got the facts from him rather than me. As you probably figured out, that was my intent, so perhaps you will now believe me when I tell you all the extraordinary things that have happened to me since you came along.’

‘Sure, at least I now understand what made you so persistent in chasing after an elusive cabbie and his equation, considering it made no sense except having tied it in with your room number. Hopefully, you can fill in some of the other blanks; I’d love to write an article about this someday to tell the world how I was supposedly raised to life.’

‘You should do that, then name it Lazarus 2.0.’

Splendid idea; now let’s catch a bus and find an affordable restaurant where I will treat us to dinner.’

‘No, James, I don’t do buses anymore; I only take taxis to where I wish to go.’

Not only did Julie pay the fare, she also insisted on paying for dinner, too. That was a bit humbling. Still, with what little cash I had, I wasn’t about to argue.

It was our first outing together, so she chose her favourite Italian restaurant, which was charming, if not romantic, perhaps too much so considering Fred’s tenuous relationship with her. I was concerned about treading where I shouldn’t be treading, yet Julie, being an independent spirit, gave no indication she was obliged to him or anyone else. In her mind, it seemed whatever they had going before she left for Australia was now over.

After the meal, Julie asked me, ‘When you  begin to lecture, do you still plan to move out?’

‘Well, maybe. Since you’ve spent years with Fredrich, though not always consistently, I’m concerned about compromising any future relationship you might have with him.’

‘Let me assure you, we are just friends and nothing more; you should know that by now. As far as I’m concerned, he won’t be making a come-back any time soon. He can date whoever he wishes, as will I. Besides, he’s planning to move to America as soon as he lands a lucrative research position in biophysics, whereas I’m not going anywhere.

So, if you thought remaining a roommate might create some conflict, it wouldn’t. I hope you will consider changing your mind and stay as long as you like. I don’t know, possibly it’s because we spent so much time together at the hospital, but I rather enjoy having you around considering you’re now so much more engaging.’ she laughed.

‘So then, you must trust me. You know, in the past, I haven’t had the best reputation with women… I’m sure you’ve heard all about that.’

‘What’s past is past; it’s only the future I’m interested in. Just in case you weren’t aware, I have a black belt to defend myself against aggressors, if necessary, including professors,’ she laughed.

‘Duly noted,’ I said. ‘So Julie, dear, I don’t know if it’s the wine or the candlelight, but allow me to be so bold as to ask if you think we could have something going in the future. I feel we might, but as I’m sure you realise, I have little to offer as an untenured philosopher.’

‘Thanks for asking, James, but let’s not get ahead of ourselves; we should concentrate on being roommates while we get to know each other. We’ve only been together for a short time.’

‘Yes, of course, that is wise. Nevertheless, I’ll let you know when I plan to move out after I get caught up paying my arrears.’

‘Don’t worry about it, James; I have everything covered, although probably not as much as your friend Kiko. Still, I have more than enough to carry us both,’ she smiled.

The next day, being a Saturday, I went for another long walk along the Thames. Tony was out, and Julie planned to be at the library researching a paper she was preparing for one of her psychology classes. 

After walking a few miles, I sat at the same park bench where we met that fortuitous day this fall. I remembered how, through her tears, she recognised me. I know we sensed the same magic; still, neither was willing to admit it, at least not yet.

Also, I thought about our dinner conversation last night and how Julie made it clear that Fredrick would not be a problem if I wished to remain a roommate and become close friends with her. I didn’t know if this signalled her interest in taking our relationship to the next level since her choice of a romantic restaurant left me with that impression. It seemed most promising, although she slightly rebuffed me when I asked if she saw me in her future. At least she handled it with grace and common sense.

For now, I wouldn’t make any overtures to her; instead, I would remain her friendly roommate, although I might find it hard to stay out of her bedroom while lying awake at night, longing to snuggle in with her. Though there was a physical attraction, there was something significantly more that felt like an inward connection from long ago. Of course, that made no sense.

The only one I felt such emotions with was Sister Máire long ago in my first year of undergraduate studies. I smiled when I thought of how, all those years ago, I fell in love with this young novitiate (noviciate) nun, even attempting to seduce her in my room. Whatever Máire had, Julie had too, only without that grim habit attire.

The following week, I received my first paycheck from the tavern and couldn’t wait to take care of my portion of rent and hydro, which was far less than living in the flat I had before. In fact, just a third. It was a good feeling to pay my way and not be beholden to anyone. I didn’t realise what stress this had caused me when with Kiko, feeling as if I couldn’t make it on my own.

This time, I took Julie out to celebrate, paying the taxi faire and the dinner tab. The dinner at an East Indian buffet was less expensive, and the atmosphere more austere. Yet, we had a stimulating conversation where she filled in some of my questions regarding the equation saga.

‘Freddie couldn’t have told you what Rhom told me in the diner by where he was busking,’ she said, ‘because I didn’t tell him, nor could he have told you what was in the letter he brought before I got home.’

‘So, are you going to tell me?’

‘I might, but not everything... some of what he said were personal; still, I can read you the poem. I keep a copy in my purse because it helps to inspire me.’    

‘I’d love to hear it, if I may.’

‘Sure, okay. Here it is, called. THE ELIXIR. You can read it for yourself.’

 

Awaken, my child.
You know the ancient song.

Sing it now.
Sing it as a poem, sing it as a prayer,
… sing it in a whisper,
But always… sing it in love.
   For Love is all that is.
Nothing more is required,
   And so it remains.

 

‘That’s rather different,’ I said after reading it. ‘So what does it mean, and why is it entitled The Elixir?’

I never saw him again to explain it to me. I suspect, however, the ancient song has something to do with releasing a universal frequency – a frequency, seemingly, of light and love.’

‘Frequency of love. I’ve never heard of such a thing.’

‘Why not? Love must be the highest frequency in the universe upon which all truth derives since God is love. I realise you don’t believe in God, or at least don’t think you do; nevertheless, this poem caused me to do what it asked. And so I sought out the song with what seemed the highest vibration for me.’

‘So what does this have to do with the equation?’

‘I’m not certain, but it might have somehow served as a carrier wave for the equation’s light code. In fact, I talked to Freddy’s friend, Leonard, about this, and he suggested that light and sound were required to release and activate the internal harmonics of your DNA coding. Without this, all else would only be dissonance. Beyond that, I don’t understand much about the science.

‘In any case, I felt compelled to interpolate the melody of Ave Marie with my own words as the laser was being focused on your pineal gland. Because of Rhom’s poem, I sang it silently within my heart, projecting my highest frequency of love towards your body. It may sound strange to you, but I think that’s why he wanted me to offer it as a heartfelt prayer so the light would carry through with maximum vibratory import.

‘At the time, I wasn’t sure if it helped, although Leonard seemed to think a merging of frequencies might have occurred. Since he understands the mechanics of sound, among many other things, he also has some unique insights into this from the Kabbala, suggesting the melody of healing love that I projected on you was a most rarified and exquisite frequency.

‘And what does Fred think about this theory?’

‘Though I’ve never asked him, he told me before your laser surgery that he had a couple of peculiar allegorical dreams that seemed to feature the equation’s LZ as light and the YZ as sound, causing water portals to burst open through a wall in a desert. Then, the land came alive, yielding crops and gardens. Fred suggested to me that in his dream, the water might have symbolised consciousness. Again, I don’t know the physics of all this. It seems quantum scientists have a better idea; I’m just happy to have had this role in your brain’s reactivation.’

‘Your story is fascinating, Julie, if not intriguing. But you know something? Now that you mentioned it, I recall hearing the melody of Ave Maria being sung just before I awakened. I might have already been semi-conscious, so I wonder if that was a projection of what you silently sang to my mind and body. I would not have thought anything like this possible.’ 

‘Again, my dear Horatio, let me remind you what we recently discussed. There are more things in heaven and earth… than are dreamt of in your philosophy.’

‘Yes, my dear Hamlet, that’s becoming increasingly evident the more I’m with you,’ I laughed. ‘Sometimes, the old parameters of my philosophy feel too constraining, making me want to kick the walls out further. My teaching of epistemology, cosmology, ontology, and reductionist positivism may never be quite the same. I don’t know if I have you or my coma to blame for  altering my mind to view things so differently.’

‘Or maybe you’re just beginning to dream bigger dreams to see, as Hamlet said, more things in heaven and earth.’

‘Yes, it seems my world, be it in heaven or earth, has been exponentially expanding ever since I met you… you’re dangerous!’

‘Aren’t all women, at least from the male perspective? As I’m sure you’re aware, psychological studies show how women, being right-brain oriented, are more heart-centred. Men, being left-brain oriented, tend to be more analytical and linear in their thinking. Perhaps that’s why we need each other to see things more holistically. If that’s how we were created, it’s important to affirm our differences to achieve a greater union of heart-feminine and mind-masculine.’

‘That’s an interesting socio-psychological thought. By the way, Julie, I’m enjoying our conversation. I hope we can have more of these exquisite discussions in the future, you from your psychological perspective and me from my philosophical understanding.’

‘I look forward to it, James.’

A most encouraging comment, I thought as I paid the bill. More encouraging still was how she snuggled up to me in the back seat of the taxi on the way home. I held my hand over where she placed hers on my knee. And yes, it felt good… body, soul and mind. It would still take a while, yet it seemed things were going my way, at least for now.

[1] In the Old Testament’s Book of Exodus, Joseph had dreams that were later fulfilled, to his brothers’ chagrin.

 

CHAPTER SIX

 

MY OL’ FRIEND, MIGUEL

 

My first day back at university felt like a hero’s welcome. The students who didn’t know about my accident over two years ago soon heard the news of my recovery, heralded to one and all across campus. Not just that I survived the fall in Chili, but that I had survived almost a year in a coma and still had my marbles.

Some of the more informed students heard I had spent most of the last year in Switzerland with an exotic Asian billionaire heir, a former student on campus who was now enrolled at LSE. Some knew of Kiko and how that stay might have made for a rather interesting, if not stimulating retreat.

Many wanted to know more about what happened on my ill-fated mountain climbing expedition and how I was able to survive a coma for all that time. I responded by turning my situation into a hypothetical philosophical discussion as to whether thoughts can be experienced while comatose, where nothing appears to be happening. Is it possible to dream in such a state or even have some subliminal awareness? Then we discussed medical ethics and when it’s appropriate to pull the plug on patients such as me. It was a great way to kick off my return and the new semester.

I had already met with my colleagues a month earlier for a faculty meeting to discuss the curriculum and how to be more relevant to new students. There was a push for higher enrollment in our department since it had experienced some attrition, resulting in fewer classes. Of course, this was most relevant to those not tenured, including sessionals such as me, since our job depended on attracting new students in the undergraduate and graduate programmes.

The situation concerned me, considering I was again at the bottom of the tenure totem pole, looking for a way to shimmy my way up. Later, I went for a coffee near the campus with a colleague who, like me, was a sessional instructor when not attending classes to complete his doctoral requirements.

Luc St Pierre, was a French Canadian who had enrolled at King’s after graduating at McGill in Montreal with a Master’s Degree in Eastern Religious Studies in the Faculty of Religion and Theology. Like me, he was looking for a way to break into the system where he could hopefully find tenure one day.

If not, his default position was to return to Canada, where he could find a lectureship, possibly at some community college, to work his way up from there. In that sense, we were in similar positions, except he had an employed wife to help support him.

I first met Luc at a symposium of comparative religions featuring scholars that presented various mystical traditions through the ages, including Vedantic Buddhism, Persian Sufism, Jewish Hiseticism, Gnosticism and a variety of Christian mystics such as Jacob Boem, Meister Eckhart, Teresa of Avila and Saint Francis.

Most philosophers in my department, having been oriented to the reductionist-atheist perspectives of Bertrand Russel and AJ Ayer, couldn’t be bothered to participate in this esteemed confluence of religious scholarship. Having witnessed Luc’s open-minded attitude, I was curious enough to step away from my materialist prejudices to hear what these speakers had to say.

Not only was he the perfect cohort for discussing these esoteric traditions, Luc had spent a few years as a free spirit drifter, living in various ashrams in the Middle East and northern India, including Tibet, before enrolling in undergraduate studies. All this, juxtaposed against his family’s Roman Catholic background.

I, on the other hand, had little exposure to mysticism, or religion for that matter. However, I recalled how my late friend Dr Jan Merta encouraged me to delve into these and other writings while enrolled in my graduate studies at the University of Calgary in Canada. Somehow, I didn’t get around to it. Now, realising how little I knew, I wish I had.

  ‘Tell me, James,’ Luc asked, ‘what it was like to emerge from your coma; was there anything you consider mystical about the experience, or was it more like waking out of a deep sleep? Don’t be afraid; you can tell me… I won’t say anything,’ he smiled.

‘I haven't said much about this to anyone apart from Julie, my girlfriend or, hopefully, soon-to-be girlfriend. Although I don’t know how much I imagined, with the assistance of morphine, coming out seemed to be one bloody mind trip, even better than I had while doing hallucinogenics as an undergraduate. Interestingly, much of it came after I awoke, sometimes in fragments, so there’s not much I can say that would make sense to you.’

‘Still, can you describe how it felt?’

‘If anything, I’d say it was surreal, as if I was out of my body, floating in space, deep in a vortex of darkness, then emerging into a realm of light where there was nothing except my thoughts, not even a body.’

‘Did that frighten you, to be nowhere, yet aware of the void?’

‘To the contrary, all I remember was a state of what some mystics might call nirvana. I can’t remember much more, except I thought I heard someone singing a melody that sounded much like Ave Maria. Interestingly, Julie said she sang that to me in the operating room, silently projecting its frequency to me.

‘But how would it have occurred to her that she should do that,’ Luc asked.

‘You would have to ask Julie. All I can tell you is that some taxi driver wrote her a poem suggesting she do something like that. I even saw the verses about an ancient song she was to sing. As I recall, the words were: Sing it as a poem, sing it as a prayer, sing as a whisper, but always sing it in love.’

‘This is getting weird, James… I love it!’

‘One more thing; just as I woke from the coma, I shouted at Julie with just one word: YOU!’

‘That’s odd; why would you do that?’

‘All I can say is that I’ve had a few flashbacks of being pushed off a cliff, yet how could I have unless it’s possible to dream while in a coma?’  

‘I’m finding this a bit overwhelming, James. So, who is this taxi driver that wrote her a poem?’

‘I don’t think I should say more because things get even more bizarre.’

‘No, I want to hear it all… I like bizarre. Don’t forget I’ve seen some extraordinary things while wandering through the Middle East, in and out of ashrams. Maybe you can fill me in more next time; for now, though, I need to pick up Kathleen.

‘By the way, James, would you be willing to speak to my Eastern Mystic class about what you told me about coming out of your coma? I think they may find this most fascinating.’

‘Why not? If they’re enrolled in a class like yours, they don’t sound like the kind of crowd that would give me a hard time. I’m not sure I could say the same for my colleagues, who remain far too narrow for me to share my story.’

After my time with Luc, I was about to take the Tube back to my roommates when I decided to walk through the streets of Central London to find a place to eat. I had plenty of energy and wanted to soak in more of the ambience of its commercial district, not to mention some of the drizzle in the air.

Midway, I stopped at Café Lido, a busy diner near Trafalgar Square, not realising this was where Rhom and Julie met when he was busking on the street corner that day. I sat down for a simple order of British-style fish and chips, an old favourite I hadn’t had for a long while.

As I was having my meal, it felt like someone was staring at me. However, I didn’t bother to turn around since I was preoccupied with eating. After finishing, I got up to pay my bill and looked to see if someone in the back corner was watching me. And there he was, grinning; my astrophysicist friend, who went AWAL over ten years ago, except he hadn’t aged, looking identical if not younger than back then.

‘I can’t believe it!’ I said. ‘What in bloody hell are you doing here, Miguel?’

‘Great fish and chips, eh, mate?’

‘No, I mean back in London. After all these years, I had given up on ever seeing you again. So, what have you been up to?’

‘Besides keeping an eye on the galaxies, I did a little sailing with a friend to explore a few islands in the South Pacific.[1] So how about you, Sebastian?’

‘Sebastian? No one has called me that since I saw you last, well over ten years ago.’

‘Really, has it been that long? I thought it was more recent, say a couple of years ago.’

‘Well, anyway, I was in a coma for almost a year, then spent most of last year in Switzerland, so no, I haven’t been doing any sailing for some time.’

‘Yes, I know all about your fall – glad you found your way back to this plane of existence since you still have some work to do here. Regardless, let me congratulate you on graduating with your doctorate in philosophy. I knew you could do it. So, now that you’ve returned to Earth as you know it, what do you plan to do with the rest of your life?’

‘Well, I’m lecturing at King's, hoping to get tenured someday to secure my career as a philosopher.’

‘I think you can do better than that, Sebastian.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I’m sure you’ll find out soon enough. Hang on; things are about to get wild for you and will remain that way for years to come.’

‘How do you know that?’

‘It’s in the stars, and if anyone knows the stars, I do,’ he chuckled.

‘Okay, fine; so why are you here in London? I assumed you had returned to Portugal. Or are you trying to get your job back at Reading as an astrophysicist? If so, I don’t think that’s going to happen, having abruptly disappeared last time. They said you didn’t even give notice.’

‘I’m sure they have gotten over it by now; meanwhile, I’ve moved on, as have you. We have work to do before the world gets even crazier.’

‘What kind of work?’ I asked.

‘You won’t know until you are ready.’

‘What kind of answer is that? Nothing has changed with you; you look just the same and still talk in riddles. I’m never sure what to think.’

‘You mean even after all those years of studying philosophy, you still don’t know what to think?’

‘To be honest, less now than ever. So what do the stars say will happen? I thought you were an astronomer, not an astrologist.’

‘Either way, it will soon be exposed for all to see.’

‘What’s going to be exposed?’

‘This planet is about to go through an upheaval, but for good reasons. Before anything good can happen, evil must first be brought to light, like a wound needs to be cleansed before it can heal.

‘The deep state, which controls many of the world’s governments, pharmaceutic companies, world agencies, NGOs, media and various tech conglomerates, will all conspire and collude to silence the masses, enervating them with fear. I suspect many will become hysterical, fearing a sickness that could easily be cured with a few simple solutions that have been available for decades. By hollowing out the souls of humanity, these forces will win over power and money like they always do.

‘Because of the continuing low ebb of human consciousness, the masses will do whatever they’re told until they come to regret their compliance after learning how they were duped. By the time the corruption is exposed, it might be too late for many.

‘Every demon in hell has been waiting centuries for this, though few on earth will see its portals open. Only those with eyes to see will realise what is unfolding.’

‘I don’t know where you get this, Miguel. It all sounds rather apocalyptic, so why should I believe you?’

‘Because I told you.’

‘Okay, but do you have any objective proof for any of this?’

‘Nothing is inevitable; it depends on humanity waking up and becoming aware of this trajectory of events. Nevertheless, the goal of the dark forces is to depopulate the earth to about five hundred million, less than ten per cent of its current population. These enemies are not just in your world; they include nefarious galactic powers who wish to take over your planet's resources without resistance.’

‘That sounds like one of those conspiracy theories that keep floating about. I put little stock in any of them.’

‘Have you heard of the Georgia Guidstones?’

‘No, I haven’t; what’s that about?’

‘You might want to check them out; they were erected anonymously by the deep state in 1980, almost forty years ago in Georgia, USA.’

‘If you want something concrete, it’s all there to see, etched in stone.’

‘What’s etched in stone?

‘Their agenda, including their declaration to depopulate the world.’

‘So why haven’t I heard about this?’

‘Like almost everyone else, you haven’t been paying attention. Bad actors in the cosmos must first declare what they intend to do, yet no one seems to notice, least of all, the corrupt media bought and paid for by the deep state who controls most of the world’s institutions.’

‘I don’t know, Miguel; I’ll check into these Guidestones, although I’m sure it’s nothing more than someone’s vision for an ideal world they consider overpopulated.’

‘Speaking of an ideal world, I understand you now have a cute lassie in your life.’

‘I’m not sure how you know that since it’s a little early to say; still, I hope that might soon be the case. I like her, in fact, a lot, even though she keeps pestering me to practise a hypnotic regression therapy for one of her classes.’

‘Then I recommend you go along with what she is offering.’

‘But why? Over some dreams, she seems to think I had while in my coma.’

‘Yes, for that reason and a whole lot more.’

‘I don’t believe in that sort of thing… sounds preposterous. People always make things up.’

‘I’ll bet they do. Especially you.’

‘What do you mean, me?’

‘Have you looked in your computer files at work?’

‘No, I’ve been meaning to go through these; it will take some time since I’ve accumulated over two years of emails I still need to delete. Before I do, I want to make sure there’s nothing in the files that’s of significance. So, why do you ask?’

‘I predict you might find a message of considerable interest to you. Then, note its email address.’

‘How do you know this? – unless there’s something from you.’

‘Just look in your files; then we can talk.’

Later, we parted the diner as he went his way, and I went mine. I left with plenty to think about as I walked home. Miguel was always an enigma, and that hadn’t changed, even more so now.

When I returned home, Julie was reading a book in our living area while Tony was upstairs in his room. I could hardly wait to tell her who I met at the diner and what we discussed.

‘After I recounted much of my conversation with Miguel, she said, ‘I’d love to meet this man; he sounds fascinating. He seems to be a seer like my taxi driver, Rhom, so I think you should take him seriously.’

‘Yet all that talk of a deep-state takeover seems a bit extreme. There are always fear-mongers out there shouting wolf.’

‘And there are always those who don’t listen or heed warnings when most needed, or have you forgotten about Mao, Stalin and Hitler, not to mention those closer to home? Remember, there were over one hundred and fifty million souls snuffed out by these tyrants last century. Does that not seem a bit extreme?’

‘It does, yet I really don’t think that would happen again.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘Well, no, we can’t be sure of anything. I suppose anything is possible in a world of relatively low awareness. In fact, Miguel said something about a declaration inscribed in the Georgia Guidstones that calls for the world’s population to be reduced to just a half billion. Apparently, it was erected almost forty years ago, declaring a new global order.

‘But what if there actually was some evil intent concealed in a humanist guise, wanting to do something like this… shouldn’t we be warned?’

‘Still, if there truly is some nefarious plot, I’m sure the free world’s governments and military can deal with it when the time comes.’

‘And what if these powers are in on it? – there are less spoils to divide.’

‘That’s a chilling thought. It almost seems he wants me to get involved in the resistance or maybe even lead it.’

‘And how do you feel about that?’

‘It would take whole nations and armies to oppose a 1984[2] Orwellian dystopia, not just one man, let alone a part-time lecturer no one has heard of.’

‘Regardless, I think you should listen to him and remain vigilant, ready to arise if and when necessary. I like a warrior who stands for something. So when are you seeing him again?’

‘We didn’t make any plans; however, he knows where he can find me if he wants. Oh, this reminds me; he told me to go through my email files for a message someone sent me, possibly when I was in a coma. I planned to purge my mail anyway since thousands of obsolete messages need to be deleted.’

‘Yet, how would he know about a specific message unless he sent it?’

‘Don’t ask… he didn’t say who it was from or what it was about, so I’ll have a look carefully when I have time tomorrow after work. Possibly, it’s something he sent me while I was in a coma, not realising my condition. However, that would be surprising, not having seen or heard from him for over ten years.’

The following day, I caught the Tube as usual. Since I didn’t have any classes to teach until later in the afternoon, I thought I’d spend some time trying to recover the email Miguel was determined I find. I suspected this might take a while after accumulating thousands of now mostly irrelevant messages over the last two years.

It took me hours to delete all the emails while scouring to find a message that might seem suspiciously different from the rest. By noon, I was tempted to delete them all en mass until, just after returning from lunch, I hit paydirt.

Most shockingly, the address was from Julianne, sent in March 2017. So, how would she know my email, and even if she did, why would she send me a message while I was in a coma? None of this made sense, so obviously, this was someone’s prank.

I opened the email and read it slowly, with increasing fascination. It read:

 

Hello Julianne, my sweet Nightengale; I hope you don’t mind me borrowing your computer for a few minutes to dash a few lines off to you. I think it’s time we had a chat since there are a few things you ought to know about me and about what’s going on between us.

But first, let me commend you on your house party tonight; it brought back some fond memories from back when I was one of these young louts. 

Oh, I’m sorry; did I forget to introduce myself? In case you’re wondering, I’m Dr James Phillips, the charming gentleman residing in room 3017 at your workplace. That’s right; where you feed me my no-frill, liquid diet. It’s okay, though; I don’t mind since I’m not that hungry these days, as you probably noticed.

So, my dear, let me be honest with you; this patient isn’t who you see. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be writing this message to you from your bedroom now, would I?

I realise you probably think of me as just another stiff in your ward who does nothing but sleep all day. Not so! I hardly sleep; just when I want to – it’s more like an old habit I enjoy - settles my mind. 

I just wanted you to know there’s much more to me than what you’re aware of or have seen, although you’ve probably already seen plenty. LOL! That’s okay; I don’t mind. It’s what you get paid for… right?

As I said, the person you think is me, the one you care for, isn’t me… not actually. Think of him more as my associate holding my place on earth. I call him the fall guy. Get it, fall – guy. Isn’t that amusing? He’s the bloke who took the fall for me in the Andes. You might say that’s where we parted company, although I’m not even sure if we’ll get back together again. That might be up to you, dear.

As for me, the less apparent me, I spend a lot of time these days discussing philosophy, going for hikes, playing chess and cards, and, sometimes, strumming my friend’s guitar. I currently stay with a couple of jolly chaps at some quaint mountain lodge high up on a summit, somewhere far off in the Chilean Andes… you know, where I had my fall. It’s no coincidence I’ve been hanging out there for about as long as you and the fall guy have known each other. 

I must say, I could never have imagined any of this happening when I left London last December. Now, we travel the world faster than you can imagine. In fact, it’s more than fast since we can do it in no-time, not even having to traverse space. That’s how I got here tonight. It’s all about quantum projection. Isn’t that wild?

You would never believe where my companions are from, so I won’t bother to tell you; it’s complicated, except to say they’re very far out. Hard to believe, and yet they were the ones who told me all about you.

I think I have more in common with them than anyone I’ve ever met on earth before, except maybe for you. We’ll see. That’s why you and I need to find a way to connect to get to know each other better. 

You know, it wasn’t that long ago when the three of us dropped by one night to visit you at work. Not just you, though; the fall guy, too. Still, I would much prefer to be with you. I must say, I was most impressed with how well you’ve been taking care of him. 

Oh, by the way, how about that intimate moment we shared? And I mean… really intimate. Never before have I had a woman come on to me like that. I didn’t see it coming… before I knew it, you went right in and through me.

I hope it was as good for you as it was for me. Possibly you don’t remember, although I sure do; I liked it… a lot. So, just for fun, we should try it again sometime, only slower next time, so we can really get into each other. (Smile!)

For now, I admit to feeling a bit envious of how the fall guy gets all your attention while I get none. I even hear you sometimes spend the whole night together. Who knows, possibly you’re with him right now. 

Anyway, should you ever get bored with him and wish to get together with the real me, I’m sure we can find a way, even if we’re stuck in different dimensions. Anyway, let’s work on it and see what we can come up with. I think you’ll find I’m not like him at all; he has no personality and never wants to do anything or go anywhere except lie there. Sure, he’s quite the hunk, but then so am I, and in much better shape… in fact, never better.

Did you know I can see you any time I want? Since I like what I see, you’ve already made the shortlist. Just joking… get used to it; it’s part of my charm. You’ll need a sense of humour around me. Some women take themselves way too seriously, especially those I work with. When they call me sexist, I laugh and tell them it’s true… I love sex, just not with them! 

You might think I don’t have substance in your world; however, if you give me a chance, I’ll make up for it in other ways. In any case, I’m confident you will find me a splendid, if not engaging chap; considerate and always ready for a good time… if you know what I mean. Unfortunately… without the fall guy, I’m not much good for you, at least not physically. 

By now, you’re probably wondering what I’m doing in your bedroom. Well, it could be worse. At least I’m not listening in on your conversations, reading your emails or chaperoning you on your dates to see how far you go. I would never do any of that unless you approved. I think of myself more as a benign observer than an intruder; I hope you don’t mind.

Which reminds me.. what were you searching for in your pockets and purse while on the bus tonight? And yes, I was there with you, right across the aisle. You seemed frustrated at not finding whatever you were looking for… so what was that? Let me know... perhaps I can help you find it. 

    I know how it feels; I recently lost my pendant and silver cross that hung around my neck for good luck on my mountain ascent. It seems they went missing after I had my spill. Although I’m not sure, these might have found their way back to London with the fall guy. That’s what my companions seem to think. So, if you find anything, please hang on to them until I’m back with the fall guy. Until then, maybe wear the cross while you think of me.

Also, before I forget, I left you a secret code on your work computer. You might have deleted it, so I’ll tell you what it meant. It said 6,792 M. Remember? That’s the height of the mountain I climbed in meters, probably twenty or thirty miles southwest of Mount Aconcagua, the tallest mountain in the Western Hemisphere. 

If you wish to research this, you’ll know it’s true. I’m giving you this information to help prove to you that I’m with you, at least in spirit. Who else do you know that could do that? 

Well, I suppose I should close now. It sounds like some of your wild friends are still partying below… and who knows what else. 

Oh, one more thing before I leave. What’s with this Freddy bloke that keeps showing up in your email? Is there something going on between you and him? I hope not. If there is, tell him to get lost. Once I get into form, so to speak, you’ll soon find that you can do much better with me, the fall guy.

I wish I could leave you this message, although that might not be a good idea. Regardless, it felt good to write it. It’s a shame you’ll never see this. I wonder… Ah, I know; I just thought of it. I’ll send this to my cloud account at university; then, when I’m back with the fall guy, I can share this master of parody with you so we can have a good laugh. Then you’ll know how much I wanted to share this evening with you. 

Meanwhile, I’ll see what I can do to find a way for us to connect that won’t spook you. I wonder if we could meet in your dreams. That might be a fun way to spend the night. What do you think? I just need to figure out how.

Well, good night, Julianne. I’ve enjoyed doing this meandering monologue. If you ever get a chance to read it, I hope it will bring a smile to your face.

 

Sincerely,

Dr James Phillips

(Aka, the fall guy)

 

Ps: In the future, call me James… no need to be formal.

Pps: I was profoundly impressed with your proficient manoeuvres earlier at the party. That poor wretch is probably still writhing on the floor.

Ppps: Be sure to give your fall guy a peck on the cheek next time you see him. I’m sure he would appreciate it even if he doesn’t say so.[3]

 

I sat there stunned. Then I read it again, this time trying to make sense of what made no sense, and even more bizarre, the message had Julianne’s email address. What was she up to? Should I ask or wait for her to confess her mischief? I could think of no reason why she would do this, least of all to mess with my mind, even if she could make this up.

I knew it couldn’t have been from me; I was in a coma in the hospital, not sitting at the computer in Julie’s bedroom. So, if it wasn’t her or me, it must have been Miguel since he was the only one who knew about the email. The problem with that is he didn’t even know Julie or have a key to her home. So, who else could it be?

Still, the message was amusing and most fanciful to suggest I could be partying on top of the mountain I had attempted to peak before my fall. Most hilarious was the claim I was happily composing this message in her bedroom. What a laugh; whoever the prankster that wrote this must have had quite the imagination.

Before showing this to Julie, I needed to talk to Miguel to find out what he had to say and how he knew about this prank message. The problem was I had no idea where to contact him or when I might see him again. So, until then, it would have to remain a mystery. And if he didn’t know, it would remain a mystery.

For the next few days, I brooded on the email, carrying a copy with me to read to see if I could read something between the lines that might give a clue about what it meant and who wrote it.

I remembered how Julie insisted we exchanged the lines we wrote to each other.  First with me in my room that night with her after my awakening, and then her at the park bench where we both seemed to be in a semitrance as the words flowed out. She even showed me what she recorded in her diary while on a retreat in Camber. Still, I had no explanation as to why I recited some of these lines to her while in my stupor.

Considering all this, was it possible I actually was the author of the email message, just as it said? Was I the prankster even though I was in a coma that whole time? At least my body was. So, what else was going on with me?  Was I a ghost? A suberbly ridiculous question, yet what was the alternative?

Everything this message implied went contrary to what I believed. Though I was interested in learning more about Luc’s research on mystical traditions, I remained first and foremost agnostic, where nothing like this could have ever happened… not in my material world.

The following evening, I saw Julie studying in her bedroom and asked if we could chat for a moment.

‘Of course,’ she said. ‘So, James, I’ve been meaning to ask if you found that mysterious email Miguel mentioned?’

I lied, saying I was still looking since I didn’t wish her to know about it since that would probably have led to her regressing me. However, since hypnotism was contrary to my beliefs, I was too proud to subject myself to what I refused to believe was possible. She was disappointed since she really wanted to get to the bottom of what might have been happening when we were supposedly exchanging poems while on her Camber retreat.

If she found out about the contents of the email message, she would be even more insistent. I thought about why I remained so resistant, and it seemed to come down to my need to be right because if not, my whole intellectual edifice would come tumbling down as invalid. Already, I was being challenged enough by Julie and Luc to expand the scope of my vision with more of their esoterica.

 Since my colleagues were firmly entrenched in established secular prejudices, I needed to fit in if I ever hoped to advance towards tenure as a full philosopher. Until then, it meant putting on blinkers.

The only crack in my armour was this email and Luc, who provided respectability to alternative perspectives, having studied several credible sources among the ancient sages that supported his position.

From what he told me about his background, I knew he grew up in a large Catholic family in a French community not far from Montreal, Quebec. As an intelligent young man, he became aware of the medieval Catholic mystics, reading everything he could get his hands on. This interest led him to pursue other esoteric traditions, including the Russian writings of Gurdjieff and Ouspenki.

Like Gurdjieff, or because of Gurdjieff,[4] he was inspired to begin his pilgrimage, seeking enlightenment from sages he encountered while working through these countries. While in Armenia on an archaeological dig, he met his future wife, an anthropology major.

After this, he returned to the West, spending several months at a commune in Big Sur, California, before getting married and enrolling at McGill to study for his undergraduate degree. He then graduated in East Asian Religious Studies and was accepted for doctoral studies at King’s a few years after I graduated from Edinburgh. Without Luc, I’m not sure how I would have made my intellectual transition from the Western secular mindset to seeing the broader picture of non-material reality. In many ways, he opened my mind to what I would soon be encountering.

Our intellectual discussion began after the symposium, where we started to meet regularly for coffee since I had plenty of time as a sessional instructor, waiting my turn to get taken seriously by the authorities. Once, when we met at the Duke of York pub in the Bloomsbury district, where he worked bartending on weekends, he asked me how I conceived of God.

‘I don’t,’ I said. ‘At best, I’m a Spinozian agnostic.’

‘You know, James, the word agnostic; if you remove the letter a, you are left with gnostic. That’s what I am. Just like atheism, without the a, you are left with theism. So, if you don’t wish to subscribe to theism, why not try Gnosticism? You might be surprised where it takes you.’

‘So what’s the difference? Both are about God.’

‘And so they are; nevertheless, theism often connotates a lower-order personified understanding of God. But how can the infinite be understood in finite terms? I’m sure you’re well aware of the term anthropomorphism.’

‘Yes, of course.’

‘Then, you would understand the folly of projecting human qualities onto God. That’s why God, the Source, is often outwardly represented as a tyrannical and capricious God of judgment and punishment in many ancient religions, including references in the Torah and a few inferences in the New Testament. Much of these reflected the cantankerous disposition of the prophets in that era.’

‘I don’t believe in the Bible, much less the Torah.’

‘As a fledgeling scholar of ancient religious writings,’ he said, ‘I don’t necessarily believe everything either, yet we need to understand that scriptures correctly represent how religious cultures in those times regarded less-than-flattering representations of God. Regardless, I’m convinced many of these books and passages were divinely inspired and beautifully so. After all, it’s not just one book; rather, it’s many books written over centuries by many authors with a multitude of perspectives.

‘As an exception to this harsh perception of God, Gnostics throughout the Middle East have not thought of God as being out there in a subject-object relationship so much as being at one within us. And in that sense, we might be considered gods, or at least an expression of the divine spark within, that which we call the soul.’

‘Many in the Christian world might regard that statement as heretical.’

‘And so they may, except it was written by a Jewish writer in the Old Testament named David.[5] You might have heard of him.

‘Then, much later, this passage was quoted by no less than Yeshua in the New Testament to stave off the religious leaders and intellectuals among the Pharisees and Sadducees. He seemed to have caught them off guard, and they didn’t know what to say except to condemn him for claiming to be God.

‘Things haven’t changed much; it seems many religious leaders and theologians don’t know their Bible as well as they claim, only the parts they wish to know, or they wouldn’t ignore these passages by rationalising them to mean something other than what was intended.’[6]

‘I supposed not; as a philosopher, I’m chagrined to admit I’ve never heard this perspective before. If true, your understanding could be a game-changer for me… I’ll have to think about it.’

‘We can discuss more about matters later,’ Luc said, ‘but first, I’d like you to try reading a few selected works by D.T. Suzuki and Allan Watts. That may be the best way to gain a more intelligible orientation to this higher ground of understanding.’

‘I’ve heard of them, although I haven’t read any of their works.

‘Go to the library; I’m sure you will find most of their books.’

‘Okay, I’ll do that. However, I have another question for you. If God exists, where does he, she or it come from? As far as I know, no one has ever been able to answer that… maybe you will be the first.’

‘At a later date, I would be pleased to discuss what’s beyond human comprehension; for now, though, just remember that the time-space continuum is a finite three-D conceit, a matrix construct too small for a God who is, in essence, the universe’s infinite matrix.’

‘So, you’re saying, get over it, it’s a bad question.’

‘I suspect you’re already over it, although your monkey mind probably isn’t. I can tell that the real you, your true essence, already belongs to a higher realm of enlightenment where such questions are meaningless.’

‘What makes you think I’m enlightened?’

‘Enlightenment is an ongoing process related to conscious awareness. The fact we’re having this conversation shows you already have your foot inside the door to the School of Athens. I believe there’s a lot more to you than you’re aware. Though I might not be able to explain how I know this, my intuition tells me this is so, at least provisionally. I suspect something happened to you while you were in your coma, something your mind is not yet aware of.’

‘Julie says that too, even though I was unconscious the whole time.’

‘Are you sure of that?’

‘I’m not sure of anything these days. Julie believes we were communicating during her sleep, and yet, how does that make sense? It doesn’t.’

‘Then let me ask you, what if these nocturnal communications could transcend what you experience in the third dimension? Regardless, I recommend you read Allan Watts to help open your mind to new possibilities, then try to meditate for at least an hour every day to declutter certain intellectual presuppositions that no longer serve you. Then, see what happens… you might be surprised.’

‘Possibly I would be,’ I laughed. ‘I’m more open-minded than I was, thanks to Julie.’

After teaching my Epistemology class, I went to the library to check out Alan Watts’ books, The Way of Zen and The Supreme Identity, and then D.T Suzuki’s Mysticism: Christian and Buddhist. I planned to start reading these tonight. Julie said she would be at the library until late doing more ground research for her upcoming Master’s thesis next year so that I would have the house to myself. Tony often worked as a server at an Italian restaurant in the evenings.

I wasn’t sure why my mind seemed to function better than before my coma. Something had shifted in my reality that was most significant. With concentration, I was able to read and comprehend profound books such as these within hours rather than days. Julie said it had to do with the equation’s light code having been imprinted in my cells.

Possibly, she was right. Leonard told her that the more I challenged my mind, the quicker my DNA strands would respond to activate my genomes, thereby achieving greater mentation and expanded facility. That all sounded excellent, and I hoped it was true. However, I wasn’t sure I was there yet since I found these books to be extraordinarily challenging, perhaps because they engaged more than just my mental acuity, possibly something more inwardly intuitive… whatever that meant.

In any case, they got me thinking; if there is a God, maybe there shouldn’t be an article before the word that reduced the Deity to an anthropomorphic object out there somewhere. But what if, instead, God is within, as the mystics say? So, if God is omnipresent, we might ask where God is not.

After reading Watts and Suzuki, the answer seemed obvious: why not both, or better yet, what transcends time and space? That was a massive revelation to me since I always thought of the God concept as something out there with the stars, which is why my narrow reasoning made God too anthropomorphic to be intellectually tenable. I could always blame Descartes for this dual weltanschauung he imposed on me and the Western world.

Regardless, if God’s Spirit abides in us as god-essence, as these authors seemed to suggest, it would be reasonable to postulate that we indeed are gods, which was consistent with the ancient verse: in Him we live and move and have our being.[7]

Slowly, I was coming around to Luc’s way of thinking, and possibly Julie’s too, albeit grudgingly since I often thought of her as being too far out for my comfort. In any case, before I was prepared to jump on the believer’s bandwagon, I had a few critical questions that still needed to be answered.

For example, what about the problem of good and evil? I would take that one up with Luc to find what he might say since nothing I had heard of in theological circles was intellectually satisfying to me. However, the more significant question about God’s existence and how that’s to be understood or not understood would have to wait until later.

The next day, we agreed to meet for lunch since we both had a couple of hours available before our next class. Though I wanted to show him a copy of my mystifying email, I was hesitant to compromise myself by sharing something so ridiculous. I still hadn’t decided what to do about this until he asked when I was prepared to allow Julianne to do a regression on me.

‘I already told you, Luc, I don’t want Julie to be poking around in my head with her psychological sorcery. It’s more a matter of why than when.’

‘So what are you afraid of? You said she’s studying psychology; well, they do this all the time, or at least some of the more adventurous do. Certainly, Freud did.’

‘I admit; sometimes I’m tempted to let her do whatever she wants to do with my mind… and my body too if she insists,’ I laughed, ‘just to see what might happen. Yet what if all this got back to my colleagues? They’d probably laugh me right out of the department.’

‘I think you’re overreacting. Why would anyone care? Besides, how’s it going to get back to them? Who would tell?’

I laughed. ‘Probably I would, especially if there was something too good to hide.’

‘Then why would you hide it?’

Okay, Luc, you got me there. So, now I have something for you. No one has seen this, not even Julie; you’re the first, if not the last.

‘What is it?’

‘Something that’s so absolutely preposterous it’s embarrassing… much like my life at times.

‘Sounds like something I might be interested in. So, show me.

It’s an email message I received from someone, but I don’t even know who. It seems so ridiculous I wasn’t even going to mention it.’

‘It must say which email address it was sent from, so you must have some idea who sent it.’

‘I wish I did; possibly it was from me, although not from my computer. It has Julie’s email address, which makes no sense. Maybe you can tell me what you think since I’m at a loss. It’s rather hard to be objective about something this crazy.’

‘James, I must say, you’re full of surprises; they just keep coming. Okay, let’s have it, and I’ll give you my candid opinion of what I think.’

‘Well then, against my better judgement, here it is. Promise not to laugh… even if you find it funny.’

Ignoring me, he began to read the message, laughing hysterically. Then, after finishing, he laughed some more.

‘You certainly are the comedian, James; I didn’t know you had it in you.’

‘What do you mean? I’m no comedian, nor could I have written that while in a coma. Look at the date; I was having a prolonged nap about then.’

‘Your body was, yet it seems you were quite the social butterfly, even crashing Julie’s party as the quintessential free spirit… literally. Although we already knew that.’

‘I was hoping you would think of something that would explain this script as being anything more than someone’s prank. I’ve thought of everything and still haven’t come up with a plausible explanation. So can you?

‘Can’t you? It’s most evident you wrote this; what’s to explain… who else could? Your unique, devil-may-care personality is indelibly inscribed in every sentence; there’s no way of getting around it. I know you.’

‘Still, this isn’t supposed to be possible. Don’t you realise you’re turning my world upside down?’

‘Just as you planned.

‘I planned?’

‘Of course, that’s why you sent it to yourself, not Julianne. Remember, you wrote this from a dimension that exceeds the limitations of our 3D world.’

‘Even so, how can this be scientific?’

‘Superstring Theory in quantum physics has identified at least a dozen dimensions, so why couldn’t you have been in one or more of these? This world is not the end and be all.’

‘I don’t have an answer to that, nor do I understand why I would want to write this if she weren’t even going to see it. After all, I addressed it to her, not me.’

‘Isn’t it obvious? As I said, you wanted to turn your world upside down, and I must say, James, it was most clever of you, if not crafty, to have sent this message to yourself. Whether you were aware of it at the time, you wrote it in self-amusement, then seemingly decided to send it to your email address so that you might read it after returning here. You knew that you, being a sceptic, would question whether you existed in or out of your body, as you are now doing.

‘It seems to me you were sufficiently enlightened in this altered state that you wanted to reach out to yourself in the future to convince yourself of this higher reality. So… well done, James! High five.’

‘Holy crap, Luc; the way you explain this makes perfect sense. I need to think this through.’

‘Now, if you can find the courage to show it to Julie, maybe she will understand what you were up to back then. My guess is she will laugh since she already suspects something was going on with you. So why haven’t you shown it to her yet? Is it because you’re afraid she might put more pressure on you to do a regression?’

‘Maybe, but don’t tell her,’ I laughed. ‘However, since you’re on a roll, Luc, let me ask you another question that’s possibly just as bonkers. It’s about a friend I haven’t seen for over ten years; then, out of nowhere, I happened to see him at a diner a few days ago. What’s strange is that he told me I had an email I needed to retrieve, which, as it turned out, was this message. So, how do you explain how he could have known?’

‘I have no idea, but it sounds like the plot is thickening, so why not ask him? I’d love to find out.’

‘If I can track him down, I’ll ask. Interestingly, he suggested that I allow Julie to do some regression work on me.’

‘Apparently, he wants you to become aware of what you were up to when you wrote that message. As to why… I have no idea, you know him, I don’t.

‘At one time, I thought I did, now, however, I’m not so sure anymore.’

‘So, what’s your friend’s name?’

‘A good question, Luc. Officially, it’s Dr Miguel de Santandrés, although I have my doubts if he actually had an earned doctorate; I just assumed this since he worked at Reading as an astrophysicist, at least until he mysteriously disappeared one day. And now, after about ten years, he suddenly resurfaced in London.’

‘It sounds like this Dr de Santandrés might have been a significant player in your life drama. Anyway, if you find him, let me know; I’d love to meet him. Characters like him don’t come along that often.’

‘I’m not sure you would want to,’ I laughed, ‘considering all the cataclysms he’s been predicting for the near future. I don’t have time to share everything with you now. If you like, I can later; just be  forewarned, it’s rather scary stuff.’

We left for our classes, yet my mind wasn’t far from what Luc said about the message. I was surprised; he actually believed I wrote it! And now, he almost had me convinced, even though it went contrary to everything I believed possible. So now what?

On the way home, I debated whether to show the message to Julie. If I did, she’d probably subject me to her voodoo; then, I might not have much choice. So be it, but first, I needed to talk to Miguel. That might take a while, or it could happen when I was least expecting it. Was it just a coincidence to bump into him at the diner? Probably not. It almost seemed he was lying in wait for me. In any case, the next time I saw him, I’d ask him what he thought about my phantom message.

 

[1] See Book Four of the series, Surreal Adventures
[2] In reference to George Orwell’s novel, 1984
[3] This message is contained in Book Three, Quantum Leaps, Chapter Eight.
[4] G.I. Gurdjieff’s sojourns first occurred at the age of fifteen in the late nineteen century, beginning from his home country, Armenia, and throughout the Middle East, living in ashrams and taking in everything he could, including knowledge of the Enneagram. Western culture was not yet aware of much of the esoteric teachings he later taught in London after escaping the mayhem of the Russian Revolution. Much of this is chronicled in P.S. Ouspenki’s book, In Search of the Miraculous.
[5] There were several writers who are thought to have contributed to the Psalms, including David, Soloman, Moses, and possibly several others
[6] Psalms 82:6 and John 10:34 (KJV)
[7] This quote originates from a Greek poet named Aratus (315–245 BC) who wrote this verse for the famous invocation to Zeus. It became even more famous when quoted by Paul in the New Testament in a message to the Greeks in Acts 17:28.  For in him we live and move and have our being; as even some of your own poets have said, for we too are his offspring.

 

CHAPTER SEVEN

 

HOT COALS

 

 

The weekend was approaching for some event near Nottingham that Julie was planning to attend along with some of her woo-woo friends she recently met. Other than indicating it involved a picnic, she didn’t tell me much else. Nevertheless, I reluctantly agreed to tag along.

Since I wasn’t keen to travel with the others, I recommended instead we rent an economy car, and though it wasn’t the Jag I left behind in Switzerland, it was more than adequate for our purposes. Of course, I drove since Julie still didn’t have a driver’s licence.

Had she told me about what to expect, I probably wouldn’t have gone, which likely was why she didn’t tell me more, other than she was meeting other seekers of enlightenment… whatever that meant. In any case, I thought it would be interesting to find out what they did when they got together... maybe beat on drums to conjure Merlin in the mists of time.

We left on Saturday morning, taking our time to view the countryside. When we arrived near Nottingham, I showed her where I had spent my adolescent years with my Great relatives, Uncle Albert and Aunt Margaret. That was quite the flashback since I hadn’t been there for several years when they passed away.

After that, we followed a complicated map through the country until we found the gathering in the woods, which at first seemed to be nothing more than a potluck dinner. It was a pleasant time with a variety of interesting characters, male and female, and some more eccentric than interesting, as you might expect in any crowd of this nature.

It seemed nothing else was organised, at least until about an hour before the sun was to set, when everyone headed down a path as if they knew where they were going. When I asked Julie where this might lead us, she said to a most extraordinary event – a fire walk. I had no idea what that might mean until we came to a clearing where a fire had been set earlier in the day, leaving only a bed of red-hot embers.

‘This,’ Julie said, ‘is to be a fire walking ceremony for initiates and anyone who wishes to join in for the first time. So James,’ she grinned, ‘are you going to show us how to walk across these coals? It’s only about a hundred feet to the end.’

I had heard about such events purportedly occurring, although I had never paid much attention to what they involved. So, now, here I was, about to witness what I didn’t believe possible. There had to be some gimmick to this; I didn’t know what it was, but I’d soon find out.

As things progressed, I noticed various preparatory exercises being conducted among the initiates, including breathing, chanting, and bare-handed wood-splitting.

‘You didn’t tell me about this, Julie.’

‘Would you have come if I did?’

‘Probably not; however, since we’re here, let’s see what illusions they use for their so-called fire-walking. Obviously, there’s a trick to this, so I’ll be watching carefully.’

‘I wish I had enough courage to try this,’ she said, ‘although I doubt if I do. I’m told it takes training and deep mind-over-matter concentration to walk over the coals without getting burned. I’ve talked to several in this group who have, and not one of them has ever been burned, even in the slightest, since they had already trained their minds.’

‘If you say so, Julie, still, I don’t see what the point is to any of this.’

‘Just watch, James, you might learn something.’

Then, one by one, the initiates walked across the coals, some quickly, some tentatively, yet all made it without incident… or burns. It was hard to believe any of this was happening; nevertheless, I rationalised there had to be some natural explanation I hadn’t yet figured out, such as applying insulation to the soles of their feet.

What happened next, however, I couldn’t rationalise away. After receiving a call on my mobile, I stood off to the side talking when suddenly, I looked up in disbelief. There was Julie, joyfully skipping across the coals. I almost dropped my mobile mid-conversation. In less than a minute, she had gone the distance, the whole while chatting exuberantly with someone who wasn’t even there.

When I caught up with Julie at the end, I hardly knew what to say while friends surrounded her, congratulating her.

‘So Julie, my insane fire warrior, why did you suddenly decide to do this.’

‘I’m not sure, James, I didn’t intend to, but when a beautiful angel came alongside and said, “Let’s do it, Julie,” I didn’t even have to think about it. There was something about her that exuded such love and confidence that it wasn’t possible to feel fear in her presence.

‘And so, without giving it a second thought, I said okay. Then off we went hand in hand, laughing all the way across the coals. Before I knew it, we were at the end, ecstatic by what we achieved without any burns or pain.’

‘Wait a minute, Julie, I saw you; you were alone.’

‘No, James. I wasn’t alone; I was with a beautiful young woman I hadn’t seen before named Selaris. At least that’s what she told me when I asked her name. Her spirit felt heavenly as she hugged me at the end in a warm embrace. I was about to introduce you to her, but when I turned to see where you were, she disappeared. I believe she really was an angel… what do you think?’

‘I don’t care,’ is all I said, now visibly upset with her. Not only did she defy my intellect with this stunt, but now she was trying to convince me that she was prancing over the coals with some invisible friend.

‘It’s getting dark,’ I said, ‘so we should leave this charade and find our way back to the car.’

Reluctantly, she agreed; however, we didn’t talk much on our way home since I wasn’t in the mood to discuss what happened. It was very late when we got home, with both of us tense and tired, likely from what my attitude had caused. So, without saying anything, we both went to our bedrooms.

Obviously, Julie was disappointed with my obstinate behaviour, so she didn’t speak to me in the morning except to say she planned to visit her parents for Sunday brunch before returning to her studies for the rest of the day.

As for me, I was upset with how things turned out and how, once again, my apple cart had been overturned. That seemed to be happening a lot these days. Though I wanted to clear the air with her about what happened, I thought it might be best not to say anything, having no defence for my petulance.

 After returning the car, I spent the afternoon strolling along the Thames. I had much to unpackage in my mind as to why I reacted as I did last night, ruining Julie’s day of walking over the hot coals with her invisible friend. I knew I had been a wet blanket, so I couldn’t blame her for not saying anything to me the whole way home. I got the message… I had to do better if I hoped to win her.

I needed to talk to someone I could confide in who knew me well enough to see through my weaknesses. Though Luc St Pierre was becoming a good friend, I didn’t wish to implicate him as my councillor and analyst.

Then it struck me: how about visiting my slightly eccentric psychic friend, Madame Peyroux? I hadn’t seen her for almost three years, long before my fall and subsequent coma. By no means was she a shrink, yet she knew me better than anyone. She didn’t need to analyse; she just knew.

Since I had a few hours to spare between classes, I thought I’d drop by to see her if she was available. Generally, she didn’t take phone calls to make appointments since she believed whoever was meant to show up would, and at the most appropriate time. Curiously, that seemed to work for her. I guess being magic has its advantages, I thought, chuckling to myself.

As though waiting for me, there she was, true to form, with her crystal ball and Tarot cards. After poking my head in the door, she asked me to wait a minute in the hallway until she finished her reading with a client. Shortly after, as her client was leaving, she greeted me with a big embrace.

‘Nothing seems to change with you, Madame,’ I said. ‘Everything inside here seems the same, the smell of incense, the heavy curtains on the walls and the draped silk canopy on her ceiling; it’s like coming home to an Arabian tent.’

‘So where have you been, James? I sense you’ve been gone somewhere for a long time.’

‘Well, yes, up until the last few months, I lived in Switzerland for several months.’

‘That’s nice, yet I’m getting you were in a much different place before that. I can’t tell where, just that it was exotic, if not otherworldly.’

‘You probably didn’t hear; I had a severe fall while mountain climbing in Chili almost two and a half years ago. I then spent almost a year in a coma, although I can tell you… it wasn’t exactly exotic.’

‘As I recall, I saw something like a fall coming,’[1] she said, ‘however, you decided to interpret it as being symbolic of your love life.’

‘You’re right; I forgot about that. You have an excellent memory.’

‘I do for certain clients,’ she winked. ‘I think it’s time for you to have another massage.’

‘Perhaps later; for now, I need to know what you see happening in my life with another wonderful young woman I recently met. Unfortunately, as you’re aware, I always seem hellbent on sabotaging relationships before they even get started. Why do I always do that?’

‘See a shrink; all I can do is predict probabilities of where you’re headed based on your current timeline trajectory.’

‘So, how does it look?’

She shuffled her cards, then asked me to split them into three piles and select two cards from each.

‘Damn, James. Something has happened to you, something big. You’re not the same person I knew… not quite.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘This is almost frightening… like you’ve become some kind of freak, or at least your body has. It appears something significant has occurred to it.’

‘Well, as a matter of fact, I was recently treated with a special micro-current laser to awaken me, and it worked. Some say its photons might have also affected the structure of my chromosomes, substantially increasing them beyond the double helix strands, although I have no idea if that’s true or to what extent. Although I must say, I’ve experienced a marked improvement in my health, strength and mental acuity.’ 

‘And sexual stamina?’ she asked, smiling. ‘By the way, I still offer tantric lessons.’

‘That probably won’t be necessary; I think the girlfriend I had in Switzerland is still recovering,’ I chuckled.

‘Hyberbole aside,’ she said, ‘the cards say a genuine romance could be coming your way. In fact, it’s already here; however, you don’t know what to do with it since you’re afraid you might drop the ball again. At least, that’s what I’m getting. Is it true?’

‘Maybe; that’s why I came to see you since you already know about my past failures with women. Regardless, I have no wish to fail again, especially with Julie, the nurse who cared for me while I was in a coma that year.’

‘James, where did you go while in your coma? And I don’t mean the hospital.’

‘What do you mean; where did I go?’

‘I think you know, but you’re not saying.’

‘I can I? As I said, I was comatose the whole time.’

She looked at me suspiciously, like she didn’t believe me.

‘Okay then, I wasn’t going to show you this but I found it in my computer files the other day, dated about two years ago. Mysteriously, it was sent from Julie’s email address, except the message was addressed to Julie, yet sent to me. Weird, eh?’

I then gave her my copy to read. Her reaction was not the same as Luc’s, but rather, in deep contemplation as if processing every word.

‘Well, there you have it, you were in an altered state of consciousness the whole time, just as I intuited when you said you were somewhere exotic. Now, you need someone to regress you to recover those memories. I don’t do that, so you’ll have to find someone who does. It could get expensive, though; you probably have years of memory regressions that need to be recovered.’

‘As it turns out, I do have someone. Julie is studying to be a psychologist specialising in hypnotic regression therapy. For some time, she’s been after me to get into my head; still, I keep saying no.’

‘Are you crazy, James? Your friend offers to do this for you, and you say no?’

But I’ve never believed in that sort of thing, at least not up until now. It seems too flakey.’

‘I’ll tell you what is flakey, James: your dismissive prejudices. You’re too proud to step out of the bubble of your analytical philosophy. You’ve been brainwashed, and until you recognise how narrow you are, you’re not getting anywhere with this woman.’

‘I hate to admit it, but I think you’re right. On Saturday, we went to a firewalking ceremony near Nottingham, and to my dismay, Julie did it just like that.’

‘Did what?’

‘She walked over the hot coals as if they weren’t there. That upset me because it wasn’t supposed to be possible. I expressed my displeasure, and she didn’t talk to me the whole way home. In fact, she has hardly said a word to me since. So now I don’t know what to do.’

‘It's easy; admit you were wrong for raining on her parade, and then do some grovelling by telling her you’re not as bright as you thought you were.

‘I guess you’re right.’

‘Of course, I’m right, luv. Doesn’t this letter say it all? What more proof do you need? Beliefs, James, beliefs. More often than not, they are wrong since they derive from the illusory ego. I mean, what do any of us know? So don’t let them control you; let them go, then look within for the truth. Now, how about arranging for a massage next week? I need to make a living, you know,’ she smiled, laughing.

I felt the walls closing in on me; first, Luc, and now her. I also needed to come clean with Julie before my obstinance cratered our friendship. I wondered what Miguel would say. Likely, he would pile on, too.

I then rushed off to class on epistemology. How ironic, I thought, here I was teaching this discipline while smack in the middle of an epistemic crisis of my own, wondering what to believe or how to discern the distinction between truth and falsehood. Wasn’t that the essence of epistemology… the philosophy of knowing what can truthfully be known?

When I got home after class, Julie was once again conspicuously absent, back at the library, not bothering to have dinner with Tony and me. We had a simple spaghetti meal with a bottle of his favourite Italian wine, fermented in an orchard not from this home village in Tuscany.

‘So, Tony, what do you think Julie’s problem is these days,’ I asked, fishing for what he might say.

‘How do I know? She hasn’t talked to me either; that’s just how it is with women at times. Don’t worry about it. I’m sure she’ll get over it and soon be back to her normal, cheerful self.’

‘I hope so; she’s been out of sorts since we went to Nottingham for some crazy gathering in the woods.’

‘What kind of gathering? Julie may be a little out there at times, but she doesn’t do crazy.’

‘I don’t know what you would call it; there was some group chant and meditation I didn’t pretend to participate in. Then we were led down a path to watch one of those insane barefoot walks over a bed of hot coals, probably about a hundred feet long. I’ve heard of things such as these in primitive areas, yet I never thought I’d witnessed any such event in civilisation. I must say, I still don’t know what to think.’

‘And, what does Julie think?’

‘Oh, it’s quite clear… she actually did it. Now, she’s upset with me for not congratulating her.’

‘Well, if I had the balls to walk over hot coals, and you didn’t at least give me a high five, I might feel the same.’

‘Yeah, you’re right; I feel rather badly about that now. Julie deserved better, so I probably need to apologize for being such a dick head.’

‘So James, why didn’t you walk on the hot coals with her? If she could do it, why not you?’

‘I don’t know, possibly because I didn’t believe it was possible, and she did.’

‘Sounds like there might be a lesson here for you, ol’ chap.’

‘I suppose there is, yet how do we get past these old menacing beliefs?’

‘You’re the philosopher, you tell me. Anyway, I’m going out now, so feel free to polish off the wine and get back to me with an answer in the morning,’ he laughed.

I sat in the living area with what was left in the bottle, thinking about his challenge. What was the answer? And why are we so determined to hold on to beliefs that no longer serve us, always assuming things to be impossible when they might later prove to be possible?

Aren’t philosophers supposed to have open minds instead of being closed to what might be? Rather than discover new lands with higher vistas, we’re trained to be sceptics in the Flatlands. Flatlands? Where did that word come from; it felt like it oozed out from deep within.

From now on, I would challenge my students to keep their minds open mind rather than fear being out of bounds with what might be improbably, yet possible. I did that when I wrote my thesis; that got me into trouble, but in the end, I came out with honour. That was before I compromised my convictions for job security. Now, however, it was time to return to my old freethinking ways by looking at things more open-mindedly, even if it cost me some reputation.

When Julianne returned late that evening, I asked her how her studies went tonight.

‘I didn’t go to the library; I was out with Freddy. He just bought a new BMW Sport.’

‘Oh, well, that’s nice. So, did you have a good time?’

‘Of course, Freddy might be a doctor and scientist; still, he’s far more open-minded than you.’

Now, there was a gut punch I wasn’t expecting.

‘Ah, yeah, I suppose he is. In fact, I was thinking earlier today about how I need to be more open about things.’

From her look, it seemed she didn’t believe me.  

‘Julie, may I have a few minutes of your time to discuss some important matters?

‘If you think you need to.’

‘Yes, I’m rather certain I do. First, I’d like to apologise for my behaviour on Saturday night. It was inexcusable. Just because you had the belief and courage to do what you did, and I didn’t, didn’t give me the right to claim I was morally superior.’

Rather than reply, she looked at me blankly.

‘I’ve been thinking a lot the last few days about my attitude towards what I assume to be possible or not possible. It seems many of my old views have proven wrong these days.’

‘I’m pleased to hear you say that, James. We can discuss this later. I’m tired and need to get to bed since I have an early morning class.’

‘Sure thing, if you’re not busy, maybe tomorrow night.’

‘Maybe,’ she said as she got up.

Evidently, things weren’t going as I had hoped. Seemingly, my oblique attempt at an apology wasn’t sufficient to regain Julie’s favour, so now might be the time to show my email message. What did I have to lose if that’s what it takes to get her back in my good graces?

I might even be open to having a regression with her so she would realise I wasn’t fully closed to her spells. Hopefully, that might ingratiate me or at least put me in the same league as Freddie, even without a BMW.

The following day, after my last class, I met with Luc for coffee and told him about Julie’s firewalking and how badly I blew it.

‘You’ve never witnessed firewalking before? Really? I thought you were a man of this world. Maybe it’s time you get out there more and try some new things,’ he laughed.

‘Perhaps, but not on hot coals. How about you, have you seen this before?

‘Not only have I seen it; I actually did it in India after much mental preparation, so I can appreciate how few can actually go out and do it cold like she did.’

‘Well, I suppose if you say so, it might be possible in a mind-over-matter sort of way; still, it’s nothing I would try.’

‘That’s fine; possibly you can try doing something else to impress Julie, such as levitating,’ he laughed.

‘Of course… then I’d merrily sail over the embers.’

‘By the way,’ he said, ‘I meant to ask if you’ve shown Julie the message you wrote to her. If that doesn’t impress her, it might at least shock her.

‘Not yet, although I probably need to do that soon if I wish to get her onside. Maybe tonight if she has time for me.’

‘Let me know how it goes; this should be interesting.’

‘Nevertheless, she wanted me to know that Fred had taken her for a ride last night in his new BMW Sport. So, do you think he’s maybe making a play for her again? Because if he is, I can’t compete with him on a material basis.’

‘Then, why not compete on the only basis that matters to her? To do this, you might need to align more with her spiritual interests, or you may not get much further.’

‘My psychic friend, Madame Peyroux, said more or less the same thing when she gave me hell for stubbornly holding on to so many of my old, entrenched beliefs. Until she said that, I didn’t realise how these were holding Julie and me apart. My disregard for her firewalking illustrates the price I’m paying.’ 

‘So, James, you’re seeing a psychic? That surprises me, considering how off-script that seems for you. So how did you meet her?’

‘I didn’t intend it; I just happened to show up one day a few years ago after noticing her sign while walking past the pawn shop below. For some irrational reason, I scampered up the old wooden stairs to her gypsy studio. The moment I opened her door, I could feel its old-world charm, much like her enchanting presence.

‘Though I never believed in her psychic abilities; still, I continued to return because she was a great masseuse who knew how to invigorate my body while consoling me whenever I was going through another breakup.

‘Then, one day, after a massage, she gave me a short reading where she saw me falling down a mountain long before it happened. At the time, I didn’t take her seriously, preferring to interpret her vision as me falling headlong into another disastrous relationship. That seemed a safe call since it was so predictable.’

‘So, now that you know she got things right way back then, did you ask her to read your future?’

‘Not really; she just said there are several timelines I can follow, so no fate is determined. It’s up to me what path I wish to follow.’

‘As I’m sure it is for all of us,’ Luc said. ‘That’s why we have to be careful what we wish for. There are always consequences.’

‘Like falling off a mountain. And yet, that’s how I made it.’

[1] See BOOK TWO, THE SUMMIT

 

CHAPTER EIGHT

 

GREAT REVEALS

Once again, Julie was out late, presumably at the library… or possibly with Freddie. Just as I was about to get ready for bed, she came home, her insouciance still most apparent. Evidently, my apology was not enough, so this was probably not a good time to show her the email. In a way, I was relieved since I was still reluctant to be regressed, supposedly into my past. Notwithstanding what others said, the whole thing still sounded flakey to me. Besides, I kept telling myself giving control over the mind is not what good philosophers do.

The next day, I got a text from my friend, Madame Peyroux, saying: tell her, James, tell her now, or it might soon be too late. How did she know? But of course, I laughed to myself; she’s psychic. No doubt about it; she had my number. I had to do it, or I would be in trouble with her.

That evening, Julie arrived home while I was in my room preparing for tomorrow’s lectures; I heard her walk to her bedroom, closing the door loudly as if to make a statement.

Okay, James, this is it… disclosure time! So, would she see me before bed?

I knocked gently on her door.

‘What is it?’

‘May I come in for a few minutes, Julie? I have something to show you.’

‘Okay, but I’ll soon be getting ready for bed.’

She was already in her nightgown, looking sexy… just as I imagined.

‘What I wish to say, Julie, is tantamount to a confession. You know how you thought I was out of my body during my coma?’

‘There may have been occasions you left your body to be with me, such as that night in Camber when I thought I wrote you a poem. But who knows?’

‘Well, guess what; you were right; I was out of my body. I’m not sure how it happened, but now I have proof.’

‘Oh really,’ she said as she sat on the edge of her bed. For the first time in almost a week, I had her attention... mostly clearly.

‘Here it is, an email message I wrote to you on your computer the night of a party when you kneed that lout in the groin on your way out to work, remember?’

‘Yes, I remember that.’

‘Well, as it turns out, I was there. I saw it all.’

‘What do you mean you were there?’

‘Believe me, I was there, or I should say here… you’ll see it in the letter. It was addressed to you, even though I didn’t actually intend to send it to you. I wrote it as a lark since there were things I wanted to say to you yet felt I shouldn’t, at least at that time. But after completing it, I realised, unwittingly, that there could be another purpose for the message that hadn’t occurred to me when I started.

‘Is this some joke, James?’

‘Why would I joke about this? I’ve been putting this off for days because it meant admitting I was wrong. And you know, I don’t like to be wrong,’ I chuckled.’

‘No, you sure don’t. So, where did you find this so-called message?’

‘Remember when I mentioned Miguel told me to look in my computer inbox at university? Well, finally, I decided to go through my email for the first time since I left for Chili. It took me hours, but that’s when I came across this message. It was sent from your computer’s email address to my private campus account.

‘At first, it shocked me, then confused me as I tried to find an explanation for how this could have happened and who could have written it. After some time, I concluded, reluctantly, that none other than I could only have written it.

‘You’re confusing me; why was that?’

‘As I said, I sent it to my university email account from this computer in your room so that one day I would possibly find it and become aware I was fully conscious out of my physical body while still in my coma. But as I said, I didn’t intend for you to see it since I didn’t wish to spook you, and that’s why I sent it to me, not you.’

‘I’m not exactly sure what you’re trying to say, James… but read it anyway. You have my attention.’

‘Get ready, Julie, this is good,’ I said as I sat next to her on the bed while reading the mysterious message. Occasionally, I paused to get her reaction, yet I saw no expression, though it seemed she was processing every word.

After I finished, I felt a little sheepish about its cavalier, if not presumptuous and slightly disrespectful, tone.

‘Forgive me; I was just having a little fun after you left for work that night. Like I said, I wasn’t serious about sending it to you. Still, it must have occurred to me later this would be an excellent way to trick myself into realising I was out of my body.

‘And as we can see, it seems to have worked,’ she said. ‘James, thank you for sharing your message. I didn’t laugh, although I might later. May I hold on to this copy? I want to read it for myself before I go to sleep.

‘Of course, keep it; I have other copies. I wouldn’t have bothered to show you if I thought it might offend you, yet I wanted you to know this email has caused me to reevaluate my attitude towards you and your metaphysical interests.

‘I’m pleased to hear that,’ she said.

‘So, Julie, may I now claim you as my spiritual mentor?’ I smiled.

She stared at me stoically, just as she had when we first met on the park bench. Then, unexpectedly, she threw her arms around me, pulling me down beside her. Much to my amazement, she began to kiss me, finally releasing what she had been holding back while caring for the fall guy all those months. 

Then, as she realised what she was doing, she suddenly jumped off the bed, embarrassed, and exclaimed. ‘Off to your room, James; you’re not helping matters,’ she laughed. ‘I’ll see you in the morning. We can talk then.’

Reluctantly, I got up and dutifully left, blowing her a kiss on my way out. Though I wasn’t sure what to expect in the morning, I could hardly wait to find out.

‘As I was having my morning shower, she knocked on the door and stuck her head in to announce she was making a fry-up and that I should hurry. After throwing my bathrobe on, I greeted her with a kiss on the cheek as she poured me a cup of coffee for a traditional English breakfast – how things had changed from yesterday.

‘Did you sleep well last night, Julie?’

‘I slept wonderfully, and you?’

‘I had a happy sleep, knowing we’re talking again.’

‘I think, James, we might have turned the corner on our relationship. We’re no longer of opposing minds. At least, I hope we aren’t. So, can we start with a regression tonight? You need to find out what was going in with you, and I need the practice. Besides, I want to know where you were all those months while I was caring for your body... other than hanging out in my bedroom,’ she laughed. 

‘Ah, yes, I suppose so we could do that, as long as you don’t take control of my mind.’

‘James, I already told you, it’s nothing like that. You still have your free will and can come back anytime you wish. Believe me; I’ve done these dozens of times with volunteers.’

‘Okay, I’ll bite the bullet and see what happens.’

‘That’s all I ask; I must now be off to class. Enjoy your breakfast; I’ll see you later.’

I got up to hug her, something I wouldn’t have dared to do yesterday. It turned into a long embrace as she put her head on my shoulder, relishing the moment of our new intimacy.

‘Sometimes, James,’ she said, remaining in my arms, ‘it feels like we have known each other for a very long time. Do you believe in past lives?

‘I’ve never believed in any life other than this, although at times it seemed my mother was trying to get through to me. Yet let’s not push it, Julie. I’m more interested in this physical life than seeing ghosts.’

‘Are you? Well then, Mr Spook, what about when you were with me watching my jujitsu feats when not writing me a love letter, suggesting something magical was happening between us? It seems you were having a rather enjoyable time while I diligently took care of your body.’

‘Yes, of course; perhaps we’ll find out more about what other shenanigans I was up to after you do your hocus pocus on me.’

‘These will not be my regressions; they will be yours, nor will they be hocus pocus; rather, they will be the real thing. You need to listen to my instructions and not be so dismissive. Remember, I’m your mentor now. You even said so last night.’

With that, she put on her coat, grabbed her books, then blew me a kiss on the way out.

 

 

 

____________________________________________________________________________

CHRONICLES OF ELYSIUM'S PASSAGE NOVELS

 Soon to be Published

THE ASCENT: Chronicles of Elysium’s Passage

THE SUMMIT: Chronicles of Elysium’s Passage

QUANTUM LEAPS: Chronicles of Elysium’s Passage

SURREAL ADVENTURES: Chronicles of Elysium’s Passage

MYSTICAL ROMANCE: Chronicles of Elysium’s Passage

THE ELIXIR: Chronicles of Elysium’s Passage

THE RETURN: Chronicles of Elysium’s Passage

 

1. THE ASCENT is the first novel in the Chronicles of Elysium’s Passage that’s foundational to everything that happens in the following narratives, which embark on an adventure that will surprise and delight the reader like no other book.

It all begins with an extreme adventure of climbing a remote and challenging mountain somewhere in the Andes Mountains. Just as James, the protagonist, is about to reach the mountain summit, he falls into an abyss that leaves him in a coma for almost a year.

After being airlifted by a forestry helicopter and flown back to London, where his body remained for almost a year. Eventually, he learns it was not he but his body that was rescued. Several days later, without understanding what happened, he continues to climb to the summit in an alternate dimension of higher consciousness.

Fortuitously, he meets two adventurers on the summit ridge who are no longer of this world. After that, his surreal life leads him to several new adventures in the subsequent chronicles, which include a rich mix of adventure, romance, and fantasy, along with profound discussions of philosophy, spirituality, and the afterlife.­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­

2. THE SUMMIT, the second novel in the Chronicles of Elysium’s Passage, carries on where James, the narrator and protagonist, is taught more about a multidimensional reality that he finds difficult to comprehend.

Not only does he find he’s not as clever as he imagined, but his off-world companions on the summit demonstrate that much of what he believed about life was not just parochial but wrong. At first, he finds this difficult to comprehend since their teachings are contrary to his limited understanding of non-material reality.

After being tricked into teleporting off a ledge where he was trapped, James becomes aware of a new reality that makes him capable of far more adventures than he could have ever experienced in his physical body back home.

Now, if only he would win over the only woman in this life who matters, the nurse on the other side of the veil, who continually demonstrates her unconditional love toward his healing.

This book may also open the reader’s eyes to a much vaster reality than many may be aware of. As with the other Chronicles, there are discussions of philosophy, the spiritual afterlife and what might seem like fantasy.

3. QUANTUM LEAPS is the third novel in Chronicles of Elysium’s Passage, where James, the philosopher-protagonist, teleports back to London to visit his body and make contact with the special nurse taking care of it in his absence. Immediately, he feels an inexplicable spiritual bond with her for reasons he remains unaware of.

Now aroused by a renewed interest in matters of love, the beginnings of a relationship begin to emerge as he attempts to reach across the chasm of their worlds. But it’s not until the fifth novel, Mystical Romance, that he encounters her in a way that he finds difficult to believe.

However, before that can happen, there is much about his failed relationships that must be resolved before he is ready to move forward in his new life in Elysium’s Passage. It is during this time he christens his comatose body as the fall guy since it took the fall for him down the abyss so he could learn the lessons he’s now learning.

That will be the next focus of his life, where, in his next Surreal Adventures, he is given virtual lessons to release many of his past beliefs about the world and his life.

4. SURREAL ADVENTURES is the fourth novel in the Chronicles of Elysium’s Passage, which finds James, the protagonist and narrator, escorted by his companions to a remote South Pacific Island, where he is left to reflect on what he’s learned.

During the next forty days, he battles the demons of his past as he works through some rather painful issues from his early youth. Here, in a tropical storm, he encounters an eerie, suspended spectre of the one he loved yet still resents for abandoning him as a child.

After this, he achieves peace of mind and is ready to return to his lodge to join his off-world companions on the Andes summit. However, just when it seemed things couldn’t get any stranger, a sixteenth-century sea captain sails his ancient ‘ghost’ ship onto the beach. Together, they sail off on a mystical ocean voyage to a couple of virtual islands supposedly in the South Pacific, where he witnesses and, at times, participates in several important life lessons.

Near the end, these encounters help prepare him for a new challenge within the interior of a mountain, where he falls deep into a dark tomb of fear. After being rescued by a mysterious stranger wielding his Excalibur, he continues on to where his life is about to be transformed in the following chronicle, Mystical Romance. 

5. MYSTICAL ROMANCE is the fifth chronicle in Elysium’s Passage, which will surprise the reader with a romantic twist of how love is expressed in higher realms. From this lofty perspective, everything about intimacy is understood as within, so without.

After escaping his tomb, James, the narrator and protagonist, makes his way through a maze of tunnels until he arrives at a large oak door, which he opens with the golden key he had been given. There, he steps into Elysium’s Passage’s Great Hall, where his life and recent achievements are celebrated now that his eyes have been opened to perceive a fascinating interior world of wonderment… and romance.

To say more might risk diminishing the multitude of delightful surprises as circumstances begin to open to The Elixir, where James is about to re-enter his earthly body’s existence. 

6. THE ELIXIR is the sixth chronicle of the Elysium’s Passage series that prepares James, the narrator-protagonist, to awaken and return to his body in London. Before that can happen, however, his off-world friend presents a mysterious equation, enshrouded within a light code frequency, that will stimulate the multidimensional DNA strands within him.

Much of this narration is centred in London, where his nurse unknowingly becomes involved in how the Elixir’s equation finds its way from a taxi cab driver to higher echelons of science. There are many twists in how she unwittingly brings the Elixir to the attention of mathematicians and physicists, after which they eventually discover how to code the equation into a laser ray to stimulate his fall-guy body into full consciousness.

Ostensibly a new Adam, he is destined to return humanity to a higher multidimensional existence. How this happens is filled with intrigue, as is his shocking return to his earthly body.

 
­­­­­7. THE RETURN is the seventh and last chronicle in the series where James, the narrator and protagonist, has re-emerged from Elysium’s Passage as he readjusts to life in the third dimension. Many of the events from the previous novels are tied together in an exciting, fast-paced, and action-packed narrative that spans several countries.

At first, it seems all memories have been lost, with his fall guy’s brain not being aware of what happened to him while in his coma. As a consequence, it takes a while for him to be convinced he had been out of his earthly body for almost a year.

Through some unexpected events and evidence, along with his girlfriend’s urging, he comes to an awareness of what had occurred. It takes a while for his mind to catch up with the changes made in his heart during his stay in the alternate realm. But after experiencing several harsh realities, he discovers what he has become while out of his body. Gradually, he comes to understand the many challenges that lie ahead for him in fulfilling his future mission on Earth.

This book is filled with adventure, romance and personal intrigue that ties together all six previous narratives of the Elysium’s Passage series.

For an orientation to the series, go to WELCOME TO ELYSIUM'S PASSAGE on my blog site posts. 
https://digitalbloggers.com/arts-and-entertainment/welcome-to-elysiums-passage