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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 third, Chapters 1-8

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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 to provide a sample for the series, providing readers a taste of what came before in the previous six novels. I'm currently seeking a literary agent to represent the series to publishers.   

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

ALL reference footnotes are found in the ENDNOTES at the end of Chapter Eight

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 set below the ocean’s horizon, the sky flared with a surreal blaze of red, orange, and yellow across a canvas of wispy cloud streaks. 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 glowed eerily in the luminescent sky. I wondered how far we would go before rejoining the others. Still, she walked on. I glanced back but saw no one, nor could I hear any trace of the voices that had faded away. Instead, I saw only a brilliant orb of light glowing against the darkening eventide.

‘What’s that?’ I asked. She didn’t look back 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 easy quietude, we reached a narrow prominence on the cliffside, where she led me to an area jutting 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 of 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 an instant, I saw it all, one frame at a time, as my airborne body swiftly retreated far into the darkness over the waters. Nothing remained where I had stood, embracing her only seconds ago. As quickly as it had appeared, the blaze vanished into the darkness, and with it, she was gone… annihilated.

As I descended, I was powerless to change course as the same horrific scene was playing out before me once again… a swiftly free-falling projectile through space, my twisting, gyrating body tumbling toward the ocean.

I can only describe my experience as 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 toward 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’ve been lodged in 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’ve 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’ve changed, as though outside of myself; yet inside of all that is. Whatever remained of my identity is now subsumed in an overwhelming sense of belongingness.

Why would I ever wish to leave this bliss? As I swirl deeper into darkness, all the markers have disappeared. Beyond any continuum of time or space, 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 simply is… pure beingness, dwelling in the splendour of love. I experience no past, no future, only the present; in this eternal moment, I am one.[3]

I feel no judgment, 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 echo from somewhere in time,[4] telling me that all that appears to be separate is nothing, an illusion, and a shadow. There is one heart, the centre of all, the core of what I am; at one with I AM. The all that is; 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 pronounce: ‘CONSUMMATUMEST.’[5]

Though I wish to remain embraced by 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 realm of Oneness;[6] I’m called to return to a world of separation.

From this void, my soul is drawn towards a soft blue glow, 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. As you parted your mortal body below the mountain abyss, you heard my call to awaken and arise. Then you followed my light past the shadows of death on another mountain, where my light shone forth from within an entrance to show you the way through a dark cave of uncertainties. My guiding light was only as adequate as you could perceive it, and so, in fear, you lost your sight, only to be restored by he who smote the boulder of bondage with the mighty Excalibur of yore.

‘You must now return to your mortal abode. When you call on me, you will know I am with you, for you will see me through the light of love.’

As her blue luminescence fades, 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, it, too, fades. 

As I descend, I’m drawn to where I do not 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, growing louder and louder. In the distance, I see a light, like a lone star shining in the clear night sky. Closer and closer, it looms, its sharp rays piercing deeply into 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 not sure what that was. I only wish to remain as I am… or was.

I hear muffled voices grow louder, now blaring around me. I open my eyes; all is blurry; then the images focus. I see bodies, smiling, laughing and celebrating as though someone has just risen from the dead. Would that be 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. Wasn’t she the one holding my hand when those men in white kept staring at me? I think I shouted at her.

I stare at her as she sleeps, slouched with a black raincoat draped over her body. She isn’t wearing that gown, just faded blue jeans and white sneakers. So, why is she here? Do I know her? Cute… I wonder what her name is. Did she bring me these 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 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? – Unless I did

I smile as I remember a bright blue light hovering near me in space… a peaceful presence… 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 laugh inwardly.

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. In amusement, 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… want to stay high.

This babe sitting here… she’s asleep… must be my babe-sitter. Ha, that was good, James, you’re so clever… and crazy. I bet she likes it.

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

 Such a funny guy when he's 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 inside me! Get high with the guy. I fell from on high, I’m the fall guy. I laugh some more, but not sure why.

I glance at my sitter; she probably wouldn’t be impressed if she woke up and sees these words floating by and what’s on my mind.

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

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

I close my eyes to reflect. So, ol’ chap… 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… so how did I get here, wherever this is?

Ah, I remember. I was way up 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, but what a rush! I can see the mountain’s craggy cliffs flash past as we tumble through the air. That’s why I’m a fall guy; 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.

I’ll bet that’s one of them in the chair, my babe-sitter. I think she likes 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’s she sitting here? Those 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 few moments, when I feel a warm hand softly touching my cheek.

I open my eyes; she’s staring at me warmly, taking my 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 often come to you. I paused, then heard myself say: that we may escape to a home built on earth, made in heaven.’[7]

Suddenly, her warm smile gives way. She looks stunned and bewildered, tears well up in her eyes again as if 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[8] 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, this time uncontrollably. 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 sunlight streaming 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 to myself. Yet something’s missing. Oh, it’s that girl. Where is she? Probably, she was just one of those cartoons in the air that floated by me. That’s it, I hallucinated her with 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 beside 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, all 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? 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 want to know… that girl, where is she? I want to see her!

 

 

CHAPTER TWO

 

WHAT HAPPENED NEXT

 

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

Curiously, a woman kept appearing in a recurring dream. Even though I couldn’t make sense of who she was or what she was doing, except that she reminded me of the young woman I saw by my bedside in the hospital. In my dreams, it sometimes seemed I had been in love with her. But, after a while, the dreams ended, and I thought no more of it.

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

It didn’t take long for word to spread among my acquaintances that, against all odds, I had awakened from my coma and was rapidly recovering. Several visitors came by to wish me well, including some faculty colleagues and, surprisingly, a few former girlfriends I had broken up with a long time ago.

With me now becoming a bit of a curiosity to the medical community, I was required to remain at the hospital’s convalescent facility for further observation. Within weeks, however, my body regained its strength and agility as I diligently worked out each day, and soon, my muscle mass and physical abilities exceeded anything I had experienced before, even in my prime. That amazed everyone, considering how it was supposed to take several months before I could be discharged.

At the time, I didn’t know about the new DNA strands that had been activated in me until later informed about the microcurrent laser experiment performed on me. That’s when I found out that this all had come from some mysterious equation that seemed to have appeared out of nowhere.

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

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

However, I’m unsure how much she actually understood. I don’t recall what her final grade was, but I might have given her extra marks for cleavage and distraction. Concentrating on lecturing was never so difficult.

She had it all: looks, body language and boundless sex appeal. I would have loved to take her out, even though she was at least ten years younger than I. For professional reasons, however, I managed to keep 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, treating her as just another student, even when she pouted… most enticingly.

What I didn’t realise at the time 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 facility, appearing as stunning as ever, dripping in diamonds and pearls, as she proposed to arrange my transfer to the Swiss health facility where I could stay until I fully recovered.

It was more than I could ask for, and besides, by then my flat had been relet. With all my belongings and furnishings gone, I would soon be homeless, without a place to stay, no money, or a job. Up till then, I didn’t know what I would do once I was discharged.

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

Kiko insisted that I move in with her at her luxury chalet overlooking the mountains, a few kilometres from Davos. Why not? It would be better than being a homeless vagrant wandering the streets of London.

Once we were 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, but it seemed she enjoyed this as much as I did. Soon, they became something much more, leaving nothing untouched.

Nor did she object when I offered to return the favour. Although we had separate bedrooms, by the third night, she crawled into bed with me, where we made passionate love all through the night. She was surprised by my stamina, considering I had just been discharged as a recovering patient. I impressed myself as well, seemingly making up for lost time after being asleep for the past 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, while returning on weekends to be with me.

Once more, this decision was not difficult, given that I had no reason to return to London; I had everything I needed here, including all the mountains I wished to climb in the Swiss Alps. Though I had no money, Kiko lent me whatever I needed, saying I didn't need to worry about repaying her unless I wanted to someday.

At first, I was reluctant to accept her generous offer, but since mine was cancelled for non-payment, I had little choice but to swallow my pride, at least what was left of it. With my credit ruined, there was little hope of being offered another card until I had a job with some steady income. Then, upon Kiko’s insistence, we went shopping at the most expensive shops in Davos. 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 about her father’s wealth and that her budget was far beyond 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 imply if I were to hang on to her; would I be rich, too? Never had I been so well apparelled in designer clothes and the most stylish hiking gear. Heads turned while 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. Although he intended to remain chairman of the company he had built, he wished for her to take over operations as CEO in the next few years when he believed she would be sufficiently mature and competent to handle the corporate responsibilities. She admired her father and was determined to demonstrate her proficiency by doubling the value of the company shares within her first five years, all while experiencing everything the world had to offer: money, sex, and power.

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

Meanwhile, I had everything I wanted for now, including the Jag F-Type sports coupe I had 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 align with his corporate culture, which I had no wish to become entangled in. A doctorate in business or at least an MBA would be far more practical in this corporate milieu. One doesn’t go around discussing Shiller and Plato in the boardroom and expect to be taken seriously.

It occurred to me that I could re-educate 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. Although I didn’t feel great about being her subordinate, I was nonetheless 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 felt as though something peculiar was occurring within my body. At times, I experienced a throbbing pain in my throat and chest that began to concern me. Then, after a few days, it would subside, only to return in a week or two. It was well over a year before I learned of the critical significance of what was happening to me, as my body’s cells were being upgraded to prepare me for a new life.

Despite this, I would climb one or two mountains each week, then return to reading all the philosophy books I had meant to read but postponed over the years. In particular, I enjoyed reading Plotinus, the Neoplatonic philosopher I admired most yet understood the least. Another was Alfred North Whitehead, who was perhaps the most challenging. If I were to return to academia after all this, my mind would be sharper than ever.

Yet, while reading these books, it sometimes felt a bit strange, if not eerie, as though I had experienced all this before… like in a dreamy déjà vu reading reality. In any case, for the first time, I was able to grasp many of the more difficult concepts effortlessly, as I had never managed 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 rereading was the Swedish mystic and seer Emanuel Swedenborg. During my early graduate days, I was intrigued by his writing; however, as I progressed in my studies, I decided he was too otherworldly to take seriously, given how much of his writing related to spirits and the afterlife. Respectable philosophers, I was assured, did not countenance such musings. Imagine, claiming to have travelled through the celestial spheres for nearly thirty years while physically disembodied – how preposterous!

Though I didn’t know what he was up to in the heavens, his book, Divine Love and Wisdom, seemed to call out to me from an upper shelf in a quaint Davos bookshop. That’s nice, I thought as I smiled and walked away. Yet, for whatever reason, I returned the next day, thinking I would give him another chance, since it apparently was one of his more philosophical books. Perhaps, after all these years, he 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 when a phrase in section two caught my eye, stating: 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.

The more I reflected on it, the clearer it became that I had no idea what my life was about. Hopefully, I hadn’t turned into a self-absorbed narcissist, even though I sensed I was becoming a bit cynical, as there was little that had meaning for me these days. In fact, it seemed there was little I could take credit for that had purpose except 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 that 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, reduced now to little more than vacuous self-gratification.

Then one night, after all these years, came that haunting voice from the mountain meadow, again echoing out to me; nothingness-nothingness-nothingness. Was this Swedenborg calling out to me, asking which master I was serving? 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, and 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.

So what master was I serving? Nothingness? I didn’t have an answer. 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 beyond, implored us to Know Thyself.

And so, for the next few days, I contemplated this – not what I did, not what I had accomplished, but rather, who, in my essence, I was. Without knowing that, how could I be authentic? Or, was I, like everyone else, just a fluke of nature that, with time and chance, oozed out of the primal swamp? A collection of microbes that, out of nowhere, somehow became human. It seemed to be the official line from scientists and humanists, so I didn’t question it… in my world, they were the authorities. I mean, what was the alternative: divine creation? No one in academia 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 understanding 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 it 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 were daft. ‘I already told you… riches and power.’

‘And what about sex? I laughed.

‘Yeah, that too,’ she giggled as she jumped on me, bringing my chair down as we rolled entangled on the floor.

That said it all; there was little else to her: a lot of happy abandonment, but no desire to cultivate an interior life. Yet, I wasn’t much different; most of my life centred on the accomplishments of my mind and body, not on love and wisdom, as Swedenborg suggested. All the profound books I had been reading were greatly appreciated by my mind, but didn’t do much to give my life meaning.

No one earns a PhD studying abstractions of spirituality, yet what is life without knowing who we are? – An excellent question that I began to ask myself as I continued reading the book. Although the author wrote this book several centuries ago, nothing has changed; it remains more relevant than ever in this age of stark materialism.

I didn’t know what to do with what Swedenborg had to say about angels, spirits, departed humans and other beings, since it’s not something most agnostics would give much thought to. Nevertheless, he inspired me to examine myself, much like Plotinus and Pascal had advocated before him. And, wasn’t it Socrates who said that the unexamined life was not worth living? So, how about mine… was it worth living? Good question, too bad I didn’t have a good answer.

Still, I had to admit to myself that something must have happened to me while I was in a coma, where I had now become more reflective and interested in my inward 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. However, as an agnostic in good standing, any notion of love and wisdom must be contextualised within the purview of humanism, not religion. Regardless, I determined that forthwith, my life’s quest (at least for now) would be to go within to discover who I was.

By spring, Kiko’s classes had ended, so, for the summer, she stayed with me in Switzerland, even though much of our time was spent touring many of the surrounding countries, including Norway and Finland. I’ll never forget it.

 

Then, before long, holiday time was almost all over, and the fall semester was about to begin. By now, we had been together for nearly eight months, and so Kiko was anxious for me to meet her parents. After flying to Hong Kong, I was suitably impressed by the size and scope of their shipping company. I learned they had offices in Tokyo and Seoul and were considering opening a branch in London.

It seemed her parents seemed to find me acceptable enough, not knowing what to expect from a man who had been in a coma for almost a year. Would I be able to talk coherently and walk in a straight line? I soon allayed any such concerns since I find it relatively easy to present myself as a charming sophisticate when I need to, although I could tell I was somewhat out of place, if not clumsy, in their Asian culture and world of commerce. (I could never get all that bowing in deference straight.)

And so, there was little for us to discuss other than my seafaring days on a merchant ship. Which, surprisingly, seemed to earn me some major points with her father, although my boats were hardly the kind of merchant vessel they operated worldwide. Far from my chaotic seafaring days of brawling with scallywags and drunks, their milieu consisted of money, power, and prestige. Yet he, too, had come from humble beginnings, relating to my past and fascinated by my Mediterranean seafaring experiences as a young sailor, especially the storms at sea when we lost some crew and lading.

Still, I had little to offer their dynasty, possessing 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, aside from my total indifference to acquiring a massive fortune, was that I had practically no family pedigree, having been an orphan for the first several years of my life.

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

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

I didn’t bother to explain the difference between inner Buddha wisdom and clever business acumen; likely, that would have led to another argument. Kiko didn’t like to lose, preferring to be right rather than happy. After all, if you’re that wealthy, you must be right… such was her attitude. And so, after just a few days there, it was apparent that I would never be a fit for her or her family. Meanwhile, I had one helluva time spending their money, living in luxury, travelling and, best of all, having wild and kinky sex with her almost every day we were together. She was the perfect companion to keep up with the new libido drive I had recently awoken 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 boardroom table. And so, late one evening, while still there, we did. The long-polished table, probably worth over a hundred thousand pounds, represented her irresistible lust for power. Though it was kinky, for her, I’m sure the symbolism was rich. What better way for her inner Aphrodite to conquer the old patriarchy than to capture the seed of her Greek god and become the indomitable goddess that birthed a new empire? Possibly, that’s why she wanted 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, though not as much as she loved her father’s shipping company. At some point, I realised there would be someone else, perhaps a corporate superstar or celebrity, and I would be gone. But for now, that didn’t mean we 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 stand-by sex toy for when she wanted to play. An allowance of, say, a million pounds a year might be enticing and would be nothing for her. And 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 morning after I emerged from my coma, Julianne finally went home, having spent half the night by my side. She was still reeling with those few lines I had recited to her from that magical night in Camber, which I knew nothing of. (This was when she woke from sleep as if in a trance, quickly scribbling them in her diary.) Then, after I recited a few of these lines back to her while in my stupor, there was no mistake in her mind that these were the same.

Before climbing into bed, she slowly reread the poem and smiled. There was no doubt... this man who had just returned to her in the flesh was the same spirit that visited her that night. And yet, how could she express any of this to him? Likely, he wouldn’t believe he had been present with her in  Camber while deep in a coma. It didn’t matter; when he was ready, she would convince him. 

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 route she could find from London to Melbourne and quickly packed her clothes before taking a taxi to Heathrow. There wasn’t much time, but she still made it, barely.

While waiting in line to board her flight, she called her hospital to explain her situation, letting them know she had no idea when she would return; it could be a few weeks or even months, depending on whether her father survived. If he did, she would remain there with her mother to help ensure his recovery.

By the time she arrived in Australia, the doctors were feeling more confident that 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 where she would like her life to go. Though she enjoyed nursing, psychology interested her more, as she considered becoming a psychotherapist, provided she could find the necessary funds.

Not only did her father survive, but, with her professional assistance, he fully recovered over the next six months. But while in Melbourne, Julianne enrolled in a few evening psychology courses at the university, which she would later transfer to a Master’s programme back home. Still, she was concerned about how she could afford to live as a student after returning.

Meanwhile, she continued to pay her share of the rent for her London residence to ensure nothing would be disrupted. As for me, I was becoming just a fond memory of an unfulfilled dream. Yet it haunted her whenever she recalled how I had responded to a poem she had written to me. At the time, it felt like there was a soul connection, even though whatever had been there was now long past. Probably, I wouldn’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 in my recovery, 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 reach 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 could never forget me and what could have been. Of course, it would still be a long time before I was to learn any of this.

As for me, I had only that brief 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 to her during that brief time in my hospital recovery room, not just because of her appearance, but also because there was something deeper I didn’t yet understand. It felt as if there was some mysterious spiritual bond despite my disbelief in such things. Although I wanted to see her again, I later learned she had moved to Australia. Since no one knew when or if she would return, I had to let her go, except for the occasional dreams that reminded me of her.

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

Later, in another dream, I made passionate love to some phantom woman who reminded me of her while in some darkened mountain cave. Though I didn’t take these fantasies seriously, it remained a mystery why this so clearly lingered in my mind.

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 the 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 about to happen once more.

By the end of summer, after returning from China, I became increasingly annoyed with her. All she seemed to want to talk about was business and the big plans she had once she took over her father’s company. That was her obsession and dream. From what she said, the plan was for her to be promoted to upper management after graduating from LSE, and 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 shared her schemes to leverage the company’s assets, which, with her shrewd business savvy, she would make her father proud. For days on end, she described her plans to establish shell LLC corporations in tax havens around the globe while undercutting smaller shipping companies.

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

Once again, I found myself back in 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 spoke nothingness, although I was never able to make sense of what happened or what that meant. But now, it occurred to me that it might have been a message that nothing in this world could have meaning unless the meaning were within. Consciousness is all there is. There is nothing, nothing, nothing more; all is within – Esse est percipi.[9]

Yes, something in me seemed to have changed; there appeared to be a significant shift in my understanding of life and meaning since I emerged from my coma. I now cared much less about what this world 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 merely about philosophy; even though I still loved to philosophise, the words now had to resonate with more than just my mind but with what was higher within me, although I hesitated to use terms such as spirit, soul, or heart. I guess I was still too orthodox in my thinking to appreciate the nuances of rational transcendence.

Nevertheless, over the last six months, as I read and contemplated life, I learned a great deal about myself. I also learned that Kiko was the opposite; her life was exterior, while mine was interior. I was about within, she was about without. A balance would have been nice, yet as we continued to shift in opposite directions, there was no harmony in our current zeitgeist.

No wonder our conversations bored and irritated me, even though I went along with them, considering how entertaining my nymphomaniac could be at night. Despite this, 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 so I could resume my professional career.

She was not at all happy with my idea, strongly suggesting that I stay in my Davos paradise, where life would remain nicely under control, especially her life with me. Or, possibly, she preferred to be alone in London, where she might carry on with more of her extracurricular fun. After all, 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 want me to stay with her. That seemed to surprise her, so finally, she reluctantly agreed to my plan, knowing I was determined to be my own man. To her, however, it probably seemed little more than a bluff in saying I was prepared to live on my own when I had no resources of my own, only hers. Nor could she understand why I would want 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 Davos this fall. I knew I had to make a decision: to return to Switzerland as she desired or to move out. Ultimately, she evicted me, claiming she needed to be alone while attending LSE, where she had sufficient space to concentrate on her studies, citing that this was necessary for her grades to be acceptable to her father.

Fair enough, I told her. Still, I need to move forward with my life in London, where I can further establish my academic career at King’s. That really jolted her, seemingly, to take 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, sleeping on a park bench. How differently life had become… and yet, how glorious it was not to be owned.

That’s when everything changed… again.

 

 

CHAPTER THREE

 

THE PARK

 

Since Kiko paid for everything with her credit cards, I barely had enough change for transit. It occurred to me to visit the hospital to see if they had my 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, my clothes and wallet must have remained in Santiago or been lost in transit.

Next, I went to the university administration office to see if I might be eligible for back pay. As it turned out, I did. The administrator I spoke with was surprised I hadn’t claimed my wage earlier, as she had heard about my awakening from the coma last year. 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? Returning to Kiko, cap in hand, was out of the question. Although if I apologised and promised to return to Switzerland like an obedient serf, she might take me in, having learned my lesson.

After a hearty meal, I decided to take a walk along the Thames as I had so often before. Having gone some distance, I decided to find a bench to reflect on my life and consider where I might find 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, unkempt and unshaven; still, I hoped to strike up a conversation with her. So I casually sauntered her way with a big, friendly smile. As I approached, however, she remained oblivious to me, not even looking up. Not wishing to be intrusive, I positioned myself at the far end of the bench, ostensibly to watch the pigeons.

There seemed to be something vaguely familiar about her. I hoped to sneak a furtive glance but didn’t wish to appear too obvious or, worse, creepy, should she notice me staring at her. After sitting there for 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 since she seemed intent on highlighting a book she was studying.

Finally, I could no longer resist; I had to look at her, pretending to gaze past her at the pigeons in case she happened to catch me. Damn, she was stunning, even without 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, she seemed so intent on what she was reading that 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 is the time to strike before she gets up and leaves.

Despite my better judgment, I blurted out: ‘Lovely day, is it not?’

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 few too many pints.

‘Sorry,’ I said, ‘I didn’t mean to be disruptive or trite, although it appears I managed to be both,’ I chuckled. ‘You seem 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 felt unsettling as she silently searched my face. I had no idea what she was thinking. Not knowing what to say or do, I returned the favour by staring back at her, looking intently into her eyes while remaining silent. The longer I stared at her, the more I sensed something mysterious unfolding between us, more subtle than words could express. Indeed, I had met her somewhere before, although 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.

‘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 under her breath: I don’t know if I know you.  Then, after a pause, she softly breathed, and yet you visit me by night.[10]

‘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? I chuckled’

‘Oh,’ she said, snapping out of her spell, ‘I’m sorry; I don’t know what came over me. Well, actually, I do; although I 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 and offered her hand. ‘My name is Julianne; however, if you wish, you may call me Julie… all my friends do.’

‘Well, I’m honoured to meet you, Julie, although 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.’[11]

‘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 you again, finally. In this metropolis of over ten million, what are the chances?’

‘About 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 like 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, smiling 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… as it seemed she had in me.

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 can’t believe it! I just let her get away without getting her number. I gave her mine, but how’s that going to help if she decides not to call? If she thinks I’m with another, she might not. Still, I need to find a way 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… I didn’t even ask her last name? Maybe I should go to the hospital tomorrow to see if I can track her down, though if she no longer works there, they might not know where to find her. Besides, I didn’t wish to appear to be skulking around; 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 offshore sex slave. Sorry, Kiko, that wasn’t fair; you really were good to me.

Still, I hope Julianne calls or texts… 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 that? If she thought 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 need 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 that atrophying body and how she had struggled to keep it alive, whispering in his ear while massaging his body and pleading for him to return. And now, he’s back, she smiled, fully recovered, with such a pleasant voice and gentle personality, just as I imagined.[12]

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 she heard.

Did that mean they were now living here together? If so, it would be best not to interfere if he’s happily engaged 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, Julianne wondered if it would be appropriate to call him, since she had no desire to get involved in a relationship where she might find herself in a couple of love triangles: Freddy, James, and her, along with James, her, and this woman. That could get tricky.

She thought of how she tried to reach him from Australia. 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 the professor’s happy fate, at times with a few snickers regarding 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 were still with his woman, why would he be wandering forlornly in the park with a backpack, an 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. 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 the books wherever he was living. That way, she would find out whether he was still living with her.

A few days later, Julianne sent 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.

 

 

CHAPTER FOUR

 

A SPECIAL DATE

 

With much anticipation, I waited for her to arrive… more anxious than ordinarily. But then, nothing seemed ordinary about her, only extraordinary. Yes, she was attractive; still, I’ve been with many such women, most of whom didn’t last that long.

Julianne entered the deli on time, smiling brightly. 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 had known 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 how you appear so much more vibrant and, if I may say so, even debonair from when I saw you last.’

‘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 term papers.’  

‘That’s splendid, you took this time to meet. So what may I get you?’

‘Just a chi tea, thanks.’

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 awakening. Likely because I was still high on some meds. So high, I’m almost afraid to ask what I might have said.’

‘I think you asked if I were your warden and would release you from your prison. You seemed to have a fetish with cuffs. 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, bemused.   

‘I remember after I awoke later that morning, I kept asking the nurses 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 would likely not 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 parents’ home there, where they spent most of the winter. Together, we returned to London this summer as I continue to monitor my father’s health while enrolled at St. George’s.’[13]

‘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 because I didn’t know your name.

‘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 asked, smiling.

‘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 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 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, presuming you were still down south.’

‘So what else did Jeremiah have to say about me when you inquired?’

‘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 that you would make it, even if I occasionally had doubts after talking to the doctors. I wish I could have been there to help you recover. However, I understand that you received some excellent treatment in Switzerland,’ she grinned mischievously.

‘I wish you could have stayed, too. After being discharged, I lost hope of ever seeing you again, thinking you would never return.’

‘And yet, I did return; only this time, it wasn’t for work. Upon returning home with my parents this August, I enrolled in a Master’s program in psychology. For some time now, I’ve wanted to become a psychologist, but I've never been able to afford tuition on top of all my living expenses.

‘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, that’s what I’m doing now. With my Melbourne credits and night classes, I anticipate graduating with my Master’s Degree this semester. Then, I plan to set up a practice as a licensed 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.

‘Nor would I, but then I’m not a serious professor. If I take a few liberties, possibly it’s because it seems I know you from somewhere in the past, yet that’s hardly possible unless we bumped into each other before my coma, perhaps 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 nether side of the world. Even if you were in a stupor that night, you still knew how to flirt,’ she smiled.

‘Couldn’t help it – part 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? So, are you still in a relationship with her?’

‘I was, at least until a few days ago, although for much of the last year she remained in London attending the London School of Economics for her MBA, while I stayed in Davos. 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 and cognitive abilities had restored. 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 even met yet. I don’t know why I feel so certain it was you; it just seems I had 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, sometime about twilight. I held you tightly as 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 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 must have been before coming out of your coma. I just thought about why. Did anyone inform you of what you said in the operating room while regaining consciousness?

‘All I recall was 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.’

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

‘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 shouting that – But why?’

‘What did your dream say?’

‘I don’t know, just that it was one bloody dream; so poignant that 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 even aware of what you said? It seemed you weren’t?’

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

‘Yes, I admit that was rather peculiar, like I was in a trance, at least momentarily. Nevertheless, these words came to me in my sleep some time ago, while on a weekend retreat in Camber. I got out of bed and recorded it as best I could. That’s why I was so startled when you recited these same words in your room, which seemingly answered what I wrote to 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 certified soon 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 from 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 rubbish. Regardless, why would you want to push me off the cliff in this crazy dream I had?’

‘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 to push you off the cliff that represented your coma, so that 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 outright dismissed your conjectures. Now, however, I’m not sure about anything.’

‘Oh, really. That sounds encouraging.’

 ‘For example, I don’t know why it feels as if I’ve known you for a long time after just meeting you on the park bench. In all my years of philosophical studies, nothing has provided an answer to such mysteries unless it’s one of those strange déjà vu moments our brains like to trick us with, like we’ve been here before in space and time.

‘Don’t you find it interesting how, out of nowhere, 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 Shakespearean 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 when he doesn’t know how to answer a question my mother asks him.

I paused to consider that for a moment. I recalled this being quoted recently, yet I couldn’t remember from where, nor had I thought much about it. Nevertheless, it seemed Julie was onto something, even if I wasn’t prepared to admit it. After all, wasn’t I, the philosopher, supposed to be the clever one?

‘I’ll give you this, if Hamlet was right, possibly there’s more going on in this universe than I’ve dreamed or even suspected. May 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 got whacked on the way down the mountain because sometimes it feels like I’m not the same person I was before my expedition.’

‘So, what if, while in your coma, your brain was reset to expand your awareness of what it was limited to before? I’m not saying the fall necessarily did this; perhaps it was something like that laser light that jolting your mind.’

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

‘Oh, you are that, too… most assuredly. That was already evident to us when the Santiago doctors told us how you, on your own, attempted an impossible assault up one of their mountains.’ 

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 just as 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 to protect, you know.

‘James, you said, you’ve read some Pascal, right?’

‘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?’[14]

‘Yes, I believe I came across it while reading Pensées many years ago.’

‘My mother is partly French and is very heart-centred, often quoting that to my father. He then sighs, c’est la vie… such is life.’

‘I’m impressed your mother knows this; it’s most profound. Recently, while in Switzerland, I read a book by Emanuel Swedenborg, a Swedish scientist, philosopher, and mystic from a few centuries back. His book challenged me to ask if I had been viewing life too much through my mind and not enough from my heart. So, I must say, this is a very timely conversation we’re having.’

‘So tell me, James, since we’re on the topic of the heart, do you think it’s possible to 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 share,’ 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 was 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 seem to love her with what was more interior, or as Pascal 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 like there was no inward union or wholeness.

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 grown 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; in that regard, I remain a sceptic. 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,’ she laughed, ‘are you coming, big boy?’

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

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

Such a tease! 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 would have surprised me; yet with her warm personality, it felt natural…and most delightful. I wanted to take her hand, but didn’t wish to push my luck.

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

‘This is Anthony, one of my roommates. Anthony, this is Dr Phillips, one of my former patients.’ 

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

I wasn’t sure if he was merely a roommate or something more, though I presumed she wouldn’t be bringing stray men like me into her bedroom if he were special. Besides, he seemed relatively young, perhaps no more than twenty.

‘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, uncertain how to respond to these two, since I had no idea what this spirited young woman was up to or what she might do next. At every turn, she appeared to enjoy catching me off guard, though I quite liked the direction we seemed to be heading.

As we climbed the stairs and entered her room, everything 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 said. I especially love the large mountain mural on your wall; it looks so real and natural, as if I could walk through the painting and be in the midst of the mountains, breathing in the fresh alpine air. It’s a masterpiece; who painted it?

‘I did. There was a time when painting was a passion of mine, until I became too busy with other things, such as work. Then, a couple of years ago, all of a sudden, I awoke from a deep dream with this image emblazoned in my mind as it still is.

I was so enraptured; I knew I had to paint my dream. It felt so tranquil, as if I had just slept there. I suppose that might explain 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, pulled back as if you just got up. So, in your dream, were you sleeping in a mountain cave?’

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

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

‘Oh, that… It’s just an equation that 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 zap you out of your coma. You wouldn’t be standing here without it. I’ll 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 synapses in your brain. Although I don’t understand all the technicalities, I was told that by stimulating the DNA receptors with powerful plasmic photons, every cell in your body seemed to respond to the lasers’ higher light frequencies, kind of like a tuning fork. From what I’ve been told, 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 serious, are you? I apologise for being dismissive. I don’t doubt there might be some truth to this. In fact, 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 just 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 has a strange feeling… like I’ve been here before, maybe I dreamed it.’

‘I wouldn’t doubt it… in your dreams, you scamp,’ she laughed.

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

‘So, James,’ she asked, looking as come-hither, sexy and sultry as a man could ever hope, ‘do you want to play a game of hide and seek? That’s why I brought you here.’

I wasn’t sure what to think, but it seemed a couple of buttons had come undone on her blouse. She appeared to be enjoying herself too much, amused by what she was doing to me.

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

What was this minx up to? Was she coming on to me? I still 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. It seemed she might have gone into her closet, yet I wasn’t sure. So, what kind of kinky sport would this turn into? She seemed so playful and full of mischief; nothing would surprise me.

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

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

I heard a faint rustle coming from 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 beside 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’ve found me, what more could you want?

I stammered, not knowing what to say, as she unbuttoned her blouse midway while staring at me mischievously, fully aware of what she was doing to my body.

‘James, do you see something I have that you might like?’

‘I… ah, well…’

Caught completely off guard, I barely noticed the 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’s yours. I’ve been wearing it ever since you arrived at the hospital more than two years ago.

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

‘It is,’ she said as she lifted it over her head to place around my neck, while kissing the cross.

‘You have no idea what this means to me, Julie,’ I said as my eyes moistened. ‘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.

‘Oh, I’m sorry to hear that,’ she said. I didn’t know you lost your mother at such a young age.

‘Nor did I see this cross again until a few years ago, when I discovered it in an old box holding 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 during my adolescence.

‘Though I’m not supposed to be superstitious, nevertheless, I wore this cross on my expedition, thinking it might 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 find all these books piled up at the back? There must be hundreds. 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 around to them. They seem to be the kind you would enjoy.’

I picked one up 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 were you expecting?

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 from your flat except for this old box and some files that had been dumped on the floor. We saved them, 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 discovered that all my earthly possessions were gone, but nothing upset me more than the loss of my books.

‘The only problem now is, I have no place to put them until I find another flat to rent. As you probably know, 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 an old, how shall I say… cost-efficient hotel.’

‘If it’s okay with Julie,’ Tony said, ‘why not stay with us 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, in an overly serious 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 up 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? You can pay us later after you earn some money.’

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

‘You’re right, Julie,’ Tony said. Considering all these books he has to read, he’d probably be quiet enough.’

‘Provided he doesn’t spend all night reading them in my closet,’ she giggled.

‘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 moves out, I’ll stay temporarily and pay my share as soon as I return to teaching at King’s next month. From what they’ve said, I expect 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.’

 

 

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 transitional as I set the course for my new life in London.

It was a relief 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 Julie and Tony. I would have loved to share Julie’s bedroom, but unfortunately, I had my own.

My next challenge was to recover my suitcase and belongings from Kiko. I dreaded contacting her, anticipating that she might have, in spite, thrown everything away after I jilted her, though she likely wouldn't have seen it the other way.

Nevertheless, she made it easy for me. After I texted her to let her know that I planned to pick up my clothing that evening, she replied that 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 that, out of courtesy, I would like to thank her for everything and ask how she was doing. Apparently not; it was 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 around to interfere with her studies, as she suggested, or whatever other events she might have going on. Fortunately, Tony had an old car and was kind enough to offer me a ride, so I wouldn’t have to lug my possessions back on the Tube and the bus.

My next order of business was to formalise my employment for the next semester. I earned my colleagues' respect long ago by establishing a reputation for my lectures and engaging dialogues with students. Not surprisingly, my contract would continue as a part-time sessional, meaning my wages would be no better than before; in fact, they would be less, as I would have fewer classes until I was able to reestablish myself in their schedule.

For now, my earnings would be more than enough while staying at Julie’s. In the meantime, I would do some part-time bartending at the King’s Arms pub to save up some money.

Over the following months, Julie and I engaged in numerous animated discussions in the living area about life, philosophy, psychology, and other topics that interested us. That’s not to say we didn’t have plenty of trite subjects to discuss or joke about; we did; however, that was not our focus. When classes resumed in January, we rarely saw each other during the day, as she was studying at university while I was 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 reason 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 mentioned Freddie to me; nonetheless, it wasn’t long after I moved in that he dropped by one day to see her. Since I learned from Tony that they had a long on-and-off relationship, I didn’t wish to complicate things for them or myself, so I refrained from making any overtures that I might have otherwise made toward her.

The first time I met him, he walked in the door without knocking, expecting Julie to be home. Instead, he found me in the living area preparing for my upcoming classes.

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

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

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

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

‘Please, Frederick, if you will… James. So, to answer your question, apart from all the endless nights we spend together at the hospital,’ I chuckled, ‘I just so happened to be walking along the Thames after recently returning from Europe, and sat on a park bench where Julie was reading a book, presumably for a class. That’s when she recognised me, having been one of my nurses. To me, she seemed vaguely familiar, although I had only seen her while I was zoned out in morphine 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, James, you might be interested to know I may have played a small role in the laser technology that was employed to awaken you from 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, and so she was reluctant to tell me much. Finally, she gave me full disclosure, but only after I promised to mention the equation to Dr Leonard Levinsky, a respected scientist and friend of mine. It was a necessary trade-off.

‘After Lenny put it out there, to our surprise, some physicists in the scientific community expressed interest in seeing if there might be something to it, possibly because it was a mystery where the equation originated or who devised it. As it seemed there might be something to it, everyone was curious. Finally, word spread online until a young Swedish mathematician and physicist attempted to uncover what appeared to be a hidden photon frequency, simple yet elegant.’

‘After discovering the code, its harmonic resonances were interpreted and configured to micro-current technology. And that’s where you came in, since you were well on your way out. It was our Hail Mary moment 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 to have had a small role in this breakthrough.

‘Oh, really, if that’s the case, it sounds like I might need to buy you a drink sometime,’ I chuckled.

‘Don’t get me wrong, I’m not a New Age type like Julie seems to have become with all her angel cards, crystals, and hypnosis, but I had a couple of dreams that appeared to indicate that the equation’s LY and YZ represented light and sound. Lenard suggested this might be the clue they were looking for to help decode the equation.

‘Interestingly, Leonard, with all his impressive scientific credentials, has a deep appreciation for some of the more esoteric wisdom found in his Hasidic faith’s Kabbalah 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. Though he didn’t understand what any of this meant, he felt it possibly could have some relevance as an implicit harmonic resonance within the equation’s structure.

‘Before I approached him, I was concerned about being compromised by something so far 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, tell me, where did she get this, since she won’t?’

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

‘Let me get 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 for Julie, who prefers to call me Freddie, possibly because she finds that amusing,’ he chucked. But anyway, cheers!’ he said as we clinked our glasses. ‘So, if you’re ready, hang on; this gets really wild.

‘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 had given her his number so they might hook up later. After all, they seemed to have hit it off rather well, having had a most fascinating, if not provocative, paranormal conversation on the way home.

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

‘You don’t mean our infamous equation!’ I exclaimed, looking askance 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’re not going to believe this, James. It was your hospital room number.’

‘What do you mean, my hospital room number? How do you know that?’

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

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

‘I guess she didn’t think you were ready to hear this, suspecting that you, being a modern philosopher, are just as reductionist as I, 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. I would think by now, you must have some explanation for this.’

‘I don’t; still, after all that’s happened, I wonder if perhaps Julie isn’t 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 about what I supposedly told her in a dream, although I find some of it hard to refute.

‘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 that something might be going on between her and me, I didn’t say anything about what Julie told me about us exchanging poems of endearment while I remained in a coma.

‘So, Fred, what else can you tell me about what happened with the equation’s ongoing saga?’

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

‘Amazingly, the driver had some critical information the mathematician was missing. Therefore, by the time he reached his destination, he had enough clues to design a new grid to take it from there. For one, he discovered the equation’s matrix is implicitly quantum, whereas he had been applying classical algorithmic suppositions rather than accounting for non-local superpositions. The big clue was Planck’s Constant. That provided a whole new template to work with, and within a short while, he had cracked the code for a frequency that 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 was also 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 alongside your room number, she knew something was up and needed 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 working as a merchant sailor before enrolling at university. I find it extraordinary that 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 perhaps, 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 back door, not to be seen again.’

‘That’s it?’          

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

‘As a matter of fact, he did. 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 alien off-worlder. But who cares if he likes to mess with her mind; without him, you would have been long dead and long gone, never to return. So what do you say to that?’

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

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

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

It was now apparent to me that this was a setup. After texting Fred to stop by, she never said when. Of course, it became evident that the plan was for us to meet, so things might unfold as they did. And so, just as she contrived, Fred made her story more objective and believable, man to man, 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.

Furthermore, how could he have known about me and my hospital room number? And what about claiming that we sailed together at one time? If so, when and where? Was it one of the merchant ships I sailed on in 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, not to mention my recovery being almost immediate. Even my fractured neck had completely healed within days of awakening.

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

‘Did Freddie come by?’ she asked.

‘He did, and we had a splendid time getting to know each other. Since he was aware of the strange drama surrounding the equation that you wouldn’t tell me about, I was fascinated to hear what he had to say. 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 until tying 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, but she also insisted on paying for dinner. That was a bit humbling, but with the little cash I had available, it was a relief, so 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, yet Julie, being an independent spirit, didn’t suggest that she felt obliged to him or anyone else. In her mind, it seemed whatever they had going on before she left for Australia was now over.

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

‘I think maybe I should. After all your years with Friedrich, even if a bit erratic at times, 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 comeback anytime 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’re still concerned our remaining roommates might create some conflict, it wouldn’t. I hope you will reconsider and stay as long as you like. I don’t know, maybe it’s because we spent so much time together at the hospital, but now, ever so much more engaging,’ she laughed.

‘So then, it seems 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, she smirked. Still, I have more than enough to carry us both.

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 for one of her psychology classes. 

After walking a few miles, I sat on 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.

I also thought about our dinner conversation last night, particularly how Julie made it clear that Fredrick would not be a problem should I wish 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. But her choice of a candlelight and wine restaurant left me with that impression. It seemed most promising, although she slightly rebuffed me when I asked if she could envision me in her future. But at least she handled it with grace.

For now, I wouldn’t make any overtures to her; instead, I would remain her friendly roommate, although I might find it a bit difficult to stay out of her bedroom while lying awake at night, longing to snuggle in with her. Even though she had plenty of 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 with whom I felt such emotions was Sister Máire, long ago in my first year of undergraduate studies. I smiled at the thought of how, all those years ago, I fell in love with this young novitiate, even attempting to seduce her in my room. Whatever charm Máire had, Julie had too, but without the drab attire.

The following week, I received my first paycheck from the tavern and couldn’t wait to pay my share of the rent and hydro, which was far less than what I had been paying in the flat I had before. It felt good to pay my own way and not be beholden to anyone. I didn’t realise how much stress this had caused me while with Kiko, feeling as if I couldn’t exist 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. It didn’t matter; we had a stimulating conversation about what had gone on with the equation, and this character named Rhom, who seemed to have played such a significant role in what unfolded after scribbling out the formula for her. Ever since Fred told me the story, I was dying to ask her more, so now was the time to get all the details.

‘James, all I can say is that it was the most bizarre day of my life, at least until I met you, she giggled. 

I was wondering, Julie, did Rhom ever apologise to you after jilting you at the dinner?’

‘I’m not sure he did; it was a most peculiar encounter. After escaping out the back door, I never saw him again, although he sent me a note justifying his behaviour.

‘So, are you going to tell me what he said?’

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

‘I’d love to hear it, if I may.’

‘Sure, here it is: 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.

 

‘You’re right, it is inspiring,’ I said. ‘So what does it mean to you, and why is it entitled The Elixir?’

‘As I said, I never saw him again to explain it to me. I suspect, however, that the ancient song has something to do with calling forth the elixir of love, since that’s what the equation is.’

‘Elixir of love? That’s a new one on me, Julie!’

‘But is it? What do you think got you here? Love is the highest frequency in the universe from 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 inspired me to do what it asked by interpolating the melody of Ave Maria with my own words as the laser focused on your pineal gland.

Because of Rhom’s poem, I sang it silently from the depths of my heart as I placed my hand on your head in the operating room, projecting the highest frequency of love I could towards you. It may sound strange to you, but I believe that’s why he wanted me to offer it as a heartfelt prayer so the light would carry through with maximum vibratory import.

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

‘At the time, I wasn’t sure if it helped, although Leonard seemed to think a merging of frequencies might have occurred. Beyond that, I don’t understand much about the science.

Since he understands the mechanics of sound among many other things, he also has unique insights from the Kabbalah, suggesting that the melody of healing love I projected onto you was a rarefied and exquisite frequency.

‘And what does Fred think about your theory?’

‘All he told me is that before your laser surgery, 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.

‘Yes, he mentioned his dream to me, too and how the land came alive, yielding crops and gardens, suggesting the water might have symbolised consciousness.’

‘So, what do you think about that?

‘Again, I don’t know the physics behind all this, but it seems quantum scientists might 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 mention 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. Still, I wouldn’t have thought anything like this possible.’

‘Why not? Again, my dear Horatio, let me remind you of 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 awakened and 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. 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 why we need each other to see life holistically through the bicameral lens of anima and amimus.[15]

‘That’s an interesting socio-psychological thought. By the way, Julie, I’m enjoying our conversation; it’s stimulating… like you,’ I grinned. I hope we can have more of these exquisite discussions in the future, you from your psychological perspective and I 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.

 

 

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, which was heralded to everyone across campus. Not only had I survived the fall in Chile, but endured almost a year in a coma and still had my marbles.

Some of the more informed students heard that 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 the London School of Economics (LSE). Some knew of Kiko, since she was hard to miss, and how my stay may have made for a rather interesting, if not stimulating, retreat.

Many wanted to know more about what happened during my ill-fated mountain climbing expedition and how I was able to survive a coma for so long. I responded by framing my situation as a hypothetical philosophical discussion about whether thoughts could be experienced while in a coma, where it seems nothing is happening. Is it possible to dream in such a state, or even have subliminal awareness of anything? We then discussed medical ethics and when it’s appropriate to pull the plug on patients like 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 at a faculty meeting to discuss the curriculum and how to make it more relevant to new students. There was a push to increase student enrollment in our department after experiencing attrition, resulting in fewer classes. Of course, this was most relevant to those not tenured, including sessionals like myself, since our jobs depended on attracting new students to the undergraduate and graduate programmes.

The situation concerned me, since 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 enrolled at King’s after graduating from McGill in Montreal with a Master’s Degree in Eastern Religious Studies from the Faculty of Religion and Theology. Like me, he was searching for a way to break into the system, where he could, hopefully, one day find tenure.

If not, his fallback option was to return to Canada, where he could secure a lectureship, perhaps at a small college, and work his way up from there. In that sense, we were in similar situations, except he had a working wife to help support him.

I first met Luc at a symposium on comparative religions featuring scholars who presented various mystical traditions through the ages, including Vedantic Buddhism, Persian Sufism, Jewish Heseticism, Gnosticism, and a variety of Christian mystics such as Jacob Boehme, Meister Eckhart, Teresa of Avila, and Saint Francis. I welcomed his perspectives, since most philosophers in my department seem more oriented to the reductionist-atheist perspectives of Bertrand Russell and AJ Ayer, who couldn’t be bothered to participate in a confluence of interdisciplinary scholarship. Witnessing 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 these esoteric discussions, but Luc had spent a few years as a free-spirited drifter, living in various ashrams in the Middle East and northern India, including Tibet, before enrolling in undergraduate studies. All his experiences were 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 I was 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,’ 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 to anyone,’ he smirked.

‘I haven't said too much about this to anyone other than Julie, my roommate 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, even if that word has been trivialised; nonetheless, it seemed 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 but peace and my thoughts. I wasn’t even aware of having a body, so maybe I didn’t.’

‘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 that I thought I heard someone singing a melody that sounded a lot like Ave Maria. Interestingly, Julie said she sang that to me in the operating room, silently projecting its rhythmic frequency toward the full guy as she held my head to hold it stready as the laser beam was applied to my pineal gland.

‘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 a 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!’ he laughed.

‘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 who wrote the 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 wild and wonderful things happen while wandering through the Middle East, in and out of ashrams. Maybe you can fill me in more next time. For now, however, 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 regarding your experience of coming out of your coma? I believe 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 are far too narrow to listen to my story.’

After my time with Luc, I was about to take the Tube back to my roommates when I decided to stroll 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 a while back. I sat down for a simple order of British-style fish and chips, an old favourite I hadn’t had for a long time.

As I was eating, it felt like someone was staring at me. However, I didn’t bother to turn around, believing it was just my imagination. After finishing, I got up to pay my bill and looked to see if there actually was someone in the back corner watching me. And there he was, grinning: my astrophysicist friend, who went AWOL 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.[16] 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, maybe 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 plenty of 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 achieve tenure 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 really tempestuous, like a gale in the middle of the Mediterranean, and will remain that way for years to come. But what I ride it will be, like nothing since your coma.’

‘Why, what was going on during my coma other than an overdose of sleep?

‘You don’t remember?’

‘Remember what?’

‘You know, James, you really weren’t really asleep; in fact, you were never more awake.’

‘And how would you know that?’

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

‘Okay, fine; so what are you doing in London? I assumed you had returned to Portugal. Or are you trying to get back on at Reading? But I doubt they’re hiring more astrophysicists these days. Even so, I don’t think they would hire you after abruptly disappearing last time. They said you didn’t even give notice.’

‘My sympathies, but 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, although 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 undergo significant trauma, but for good reasons. Before any beneficial change can occur, evil must first be exposed, just as a wound requires cleansing before it can heal.

‘The deep state, which controls many of the world’s governments, pharmaceutical companies, world agencies, NGOs, media, and various tech conglomerates, will 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 natural solutions that have been available for decades. By hollowing out the souls of humanity, these forces will do all they can to gain more power and money, as they have always done.

‘Because of the continuing low ebb of human consciousness, the masses will do whatever they’re told until they come to regret their compliance if they ever wake up to how they were duped. By the time the corruption is exposed, it may be too late for many. Every demon in hell has been waiting centuries for this, though few on earth will see its dark portals opening. Only those with eyes to see will realise what’s about to unfold.’

‘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 500 million, which is less than seven per cent of its current population. These enemies are not merely in your world; they include nefarious galactic powers seeking to take over your planet's resources. It wouldn’t be the first time.’

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

‘Have you heard of the Georgia Guidestones?’

‘No, I haven’t; so 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. You can check it out online, but if you want something concrete, it’s all there 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, which 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 a lot, even if 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.’

‘What do you mean by a whole lot more? Don’t you want to know what was going on with you while your body remained in a coma?

‘Now you’re pushing it, Miguel. 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 them, but it will take time, having accumulated over two years of messages, most of which I still need to delete. Before I do, I want to make sure there’s nothing significant in the files. So, why do you ask?’

‘I predict you might find at least one message of considerable significance. When you do, be sure to note its email address.’

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

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

After we parted, he went his way, and I went mine. There was plenty for me to reflect on as I walked home. Miguel was always an enigma, and that hadn’t changed, more so now than ever.

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.

‘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 what he says 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 to listen, 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 mentioned a declaration inscribed on the Georgia Guidestones that calls for the world’s population to be reduced to just half a billion. Apparently, it was erected almost forty years ago, declaring a new global order. I didn’t hear about it, did you?’

‘No, but there are lots we’re not told about. What if this actually had some evil intent concealed in its humanist guise, waiting for the right moment 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 their military can deal with it when the time comes.’

‘But what if our authorities are in on it? There would be fewer spoils to divide.’

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

‘And how do you feel about that?’

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

‘Regardless,’ Julie said, ‘I still 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 always seems to know 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 my coma. I planned to purge my thousands of obsolete messages anyway.’

‘Yet, how would he know how to find this specific message unless you know who wrote it?’

‘Don’t ask… he didn’t say who it was from or what it was about, just to note who it was sent from, so I’ll take a look when I have some time after work. Possibly, it’s something he sent me while I was in a coma, not realising my condition. However, that would be surprising, having not seen or heard from him for the past 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 begin going through my files to see if I could recover the email Miguel was determined I find. I suspected this might take a while, given the thousands of mostly irrelevant messages I had accumulated over the last two years.

After scouring the messages for hours, trying to find one that seemed suspiciously different from the rest, I was tempted to delete them all en masse 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 it was obviously someone’s prank. Regardless, I opened the email and read it slowly, growing increasingly flummoxed and fascinated with each word I read:

 

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

But first, let me commend you on your house party tonight; it brought back fond memories from back when I was getting stoned like some 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 whose body resides in room 3017, where you work and feed me my no-frills liquid diet. It’s okay, though; I don’t mind since I’m not all that hungry these days, as you probably noticed.

So, my dear, let me be honest with you: this patient in your ward isn’t who you think 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 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? That’s because 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 ever 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. Currently, I am staying with a couple of these jolly chaps at a 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 through space. That’s how I got here tonight. It’s all about quantum projection. Do you know about that… it’s really 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 believe I have more in common with them than with anyone I’ve ever met on earth before, except perhaps for you. We’ll see. That’s why you and I need to find a way to connect so we can 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 was there, too. Still, I would much prefer to be with you. I must say, I was very impressed with how well you’ve been taking care of the ol’ boy. 

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. Perhaps you don’t remember, though I certainly do; I enjoyed it… a lot. So, just for fun, we should try it again sometime, maybe a bit slower next time to have a more meaningful exchange. (Smily sticker goes here)

For now, I admit that I feel a bit envious of how the fall guy receives all your attention while I get none. I even hear that you sometimes spend the entire night together. Who knows, maybe you’re with him right now. It doesn’t matter, though; should you ever grow bored with him and feel inclined to spend a little real time with the real me, I’m sure we’ll find a way, even if we’re stuck in different dimensions. So, let’s work on it and see what we can create. I’m sure you’ll soon find I’m not like him at all; he has no personality… never wants to do anything or go anywhere except lie there. Sure, he’s quite the hunk, but 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 some of those I used to work with. When they called me sexist, I laughed and told them it’s true… I love sex, just not with them! That was supposed to be funny, but they don’t get it.

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 eavesdropping on your conversations or reading your emails. I would never do any of that unless you told me I could. I see myself more as a passive observer than an intruder; I hope you don’t mind.

Which reminds me, what were you searching for in your pockets while on the bus tonight? And yes, I was there with you, right across the aisle, keeping an eye on you. You seemed frustrated at not finding whatever you were looking for, so what was that? Let me know; I might be able to help you find it, since 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 it until I’m back with the fall guy. Until then, wear the cross whenever you think of me because I’ll be thinking about you.

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 find it to be true. I’m sharing this information to prove that I’m with you, at least in spirit. Who else do you know who could do that? 

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

Oh, before I leave, what’s with this Freddy bloke who 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, and 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. If I 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 without spooking 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 this meandering monologue. If I ever get the courage to show it to you when I get back, 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 most impressed by your proficient manoeuvres earlier tonight. 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.[17]

 

I sat there, stunned. Then I read it again, this time trying to make sense of what made no sense. I couldn’t have written that! Well, maybe I could have if I were stoned. Even more bizarre, the message included Julianne’s email address. What mischief was she up to? Should I ask, or wait for her to confess? Yet 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 sort of thing up.

Still, 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. Therefore, 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 that he didn’t even know Julie or have a key to her home. He probably wasn’t even in London; so, who else could it be?

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

But before showing this to Julie, I needed to chat with Miguel to find out what he knew about this prank message. The problem was, I had no idea where to reach him or if I’d ever see him again. He never carried a mobile, even when he was at Reading, as if that was beneath him. So, until we talked, it would have to remain a mystery.

For the next few days, I brooded over the email, carrying a copy with me to read, hoping to find something that might offer a clue about its meaning and the author's identity. Considering all this, was it possible that I was actually the author of the email message as it claimed? Could I have been the prankster even when I had been in a coma the whole time? At least my body was. So, what else was going on with me? Was I a ghost? A superbly ridiculous question, yet what was the alternative?

Everything about this contradicted what I believed. Though I was interested in learning more about Luc’s research on mystical traditions, I remained, first and foremost, an agnostic in my material world, where nothing like this could have ever happened. And yet…

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 anything that might lead to her regressing me, since hypnotism was contrary to my agnostic beliefs. If she were to learn of the email, she would probably be even more insistent, which would needlessly lead to conflict. I wondered why I remained so resistant, and it seemed to boil down to my need to be right, for if I were not, my entire intellectual edifice might come crashing down.

Since my colleagues were deeply entrenched in established secular prejudices, I needed to conform to their secular creed if I ever hoped to make tenure as a full-fledged philosopher. Until then, it meant wearing blinders. The only cracks in my armour were this email and Luc, who lent some 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 near Montreal, Quebec. As an intelligent young man, he became aware of medieval mysticism, reading everything he could find. This interest led him to explore other esoteric traditions, including the Russian writings of Gurdjieff and Ouspenski.

Like Gurdjieff, or because of Gurdjieff, he was inspired to begin his pilgrimage, seeking enlightenment from mystics he encountered while travelling through these countries. During an archaeological dig in Armenia, he met his future wife, an anthropology major. Then, after returning to the West, they married before spending several months at a commune in Big Sur, California.

Later, they moved back to Canada, where he enrolled at McGill to pursue his undergraduate degree in East Asian Religious Studies. From there, they moved to London, where he was accepted for doctoral studies at King’s, just 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 understanding the broader picture of non-material reality. I would have had to remain in denial, regardless of the evidence. In many ways, he opened my mind to what I would soon encounter.

Our intellectual discussions began shortly after the symposium, when we met for drinks at the Duke of York pub in Bloomsbury, where he worked as a bartender on weekends. We often got into some deep, intense discussions. One that I remember well was when 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 connotes a lower-order personified understanding of God. I’m sure you’re well aware of the term anthropomorphise, which, of course, is to make God in man’s image, but how can the infinite be understood in finite terms? .’

‘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, as evidenced by the many references in the Old Testament and possibly a few inferences in the New Testament. Much of this reflected the cantankerous disposition of the writers and prophets in that era.’

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

‘As a fledgling scholar of ancient religious writings,’ Luc 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 numerous 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.’

‘Unfortunately, Luc, many in the Christian world would regard that statement as heretical.’

‘And so they may, except it was written by a Jewish writer in the Old Testament named David.[18] 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 persecution by 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.’[19]

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

‘We can discuss more of these theological 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-dimensional 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 related to time and space are meaningless.’

‘What makes you think I’m enlightened?’

‘Enlightenment is an ongoing process related to conscious awareness. The fact that we’re having this conversation shows you already have your foot in the door to the School of Athens. I believe there’s a lot more to you than you’re aware of. 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 laughed. ‘I’m not sure of anything these days, Luc. Julie believes we were communicating during her sleep, yet how does that make sense? It doesn’t.’

‘Then let me ask you, what if your nocturnal communications transcended what you experience in the third dimension?’

‘I love these what-if questions, but I’d love answers more.’

‘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. ‘At least I’m already far 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 I had the house to myself. Tony often worked evenings as a server at an Italian restaurant, where he was tonight.

I wasn’t sure why my mind seemed to function better than before my coma. Something had shifted in my reality that was of utmost significance. 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 being imprinted in my cells. It seemed she was right.

In fact, Leonard told her that the more I challenged my mind, the quicker my DNA strands would respond, activating my genomes and thereby achieving greater mentation and expanded facility. I hoped it was true; however, it didn’t seem I was there yet, since I found these books 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? According to Luc, even the Apostle Paul seemed to imply that at times when not addressing a Jewish crowd. 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 had 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 seem to suggest, it would be reasonable to postulate that we indeed are gods, which is consistent with the ancient verse Paul quoted in Athens: In Him we live and move and have our being.[20] Interesting; this certainly put a new twist on things. And so, slowly, I was coming around to Luc’s way of thinking and possibly to Julie’s as well, albeit grudgingly. No longer did I see her as being too far out for my comfort. But before I was ready 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 discuss that with Luc to explore his perspective. So far, I haven't found much that's intellectually satisfying on this question. However, the more significant question of God’s existence and how it should be understood or not must 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. Although I wanted to show him a copy of my mystifying email, I was hesitant to compromise myself by sharing something so ridiculous. He then asked when I was going to allow Julianne to regress me to find what was going on.

‘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 progressive types do. Certainly, Freud did.’

‘I admit, at times, 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 these days.

‘Sounds like something I’d be interested in hearing more about. So, show me what you got.

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

‘Wouldn’t it at least have the email address it was sent from, so you must have some idea who sent it?’

‘Okay, this is where it makes no sense. It contains Julie’s email address, sent to me, but with a message intended for her. I hope you can make sense of that since I sure as hell can’t. It’s quite challenging to be objective about something this crazy. So what are your thoughts? I’m at a loss.’

‘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 judgment, 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 it then;  look at the date; I was in the middle of my coma.’

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

‘I was hoping you would come up with something that would explain this script as being anything more than someone’s prank. I’ve considered 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 to get 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 be-all and end-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.’

‘James, my good buddy, isn’t it obvious? Can’t you see? You wanted to turn your world upside down, and I must say, James, it was a brilliant, if not crafty, move in sending this message to yourself. Whether you were aware of it at the time, you wrote it in self-amusement, and then decided to send it to your email address so that you could read it later 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 that?’

‘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.’

‘So, what’s your friend’s name?’

‘A good question, Luc. Officially, it’s Dr Miguel de Santandrés, though I have my doubts about whether he actually earned a doctorate; I just assumed this because 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 had a significant role in your life. 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 Julie the message. 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.

 

CHAPTER SEVEN

 

HOT COALS

 

 

The weekend was approaching for an event somewhere in the country north of London, that Julie planned to attend with some of her woo-woo friends she had recently met at a book discussion. Other than mentioning that it involved a picnic, she didn’t tell me much else. Nevertheless, I reluctantly agreed to tag along.

Since I wasn’t keen on travelling with these questionable characters, I recommended we rent an economy car instead. Although 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 what to expect, I probably wouldn’t have gone, which was likely why she didn’t provide more information, aside from saying 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 from the mists of antiquity.

We left early Saturday morning so we could take our time to view the countryside. When we arrived near Nottingham, I showed her where I had spent my adolescent years with my great-uncle and aunt, Uncle Albert and Aunt Margaret. That was quite a flashback since I hadn’t been there for several years after they passed away, not six months apart.

On our way back to London, we ended up on a road far off the beaten path, where, with Julie’s handwritten map, we turned off to an opening in the woods. Her friends and their friends had already gathered there for what seemed nothing more than a potluck dinner in the country. It was an enjoyable time with a variety of intriguing characters, both male and female, some being more eccentric than interesting, as one might expect in any such gathering.

It seemed nothing else was organised, at least until about an hour before the sun 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 meant until we came to a clearing where a wood 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 teased, ‘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 among the initiates, including breathing exercises, chanting, and bare-handed wood-splitting.

‘You didn’t tell me about this, Julie. Things are beginning to look and sound kind of weird, especially with that stupid chanting.’

‘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, since I’ve never attended such an event before, although 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 already have trained their minds not to fear.’

‘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 that 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 stepped aside for a few minuted to talk when, suddenly, I looked up in disbelief. There was Julie, happily skipping across the coals. I almost dropped my mobile mid-sentence. In less than a minute, she had gone the distance, all the while chatting exuberantly with someone who wasn’t even there.

When I finally caught up with her, I hardly knew what to say as friends surrounded her, congratulating her with high-fives and hugs.

‘So Julie, my insane fire warrior, why did you suddenly decide to do this?’ (I was going to add charade, but checked myself.)

‘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 was impossible to feel fear in her presence. And so, without giving it a second thought, off we went hand in hand, laughing all the way across the coals. Before I knew it, we had reached the end, ecstatic about what we had 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 had disappeared. I believe she really was an angel… what do you think?’

‘I don’t believe in angels, nor do I care,’ is all I said, now visibly upset with her. Not only did she defy my cherished intellectual sensibilities 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. I think it’s time we leave this charade and find our way back to the car.’

Reluctantly, she agreed; however, we didn’t talk much on our way home, as neither of us was in the mood to discuss what had happened. It was very late when we arrived home, both of us tense and tired, likely due to my attitude. So, without saying anything, we went straight to our bedrooms.

Obviously, Julie was disappointed with my obstinacy, showing her displeasure by not speaking to me in the morning, except to say she planned to visit her parents for Sunday brunch before returning to her studies. As for me, I was upset about how things turned out and how, once again, my apple cart had been overturned. That seemed to happen frequently these days. Although I wanted to clear the air with her about what happened, I thought it might be best not to say anything, as I might find it difficult to defend my petulance.

 After returning the car, I spent the afternoon strolling along the Thames. I had much to unpack in my mind about 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 involve him as my counsellor 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 if she was available. Generally, she didn’t take phone calls to make appointments, as she believed whoever was meant to show up would at the most appropriate time. Curiously, that seemed to work for her most of the time. I guess being magic has its advantages, I thought, chuckling to myself.

As if waiting for me, there she was, true to form, with her crystal ball and Tarot cards. After peeking my head in the door, she asked me to wait a moment in the hallway until she finished a reading she was giving. Shortly afterwards, as her client was leaving, she greeted me with a warm embrace and a kiss on the cheek.

‘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, James, where have you been? I sense you’ve been away for quite a while.’

‘Well, yes, up until the last few months, I was living in Switzerland.’

‘That’s nice, yet I’m getting you were in a much different place before that, but I can’t tell where, just that it was exotic, if not otherworldly.

You probably didn’t hear, but I had a severe fall while climbing in Chile almost two and a half years ago. I then spent nearly a year in a coma, although I can tell you, it wasn’t exactly exotic.

‘As I recall, last time you were here, I saw something like a fall coming. Nevertheless, you decided to interpret it as merely symbolic of your erratic love life.’

‘You’re right; I forgot about that. You have an excellent memory.’

‘I do for certain clients,’ she winked. ‘Don’t you 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 the 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; from what I’m getting, 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 happened 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 the light might also have affected the structure of my chromosomal double helix strands, although I have no idea if that’s true or to what extent. Though 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 desire 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 you were in your coma? And I don’t mean the hospital.’

‘What do you mean, where did I go?’

‘I think you know what I mean, but you’re not saying.’

‘How 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; however, I found it in my computer files the other day, dated about two years ago. Mysteriously, it was sent from Julie’s email address, yet addressed to Julie, then sent to me. Weird, eh?’

I then gave her a copy to read. Her reaction was not at all the same as Luc’s, but rather, in deep contemplation as if she were 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 flaky.’

‘I’ll tell you what is flakey, James: your dismissive attitude. You’re too proud to step out of the bubble of your analytical prejudices because 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. After I expressed my displeasure, she didn’t talk to me the whole way home. In fact, she has hardly spoken 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 better; some grovelling might help by confessing 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. Just look at the world! I mean, what does anyone know? So don’t let your mind-manipulated beliefs control your mind; let them go, then look within for the truth. Now, how about arranging 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 obstinacy ruined our friendship. I wondered what Miguel would say. Likely, he would pile on, too.

 After making an appointment for a massage next week, I rushed off to my epistemology class. 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 be known?

When I got home after class, Julie was once again noticeably absent, choosing to stay at the library rather than join Tony and me for dinner. We enjoyed a simple spaghetti meal accompanied by a bottle of his favourite Italian wine, fermented in an orchard near his 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 would I know? She hasn’t talked to me either; that’s just how it often is with women. 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, Tony, but we were led down a path where they had some silly group chant and meditation, which, obviously, I had no desire to participate in. Most peculiarly, they had a long bed of hot coals where some of the more insane walked barefoot over the coals, probably a hundred feet long. I’ve heard of things like this occurring in primitive regions of the world, yet I never thought I’d witness 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 what she thinks… 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 bad about how I handled that now. Julie deserved better, so I probably need to apologise 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 move past our old naysaying 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, pondering 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 otherwise? I mean, James, aren’t philosophers supposed to have open minds rather than being closed to what might be? Instead of discovering new lands with higher vistas, we’re trained to be sceptics in the Flatlands. Flatlands… where did that word come from? It seemed to have just oozed out.

Whatever; from now on, I will challenge my students to keep their minds open rather than fear being out of bounds with what might be improbable yet possible. I did that when I wrote my thesis; it got me into trouble, but in the end, I emerged with honour. That was before I compromised my convictions for job security. Now, however, it is time to return to my old freethinking ways by looking at things more openly, even if it costs me my pride.

So maybe it was time to wave the white flag and allow Julie do a regression on me so we may find if something was actually going on between us that night in Camber. Nevertheless, I kept telling myself that giving someone control over the mind is not what good philosophers do. But, as I was coming to discover, that was a belief, not a truth. Huh, where had I heard that before? Was it Miguel, or someone else from another time and dimension in space?

 

When Julianne returned late that evening, I asked her how her studies went.

‘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; yet he’s far more open-minded than you.’

Now, that 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 or care to hear more. 

‘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. But first, I’d like to apologise for my behaviour on Saturday. It was inexcusable. Just because you had the belief and courage to do what you did, and I didn’t, doesn’t give me the right to claim moral superiority.’

Rather than reply, she looked at me blankly.

I’ve been thinking a lot over the last few days about my attitude towards what I assume is possible or not. It seems that many of my old views have recently proven wrong.

‘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 wished, as my attempted apology wasn’t sufficient to regain her favour. So, perhaps now might be the time to show her my email message. What did I have to lose if that’s what it might take 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 all that closed to her spells, at least not anymore. Hopefully, that might ingratiate me or at least put me in the same league as Freddie with his new BMW.

The following day, after my last class, I met Luc for coffee and told him about Julie’s firewalking and how badly I had blown it.

‘You’ve never witnessed firewalking before? Really? I thought you were a man of this world. Maybe it’s time you got out there more and tried some new steps,’ 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; perhaps you could try doing something else to impress Julie, like levitating,’ he laughed.

‘Of course… then I could merrily sail over the embers.’

‘That would be cheating,’ he grinned. ‘By the way, James, 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 real 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 might be 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 my old, entrenched beliefs. Until she said that, I didn’t realise how much they were holding Julie and me apart. My disregard for her firewalking illustrates the price I’m paying for my obstinacy.’ 

‘So, James, you’re seeing a psychic, are you? That surprises me, considering how off-script that seems for you. So, how did you end up in that rabbit hole?’

‘I didn’t intend it; I just happened to show up one day a few years ago when I noticed her sign while walking past the pawn shop below. For some irrational reason, I scampered up the dilapidated 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, I kept returning simply because she was an excellent masseuse who knew how to invigorate my body while giving more advise from the stars whenever I went through another breakup.

‘Then, one day, after a massage, she offered a short reading where she saw me falling down a mountain abyss 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 like 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 this far.’

 

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 most apparent, still. Evidently, my apology still wasn't good enough, so this probably wouldn’t be a good time to show her the email. The next day, I got a text from my friend, Madame Peyroux. 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, too.

That evening, Julie arrived home while I was in my room preparing for tomorrow’s lectures. I heard her walk past to her bedroom, then close the door loudly, as if to make a statement.

Okay, James, this is it… disclosure time! Let’s see if she will deign to see me before bedtime?

I tapped on her door lightly

‘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 without trying… 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 when you left your body to be with me, such as that night in Camber when it seems you wrote me 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 up 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 when you kneed that lout in the groin on your way out to work, remember?’

‘Yes, I remember doing that.’

‘Well, as it turns out, I was there. I saw it all.’

‘What do you mean you saw it all?’

‘Believe me, I was there, or I should say, I was 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 that I felt I shouldn’t, at least not at that time. But after, I realised, unwittingly, that there could be another purpose for the message that hadn’t occurred to me when I started to write it.

‘Is this some joke, James?’

‘Why would I joke about something like this? I’ve been putting this off for days because it might mean admitting I was wrong. And, as you know, I don’t like being wrong,’ I chuckled.

‘No, you sure don’t,’ she smiled for the first time in days. ‘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 check my email for the first time since I left for Chile. It took me hours to sort through all the junk mail, but I finally found it, sent to my private campus account from your email address. 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 reluctantly concluded that none other than I could have written it.

‘You’re confusing me, James. What are you talking about? I didn’t send you a message.’

‘As I said, I sent the message to my department’s 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 mentioned, I didn’t intend for you to see it since I didn’t wish to spook you, which is why I sent it to me, not you.’

‘I’m not exactly sure what this all is supposed to mean, 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, reading the enigmatic message. Occasionally, I paused to gauge her reaction, but I saw no expression, and yet, she seemed to hang on every word.

After I finished, I felt somewhat 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. As I said, I never intended to send it to you; I was only having a little fun pretending you would read it and be amused. In fact, I almost deleted it when it occurred to me that this would be an excellent way to trick myself into realising I had been out of my body.

‘And as we can see, it seems to have worked,’ she said, ‘as your whole attitude has changed. Even if I didn’t laugh, I might later. But if what you said about living in a cabin in Chile, teleporting everywhere with a couple of off-world entities is true, then you’re even further out there than me, she smiled.

May I keep this copy? I want to read it for myself before I go to sleep. ‘Of course, keep it; I made that copy for you. Understand, 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 toward 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, to my amazement, she unexpectedly threw her arms around me, pulling me down beside her as she began to kiss me, releasing what she had been holding back after caring for the fall guy for all those months. 

Then, as she realised what she was doing, she suddenly jumped off the bed, embarrassed, and exclaimed, ‘See what you made me do. Off to your room, Dr Phillips; 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 taking my morning shower, she knocked on the door and poked her head in to announce she was making a fry-up and that I should hurry. After throwing on my bathrobe, 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 on with you, and besides, I need the practice. I especially 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 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 this 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 rather long embrace as she rested her head on my shoulder, relishing the moment of our newfound 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?

‘Let’s not push it, Julie. I’ve never believed in any life other than this, though at times it seemed my mother was trying to get through to me. Still, I’m more interested in this physical life than in seeing ghosts.’

‘Are you? Well then, Mr Spook, what about all the time you were skulking about, even watching my jujitsu feats? It seems to me you were having a rather enjoyable time, even as I was diligently taking 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, and then blew me a kiss on the way out.

ENDNOTES

[1] I had heard these same words before, once spoken to me despondently by Julie, the night before we left for Vienna. At the time, I wondered why she repeated 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] This was the complete, all-inclusive love the Greeks identified as Agape, the all-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
[4] 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. It was about a year later, I came to understand Meister Eckhart's concept of nothingness, which refers to the indescribable, formless ground of being from which all things emerge. It is not a void but a boundless potentiality that is beyond human conception and language, achieved through a process of spiritual detachment from all created things. By achieving a state of inner emptiness, one can experience a direct, unmediated union with the divine. 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.
[5] It is finished, the last words of Yeshua on the cross when his mortal body died.
[6] Based on this experience, I’ve recently concluded that enlightenment is not merited, but rather gifted to an eternal moment for those who wish to 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 hold significance; only spiritual worth holds relevance or meaning. 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.
[7] This was repeated from a poem I wrote to her in Book Six, The Elixir, Chapter Seven, The Dunes.
[8] In this same Chapter Seven of The Elixir, Julianne wrote a poem to me that said: Come to me now, away from your prison house. Later, in my poem, I replied: Away from the prison, I have escaped.
9] To be is to perceive, as stated and affirmed by the 18th-century philosopher George Berkeley.
[10] These were lines Julianne repeated from a poem she had written to James while in Camber.
[11] This was repeated from a poem I wrote to her in The Dunes, Chapter Seven of The Elixir.
[12] While I was beginning to write this narrative, Julianne inserted her impressions and reflections of what she had said and experienced at the time.
[13] 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.
[14] The heart has its reasons which reason cannot know
[15] Anima and animus are the Jungian terms representing the unconscious feminine aspect of a man, and the unconscious masculine aspect of a woman, which together comprise the collective consciousness of humanity. As archetypes, they counterparts of the opposite gender
[16] See Book Four of the series, Surreal Adventures
[17] This message is found in Book Three, Quantum Leaps, Chapter Eight.
[18] There were several writers who are thought to have contributed to the Psalms, including David, Soloman, Moses, and possibly several others
[19] Psalms 82:6 and John 10:34 (KJV)
[20] Acts of the Apostles, 17:28

 

 

 

____________________________________________________________________________

CHRONICLES OF ELYSIUM'S PASSAGE NOVELS

 Soon to be Published 2026

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: climbing a remote, challenging mountain somewhere in the Andes. 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 because their teachings contradict 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, a bond 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 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 unexpected events and evidence, along with his girlfriend’s urging, he comes to realise 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