For more ELYSIUM’S PASSAGE Blog Post links, go to https://digitalbloggers.com/arts-and-entertainment/ep-blog-posts 

***** 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

I posted several individual chapters of The Ascent a few years ago but then later took them down as I was making further revisions to the book. I have now reposted the first seven chapters, roughly half the book.

This is to serve as a teaser to the Elysium's Passage Novel Series, just as I posted the first half of the last book in the series, The Return, which may be accessed at this link.

https://digitalbloggers.com/arts-and-entertainment/THE-RETURN  

I plan to publish all seven books of the series sometime this summer and will notify readers where they may acquire the books at that time.

     

 

    T H E  A S C E N T

 

A Philosopher’s Surreal Ascent into the Mysterium of the Unknown Universe

 

 BOOK ONE

                               

 

C H R O N I C L E S  OF

E L Y S I U M ’ S  P A S S A G E

 NG Meyers

                                                   

 

 

CONTENTS

This post of THE ASCENT has included only Chapters 1 to 7 

.

.

PROLOGUE TO THE SERIES

INTRODUCTION TO THE ASCENT

CHAPTER 1       A REALLY CRAZY DREAM

CHAPTER 2       WHERE AM I?

CHAPTER 3       STORYTIME                                                                 

CHAPTER 4       THE COMPANY YOU KEEP                                                                       
CHAPTER 5       THE FALL

CHAPTER 6       SUMMIT UNIVERSITY                                                           

CHAPTER 7       DOWN BUT NOT OUT OUT                                                 

CHAPTER 8       THE SCEPTIC’S DILEMMA                                                         

CHAPTER 9        THE TRUTH OF THE MATTER

CHAPTER 10       A NEW GIRLFRIEND                                                             

CHAPTER 11      LAMENT TO LOVE

CHAPTER 12      MY BIG BREAK

 

APPENDICES

 

                   APPENDIX ‘A’      PHYSICISTS

                   APPENDIX ‘B’      EMANUEL SWEDENBORG

                   APPENDIX ‘C’     THE EGO

                                                                                                  

  

PROLOGUE TO THE SERIES
                                                                                     

Who looks outside, dreams; who looks inside, awakens.

                                                                      Carl Jung

 

Hi, my name is James. I’m a lecturer in the Department of Philosophy at one of the universities in London, England. If you are willing, I’d like to take you on an extraordinary journey like nowhere in this life. As you join me on my adventures through Elysium’s Passage, you may find yourself caught up in a surreal reality that transcends the limited dimensions of this world.

It all began when I embarked on a mountain climbing venture to Chile after feeling frustrated and disillusioned in not being able to achieve my academic and social ambitions. But then, what occurred on the mountain would change my perspective on everything. Though a philosopher, I soon discovered how little I understood about ultimate reality, hardly seeing anything past my entrenched beliefs and narrow prejudices.

In The Ascent, my first chronicle of Elysium’s Passage, you will witness me receiving my comeuppance as a slightly cocky know-it-all intellect. Yes, I was beaten, whipped, broken and laid bare: stripped of my intellectual pretences. Well, at least it felt that way to my bruised ego. I now understand how necessary it was for me to learn these lessons in humility before I could begin to acquire genuine wisdom. 

The challenges and events I encountered helped rid me of the intellectual rubbish I had accumulated over the years. I didn’t realise it then, but a lifetime of limiting beliefs had impaired my ability and desire to comprehend an infinitely larger reality far beyond what might be seen through the foggy lens of this world.

Shortly after arriving in the Andes, I was confronted with a much different ascent than what I could have anticipated, where I found I had to fall into the depths before I could rise to the summit, figuratively and literally. As you follow my journey, you may agree that what I experienced was the ultimate life adventure! Having survived this crash course, I understood all the clever stuff I thought I knew before wasn’t all that clever. Instead, much of it was just plain wrong.

Too often in the past, my thoughts were like shape-shifting clouds drifting in whatever direction the winds of professional acceptability blew. Fortunately, during my time on the mountain summit, I came to understand our inherent human capacity to access higher wisdom that informs and transcends the limitations of our linear reasoning. By discovering who we are, we realise that truth is accessed from within the centre of our being, metaphorically referred to as our soul or heart.

Sure, the cold, calculating intellect may be the processor of information, yet its analysis is of limited temporal value if it doesn’t join with the heart’s wisdom. Pascal said in his Pensées: The heart has its reasons that reason knows nothing.[1] Eventually, I learned how to discipline my confused mind to hear what my heart had to say first. With my academic orientation, it wasn’t an easy lesson to learn.

Much of what I first discovered came from a long series of discussions I had with a couple of companions I met on the summit, far more advanced than me, who often communicated what was contrary to what I thought I knew. Consequently, not only did I have to become a student again, I had to unlearn many of my old assumptions.

I didn’t realise then how much I had become inculcated with many unsubstantiated beliefs through years of institutional teaching and conditioning. I recognise that what I say may not be appreciated or judged favourably by many colleagues who hold to their fixed views on the meaning of reality.

In my narrations, I also wish to share what one of my sage friends asked me to communicate to humanity regarding how we need to live as spirits even when we’re not aware that’s the essence of our being. By this, I think he meant how important it is to understand we are immortal spirits inhabiting a mortal body on earth for a very brief period. If we understand this, we will live not only for the external world but also in accord with the spiritual essence of who we are, now and forever.

Though I didn’t understand this before, I have no doubt he was right: we are spirits utilising our outward material form to give purpose and dignity to our lives. No matter how many distractions draw us away from this realisation, I believe if we take the time to look deeply within, it becomes apparent how infinitely expansive the Source of our spirit is.

You may wonder why the name Elysium occurs throughout this series of books. The word possesses a variety of exotic meanings associated with the idea of paradise and the afterlife in classical prose and poetry found first in Homer, then in other works by such poets as Virgil, Plutarch, Shakespeare, Dante and Schiller. How and why this name surfaced is revealed in the second novel, The Summit.

It was over a year after returning home from this prolonged adventure that I decided to compose a narrative of what happened to me after I became aware of the extraordinary events that had transpired after my ascent to the mountain summit. More correctly, I didn’t decide to write about my adventure so much as being conscripted by some very persistent and militant muses to put it out there even as the events were occurring. I trust you will find it just as compelling to read.

 And so, I invite you to join me on my trek into Elysium’s Passage as we explore a universe that allows for infinite adventures and inward expansion. It was here I experienced my surreal free fall into a new consciousness, leading me to discover who I am and what I’m continuing to become. Through all this, I trust you will be inspired to plunge into a more profound realm of conscious awareness as you find your portal to Elysium.

These novels are not intended to discuss only provocative ideas and concepts but to take you on a spectacular and sometimes enchanting journey, which I sometimes refer to as my trek into the mysterium of the unknown universe. Each represents a unique phase I experienced, including adventure, the afterlife, romance, philosophy, and what, from this world’s perspective, might seem like a fantasm of extraordinary experiences.

My story in The Ascent to Elysium begins in December of 2017 and continues through to November 2018 in Book Six, The Elixir, when my body returns to consciousness. Then, in late 2019, I began to relate much of what happened to me that year, completing my six-part narrative the following year. In my final novel, The Return, I intend to disclose what occurred after I returned to consciousness. Much has yet to happen, so we’ll see. My story has not ended, but then, yours hasn’t either, nor will it ever.

 

   

 

INTRODUCTION to the ASCENT

 

Come further up, come further in.

                               

This narrative, I refer to as Elysium’s Passage: The Ascent, begins with a most unusual allegory that came to me in a dream one night, which, as it turned out, would foreshadow the direction of my future life. The symbolic nature of the objects and environments I encountered reminded me of the symbolic meanings I read of in Pilgrim’s Progress.[2] My dream experience felt it had a similar quality: the most provocative interpretative expression of my life up to that point, including various deficiencies not so evident to me, though they were likely to others.

Also, note that I have included the quote above: come further up, come further in. These few words sum up the primary theme of this book and my new life. If you are familiar with the literary works of C.S. Lewis, you may recognise this phrase from what was cried out by the characters as they ran further up and further into the new Narnia, as described in The Last Battle, the concluding book of the Chronicles of Narnia series. Only after my adventure did I understand what meaning Lewis intended to convey with this short phrase.

As we ascend our Mountain further up and further in, we gain greater clarity and vision in seeing who we are while we remain in the world. Whatever path we may be on, we are all on a trek through life. I now wish to share this most peculiar venture that took me further up and further in, far beyond what I could have imagined.

 

 

CHAPTER ONE

A REALLY CRAZY DREAM

 

It’s a dangerous business, Frodo, going out your door. You step onto the road,
and if you don’t keep your feet, there’s no knowing where you might be swept off to.[3]

                                                Bilbo Baggins  

 

It had been a stressful week at university as I lectured by day in several over-enrolled introductory philosophy classes while diligently marking stacks of midterm essay examinations by night. After barely making the Friday afternoon deadline submissions, I returned to my flat and collapsed on the bed, knackered.

There was too much going on in my mind for my body to rest. Partly, I was concerned about how this evening might go with a woman I hardly knew. I don’t know; perhaps I felt intimidated by her. Finally, I poured a half glass of rum, then another and another. Now, feeling much lighter and relaxed, I offered a prayer to my favourite god on Mount Olympus.  

Officially, I would have described myself as an agnostic or atheist, as would many philosophers in my department who pride themselves on their scepticism. The prayer, or whatever it might be called, was ingenious, or so I thought.

In jest, I said, ‘Zeus, if you’re hiding up there in the clouds, I need you to come down to give me a break. I’m afraid things aren’t working out too well these days.’

It was true; increasingly, I felt disenchanted with my life. I wanted to experience more fulfilment but wasn’t sure what that was or where I might find it. I even considered dropping out for a few years to search for whatever I lacked. Possibly, if I went to Tibet or the Andes, I would find what I was looking for. These mountain regions appealed to me after becoming an avid climber while completing my Master’s programme in Canada several years ago. As I considered doing this, the cynic in me would say if I couldn’t find myself in London, I probably couldn’t anywhere else either.  

I was troubled with my fledgling career, which did little to assuage my financial instability. Also, my inability to establish even one satisfying relationship with a woman was beginning to frustrate me. Outwardly, I had several things going for me, including my academic credentials, physical appearance and roguish charm.

Whenever it served my purposes, I employed a variety of strategies and rakish personas to attract what I considered the most desirable women into my life and bed over the years. Many saw through my insecurities… others didn’t. However, holding on to them was another matter, partly because I ran away before they could. The reason for my confusion is an integral part of this story and eventual redemption in a land far away.

This particular evening, I was hoping to put all my frustrations behind me after arranging a dinner date with the attractive brunette I met at a charity event I recently attended.

I was impressed with her confident demeanour; not only was she well-read and articulate, but she recently earned an MBA degree, now working as a senior analyst for a prominent investment firm located on one of the top floors of an office tower in Canary Wharf.

Unfortunately, things didn’t go well. I suppose I should have imbibed something less toxic while waiting for her. By the time she turned up at our table, over a half-hour late, I had already decided this was a game, and I was not well-pleased in being forced to play.

It appeared this was a power ploy to let me know who had greater importance with the job that most mattered. Likely, this was her way of saying she had more pressing concerns to attend to than just marking term papers. At least, that’s how I interpreted it. Considering her pretty face and revealing cleavage, I thought I’d make the best of things by attempting to be as pleasant as I could to see where things might lead, hopefully in the direction of my flat.

My problem in attempting to have an engaging conversation with her was that we lived in two very different worlds, which is why I found her incessant talk about international commerce hard to relate to, not to mention the accomplishments of her stellar career. I suppose I should have been impressed, but from my critical perspective, I had already decided she wasn’t authentic.

Her upwardly mobile pretences didn’t do anything for me except make me feel emasculated, which wasn’t exactly a turn-on. I would have been willing to tolerate these affectations had it been to impress me for some amorous intent. It seemed, however, that she was more interested in impressing herself.  

I tried to be civil and attentive, though I’m sure she could tell the bored look on my face, except on occasion when my eyes may have inadvertently drifted below her neckline. After a couple more glasses of Vodka coffee liqueur following dinner, I was no longer on my best behaviour, suggesting we take a taxi back to my place to get to know each other a little better. Possibly, the problem was how I said it.

Evidently, she wasn’t stupid as she curtly declined my less-than-subtle offering. I felt further chagrined when she insisted on paying her half of our dining tab as if to make it clear I had no pretence of a claim on her. Most ungracious, it seemed, certainly not how I had planned the evening’s outcome.

As she walked out to catch a taxi to go home, I muttered something she probably didn’t hear. If she did, I didn’t care. I can be as obnoxious as any pickled bloke under the influence. And, by then, I most certainly was. I was distraught with how things turned out and how she had rebuffed me, cold and dismissive as if passing on some marginal investment option at her office.

Things might have turned out better that evening had I taken my lumps and gone home to bed. But oh no, I needed to recover what was left of my wounded ego by finding my way to a somewhat less dignified establishment to chat up some new acquaintance who might be prepared to take a ride home with me.

No such luck, even when I was prepared to compromise my previous standards for the night. I suppose drunk isn’t considered very sexy unless the other is just as drunk. As the saying goes, a wink is as good as a nod, although I wasn’t getting either.

Worse than the rude dismissals, rejections, and rolled eyes was a little skirmish I had with an oversized Godzilla bouncer standing at the door. I noticed he had been observing my deteriorating condition for some time, so I decided it was necessary to inform him of my sobriety and professional credentials.

I walked over to him, not all that steadily, telling him who I was. Not surprisingly, he didn’t seem that interested in hearing about my career or the papers I planned to present among some of the finest academic institutions in Britain. I don’t know why I felt it was necessary to tell him all that, yet I did.

Rather than being impressed, he seemed to consider me more of a common drunk than a scholar. Sure, I told him, maybe I was a bit blotto, but dammit, I wasn’t drunk. As I staggered to the water closet, he suggested I find a cab to take me home. It likely didn’t help that I had a contrary opinion by venting some of the more creative expressions I had acquired during my short bout as a sailor.

Slurring to him, saying, get stuffed, you fuggin ape, might have had something to do with my intimate encounter with the cement sidewalk outside after being unceremoniously escorted out the door. It probably didn’t help that I took an inept swing at him. Not surprisingly, the only thing I came away with from my bender that night was a bloodied face with a severely damaged ego.

I guess he was only doing his job, but while in my stupor, it felt like the greatest humiliation of my life. On my way home, I pondered how I would explain my new face art to my classes, not to mention enquiring colleagues in the faculty lounge. Even if it was true, I wasn’t sure how credible my story of falling on the sidewalk would sound.

It also occurred to me how thin the veneer of our civil personas can be, particularly when in an altered state of intoxicated consciousness. I was angry with myself, knowing how I would have stood up to him as a sailor in the days of my invincible youth, having survived several late-night brawls of decisive wins for fun and frivolity. Mostly, I came out relatively unscathed from these pugilist forays when docked at various Mediterranean ports.

Now, look at me, sipping on lattes with all the stiffs in the faculty lounge! What happened to the street fighter? It was apparent that I had relapsed after years of becoming outwardly genteel in the refined academic world. I was out of my element on both fronts tonight… no longer much of a fighter nor remarkably genteel.

It was sad how my salty sea life had become eclipsed by the stifling civility around me. Muddled reflections of my misspent youth swirled around in my mind as I lay sprawled, half passed out, across the backseat of the cab, my nose still bleeding.

Like most of us, I have my quirks, strengths and weaknesses, along with a variety of charming and not-so-charing idiosyncrasies, and I suppose I always will. Whatever my foibles, let’s just say, notwithstanding my doctorate, I had a lot to learn about life. As was evident with my date that night, it would never have occurred to me that what I perceived in her had everything to do with projecting my fears and insecurities upon her. It was an established pattern I wasn’t yet aware of having.

I recognise that, at this point, I’m not presenting a very flattering picture of myself, especially regarding my conduct that evening… hardly what you would expect from a man of letters! As it turned out, this would be the low point from where I would begin my mountain ascent, both literally and figuratively.

I could never have imagined at the time that this would lead me towards discovering new, unimaginable dimensions of reality. Unbeknownst to me, while riding home that night, something extraordinary was about to happen.

I felt my battered body aching from the evening’s dissipations and inflicted wounds as I collapsed on my bed and passed out. I don’t know exactly when, but in the hours that followed, a most unusual dream intruded into my fitful slumber. Possibly, some lucid dream; I’m not sure. Whatever it was, felt like nothing like I had ever experienced in my sleep before.

In it, I found myself transported into an altered world of colours and images that seemed exquisitely real and yet felt eerily surreal. That might be normal for some, though not me, at least not since experimenting with DMT.[4] More significantly, this dream had a disturbing scene at the end, a most dreadful climax without having any explicit resolution.

I had no idea what it meant, except I awoke in a panic, feeling as if I was about to fall into an abyss. I’ve had dreams of flying before, but this one didn’t promise to be a happy landing. Now fully alert, I stumbled across the room to my desk to record my vivid impressions.

Detailed scenes remained emblazoned in my psyche, feeling larger than life. Because it was so unusual, I wanted to capture as much as possible, even with a splitting headache. I was so obsessed with recording my impressions I didn’t even bother to turn on the light since the sky was beginning to lighten with the dawn. The more I wrote, the more came back to me with images of strange lands and people that eventually led me to an excruciating yet exhilarating mountain climbing adventure.

In the days and weeks ahead, I often reflected on what I dreamt and what it might mean. The more I did this, the more images and extraordinary experiences came to me. As I kept adding these impressions to my journal file, I increasingly felt my life was taking on a whole new trajectory. It was subtle; something seemed to be unfolding within me that would eventually alter the course of my life.

I’m not one to remember my dreams that well. Even when I have one, I tend to ignore it unless it has some uninhibited young feline jumping into my bed. That doesn’t happen too often; however, on rare occasions, significant dreams will stick with me, with some extending back into my troubled childhood.

Nevertheless, this time, I knew something profound had happened in the subliminal spheres of my mind. Rather than fading away, this dream began to reoccur, each time more pronounced, to the point the impressions intruded into my consciousness throughout the day, at times distracting me as I lectured.

As my mind continued to drift towards mystical realms, I felt increasingly puzzled, if not intriguing … a bit unsettling for a linear philosopher such as me. Yet my thoughts seemed increasingly profound and meaningful, as though there was a destiny I was headed towards, yet not knowing where.

Even though I didn’t always recognise all the details in these dreams, what I saw felt like symbols and metaphors that seemed to represent the struggles I encountered in life. Unrecognised aspirations were given new meaning, along with the many accompanying sorrows and disappointments, which made these nocturnal experiences so unforgettable in the months ahead.

Since I couldn’t shake it, I remained puzzled by the curious impact it was having on me. There remained many contradicting images and messages that made me feel both sad and hopeful at the same time.

At times, while sleeping, I would awaken enshrouded by fear. And yet, whatever impending doom awaited me wouldn’t reveal itself. On other occasions, as when walking along the Thames, I would receive exhilarating flashes of ascending an exceedingly high and challenging Mountain.[5] Whenever this occurred, I would later sit on my favourite bench near the river and contemplate the images my mind had evoked within, perhaps driven by a longing to experience something more than what life was currently offering me.  

I often wondered if there was some hidden message in the images intended to jar me out of this mediocre existence I felt bogged in. Some of the dreary scenes at the beginning reminded me of feeling stuck and disempowered in my academic career. Other images suggested I was becoming liberated from everything holding me back as I ascended above the clouds. Before I go further with how the dream proceeded, let me provide some background to my life to give context to what these images may have been trying to tell me.

As an orphan, my earliest years living in various foster homes in the Liverpool area were not happy. Mercifully, I was finally taken in by my father’s uncle, who must have pitied me or possibly concerned about how I may end up tarnishing the family name. After a career of teaching in a prestigious boys' school, he developed an appreciation for advanced learning, setting high expectations for his students.

With me being endowed with above-average intelligence, his tutorship served me well in making my education relatively easy, where I opened myself to a world of utopian ideals.

Later, when I became a young adult, this background provided me with an ideological basis to get caught up in several de rigueur liberation movements, as envisioned and espoused in the humanist writings of Voltaire, Marx, and Huxley. What few religious moorings I had held were soon tossed aside, and I no longer believed in God or prayer.

By the time I entered undergraduate studies, I had already become disillusioned and cynical about life and the direction the world was headed. I had hoped philosophy would help me find purpose on earth and what I was doing here. However, after reading Nietzsche, Hegel, Freud, and Sartre, I fell into an existential weltschmerz, despairing of ever finding answers to life’s more significant questions.[6]

Fortunately, this sullen spell was broken after enrolling in my Master’s programme at the University of Calgary in Canada. The Philosophy department was recommended highly for its excellence, with many of its philosophers having strong ties to British academia.[7] My two years there did much to improve my attitude towards life, as I developed several significant relationships, both academically and socially.

Perhaps nothing more meaningful could have happened than for me to get out of my funk by climbing the highest peaks throughout the majestic Canadian Rockies. With the financial assistance of scholarships, I advanced towards more academic achievements.

Yet, in the end, none of the answers I hoped to find about life’s meaning was forthcoming. By the time I completed my doctorate in Edinburgh, Scotland, I was resigned to whatever ultimate meaning I was looking for would likely remain unknown, at least to me.

Now, in my early thirties, I had grown increasingly weary and cynical towards science, religion, and even philosophy itself. It seemed, to my cynical mind, that everything had all become contrived, distorted and exploited for power and gain. After feeling disillusioned with the world order, I indulged in wanton promiscuity until I finally grew bored with having futile affairs that only reinforced my existential crises. Deep down, nothing satisfied me.

Though I may have seemed to have it together on the outside, working at a prestigious university with many attractive women in and out of my life… within, I was a mess. Despite that, my frustration in not finding purpose, something in me wasn’t about to give up, at least not entirely.

I wanted to believe I would ultimately find a way to reach higher ground, somewhere far beyond the bogs where I remained stuck. I thought of the words of Lao Tzu: The journey of a thousand miles begins with one step, and yet somehow, I couldn’t seem to get my feet unstuck for long enough to take the first step.

So, it was that infamous night at the pub when I felt I had hit bottom, both literally and figuratively; this dream came to me as a flicker of light, dimly shining through the cracks of my broken life. A line in Leonard Cohen’s lyrics from Anthem speaks of how the light enters through the crack.[8] Rumi, the Sufi poet from Persia, made a similar observation centuries ago: The wound is the place where the Light enters.[9]

It was not until that night that I first became aware of this light when, in this dream, something shone through a crack in my soul. Thereafter, what I heard and saw in my dream remained inscribed in my psyche. More than just a dream, it was an extraordinary premonition that would lead me to several more cracks and almost fatal wounds, this time physically.

Interestingly, I seemed to hear a commentator during the beginning stages guiding me through various images, events, and peculiar landscapes I observed in my sleeping consciousness. I didn’t understand it at the time, yet I could feel this was my story told to me on various levels of my psyche. While sleeping, it occurred to me how peculiar it was that someone would presume to speak to me about my life in these terms.

Mysteriously, the sonorous voice seemed to emanate from far beyond: a plane identified as being on a Mountain far above the clouds in my life. I laughed, wondering if Zeus had, after all, deigned to answer me that night.

Wherever the voice came from, it spoke with uncompromised authority. I was disturbed at first by how it urged me to accept a new calling in life. To what fate was I beckoned? I wasn’t sure what to think.

At first, it seemed a distant echo: James, prepare to leave your world. I half awoke, startled by the abrupt words. Was I about to die? Then I would fall back, this time into a deep slumber, as the voice returned, becoming more apparent than before.

‘Listen to us; we speak to you from a high plane on a Summit where you have often unawares sought to join us. From our lofty ridge, we view your life in the lands far below. We may appear far away, but we are very near; we dwell here even while we dwell within your mind to which we now speak, for we are all of one Mind.

‘As we survey the magnificent vistas beyond us, we regret those who wish not to leave the Lowlands below to discover the wonders of what might lie beyond. Although you remain unaware of who you are and where you’re going, we can tell you the Lowlands are no longer your home; you belong here with us… because you are of us. Those you dwell among corrupt your perspectives and opinions, believing their forlorn reality is the only reality.

‘They say you live, you die, then return to the elements from which you arose, and that’s how things are. That, however, is not how things are. One day, you will live to tell the true story.

‘Yet, you can only speak to those who, like you, envision this Mountain where we wait far beyond the flat horizon. Most will neither see nor hear; they have already decided what is real, but what they look upon is not real.

‘In your sleeping consciousness, you’ve oft heard our faint voice and questioned whether it came to you from afar or if it was only from within your mind. It matters not from where; the message is one, and there is no separation. You sometimes long to join us here on these high vistas to discover new mysterious realms on our side. We speak to you now since you are ready to be answered, just as all are answered who open their eyes to see what others cannot and will not see.

‘As we stand above on this Mountain ridge with you in our sights, we ask that you put aside all thoughts of how you think this may be and try to understand what we have to say. When you discover the wondrous sights that lie far beyond the Lowlands’ foggy images, you will know. The perceptions formed in the Lowlands are but a chimaera you choose to believe and live. ‘Though you were never told this, we are telling you now.

‘Ask yourself why you cannot see this Mountain upon which we stand. Is it real? What if it is far more than all you consider real? Tell us if you are able; what is real? What makes it real, and how can you tell?

‘Though you need not answer, consider these questions as we invite you to join us for a season by ascending to this Summit on which we stand that you may understand, not as your world understands, but as we understand... and know. We have something more significant in mind for you than just knowledge. It will remain your choice: to join us or stay unaware for the rest of your mediocre days in your Lowlands.

‘We didn’t make our dwelling on this ridge overlooking your world when we entered this threshold between the old and new worlds. It’s a special place where you can join us for a spell to discover new vistas of existence before you return. Once you depart your plane below, you will have begun your journey into the infinite landscapes of wondrous splendours. You will then realise there is no end to the ineffable splendours of indescribable dimensions. So, it will always seem you are only beginning to ascend further up and further in.

‘You have long considered this quest, so we call out to you now to join us where your soul longs to be, a domain you have long forgotten. Then, one day, you too may reveal to your weary world something of the resplendence you have seen, heard, and touched.

‘We have often watched you unwittingly gaze off into the distance towards our misty and mysterious peaks. There are others in your domain who, at times, share your vision, yet few give much attention to what lies beyond the flat plains. But you did. As you gazed longingly in our direction towards heights unseen and unknown, you yearned to know what lies beyond your marshy planes.

‘Then, ever more frequently, you began to dream shadowy dreams with strange images and voices calling out to you. From where? You didn’t know; still, it felt right because it came from somewhere beyond, possibly in a land much higher. In your dreams, you hoped someday you would be shown a way that would lead you away, far from the stifling Lowlands.

‘As these visions continued to ebb and flow over the years, they seemed to drift and meander without having any specific meaning. At first, these were just subliminal impressions, but as they congealed, something called out to you. You didn’t know what it was, perhaps a reminder of who you were and what you were to become.

‘Finally, within the deepest recesses of your ancestral memories, someone began to speak softly to you, saying you are not abandoned; you belong with us. You hadn’t heard this voice since you were a child.

‘After years of innocence, it said, you forgot who you were and why you came to this world! Now, finally, you’re becoming aware of what’s calling out to you from within. You wonder if you should leave the Lowlands to seek the higher grounds you didn’t know existed on a Mountain longingly envisioned when your mind was quieted.

‘At such times, you drifted towards mysteries more beautiful and majestic than you had ever known. Yet, they also confused you. Such hallowed stirrings were contrary to everything you had experienced, just as they are contrary to what the brooding muckraking inhabitants of the Lowlands understood or wanted to understand!

‘Whatever these inklings might be, you felt it would be best to remain silent. Such frivolous speculation is not well tolerated in the Lowlands, so you spoke nary a word.

‘As time passed, these callings didn’t go away as you continued to nourish the hope engendered in your soul until it became an exciting presentiment of what could be where you would take the risk and leave where all was safe and secure to venture beyond. Whatever was calling you was more sublime than what could be heard in the Lowlands.

‘Meanwhile, you grew increasingly weary of the amorphous fog hovering in the air where no one in the Lowlands could get excited about anything other than their predictable affairs. With no firm convictions, the air stagnated into the dense swamp gase of debilitating apathy.

‘In its mist, no one had clarity, so nothing had purpose or meaning because nothing mattered other than what should matter least. Perhaps it was the Lowlands’ aether, yet it didn’t seem necessary or even advisable to think anything different than somniferous thoughts that might disturb the collective slumber. Therefore, it was considered best not to stir things too much lest they awaken and attack you.

‘So, for much of the time, making your way among the boggy base was soft and accommodating. The ruts required little effort to meander through, so there was never any concern about where to go since all paths eventually returned to where you started. For what purpose you continued to wander, you weren’t sure, yet it didn’t matter. It was what everyone did.

‘The deepest ruts, you found, were always the shortest and most accessible paths to get to where you were going. With so many treading the same way, these ruts continued to wear deeper and deeper, making it increasingly challenging to go off-course, not that you would want to. What would be the point? Life’s path, you decided, was predetermined; the very notion of exercising free will was a fanciful illusion.

‘At least that’s what you were told by those who believed they had no choice, making life easier and more secure, much to be preferred over the uncertainties and responsibilities of having to choose a path. And so, there wasn’t much to strive towards or be concerned about. Neither was there anything to be inspired about; there were already enough meaningless amusements to be occupied with in a meaningless existence.

‘At times, things changed when the rain poured for extended periods when the ground became soft and sticky. That’s when you could sink and perish deep in a rut as the misty drizzle persisted. You, too, knew what it was to be stuck, and it wasn’t a great feeling.

‘As you reflected on your life, it became increasingly apparent there had to be more than what you had experienced. Having been told there was nothing to see beyond the Lowlands, you didn’t bother to look past the veils of Lowlands’ mists. Then, finally, one day, you realised you could no longer ignore our call from beyond, although you were unsure what that was or where it may lead.

‘As you began to focus your inward eyes on what might lie beyond, you would catch vague images and shifting shapes of something you were unfamiliar with. After paying more attention to your visions, the image of a Mountain appeared, causing you to wonder if there was something higher out there that was beckoning you. Or was it just your imagination deceiving you? At first, you didn’t know what to do or where to go; you only knew you must leave in search of what was calling you higher.

‘Though you didn’t know what direction you should go, you knew you had to follow your vision, trusting this would lead you to higher land. This hope, though indistinct and undefined, became irresistible. So, late one rainy evening, you stole away into the darkness, leaving behind the mud, sludge, drudge, and all that felt familiar and safe to you in the Lowlands.’

With that, the oratory faded into the distance. I heard no more of the narration, yet my enchanting dream continued as I saw myself embarking on a journey out of this land. Lucid images continued to impress my mind throughout an improbable but epic trek into the unknown.

It felt like days or even months that I continued to search for a way out of the Lowlands, aimlessly wandering through its boggy marshes. For a time, fog obstructed my vision, yet I forged ahead, believing I was on the right path to wherever I might be destined. As my hovel began to retreat into the past, I sensed I was finally becoming my own man, no longer bogged down in the Lowlands.

No matter what I might encounter ahead, be it life or death, I would live as a lion for a day rather than a hundred years as a sheep.[10] Onward, I swaggered along; it didn’t matter what anyone thought; I had left the fold. ‘Look at me,’ I shouted as I glanced back, ‘I’m no longer a sheep; I’m a lion. The lion has left and isn’t coming back!’

As I continued upward, far beyond the marshes below, I noticed the ground becoming firmer and higher up, just as I had envisioned. Tredging in the rainy mists, I didn’t realise I was ascending a mountain I couldn’t see. I knew the journey was becoming more difficult as my weary lungs laboured for more oxygen on the upward thrusts. No, it wasn’t easy, but it was exhilarating!

Despite the gravitational stresses, I felt vibrant as my muscles began to strengthen. When it became apparent that I was ascending a mountain, my determination extended to every molecule in my body as I surged forward, stoked by what challenges I might find around each corner and over every precipice.

What was driving me to ascend further up and further in? I didn’t know, but it must have come from somewhere. Was it a call from above? Though I remained unclear about where this journey might lead, I knew I must continue. Possibly, this was the Mountain I sometimes imagined through my hovel window.

There would be no going back to the soft bogs. My footing was now secure on the granite, providing a welcome contrast to the marshes below. With each step forward and upward, I acquired more resolution and confidence to overcome whatever obstacles lay ahead. The terrain was strange and challenging; nevertheless, I ignored my fears as I scaled steep vertical escarpments, balancing precariously on the narrow ridges as I leapt over deep fissures and glacial crevices.

Over and over, I told myself there had to be a magical Summit where I could view unseen vistas. Then, at last, I realised I was on an adventure that would take me high above the Lowlands, where I had been languishing in the mire. I had no idea what may lie ahead, but I felt something extraordinary was awaiting me.

After what seemed a very long time of plodding with increased fatigue, I wondered if there would ever be an end to my meandering through the fog and rain. Then, one day, to my amazement, I emerged out of the clouds into the bright blue sky. I could see the sun’s full orb as it shone warmly on my face, unfiltered by the gloomy clouds that shielded the Lowlands below. I can scarcely express how excited I was to see a new bright reality.

At first, I felt slightly disoriented, observing the clouds swirling below me instead of above. It was a new way of seeing things, a vision of how life could be different. As I continued, something inexplicable was drawing me further upward while a complementary force seemed to push me from behind. What strange magic this Mountain possessed. 

Though I felt a heightened state of awareness in the brightness, the way upward became increasingly confusing as I encountered sheer vertical rock walls that, at times, seemed impossible to ascend. Sometimes, I had to retreat to lower altitudes to find new passages that would open upward.

On other occasions, my body grew cold, weak and weary as I shivered through the night. I was uncertain whether these chills were from the glaciers or my fears of giant condors[11] swooping down towards me with hideous hisses as I clung for dear life on the side of a cliff.

Along with all these frightful adversities, my remaining provisions were almost depleted, leaving me with little more than the clear Mountain air and splashes of freshwater trickling down the glistening cliffs.

I wondered what the Lowlanders would say if they knew I was attempting to ascend high above them since they would never understand why I would do anything so foolish. Likely, they would consider me quite insane for not remaining where things were flat, smooth and easy. With the stilled, stale air remaining trapped in the marshes below, it was never necessary to endure lashing mountain winds of sleet and rain.

In times of discouragement, I wondered if I had lost my way in life, causing me to pine for the safety of the hovel I had left behind far below. Indeed, it can be disheartening to struggle towards a destination you can’t see, especially when attempting to climb loose scree on steep slopes while continuing, over and over, to slide backwards. Occasionally, I questioned why I would have put myself through this, seemingly toiling forever upward like Sisyphus.[12]

In these moments of doubt, imagining what everyone in the Lowlands might think, it became difficult to remain resolute. Likely, they would mock me for searching to find an illusionary, make-believe Mountain. I tried to maintain an attitude of but what do they know? Although I wasn’t sure what anyone knew about anything, including me.

Worse was when I found myself struggling to justify why I answered this call, where my journey seemed more delusional than real. In the end, what would I have to show for all my efforts other than scraped, bleeding knuckles, front-bite, twisted ankles, blistered feet and a sun-scorched body?

In the depths of these dark and despairing nights, I would hunker down into a narrow fissure to escape the wicked blast of frigid winds, trying to rediscover the inward vision that had drawn me further in and further up. In these times of fear and adversity, the vision faded from my mind, appearing elusive and ridiculous. Conflicted, I felt the torment of self-doubt picking at my heart like the vultures hovering over me.

When the storms rolled in, pelting me with sleet, I heard voices in my head taunting me to return to the Lowlands’ safe and secure mediocrity. Even if life in the Lowlands is tediously dull, at least no effort is required to survive when everything remains simple and predictable. When it drizzles below, the slippery mud prevents anyone from wandering off on rash adventures… except for me.

I considered how safe things must be in the Lowlands right now and how unsafe I was. Though there remained hazardous patches of quicksand on the Lowlands’ periphery where the odd dweller might wander off to and sink out of sight, all in all, most remain secure, provided they don’t stray far from the ruts.

Safety is essential to the Lowlanders; in fact, the word safe is their favourite word. Yet, if they were honest, most don’t feel secure since they always have an underlying fear of vulnerability, especially towards anyone they consider different. Others suspect predators might lurk about in the swamps, so they are sure to keep their doors bolted.

The more I considered my life below, the more I realised I could never go back, even when feeling lonely and disheartened. It would be difficult to lower my body down the precipices without a high probability of incurring a fatal fall. Letting oneself down each ridge, trying to find secure footing while dangling above the ledge below, is more dangerous than pulling up to the next ledge. And so, I had no choice but to keep moving onward and upward.

Even if I made it back down, I would have to explain where I went and why I left in the first place. Likely, I’d never be accepted in their fold again after deserting them. The scoffers would never believe me if I told them what I had seen and experienced on my adventure. I could hear them: ‘Something wobbles in that man’s brain; he’s not like the rest of us… thinks strange thoughts, sees visions. Probably best not to have anything to do with him.’

To hell with them, I thought, as I continued upward with no trails, guides or companions to show me the way. I only knew it would be up the whole way; never soft, never flat, always dangerous. The sun, however, continued to shine, lighting my way and spirits. I felt more confident than ever that I would find a Summit somewhere up there if I persisted. And if there were a Summit, there would be a vista to view the world that I could never have experienced in the Lowlands.

After enduring several what might be called dark nights of the soul[13] in the most challenging terrain imaginable, I again heard the clarion call that had drawn me away from the Lowlands. With my doubts and fears mostly below and behind me now, I was ready to meet whatever fate might await ahead that would forever change my life… something I longed for yet could never have imagined.

Emboldened, I slowly shuffled along the narrow ledge, trying not to glance over the cliffs. I took one careful step at a time as I clutched the jagged sides, fearing the dark void beneath. Having struggled up a very steep and challenging crag, I reached a clearing on a broad ridge with patches of grass and moss. It was a perfect place to relax and soak in the sun’s warm, rejuvenating rays.

Having endured so much, I fell into a deep and peaceful slumber. When I finally awoke, my mind and body felt considerably refreshed; my way to the Summit felt more promising than before. I rose to my feet and stood there, amazed at how expansive the views had become and how clear everything seemed compared to the Lowlands.

I wondered if the dark clouds covering the Lowlands were projections of their brooding minds, casting a veil over the land. After living there for so long, I was no longer sure, uncertain if they had consciously or unconsciously drawn darkness to themselves, dimming and obscuring the vision of whatever might exist beyond.

Whether they were aware of it, this Mountain existed for everyone. What they had to say no longer mattered to me; I had now come too far to care. Leave the past behind where it belongs, I told myself, and look to where you’re going, not where you’ve been. I then hastily grabbed my backpack and slung it over my shoulders while half-stumbling towards the escarpment where my destiny awaited.

By the time the sun had almost lowered to the horizon, I had scaled most of the way up. Then, the realisation hit me like a boulder catapulting down from the ridge above. Yes, this was it, just over the rise. I could see it; not much distance remained to reach the summit now. The long, weary ascent was almost over!

Having pulled myself to the top of a plateau ledge, I felt like jumping up in celebration, but my leg muscles were too strained and fatigued from this last frantic scramble. So, instead, I staggered to my feet and stood there in awe of my impossible feat. I was almost there! I raised my right arm in victory, fist clenched.

Then, looking towards the summit, I noticed something near the pinnacle of the eastern ridge. I had no idea what this was, except it appeared to be an orb of shimmering light moving about erratically. I slowly dropped my arm. Hardly discernible at first, it approached the edge as it continued to glow.

The longer I focused on it, the brighter it seemed to shine… now appearing as two, three or more spheres, although it was difficult to tell what was going on since they kept shifting. Then, suddenly, they disappeared! Most peculiar, if not startling!

I moved slowly forward, my eyes firmly fixed on the summit ridge. The euphoria I felt minutes ago was now displaced by whatever had me spooked up there. My heart began to beat more when I scaled up this last ridge. I had an eerie premonition that something extraordinary was about to happen, possibly an encounter with someone or something utterly unknown to me.

How strange it seemed that at this moment of triumph, my gut felt twisted in knots. Possibly, this was delirium setting in from the high altitude. Was I losing my mind from oxygen deprivation? Or were the Mountain gods not pleased with my intrusion into their sacred domain, sending flaming orbs and chariots to hold me at bay?

I knew something was about to happen; I just didn’t know what, except it wasn’t of this world. And now it wants me! Whether anything was out there to get me or not, the air seemed charged with electrified ions, like it sometimes feels when lightning is about to strike, except there were no storm clouds in the sky. Maybe it was Zeus about to strike me down. Oh God, I thought, not only am I delusional, but paranoid too.

Despite these unnerving premonitions of doom, I burst forward to meet the adversary, if that’s what it was. Perhaps it was reflexive, yet that’s how I deal with fear: head-on! I’ve always despised cowards, showing my contempt by doing the opposite of what I think they would do. Or, I wondered, was I more like a moth drawn towards the candle, only to be consumed by its flame?

Regardless, I lurched towards the summit with all my might, at times faltering; I clambered towards the final crag left to conquer. I was most of the way to the Summit when my legs would no longer carry me further. As I stood hunched over, gasping for air, I felt watched from above.

Then, as I looked up again, more orbs hovered on top… or perhaps it was just an illusion of the sun reflecting off something or another. Whatever it was… flitted about like fireflies at night, even though it was broad daylight.

Next, I heard what seemed to be a feminine voice drifting towards me from somewhere… likely just winds sweeping over the summit ridge. Or was there actually someone trying to reach me from the throbbing orbs above? What if these sounds were subliminal trance-inducing waves like the hapless Eloi being mesmerised to passively stroll into the caves and clutches of the cannibalistic Morlocks?[14]

I realised there would be no escape if any hostile off-world operatives wished to abduct me. I wouldn’t know what I would do: stay, continue upward, or lower my way down the precipices, and then run like bloody hell all the way back to Santiago.

No, I couldn’t just slink away; I’d rather die. I had to continue my journey forward. But forward to what? I didn’t know; nevertheless, I proceeded onward until I could go no further. On the right was a vast chasm, possibly the result of an earthquake or some cataclysmic overthrust from millions of years ago, while on the left, the vertical rock was too smooth and sheer to grasp.

Earlier in the day, while deciding how best to proceed upward, there were two alternatives. Unfortunately, I chose a trajectory that brought me to the abyss of this impasse. So what was I to do now?

Had I taken the longer route towards the right, I might have been able to spiral around to the other side of the mountain to reach the Summit. Possibly, it might have been much more accessible, although my aerial photo showed evidence of a steep glacier that would most likely have been difficult to traverse without ice picks. Assuming I could find another way by retreating to the ravine where I had rested below, it might take another day to recover this altitude,

Before me, the canyon walls appeared steep and unforgiving. Would there be enough of a ledge to make it across to the other side? I didn’t know; it would be risky… very risky. Once across, however, I could do a few switchbacks and then scramble to the top. It wouldn’t take long; then, I would be able to confront whatever awaited me up there.

I looked into the abyss. It was dizzying. Attrition over aeons of time had created a formidable dark void that I couldn’t have anticipated from the angle I approached the Summit. No person in their right mind would attempt crossing this without proper equipment… but then, c'est la vie. I inhaled a few deep breaths to steady my nerves, relaxed my muscles, and offered a quick Hail Mary just in case Mary was listening.

I leaned inward to the rock face, using my hands to secure my balance. Provided the footing held, it seemed I might make it across. Then, after a dozen or more steps, my knees began to tremble as I realised I had gone too far; the ledge was now too narrow to turn around. You committed yourself, James, I heard myself say. You have no choice; it’s either do or die.

Looking down was something I preferred not to do, yet I couldn’t help but gape into the dark chasm below as I continued to position my feet one step at a time. With each step, I thought of what Nietzsche once said: When you stare into the abyss, the abyss stares back at you.[15] That was never truer than now, as I felt myself freeze.

Indeed, it was staring, most terrifyingly. Any slip would be a drop into oblivion, with nothing to break my body’s fall until hitting bottom. Almost certainly, it would be fatal – my final demise.

‘Oh God,’ I said, as I breathed out frantically, ‘what have I gotten myself into?’ With about another twenty feet to go, things weren’t looking good. No fissure was close enough for me to wedge an anchor to rappel out. Even then, my rope wasn’t long enough to swing far enough off to the side to find grounding. It was difficult to determine how thick the protruding ledge was or whether it would be sufficient to hold me.

If only I could offset some of my weight by finding something to grasp; even a tuft of grass would help, but there was nothing to cling to. Again, I tried to turn around but couldn’t. Why didn’t I heed my instinct on how treacherous this would be before I began to cross over? Probably because I was afraid and too impulsive to make a rational decision!

So, here I was, an unbeliever… still, somewhere from within, came the words: Father, into thy hands, I commit my spirit.[16] 

Yes, I, too, must commit; there was no choice. Stepping forward, I placed my foot down. My last thought was, careful, James, this could be your final…

And so, the dream ended…but was it just a dream?

[1] Blaise Pascal (1623-1662), French philosopher and scientist
[2] Likely the most famous example of an allegorical story in the English language is John Bunyan’s 1678 classic Pilgrim’s Progress.
[3] From The Lord of the Rings, J.R.R. Tolkien (1892-1973)
[4] Dimethyltryptamine
[5] Throughout this narrative, where there’s metamorphic intent, the word is capitalised, as with Mountain in this case.
[6] Weltschmerz is a loaded German term often found and elucidated in the works of Herman Hess, Heinrich Hein and several other literary luminaries exploring man’s pervasive condition. The word conveys a meaning of world-weariness associated with anxiety, pain and existential despair.
[7] Several well-known philosophers such as Anthony Flew, Kai Nielsen, C.B Martin and Terrence Penelhum were part of the faculty at one time.
[8] The lyrics to Leonard Cohen’s copyrighted lines of Anthem may be found online.
[9] Rumi was a 13th century Persian, Sufi poet, born in Tajikistan.
[10] An old Italian proverb 
[11] Condors are much like the prehistoric Archaeopteryx
[12] Greek mythology of futility whereby Sisyphus was forced by Zeus to eternally push a giant boulder up a mountain only to have it roll back again and hit him each time.  
[13] Dark Night of the Soul is the title of a poem by Spanish mystic Saint John of the Cross (1542 1591).[14] In reference to H.G. Wells’ 1895 science fiction novel, The Time Machine where the passive Eloi fall into sound-induced trances that cause them to saunter into the dark tunnels of the brutish Morlocks to meet their fateful demise.
[15] Friedrich Nietzsche, German philosopher, Beyond Good and Evil, 1886
[16] The words attributed to Yeshua as he died on the cross, as recorded in the Gospel of Luke; 23:46 (New International Version, hereafter referred to NIV)

 

CHAPTER TWO

WHERE AM I?

I had a dream, which was not at all a dream.[17]
                                                        Lord Byron

 

I awoke on a patch of dry grass, disoriented and dased, not remembering exactly where I was, except it felt much like where I had laid earlier in the day. That seemed a bit confusing, like some déjà vu flashback. Yet, for whatever reason, I felt more rested than I could ever remember, as though I had been sleeping for days.

Now wide awake, I lay on my back, watching a few scattered clouds drift through the sky’s blue azure, thinking of all that had occurred to me since leaving home. 

My flight from London to Santiago via Buenos Aires was lengthy and exhausting, although nothing compared to my extended excursion in a dilapidated bus with worn seats, navigating through the winding and backcountry roads for the better part of the day where, at last, I found lodging in a remote village.

I remembered how I got an early start the next morning, knowing I would likely have at least a day’s trek through the valleys before reaching the mountain I had selected to ascend. If there was any rationale for my choice, it was because the aerial photographs indicated it would be one of the most formidable peaks in the Chilean Andes. But at least, according to the topographical maps I studied, it would have spectacular Sierra views facing Argentina.

I couldn’t find if this mountain had a name, so I decided to come up with an impressive name to register with the Chilean authorities. Mount Phillips had a classy ring, although I would first have to conquer it.

So here I was, now ready for the final ascent. I sprung up off the ground, surprising myself with the ease and lightness I arose. Such agility; I must really have slept well! As I looked around, it appeared I was only a few hours from reaching the summit, although there might be some significant challenges ahead, considering the height of the precipices looming before me. I thought what a splendid afternoon this had turned out to be.

Yet, something didn’t seem right. What was it? Ah, the sun. It was still on the eastern horizon to my left, indicating it must be early morning instead of late afternoon. That couldn’t be unless I fell asleep yesterday and slept through the entire day and night. But could I have been that tired?

It seemed most curious, but for now, it didn’t matter. This bright, mid-summer day in Chile was what I needed for my winter break to lift the gloomy veil of London’s dreary winter rains. Everything seemed alive and exhilarating, the perfect backdrop for my summit moment. Most extraordinary… what this alpine environment and sound sleep can do for one’s mind and body!

Not that long ago, I felt hungry, tired and bruised. Now, near the top, I felt like a new man. Most apparently, there was more to life than marking term papers while embroiled in the internecine politics of incompetent administrators jostling for power and influence… not going to be snogging anyone’s scholastic arse anymore, at least not up here. So why would I even want to think about such ridiculous twaddle while emersed in this alpine splendour?

Indeed, the trip had all been worth the effort, even though I could scarcely afford it. After languishing in a chronic and inept malaise over the last few years, I wanted to find a new, more expansive world to explore.

Or, on the dark side, was this adventure more of a subliminal death wish I secretly harboured to escape the demons of past fears? I hoped not. The problem was I didn’t know what these fears were. Most certainly, it wasn’t these heights or anything extreme; my insecurities were much deeper than that.

Going to such extremes of randomly climbing a mountain in this remote area of the world may not have made much sense to the average person. Still, I didn’t consider myself an ordinary person. For reasons I didn’t seem to understand, I repeatedly felt compelled to prove to myself that I was invincible to offset what I subliminally felt.

Even though I was no longer eighteen, being battered about by Mediterranean storms on a rickety merchant ship, I continued to test the limits of my strength and resourcefulness. Probably, that’s why I found myself on this isolated mountain where few dared to venture. Furthermore, as if to make a point as a self-respecting survivalist, I brought very few provisions with minimal equipment.

In past adventures, I prided myself in being able to stare down what could have ended my earthly existence! An analyst once suggested this might be a form of psychosis, indicating my defiance was compensating for some deeply hidden insecurities.

But what did he know about the real world, sitting in his office all day? I may have pushed the limits, but at least I had calculated the threats, anticipating what to expect and what to do. This expedition, however, would turn out to be not only the most extreme but also my most challenging.

Notwithstanding what the shrink had suggested, I began to wonder if there might be some truth to these ventures being a ruse to distract myself from what I had secretly harboured within. I couldn’t explain it, but I felt I had already entered into a strange new awakening where I would be confronted with whatever lurked within. And so, for a moment, I stood mystified in the shadow of the mountain’s summit, yet not knowing why.

As I strapped on my backpack to resume my ascent, I wondered again what was happening. Not only was the sun in the wrong place, but this ravine seemed identical to the one I passed through yesterday. Was this Groundhog Day where I had I had been going in circles around this mountain? It almost seemed that way, but for now, I would put these questions out of my mind to tackle the steep scree slope before me and give no more thought to such speculations.

With my body’s newfound strength and agility, I knew it wouldn’t take long to reach the summit. I congratulated myself on having made it all this way with only a short rope, a few belay anchors and no climbing companions. I scrambled up the precipice as if it were just a slope. I couldn’t remember feeling so energised. Hot damn, I thought, I’m in a groove; it’s like my body can do anything!

Just imagine what other climbing expeditions I could do on even higher peaks. After all, I’m a relatively young man, in excellent condition, with more strength and stamina than I realised. I should try K2 next. No, that’s probably a bad idea. With one chance in four of not coming down alive… it’s hardly worth it. Maybe I should settle for Everest, like everyone else. In any case, I needed to do this more often.

Feeling giddy now, I looked up towards the summit to address Zeus, my imaginary god I summoned the night of my unfortunate incident at the pub last October. As I recall, that was just before having my weird dream.

‘Veni, Vidi, Vici,’[18] I cried out in exhilaration as I continued my vertical trajectory to the summit. ‘Get your welcoming committee ready, Zeus; we’re going to party… and be sure to bring your finest champagne with a bevvy of your most exquisite goddesses.’

Now, close to the peak, images of shimmering orb thingies came to mind, that which I thought I saw on the summit yesterday. But no, I couldn’t have; I was never here before, so I must have dreamt it. At times, when overly exhausted, I experience bizarre, inexplicable dreams.

Even if something were shining up there, it would probably be nothing more than the sun reflecting off a satellite receiver transmitter attached to some weather installation. Still, I might prefer something a bit more interesting, such as an assembly of charming green aliens perched on the summit ridge, wagering whether I could make it up there. Perhaps their craft had strobe lights that appeared as orbs. What if they gave me a joy ride through the Andes? – that might be interesting.

Though I continued to amuse myself with these imaginings, I felt a bit uneasy about the possibility of encountering orbs, gods and various aliens lurking about. Such phenomena were becoming increasingly difficult to dismiss. Had I been drawn up here for reasons I wasn’t aware of, and if so, was there more to this venture than conquering another mountain?

 Suddenly, I began to have flashbacks of my strange dream a few months ago. Could that have been a premonition of what I was about to experience, or more ominously, what I had experienced? Increasingly, things felt more like a fulfilment of this dream.

In particular, I remembered a voice calling out to me from somewhere on high, imploring me to join them on a summit. So, was this it? If so, that would be spooky if I actually were living out my dream. Nevertheless, I told myself to put these quirky thoughts out of my mind as I continued my ascent.

Almost at the Summit, I arrived at a chasm that looked very familiar. In fact, all too familiar! Moments ago, I was elated; now, I felt confused in a déjà vu moment. Had someone mixed some peyote in my gruel a few days ago back in the village?

I stood near the chasm’s edge to stare into the deep abyss below, wondering if I should attempt to cross over. Again, another flashback came of me stranded on a precarious ledge, causing me to recall how I had awoken in a panic at the end of my dream. It felt queer to have this flashback of peering into such a void.

The most logical explanation was the rarified air at this altitude that released certain chemicals into my brain, triggering a relapse into that very peculiar dream. Yet, what if it was more than that, something more ominous here and now on this Mountain?

Strangely, it seemed I had been here before. Unless I was clairvoyant, I couldn’t have been. Or had I foreseen this in my dream? Too bad I don’t believe in such nonsense; it may help explain much of what I was experiencing today.

If that wasn’t enough, I was getting the impression of someone, or something, watching me like when sensing someone staring at you, then after looking, finding there was. I wasn’t sure what to think… it felt eerie. As I looked up, I noticed something was moving about on the summit!

‘Well, I’ll be damned,’ I said aloud. ‘It appears there actually is someone up there.’ Not the dazzling light orbs I might have imagined before, possibly in my dream; still, it seems there might be two or three humanoid figures moving about the Summit. More likely, it’s just a few stunted trees swaying in the wind. Yes, that was probably it.

However, if it were my choice, I’d prefer they be sexy mountain nymphs waiting to reward me for my efforts. Or, if not that,  possibly the goddesses that I asked Zeus to bring. I mean, why not make this worthwhile? I was beginning to believe any fantasy was possible up here, such as these that made me feel giddy with desire.

As I was having these thoughts, I felt something like an electrical force field about me, the kind that raises the hairs on your arms before the lightning and thunder. And yet, did I not have an experience similar to this yesterday? In fact, ever since I awakened at the bottom of the canyon ravine, I had been getting a lot of muddled images of my dream, causing me a lot of strange déjà vu moments.

Then, if that wasn’t enough, out of nowhere, I heard a voice calling out to me. I sat down to listen carefully. Bloody hell, now I’m really losing it. Was this voice coming from the summit, or was this just me hallucinating from misfiring synapses in my body? I heard that can happen with oxygen deprivation, where lots of people think they hear voices in abnormal conditions like this. Obviously, I need more oxygen before my brain completely decompresses!

As I was about to dismiss it as nothing, it came again, only this time it seemed to be calling my name. Now that’s strange, I thought. Imagine that: some mountain guru sitting atop the mountain calling out to me. Or perhaps it was Zeus – except this was Chili, not Greece.

Again, I heard it, this time so clear it could have easily been from someone standing directly before me. Was the voice one or many? I couldn’t tell. As I sat there feeling stunned, it called my name once more. This time, it seemed a different voice… soft, alluring and, ah, so feminine.

Was this one of my imaginary mountain nymphs beckoning me to the Summit? Why not? Anything is possible when you use your imagination. For the ancient Greeks, the gods and goddesses lived on top of the mountains along with Zeus. I liked that idea, even if it was just a myth. Yet, whatever was calling my name seemed more than a myth.

Though the voice seemed authentic, I sensed it had more resonance with my mind, not my ears.  Usually, I’m sceptical about this sort of thing, yet there it was; I couldn’t deny it. With it, I sensed images being imposed upon my mind’s eye, showing me another less obvious approach to the summit.

I decided to follow the voice’s inner prompt. Was it because of a dream flashback that I didn’t feel good about going the alternative route of a thin, narrow ledge crossing to the other side of the chasm? In my dream’s premonition, it seemed I had.

So, without hesitation, I retreated downwards about twenty yards before veering off to the left, where I found a narrow indenture in the precipice. By wedging myself between the sides, I managed to straddle and manoeuvre my way up the fissure towards the summit ridge. It should have been extraordinarily challenging, but for some reason, it wasn’t.

After all my struggles these last few days, there I was…  finally, on top of the summit. It wasn’t just a peak; it was a broad ridge extending a considerable distance beyond what I could see where it dropped down. It was exhilarating to stand on top, taking in the panoramic view of the majestic mountain Sierras.

Then I looked around, wondering if there actually was someone up here, as it seemed from below. After surveying the ridge as far as I could see to the right and left, I saw no one. Most likely, I imagined everything, including the voices.

Perhaps this was where I imagined seeing those bright orbs in my dream, except it no longer felt like a dream. If someone was up here, might they be lying in wait, ready to pounce on me? I smiled to myself, fearing something so ridiculous… still, I chuckled; you never know with aliens.

The ridge sloped gently downwards, littered with large boulders and granite slabs protruding from the ground. There wasn’t much vegetation except for patches of short alpine grass and moss, along with a few stunted trees with a variety of shrubs.

I made my way along the ridge as it narrowed towards its highest elevation, searching for a suitable area to light a fire and set up camp for the night, though finding enough dead wood might be a problem.

It wasn’t evident where the ridge might end before dropping off, so I decided to take a closer look. As I continued in this direction, I could see something in the distance that appeared to be more than just trees or shrubs. As I drew closer, I had the impression there might be two distinct beings and possibly a third standing further in the distance.

Preferably, these would be those immortal sci-fi mountain nymphs I had just imagined, patiently awaiting my arrival all these centuries. I might have even heard one of them calling my name while below the summit. Why not?… that would be more interesting than it just being wind.

I’ve never believed in the folklore of elves and fairies, at least not since I was a lad, so maybe it was time to return to my youthful imaginings. Still, what if someone had called out to me before showing me the way up the fissure? In my rational mind, I understood the folly of such expectations, except for now, my addled mind chose to exist in this happy phantasm of possibilities.

As I got closer, I could see there were only two figures. Most likely, the third was a stunted tree or something else in the distance that made the two appear as three. I slowed my advance towards them, one wary step at a time. Since aliens remained on my mind, I kept my eyes firmly riveted to see who they were.

They remained motionless on the highest end of the summit ridge. It felt unnerving and intimidating as they stared intently at me. One had a long coat flapping in the wind. Who were these beings, I wondered, and why did they not wish to meet me halfway?

If I stood still, then what would happen? Of course, I could walk away in the other direction, although I didn’t want to turn my back on them, not knowing who or what they were.

After about another thirty yards, I was close enough to tell they were staring at me in silence without any hint of expression. I had an uncomfortable suspicion they weren’t just mountaineers. How long, I wondered, had they been waiting for me?      

Did I imagine it, or did I actually hear my name spoken, as if someone was standing beside me? If so, what other powers might they possess besides their telepathic voodoo? What if they had something to do with those brilliant orbs I remembered seeing, be they of my dream or not? Whatever else this was about, it felt eerie.

It occurred to me that they might be decoys for aliens. If so, then where was their spaceship? Was it hovering somewhere over the summit with cloaking shields? Would they have laser weapons? I could hear it: Stun lasers set, ready… take the earthling.

Then, out of nowhere, something far different became juxtaposed in my mind, reminding me of the Transfiguration story.[19] So, where did that come from? I had no idea unless an image was projected onto my consciousness. But why would aliens do that?

As befitting any credible philosopher, I’m familiar with most stories and teachings of various religious myths, archetypes and traditions, including that of the transfiguration. Still, might these two have something to do with where Christ became transfigured in dazzling light? The incident is said to have occurred somewhere in Palestine on some unknown mountain, traditionally referred to as The Mount of Transfiguration.

So, were these two beings standing before me the same Moses and Elijah in the transfiguration account? If so, is that what they intended to project to my mind? If so, was this supposed to suggest I had been transfiguration while on my ascent up this Mount?  But why would I even consider something so absurd, even in this, my present moment of delirium?

Yet, wasn’t there something in the story about a brilliant cloud shining down on the three of them? Could it be that’s what those blazing light orbs were about… trouble is, I’m no Christ, not even close. I’m not even religious. Besides, I wasn’t sure what trans-figured was supposed to mean. From what to what?  Again, it seemed this altitude had caused my mind to become unhinged in a phantasm of incoherent imaginings.

Meanwhile, as I was having these thoughts, I stood motionless, contorting science fiction with religious mythology. Still, the figures remained frozen in a stalemate with me. So, with some hesitation, I proceeded further, not knowing what to expect. How would they respond, be they benign, hostile or something else?

As I got closer, I sensed I might know them. But, no, not possible, I couldn’t... unless I did. Still, there was something strangely familiar about these mannequins, like when you think you know someone and yet don’t know why, such from a previous life as some say. Except I didn’t believe in prior lives, or for that matter, any life other than this.

Mixed impressions flooded my mind, though I tried not to let my fears get carried away. Again, I stopped to see if they would make a move, but they didn’t, remaining motionless in stony silence as if to see what I would do or maybe just to unnerve me. I stepped forward again, refusing to blink, keeping my eyes on them with each stride.

The older one had an uncanny presence about him as someone I might have known in the distant past, yet I had no idea from where. All I knew was that it felt most peculiar when my eyes met his. He seemed to have a serious demeanour, like some Himalayan sage, not that I had ever met such.

In a way, he reminded me of the movie scene where Moses descends from his burning bush encounter on top of Mount Sinai,[20] except this Moses figure was wearing old-fashioned British hiking knickers. His thick white hair, extending just above his shoulders, accentuated this prophetic allure. His penetrating blue eyes seemed laser-focused, commandeering my respect, even though I wasn’t sure why… perhaps because he intimidated me.

His companion appeared much younger, possibly in his early to mid-twenties, yet equally compelling. I estimated him to be at least six feet tall with a well-built physique much like mine, if I may so. He had long blond-brown Rastafarian dreadlocks. With his tattered Alpaca sweater, he appeared a young Bohemian drifter.

Likely, my fear and bewilderment were evident as I approached them. In response, the young man gave me an assuring smile to allay whatever concerns might have lingered in this most improbable encounter.

‘Buenos Días,’ I said, expecting them to be Chileans.

‘Good day,’ said the younger with a cheery British accent.

‘For some time now, we’ve been observing you in your arduous ascent up this mountain,’ said the elder with an underlying Gaelic inflexion mixed with the Queen’s English. ‘We are pleased that you have, at long last, joined us on this summit – congratulations, Dr Phillips, on achieving the first stage of your ascent.’

‘I beg your pardon, sir; how do you know my name? No one on God’s green earth knows I’m here.’

‘You’re right,’ he said, ‘no one knows, at least not on God’s green earth, as you say.’

‘Yet obviously, you do!’

‘Indeed, we do.’

‘But how?’ I asked, trying to remain composed.

‘May we introduce ourselves?’  

‘That would be most appreciated,’ I said, with a tinge of impertinence.

‘You may call me Eli,’ said the younger.

‘And if you please, you may call me Mo, said the other.’ 

What in the bloody hell? I exclaimed to myself. They called themselves Eli and Mo, short for Elijah and Moses. Those were the two with Yeshua on the Mount of Transfiguration. Had I not, in my mind, just assigned those names to them? Though I wasn’t serious, the names had come to me from nowhere. So how could they have known what I was thinking?

But if they knew my name, what else did they know about what I was thinking? It was uncanny… mind readers, even though I didn’t believe in all that claptrap. There had to be a more rational explanation… likely a coincidence or just more of my confusion up here.

‘If you care,’ the elder said, ‘we’d be pleased to have you join us at our camp down the ridge for some food and drink. It appears you could use it,’ he smiled.

‘Let’s see… I don’t believe I have anything scheduled in my social calendar this evening, so yes, I’d be delighted to accept your invitation.’

As we hiked toward their camp, they seemed genuinely interested in hearing about my trip to Chile and my struggles climbing this mountain. I was impressed with their refined deportment, perhaps more than one might expect from strangers in such a remote part of the world. Often, their eyes remained fixed on me as I spoke, a quality I always considered an indication of integrity and strong character.

Although they were only strangers, already, I felt an inexplicable kinship with them… perhaps too much so, considering how they seemed to know me, even if I didn’t know them. That was a tad unsettling, so who were they?

Was this a friendly chance encounter, or were they sent by someone to meet me for a specific reason? That certainly would be cause for serious concern! Despite my initial impressions, thoughts of orbs and alien abduction continued to play in the backyard of my mind. Under normal circumstances, I wouldn’t allow my mind to think anything so bizarre and irrational. I realised, however.. fear is never rational.

Nevertheless, I remained mystified about what they were doing here. It seemed most apparent these two didn’t just happen to stroll up here on some eco-tour. It had taken me a long time to climb to this summit, risking life and limb, and I’m sure I must have looked the worse for the wear. Yet here they were, fresh as daisies!

Not just that, very few climbers Mo’s age could have made it this close to the summit. I pictured him more as a croquet player in knickers than a climber.

For these reasons and more, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something extraordinary was being played out behind the scenes.

As we continued along the ridge, I felt like celebrating my ascent with a bottle of sparkling Champagne. After all, had I not put in this request to my mountain god, Zeus?

As if reading my mind, Eli stopped and pulled out a bottle from his battered backpack! After shaking it, he popped the cork and then directed the spray toward my face. Most refreshing! Laughing, he handed me the bottle of what possibly was the most delicious bubbly I’d ever tasted: Pernod Ricard Perrier-Jouët,[21] no less!

We merrily passed it around a few times until it was empty; then, like a dealer in some back alley, Mo pulled out another bottle from his coat’s inner pocket. This time, glasses magically appeared, as by a stage magician.

In this strange mix of confusion, libations and laughter, my body felt more vibrant than I ever remembered, but then, with enough champagne, that might be expected. What occurred next was even more surprising. How it happened, I had no idea.

After arriving near the western end of the ridge, we came to a recessed area among huge granite boulders. Apparently, this is where they were camping, hot coals still smouldering from a campfire. Curiously, there were no tents or evidence of bedding.

Eli went somewhere to find more firewood, although I wasn’t sure where he would find any. While Mo stoked the embers, attempting to reignite the fire with what wood remained, I strolled further down the ridge. As I was taking in the spectacular views of the eastern Sierra, I thought about my challenges in getting up here and how it had all been worth it, even if it was the most exacting expedition I had ever undertaken.

When I returned to the campsite, I found the fire blazing and wondered where Eli had found all the wood.  That, however, wasn’t my biggest surprise as I suddenly noticed a feast of exotic foods laid out on a long wooden table that included several bottles of wine. Coincidentally, these were some of my favourite labels that I rarely imbibed because of cost.

‘So what’s this all about; are you having the neighbours over?’

‘We thought you might be interested in having a snack after such a long climb,’ Eli said.

‘Indeed,’ I replied. ‘This climb took a lot longer than I anticipated, so whatever dehydrated foods I had are almost gone, along with what berries and herbs I found in the valley.’

‘It seems you may not have planned things all that well,’ Mo said.

‘Like any good masochistic survivalist, I was testing my limits, though I didn’t expect it to be quite this tough. Yet, I wasn’t worried since well-conditioned athletes can survive for up to forty days without food. In fact, I once fasted for over four weeks with only water while training for an extreme event.’

‘But don’t you feel weak and exhausted on your ascent?’

‘I did, especially these last days of my near-vertical ascent, likely the most extreme I had ever undertaken. Yet today, my body feels inexplicably light and spritely. It’s most extraordinary; I have no idea where this sudden surge in energy has come from.’

‘Would it be because you’re high… perhaps more than you know? But then so are we… that’s why we know how it feels,’ he said as he uncorked a bottle then poured a glass.

‘I must commend you on your exquisite wine,’ I said after a taste.

Soon, I was sampling another bottle and then, feeling rather jolly, a few more. In my blissful state, I imagined myself in the tasting room of an elegant Mediterranean winery, explicating the relative merits of their exquisite labels. Occasionally, I put on my most affected airs as a wine connoisseur at dinner parties to see if anyone would take me seriously.

‘Gentleman,’ I said in my most unctuous tone, ‘may I recommend this elegant Zinfandel vintage with its robust yet delicate solera bouquet comingling with a subtle European Vitis vinifera. Contrast that with this dry red Bordeaux, obviously most aptly aged in a cured French oak cask. Don’t you agree, unlike this sweet, racy Italian Merlot, it provides a more mature and satisfying oaky char?’

Amused with my little parody, I’m sure they realised how little I knew what I was talking about. It didn’t matter; we were having a good time, and the wines were about as sublime as anything I had ever tasted.

Feeling increasingly light-headed, I raised my glass and quoted a line from Homer: ‘The wine can of their wits the wise beguile, Make the sage frolic, and the serious smile.’

‘Most impressive,’ Mo said. ‘Wouldn’t you agree, Eli? Imagine finding a Homer aficionado up here, far from the Aegean Sea.’

‘Oh, yes… most impressive, I would say. It’s obvious our guest is a man of letters and distinction.’

‘So, Mo, how would you know of this obscure line from Homer’s Iliad?’

‘I wouldn’t,’ he said. ‘At least not from The Iliad; however, I would from The Odyssey… the fourteenth chapter, I believe.’

‘Oh,’ I said, taken aback. ‘You may be right; I’ll have to check.’

‘Don’t bother; I am right, so it doesn’t matter.

‘After such an arduous climb,’ Eli said, ‘I’m sure you have a considerable appetite, so help yourself. I trust you will find this selection to be among your favourites, and there’s plenty more if you wish!’

I felt I was back in Greece, with the most delicious Mediterranean foods I could remember, including prepared meats, loaves of bread and several exotic varieties of cheese. Caviar never tasted so exquisite sprinkled on the stuffed deviled eggs.

That had to be finicky work, so why, I wondered, would anyone trouble themselves to prepare all this, especially up here? And where did they find all this fresh food and wine? Santiago is a long way for food catering services, especially with this being a near-impossible destination.

However, I didn’t ask as I celebrated late into the night as the fire blazed in the darkness. Eli’s offbeat humour and banter sometimes struck me as possibly being too much like mine. Curiously, the more I got to know him, the more it felt as though we were two shipmates. However, back then, he would have only been a lad, much too young to sail with me as a merchant sailor fourteen years ago.

Mo, too, had a unique humour, often expressed through razor-sharp wit. Occasionally, he would wander off, gazing into the sky as if lost in the night’s constellations. Who was this man, I wondered? – other than someone who knew his Homer.

Despite their cordial hospitality, I couldn’t get them to tell me anything about themselves and who they were in the world. As the night wore on, they would occasionally say or do something so peculiar it made me feel as if they were intentionally trying to mess with my mind… but why?

Eli, for example, seemed to enjoy answering my questions before I had a chance to ask them as if he were a mind reader. But since I didn’t believe it was possible to do that sort of thing, I didn’t know what to think.

Even more disconcerting was how they seemed to know so much about me. Not only did Mo know my name… he also knew something about my education while offering his opinion on a few of the books I had recently read.

Was it only a coincidence we had read many of the same authors and titles, from Teilhard de Chardin to Dostoyevsky? And how did Eli, possibly a decade younger than me, seem to know more about literature than I did?

I continued to probe them about who they were; nevertheless, they had little to say about themselves as if to mystify me even more. Whenever I pressed Eli, he smiled as if the Cheshire Cat. The most I got was that they were independently wealthy with no concerns or interest in money.

From what I could tell, they must have come into considerable abundance, supposedly now free to come and go as they pleased, even here. But why here?

How they came into their wealth, they didn’t say. At first, I thought they might have shared a winning lottery ticket worth millions of pounds. Or perhaps they were part of something dodgy, such as an international money-laundering syndicate.

Later in the evening, Mo said something about an inheritance, which caused me to be even more suspicious there might be more to this story than they were prepared to say. For one thing, I remember Eli earlier saying they weren’t related, so how could they be sharing in an inheritance?

Despite these concerns, I had a remarkable evening, considering all the food, drinks, and laughter while cavorting with these intriguing characters… much different from my regimented world.

‘You know,’ I said, ‘with everything that’s happened today, I don’t think I’ve ever been this high before, even on a mountain, notwithstanding all the libations. Considering how late it must be now, I ought to retire for the night.’

‘Indeed,’ Eli said. ‘Truth be known, you are considerably higher and lighter than you might suspect. That’s okay; you’ll get used to it. Before you bed down, let me fill your glass with this exceptionally smooth Scotch conjured in Edinburgh. You studied there, right?’

‘Yes, I did; how did you know that? I didn’t tell you.’ 

‘Because you seem a man of considerable erudition, you also seem to know a thing or two about Scotch for which Edinburgh remains famous. So, professor… here’s to you.’

As they raised their glasses, Mo said: ‘To your arrival and higher expeditions far beyond. Cheers!’

‘Thank you, although I’m not sure I understand what you mean by higher expeditions beyond. I’ve arrived at my destination, and soon I’ll make my way down, then off to Santiago for a few days before returning to London.

‘Nevertheless, I must say, you’ve made this an unforgettable evening; cheers to you both,’ I said as I raised my glass. ‘I’d certainly go on more expeditions if I knew I could celebrate like this each time I peaked a summit.’

‘Well, maybe you can,’ Mo said.

I didn’t know what to make of that comment, but before I could ask, they got up from their log stumps and wandered off into the dark, leaving me alone, silently gazing into the glow of the hot coals. I had no idea where they went or if they intended to return.

What a strange day this had been. Was any of this real, or had my mind gone off the edge into some altered state of existence? Feeling so light, I wondered if I might be on some wild psychedelic trip back in London.

I thought about other experiences like this during my undergraduate days when I did some far-out stuff with a few of my more experimentally inclined friends. But that was over ten years ago, and I hadn’t participated in anything like that since. If, for some unknown reason, I was on another such excursion, this would be one of the better ones.

Darkness had descended upon the summit hours ago, leaving only the bright red embers to illuminate the surroundings. As I poked away at the coals with a stick, it seemed strange that I wasn’t even tired after such a challenging day of climbing, not to mention spending this night regaling at our sumptuous Summit Diner Club, as Eli called it. Considering how much I had imbibed, I should have passed out long ago, and yet I hadn’t.

 It was now apparent my friends wouldn’t be returning, so I climbed into my bedroll as I reflected on how peculiar and fortuitous it was to meet these chaps in such an improbable location.

I had many questions about what happened tonight. One that stuck with me was when Eli said the Scotch was conjured in Edinburgh rather than distilled there. What did he mean by that?

That was the last I remembered thinking before waking at dawn.

17] Lord Byron, English Poet, Darkness, 1816
[18]I came, I saw, I conquered. Attributed to Julius Caesar, approx. 47 BC.
[19] According to the Transfiguration story, Moses and Elijah stood talking with Yeshua whose face and apparel shone in brilliant light. Next, a bright cloud overshadowed them. When the light left, only Yeshua remained standing. Matthew 17:1–9 (King James Version, hereinafter referred to as KJV)
[20] I thought of the Moses portrayed in the Cecil B DeMille classic, The Ten Commandments, played by Charlton Heston.
[21] I didn’t realise it at the time but later learned that a bottle of this champagne sells for over £30,000. No wonder it was the best I ever tasted.

 

 

CHAPTER THREE

 

STORYTIME

From these depths depart towards heaven, you have escaped from the city full of fear and trembling[22]
                                                                                          Rumi

 

       As the sun rose, I continued to lay on my back, staring at the bright pink clouds, I reflected on yesterday’s most remarkable events. Never before had I slept so peacefully, except possibly the night before when it seemed I had slept for weeks. 

 Everything came back to me as a big swoosh of wind over the ridge, as did my growing intrigue about these two amigos. If they were still here somewhere, I’d make it my business to find out as much as to who and what they were.

I remembered how adept they were at everything as if this was their natural element. In some ways, they seemed a little too in control, not just in this environment but of me, too. My big question remained: what were they doing here in such a remote part of the world? Further to that, how could they have gotten here, especially with all the provisions last night? Unless…

Yes, of course, that’s it! Likely, they were airlifted up here by helicopter, probably with some eco-tour company, where they’ll spend a few days on the summit, then return to wherever they had come. That certainly would explain their stash of food and drinks.

Why didn’t I think of that last night? It's astonishing how much clearer things become after a good night’s sleep! And yet, as far as I knew, no outfitter or eco-tour operator did anything like this in this area, but if they had the resources, I suppose they could have hired both a copter and an outfitter. That was the most probable answer if Ockham’s Razor[23] had anything to do with this.

Although, that might be too reasonable an explanation when nothing else going on here seemed straightforward. My new friends were of sound temperament, yet much about them seemed different, causing me to question if there was something more to this than just a chance meeting.

Had the gods contrived this, or had fate conspired that I climb here to get me entangled with such improbable characters? My rational mind never believed in gods or fate, so what else might be behind this? Divine providence was out of the question since I didn’t believe in that either. Worse was the irony of finding myself, a philosopher, having to ask irrational questions to find rational answers.

Again, I recalled my strange dream from last September. I could still hear its haunting voice calling out to me. I wondered, was I insane, or was it to drive me insane? Yet, the more I thought about it, the more the dream seemed to have merged with what I was now experiencing.

Every inexplicable phenomenon I encountered yesterday made it that much more difficult to rationalise things away, beginning with the shimmering orbs I may or may not have seen. Then, of course, were the voices I heard from a long way off. Sound waves from such a distance could not have reached my ears unless they originated in my mind,[24] which was impossible unless I had imagined it, in which case, I really was bonkers. At first, I rationalised this delusion as being due to oxygen deprivation, except I had felt nothing of the kind, even when I should have.

And how could I explain the soft and sensual voice of the enchanting mountain nymph I imagined directing me up the summit with a viable approach? Remembering her voice brought a smile to my face. Yes, for now, a little absurd fun would suit me fine, so I wouldn’t have to try to explain things rationally since that seemed to be increasingly impossible.

So, let’s go with that, I thought, smiling as I considered how, in this fantasy, Zeus arranged for Mo and Eli to bring the champagne just as I had requested. ‘But, Zeus,’ I said aloud, ‘you forgot the goddesses last night; weren’t they supposed to be here to celebrate with? Next time, don’t forget, I’ll be waiting.’

I stared into the sky; the iridescent clouds began to appear magical to me. What if I were on a magic mountain where the impossible was possible? A place where I could fall in love with the goddesses, fly through the air, and be forever young. Pleasant thoughts! – a most splendid way to begin the day.

As if to break the spell, I noticed ominous clouds beginning to sweep in from the west. The early morning sun, shining brightly on the eastern horizon, wouldn’t last long.

Reflecting on my situation, I wondered what my companions were up to. On the surface, they appeared no different from me: two mountaineers who happened to be on the same mountain. But then there was a peculiar side to them that I questioned… actually, several questions.

It was unsettling to think about how they knew my name and all the things they seemed to know about me. There must be a logical explanation. Possibly, a mutual acquaintance in London who told them about me. Yes, that must be it.

Friar Ockham[25] would agree; there was no reason for concern. As for everything else going on with voices and orbs, I couldn’t explain any of this away, except I might have been a bit light-headed at this elevation. In any case, I didn’t want to think about it right now.

Enough paranoia, James, I told myself – time to get up and start a new day. Hopefully, my friends, wherever they were, hadn’t departed. I needed to ask them if they knew of an alternative route I could take that was less challenging than the one I had taken on my ascent. Unless, of course, they had a copter coming to airlift them out, in which case, I’d ask to hitch a ride with them if they were going to Santiago.

As storm clouds began to roll in from the West quickly, I realised how swiftly things could turn nasty at this altitude. With all my brooding thoughts, I wondered if perhaps I had attracted a storm up here. If this was superstition, at least I didn’t take it seriously, as many do. I certainly wasn’t given to such foolishness as linking mind with matter, weather conditions or anything else.

Yet, many of my assumptions about what might be possible had been challenged, especially when I approached the summit yesterday. Even if I didn’t have an explanation for all I had experienced up here, I still refused to believe in anything other than what was natural. What philosopher would?

Again, I sprang to my feet, amazed at my agility and how easily I got up. My muscles weren’t in the least sore as they generally were after a day of crawling my way up steep precipices. I quickly threw on my clothes, rolled up my bedding, stuffed it into my backpack, slung it on my back then made my way along the ridge. To avoid the rain and wind gusting over the summit ridge, I sought shelter, trudging just below the summit ridge, where I crawled under a shale protrusion.

The rain had turned into sleet as the winds continued to sweep in over the summit ridge. Despite the weather, I was ready to take on whatever new wonders and challenges the day may bring. And yet, nothing could have prepared me for what awaited me on this day.

After lying there until the storm had passed, I got up, and suddenly, I caught a whiff of smoke wafting up from somewhere below. I scrambled down from the ridge a short distance, where I saw what appeared to be a shelter nestled on a small plateau beside a granite slope. As I got closer, I could see a log cabin, complete with a stone chimney where smoke was billowing. 

‘What in bloody hell is this doing up here?’ I asked aloud. After all the difficulty I had getting up here with only a backpack, hauling logs up vertical escarpments above the treeline would have been impossible without a zeppelin or military helicopter.

In the distance below, I saw Eli sitting outside strumming on a guitar; feet propped up on the railing with a fag hanging out the side of his mouth. The scene reminded me of one of those over-embellished mountain scene paintings with the sun shining between the storm clouds, except this was alive and vibrant. The cabin was conveniently situated far enough from the Summit to avoid the howling winds arching over the ridge above. 

As I descended to the cabin,  Mo shouted from the doorway. ‘Eli ate most of your sausages… but if you wish, I can fry more. Anything else you’d like?’

‘So, this where you two hang out!’ I said as I stepped onto the plank deck. ‘You didn’t tell me last night. Most impressive!

‘Glad you like it,’ Eli said, flicking his fag over the railing as he got up, surveying the front gable end. ‘It’s solid, alright… built it myself, outfitted to how I thought you might like it.’

I nodded, not taking him too seriously. From what I could tell, the cabin had real character, appearing to have been built a very long time ago, possibly a hundred years or more.’

‘I see it has a spectacular view overlooking the chasm gorge below where I clawed my way up yesterday. Looking at it from up here, no one could survive a fall into that abyss.’

Eli chuckled to himself. ‘If you like, there’s a bed in the loft if you care to stay.’

‘That’s most gracious of you. How much? I don’t have many pesos to get me back to Santiago.’

‘No charge!’ Mo said as he stepped outside. ‘Provided you don’t carry on with a lot of rowdy parties, you can stay here as long as you wish.’

‘Gracias. I suppose I could stay an extra day or two before I head back down to Santiago. Still, I’d be pleased to send you some money after I return home.’

‘Where we’re from,’ Eli smirked, ‘we have no need for your money.’

I had no idea what he meant by that, but I wasn’t about to argue. I had only enough for food, lodging and transportation to make it back before catching my flight home.

I looked inside where Mo was cooking something on an old wood-burning stove that brought a fond memory to me.

‘Something about this cabin feels eerily familiar to me,’ I said. ‘Ah, yes, now I remember… it has the same seasoned ambience as an old mountain lodge I once stayed with my girlfriend deep in the Canadian Rockies.[26] Most charming.’

‘I’m pleased you like it,’ Eli said. ‘Go ahead, look around, but try not to get lost.’

The cabin was fully furnished with three well-worn leather chairs by the fireplace, much like I remembered at the wilderness lodge. I wasn’t sure whether this was supposed to be a large cabin or a small lodge since it seemed to be both at once.[27]

The interior was open except for a couple of small rooms at the end. I went up to the loft, where there was a bed, a closet with bedding and a window facing northeast in the gable end where the morning sun shone in.

As I stepped down the stairs, I noticed how the old hand-hewn logs and mud caulking created a warm atmosphere as if occupied for a hundred years. Though considerably smaller than the other lodge, it had the same smoky log atmosphere.

I wondered what Eli meant when he said he designed it for me. Of course, he couldn’t have actually been serious, but had he known, it wouldn’t have been far from what I dreamed of owning ever since my night at that lodge.

In the lounging area, several woven wool rugs covered the old plank floor by the fireplace, where there was also a large bin filled with split firewood. Interestingly, there were several old books stacked on the mantel. They all appeared to be hardcover copies from a bygone era, although I didn’t examine the titles just then.

Mo served me my breakfast on an old plank table, complete with fresh fruit, scones, slightly burned sausages, and a freshly brewed pot of coffee. Most satisfying!

After visiting with my hosts, I stepped outside to survey the magnificent view from the deck that evoked fond memories of past expeditions. From what I could tell, these sierras extended well into Argentina. I didn’t anticipate having the good fortune of staying here when I planned this venture to Chili. It hardly seemed possible, and in the days ahead, I wondered if it was.

Still, it bothered me that nothing here made sense: the food, the drink, or this cabin. Even this summit was a most improbable location for a lodge since it was far too remote for anyone to access except possibly a few climbers such as me. Yet, here it was… as were they.

Once again, this caused me to question what they really were doing here. Whatever it might be, it certainly didn’t seem it was for the exercise. And what about that fortune Mo suggested they inherited? Where was that stashed… some Swiss bank account or buried under some rock up here? How did I know they weren’t on the lam, holed up here from the law? If they were, what better place to hide? No one would know they were here… other than me.

Yet, I wasn’t looking for them. The question then was…. were they looking for me? Now, that was unsettling to think. It made me wonder whether I had cause to be concerned, considering how secretive they remained, with little information forthcoming about anything.

If they didn’t want me to know, I couldn’t do much about it. Perhaps they might become more transparent if I told them a few things about myself. And so I did, rambling as though they might be interested in hearing about my life and all I had accomplished. I also did some name-dropping of famous people I knew or had met. I don’t know; possibly, I was looking for validation from them as to who I thought I was. 

They seemed attentive yet didn’t respond to one thing I said. No compliments, nods, smiles or requests for an autograph. Nothing! The more I put myself out there, the more I felt I was left flapping in the wind.

Usually, I try to present myself in a confident persona, understating my achievements and spectacular adventures, except when, on occasion, overplaying my hand after a few too many pints trying to impress some fair lassie at the pub.

But from what I could tell, Mo and Eli didn’t seem to give a damn about what I had to say. Rather than showing deference for all my awards, scholarships and accomplishments, Eli stared at me blankly, making me want to get up and throw a pint in his face to get a reaction. And Mo, what can I say? He just sat there staring into the sky, thinking about God knows what.

It wasn’t until later that day it occurred to me that they possibly already knew everything about me. Is that why they seemed so indifferent to what I said? I hadn’t considered that before. If so, how could they have possibly known? Yet it seemed they did.

After I finished my embarrassing soliloquy, Eli picked up his guitar, played a few improvised licks and then offered to go down into the cellar to get us a few pints.

‘Thank you,’ I said, ‘but I think I will go for a short walkabout on the ridge. I’ll be back soon.’

Midway to the summit, I changed my mind and decided instead to head down towards the chasm, not that far below the cabin. I was still feeling shunned…  it was as if nothing I said about myself mattered. Even though I was open and transparent about myself, they offered no information about them. It seemed apparent… this was not a level playing field; everything was tilted against me; they would make the rules to suit themselves.

In particular, I was annoyed with Eli. Most students in his age range would regard me as being intellectually superior. But not him. At times in our conversation last night, he seemed too confident, even arrogant, as though he was my mentor. In contrast, Mo was older, appearing inordinately astute, so I didn’t expect deference from him. Nor, it seemed, would I have received any even if I had expected it.

Nevertheless, I had to admire Eli, albeit grudgingly. He was bright, perhaps too much so for his good... or mine, for that matter. In some ways, he seemed a mild-mannered flower child from a bygone era: a sixties counter-culture type who lived his life without a care, ostensibly because he had the good fortune of inheriting a large estate.

Despite his alleged wealth, it seemed he might be just as content living an aimless Bohemian life, loitering in old second-hand bookstores, grungy coffee shops and Turkish hookah lounges. Likely, he was the type who hung out with young women wearing Goth, bright red lipstick and high army boots. All in all, he probably lived an erratic but interesting life like some intellectual free spirit out of a Kerouac novel.

I knew a few students such as him who dropped out after fashioning themselves as revolutionary savants, having read just enough Marcuse or Sartre to ridicule the aspirations of bourgeoisie culture. It’s what you do to remain radically respectable while remaining on the fringes of mainstream culture.

Not that I knew any of this about him, although it seemed he would fit this mould. In some ways, I envied him as projecting my youthful idealism and wanderlust. In painful contradistinction, I had spent most of my adult life struggling to earn the respect of people that, in the end, I didn’t even care about and who probably cared even less about me. So what more of my esteem had I given up to prove something that didn’t matter to him or me?

For all my trouble, all I had to show were a few impressive certificates hanging on my wall, purchased with a student loan higher than this mountain. Likely, I’d be indentured to the bank for most of my years, paying interest unless I received the tenure I deserved for all my time, effort and money.

As I continued to brood on this and the lack of respect I received in life, my mind spiralled downward into an abyss of self-pity while staring into the gaping chasm below. Something about the void below felt fascinating yet eerily troubling. I thought again of what Fredrich Nietzsche once said: If you gaze long enough into the abyss, the abyss will gaze back at you.

And so it seemed, something in the depths was gazing back at me as if to draw me down and swallow me whole. From where I stood at the top, I couldn’t see the bottom. A strange déjà vu haunted me like I had been here before while climbing towards the summit. I couldn’t understand why I kept getting these flashes of attempting to cross the chasm, other than in that weird dream last October when I awoke in a panic, about to fall.

All I knew now was that I made it up to this summit after being directed by some enchanting voice that told me to scale up a fissure with her on the other side of the chasm. And yes, of course, I smiled as I remembered how seductive that sounded. Imagination is a wonderful thing…. Perhaps, one day, I’d find myself closely ensconced with her in a fissure like this.[28]

 I stared up towards the cabin. How could I not have seen it when I was on the other side? It should have been in plain sight, but it wasn’t. So, what am I supposed to make of that? Like everything else here, it didn’t make sense, as if it didn’t have to. While sitting atop the precipice where the chasm opened, I considered all the annoying irregularities that continued to mock my rational faculties. Finally, in frustration, I made my way back to the cabin, having given up trying to figure any of it out. 

I sat across from Mo, hoping he might tip his hand about what they were up to in this land of mysteries. After discussing the topographical challenges I encountered, he asked why I had selected the most challenging route possible. I didn’t have an answer except to say it was an adventure, knowing I would eventually find my way. I always did.   

He looked at me curiously for a moment but didn’t say anything. Possibly, he thought I was crazy; he certainly wouldn’t have been the first. Then, after a few minutes, he said, ‘I have a question for you, James.’ 

‘Of course; what would you like to know?’

‘I was wondering, why do you think some need to do things the hard way? – like you.’

The question felt more like a reproach, so I wasn’t sure what to say in response. I thought it might have to do with how I had been blathering about the challenges I faced in my academic career.

Possibly, he assumed I was too obsessed with what I did instead of who I was. If so, might this be his way of trying to make me feel shallow? I hoped not. As I considered the question, he seemed to have only intended it as a rhetorical question, yet it made me feel defensive.

‘I think,’ I said, ‘whatever we do provides us with our sense of identity. Nevertheless, I’m sure there are many other things we do that won’t change the essential character of who we are. I was a sailor for a short time and am now a professor of philosophy, albeit a part-time sessional instructor. Regardless, I’m the same person, only with a different role.’

‘So how shall we judge you, as a philosopher or a sailor?’

‘I would hope you wouldn’t judge me at all; instead, look beyond the outward appearances of my vocations and see only my qualities within.’

He nodded in agreement. I then realised his question was a ploy so I would hear the answer he was looking for from my mouth. In any case, it was an astute move that caused me to ask myself why I always seemed to need to know what others did in life. Was it because I needed to evaluate myself against them and their achievements?

Like many in my profession, I was in the habit of leveraging my outward credentials to gain an advantage over those with fewer accomplishments. Inward qualities often seemed incidental to the more obvious reality of degrees and outward appearances.

Perhaps this may have been why I was so determined to have Mo and Eli tell me about themselves so that I may know where I stood in comparison. Based on my initial impressions, I thought I had Eli figured out, but Mo remained an enigma. From what I learned later, it was fortunate he didn’t feel it necessary to flaunt his credentials, or I may have had to re-assign myself to a much lower rung on the pecking order.

As I was considering this, Eli stepped outside on the deck with a loaf of freshly baked bread and placed it on a table with an assortment of what appeared to be homemade preserves. He then cut me a big slice and poured each of us a coffee from a pot he brewed. They made it hard for me to remain upset with them for their lack of disclosures after being so gracious and hospitable.

For now, I would swallow my pride along with the bread and let things remain as they were. Solving all these inexplicable mysteries could wait a little longer. Besides, they hadn’t said anything that would humiliate me or put me in my place.

I did that to myself and now realise my initial umbrage mostly had to do with my inflated ego needing to be recognised and affirmed. Generally, I prided myself in not giving a rip what others thought about me since I didn’t need to impress anyone. Yet it seemed precisely that’s what I had been trying to do, causing me to feel chagrined by how I reacted so irrationally due to my fear of being judged. This reaction was the opposite of what I intended, so why did I respond as I did; was it because I felt I wasn’t being afforded the respect I thought I deserved? How disillusioning; I was no different than anyone else; I had expected better of myself.

Strange as this place was at times, I had learned some valuable things about myself that I might not have wished to know. But I was soon to find this was only the beginning. There remained much for me to discover about myself before I would be stripped down to knowing who I was, none of which had anything to do with what I did in life. Nor did I realise that finding myself would be my primary purpose for being here, just as I supposed it should be for everyone, wherever they might be.

As clouds billowed over the ridge, rain began to pour all about as I contemplated my situation and what I should do next. I was conflicted. Was it now time to take my leave?

Though things mostly appeared reasonable, at least on the outside, I suspected they weren’t. Whenever I queried them, they seemed oblivious to my concerns, with little or no interest in providing any rational explanation for all the weird things I had witnessed here. I wondered what would happen if I stayed here a bit longer; where would this all lead?

That evening, while we were playing chess by the fireplace, everything seemed calm and serene. Only after I stepped back from the situation and thought about it, I could see how queer everything was, with things appearing and disappearing whenever they wanted. Not only that, Eli had a habit of answering my questions even before I formulated them in my mind.

When I asked him about that, he said: ‘Oh, you mean precognition,’ as if it was the most common thing in the world.

‘Call it whatever you wish; no one is supposed to be able to do that.’

‘And why not?’ he chuckled. ‘You should try it. Tell me, what am I now thinking?’

‘I don’t know, but what I’m thinking is what an insufferable smart-arse you are. Am I right?’

At times, I wondered if I had been caught in some warp in space and time as I tried to rationalise away the voices I imagined hearing yesterday. At first, it seemed reasonable to assume it was the wind sweeping over the rocky slopes. I was being reduced to believing it was nothing more than the confusion of my oxygen-deprived brain that accounted for my twisted perceptions.

As for my vision of the fissure route to the summit, was it only a lucky hunch I had in my mind’s eye? Increasingly, it was becoming more difficult to rationalise what was happening.

Then there was the ongoing question of what in bloody hell they were doing up here in the first place. That didn’t make sense either, not to mention the other mystery of how this old cabin could have been built here.

Yet, here they were with every provision to live comfortably, including kegs of the Czech Pilsner Mo had stashed in the stone cellar below, not to mention cases of exquisite Mediterranean and European wines. Eli told me to be sure to help myself anytime I got thirsty since there was always more where that came from.

Again, I thought about those flashing orbs of bright light that seemed to dart about on the summit. Or did I only dream that? Yes, of course, I did; in fact, about three months ago, after my altercation at the bar. Yet, this was different. This time, I was awake, was I not? – I wasn’t sure, but then, I wasn’t sure about anything.

If the orb spheres were for real, Mo and Eli should have known about them since they were already on the summit, supposedly. When I asked, they just shrugged, as if they didn’t know what I was talking about, which made me more determined to pester them until I got some straight answers before I left.

As it turned out, I was soon to find out about everything, in fact, more than I might have wished. I found all these events weren’t about what was happening out there so much as what was happening within me. Furthermore, by some strange quirk of fate, I was implicated in the very questions I was seeking answers to, far beyond anything I could have imagined.

‘It appears the rain won’t be letting up soon,’ Mo called to me, ‘so why not come down and join us by the fire? We have a few matters we wish to discuss with you.’

That caught me off guard, causing me some concern about what this might be since whenever I planned an offence, they had a way of making me feel defensive.

‘So, what’s on your mind?’ I asked as I cavalierly stepped down the stairs from the loft where I was resting. Anytime someone beckons you to discuss some private matter, you already know it’s probably not going to be good.

‘Please, James, take a seat and make yourself comfortable by the fire,’ he said. ‘This may take a while. Meanwhile, let me cut you a slice of banana bread I just baked. It’s best when it’s fresh.’

‘Yes, of course,’ I said, ‘fresh bananas picked this morning off the banana trees growing out of the glaciers. So what’s the problem? If you need me to pay my tab, I believe my wallet is somewhere in my backpack.’

‘There’s no problem… unless you wish to see it that way, although we hope you won’t.’

‘What we wish to discuss with you,’ Eli said, ‘is something we think you will find to be of significant interest. So significant that it could change everything for you. But before we get into that, if you don’t mind, we’d like to review your last days on the Earth plane.’

‘What do you mean, my last days on the Earth plane? I have no idea what you’re talking about. No disrespect, chaps, but you hardly know me, even if you think you do, and now, you’re going to tell me about my last days on Earth? Sorry, but I intend to remain in this world for a while yet, so let’s not get ahead of ourselves.’

Ignoring me, Mo got down to what he had to say.

‘James, not long ago, you had a dream. Do you remember? It was a vivid dream about living by a dreadful swamp in the Lowlands and then escaping up a high Mountain to free yourself from the ruts where you remained stuck much of your life. So, what do you remember about that Mountain?’

‘How would I know? It was just a dream.’

‘Yes, just a dream, so real you had to write everything down that night so you could remember everything in the morning. Though you were fascinated with its stark realism, it frightened you when, near the end, it became more of a nightmare, although you weren’t sure why.’

What he said astounded me; I hadn’t told anyone about my dream. So how did he know I awoke in a panic that night? My first reaction was to dismiss what he said; however, he already knew too much. If I denied it, he would know I was lying, and if he called me on it, he’d have me.  

‘So, what are you, Mo… psychic? I’ve never told anyone about this dream, so how are you able to tell me about my dream?’

Ignoring my question, he began to recount the entire dream, from beginning to end, scene by scene, all in sequential order… not at all what I was expecting. At times, Eli took over segments as if they had everything scripted. Between them, they wove the tale most impressively, describing it in even greater detail than what I had recorded, including phantasms of miasmic swamps, bogs and thistles.

Next, they went on to describe how I stole away from my hovel in search of an elusive Mountain I envisioned far away. Eventually, I discovered this metaphoric Mountain after drudging and slogging my way through the marshy Lowlands. They were also right about how, in my dream, it felt like I had been struggling for years to ascend the Mountain.

I had written all I could remember immediately after the dream, but in the days and weeks ahead, I continued to write about new scenes that came alive in my mind. Now, as I listened, many of these images flashed onto the screen of my consciousness, over and over, like a movie I couldn’t stop watching.

Though I tried to remain aloof, I could hardly believe what I heard, conjuring scenes I had forgotten about, such as the condors swooping at me like cacodemons out of hell, which, as it turned out, actually occurred on my way up. I even remembered how I swung my rope wildly to keep them at bay while crossing a narrow ridge.

That’s another thing that surprised me; even while climbing up here in real-time, it never occurred to me that I had already experienced this journey in my dream several months before arriving here. It was all there, and they knew it… all had been portended as I slept.

When they finally finished with their long narration of my dream, there was a long silence as I stared mindlessly into the flames, feigning indifference to what they said. Then, after a minute or two, I got up without saying a word and went to the stove, careful not to show any reaction even though I was stunned by what had been said.

Yet, I was also annoyed; not only had they intruded into my dream, but now they were telling me what was happening as if they had read what I had written in my diary. If they knew this much about me, what else did they know? Obviously, I felt exposed… why wouldn’t I?

After pouring a cup of coffee, I stood by the window, gazing vacantly outside, yet seeing nothing but the screenplay of my dream flash by. After a few minutes, I returned to my chair and stared at them blankly. I didn’t know what to say since I didn’t have a rational answer for any of this, except it should not have been possible for them to know any of this. It was as astounding as it was disturbing.

Initially, I was taken by what Mo had said; however, when I grasped how they had come to know all the details of what only I could have known, I felt confused, exposed, and resentful for them having probed the inward sanctum of my mind. Considering everything I was grappling with, this was one more layer of intrigue to complicate my world, which was becoming queerer by the minute.

They didn’t say more to me, possibly waiting for my reaction as I tried to remain detached from what I felt inside. I may have been a bit rude and dismissive; still, it wasn’t me who invited them to intrude into my dream life. On the other hand, I was well aware of how effective allegories can be used as literary devices to communicate universal concepts, such as with Plato. So, is this what my dream was about… a metaphor for something?

For now, though, I would remain sceptical since I didn’t know how else to deal with such an improbability, and therefore, I wasn’t about to blithely accept everything they had to say. After all, it was my dream, just as it was my life… not theirs.

‘Finally, I said, laughing; by a swamp, you say? That’s hilarious! Sorry, chaps, I’m not Pogo.[29] Since I don’t live anywhere near a swamp, you must have the wrong opossum. This tale sounds like something out of a wild parallel universe you must have dreamed up, so I don’t get what all these swamps, bogs and ruts are supposed to be about.’

I’m sure they saw through my offhand attitude since it was less than compelling, but rather than admit to the merits of their story, I became increasingly flippant as I continued to challenge their interpretations. If I was being obnoxious, it was likely because I feared the shortcomings of my arguments might be laid bare. Nevertheless, I’d prefer to have a certified shrink psycho-analyze me than have these amateurs meddle with my brain.

So why were they doing this, I wondered, and what might be in it for them? Was it to shake me down or show how smart they were? The more I thought about it, the more outrage I became for them intruding into my life.

‘In case you don’t know, I’m an ardent rationalist, but nothing you’ve just said is even close to rational.’

Still, they weren’t about to be deterred as Eli explained how my dream was to be understood as an allegory illustrating how I had been led to pursue a higher purpose in life. Ostensibly, this purpose was symbolised by the Mountain archetype and why it was necessary for me to physically ascend the Mountain to authenticate my dream outside a space-time continuum.

That’s why, they said, on a subliminal level, I felt compelled to fly to Chile just a few months after having the dream. It sounded ludicrous, but not that ludicrous as not to be possible.

Nevertheless, I had to admit that elements of these allegorical images seemed to parallel many of the challenges I encountered over the last few years. If so, there might be more to my dream than I was willing to acknowledge. Was it possible my dream might prefigure a subliminal desire to journey into an alternative realm of existence? That was a wild thought!

Regardless, here I was, far from the real world, having to listen to this strange story… my story, being told by two blokes I didn’t even know, called here to awaken something within me… a hidden message I didn’t wish to hear. And yet, possibly, within, I did.

I wasn’t sure how to interpret the metaphoric significance of the fogs, snakes, bogs and ruts supposedly entwined in my life back home. Were these representations of suppressed fears and frustrations I wasn’t consciously aware of having? If so, perhaps I needed to pay close attention to their interpretations.

Nevertheless, there seemed to be something missing in their narration… something most crucial. It was my panic at the end. So what was that about, and why hadn’t they said anything about this? Whenever I reviewed my notes on the dream, I didn’t wish to think about how things might have ended before waking up since that wouldn’t have portended anything good, especially for my future. It seemed everything prior to that was a preamble to what might occur at the end, yet whatever this climax was to be remained enshrouded in mystery.

That still had me concerned, so I decided to contrive a clever and intellectually plausible explanation to resolve the meaning of the dream, then move on to the more critical questions on my mind of what was happening here.

‘You know, chaps, I may have had this dream, although, in many ways, it’s also everyone’s dream, a splendid archetypal dream… don’t you think? Consider humanity’s universal struggle that takes him from the depths of despair to the heights of ecstasy, from the Lowland swamps to the Mountain peaks. In fact, on another level, it might be understood as a statement of evolution from the primordial swamps towards our upward ascent into higher realms of human consciousness.’

It seemed this point was most prescient of me and even anthropologically plausible. How could anyone disagree with that?

‘I don’t think,’ I continued, ‘this allegory of the swamp and mountain you described is only about me... not necessarily. Instead, it seems more like a universal experience that applies to us all, wouldn’t you say? I’m sure everyone has a dream like this at one time or another, with whatever unique symbols may illustrate the visceral struggles of each life.

‘For example, take Sisyphus rolling the boulder up the Mountain or Prometheus chained to a rock while having his liver eaten each day by an eagle, only to have it restored so it might be eaten the next day.[30] Don’t we all feel that enervation and fatigue at times as the struggles of life eat away at us?

‘As for me, I’ve visited various cosmopolitan centres throughout the world and wouldn’t consider any of these to be swamps, bogs and marshes, not even figuratively. Though my flat isn’t exquisite, I wouldn’t say it’s a hovel, conveniently located over a delicatessen shop not far from the Thames, where I often stroll in the evenings. Even more impressively, I have a library of hundreds of exceptional books that insulate my walls from damp drafts in winter.

‘Then there’s the extraordinary professorial career I plan to receive tenure someday. As for friends, I have several. Although somewhat unconventional, they can be engaging at times. And, of course, there are the charming and sometimes flighty women who come in and out of my life to keep things interesting. Some seem to like me, even more so when I get paid at the end of the month.

‘But since my life hasn’t been that eventful these last few years, we probably don’t need to get too carried away looking for symbols and dream metaphors where they don’t exist.’

Though I may not have been able to bluff them about my achievements, I still found it unsettling they would know so much about my life. Regardless, that didn’t seem to matter to them; they were always a few steps ahead, knowing more than they should have known.

As I mentioned, Eli appeared much younger than me and had a youthful exuberance about him, so I found it a bit sobering when I couldn’t match his depth of understanding on a variety of subjects. It wasn’t just about him being clever; I was used to that from some of my more advanced students; instead, he evinced a sage quality of character that I both admired and envied. Now, to make his mastery even more apparent, he just finished describing much of my dream to me, and he did it with an air of authority as if this were his dream, not mine.

Again, I was flummoxed by how it was possible they could know so much about me, and as much as I wanted to dismiss what they described as a fluke, I couldn’t deny what they said as accurate. Their interpretations were compelling, if not troubling. I had no rational explanation of how they could have managed this.

On the other hand, I couldn’t pry even basic information out of them as to who they were, where they were from and why they were here. It was all a one-way street going in their direction. So, after becoming increasingly exasperated, I finally stood to my feet and raised my voice.

‘You know, gentleman, I think you realise I’ve been very forthright about myself, and now, it seems I’ve even unwittingly allowed you into my dreams. So, I think it’s time you come clean and reciprocate the favour by telling me, once and for all, WHO IN BLOODY HELL DO YOU THINK YOU ARE?’

‘Oh, don’t let that concern you, James,’ Eli said with an irritating smirk. ‘We already know who we are; we don’t even have to think about it. However, we suggest that it’s more important that you find who you are, and then you’ll know who we are, too.’

‘And what’s that supposed to mean?’ 

‘We understand why you may feel a little uncomfortable with how we seem to know so much about you,’ Mo said. ‘We sympathise completely… that has to be unnerving, he smirked. But be patient; we’re coming to that part. For now, let me assure you that we’re harmless, most assuredly not associated with INTERPOL, M16, CIA, or worse, the British Internal Revenue Service. We’re just friends wishing to help you along your way.’

‘But I didn’t ask for your help along the way or anywhere else,’ I responded as I headed towards the door. ‘I found my way up here, and if you please, I’ll find my way down.’

With that, I stormed out of the cabin to decide what to do next. It occurred to me that my companions might not be of this Earth, like in some Twilight Zone[31] Though I had thought of that earlier, I didn’t consider it seriously. But now I wondered. Even if that was irrational, why did I have the heebie-jeebies before meeting them on the ridge? That was no ordinary encounter. Now, on top of everything else, they just interpreted my dream without me even telling them I had such a dream. Had I been drawn into an alternative reality?

The longer I remained, the more prevalent these quirks became where things would magically appear as they fancied: food, drinks, firewood and even books. And yet, from what I could tell, there was no smoke or mirrors to explain any of this. These manifestations had gone far beyond trickery to something far more concerning.

The more I reflected on my situation, the more I felt I needed to leave before I got caught in something I couldn’t find my way out of. I would have loved to stay longer in such an idyllic lodge, yet under the circumstances, I felt I needed to get out. Tomorrow morning, I would begin my descent after sunrise.

For the remainder of the day, I explored the summit ridge to determine the most direct and least precarious route down. It was important the slopes not be too slippery. For now, it appeared the current weather pattern might hold. Yet, at this altitude, you can never really tell from day to day or from hour to hour. 

When I returned by late afternoon, I found them preparing something that appeared to be an elegant dining event. Apparently, it was Italian night on the summit, featuring pasta and their most excellent Sicilian wine. Indeed, these were affable chaps, at least when they weren’t playing mind games with me.

I wasn’t hungry, at least not until I smelled and saw the oven-baked cheesy penne primavera. Eating here on the Summit was more like having a ravenous appetite for delicious food without having hunger pangs. Funny, I couldn’t recall feeling hungry when I first arrived, though I should have been half-starved!

Despite the levity and good cheer, I continued to witness more weirdness, such as when we went outside after dinner to sit by a roaring fire near the cabin. As twilight faded into darkness, the stars began to poke through the indigo sky. After more talk, laughter and whiskey, Mo got up and took a long stick out of the fire with a bright flame on one end.

Standing near the leaping flames, he held the fiery stick up towards the night sky as if a staff with which he would perform some ancient Celtic ritual. Mysteriously, it appeared he had suddenly grown much taller, like Gandalf hovering over the dwarfs, with me being the dwarf. I remarked that he looked like a wizard in the glow of the towering flames.

‘Oh really; then I guess thi s must be my wand; every wizard needs a slat a draoichta.’ Then he cried out: ‘Oscail geata Flaithhis Délig a tsoilse mhór amach,’[32] tossing the flaming stick as it spiralled into the night sky like a blazing star into the darkness. I never saw it come down; perhaps it fell into the chasm or possibly disappeared over the sierras; still, that would have been a long way to fly. What I witnessed was impossible. Unless...

Then he turned to me and said, ‘I have even deeper wizardry for you, James, that has to do with the alchemy of your soul. It starts with knowing who you are. You still don’t know, but when you do, heaven’s light will glow brighter than the flames of a wizard’s wand tossed into the night sky. Are you prepared to alchemize this light into gold?’

By now, I was dazzled and confounded, saying only, ‘Sure, fine… let’s see what we can do.’

‘Think about it, James; think deeply tonight and every night. You may find it takes considerable effort to receive a satisfactory answer as to who you are. Most never do, yet most never bother to search.’

There was a long silence; then he got up, and before I knew it, he was gone. Next, Eli stood up, then after staring at me for an uncomfortable moment, he, too, walked into the darkness without saying a word. I felt eerily alone, wondering if I’d ever see them again. If I left at sunrise as planned, likely, I never would.

As I sat in the glow of the embers, Mo’s question haunted me. Who was I? – such an elementary question… but one I hadn’t given much thought to, even though I understood how vital such ontological concerns were in ancient days. Am I more than my body, as my inner intuition suggested, or am I just a function of a biological constitution? If I didn’t know who I was, how would anyone else?

I struggled to find a meaningful answer but couldn’t, only more questions. Where did I come from, where am I going, and will I ever get there… wherever that might be? Or will I remain stuck in bogs and ruts on a journey that leads nowhere?

Whatever the case, I asked myself, why is life such a melee; why did I always have to strive for more, going to extremes while scaling up such a treacherous mountain? What was I trying to prove? But why would I bother to ask myself something so insane? – which I might soon become if I don’t get away from this place by tomorrow.

Then, as I reflected further, I wondered if this question had already been answered in my dream. Was it possible, in this allegory, were hidden all the answers I had sought about my life? And, had these two beings, whoever they were, been sent to reveal to me who I was? But, sent by whom… and why?

 

[22] Rumi’s Ode
[23] This is also known as the Principle of Parsimony, named after Franciscan friar William of Ockham (1285-1347), who postulated that where there are competing answers to a problem, the one with the fewest assumptions is most likely the correct answer.
[24] Interestingly, this wasn’t the first time I had experienced something like this. In Chapter Seven, I tell of a similar incident while camping in the mountains.[25] In reference to Ockham’s Razor, as discussed
earlier.
[26] Skoki Lodge, Banff National Park, Canada
27  Since I couldn’t decide whether to call it a cabin or lodge, I called it either. At times Eli referred to it as a chalet.
[28] See Book Five, Mystical Romance, Chapter Eight, I Make My Move.
[29] Pogo was a popular and insightful American comic strip published several decades ago full of political satire involving swamp animals in the southeastern USA.  Pogo, the lead character, was an opossum who often made astute statements such as: We’ve met the enemy, and he is us.
[30] Hesiod, the Greek poet, wrote about Prometheus as a mythological character in his epic Theogony, approximately eighth century B.C.  Percy Bysshe Shelley popularised this myth in the early nineteenth century with his poem Prometheus Unbound.
[31] The Twilight Zone was a weekly television series in the late 1950s and early 1960s that dealt with unexplainable events, often paranormal encounters with beings outside the Earth’s dimensions.
[32] From the medieval Gaelic poem An Phaidir Gheal: Open God's heavenly gate. Let the great light out.

CHAPTER FOUR

THE COMPANY YOU KEEP

As iron sharpens iron, so one person sharpens another.
                                                 Proverbs 27:17

 

The following morning, I remained in bed, still thinking about who I was. Until Mo brought it up yesterday, no one had ever asked me about this. Not even after studying philosophy all these years had it occurred to me to ask such an obvious question. So why was it I couldn’t come up with at least one plausible answer? It was a simple question, but as Mo suggested, not such a simple answer.

Finally, I got up and went down the stairs, disappointed to find that my friends weren’t there, causing me to wonder where they stayed overnight. After brewing a pot of coffee, I decided to take a short hike along the ridge to survey the westerly horizon where the storm clouds had earlier swept in from the South Pacific.

My mood improved as the rising sun began to illuminate the glacial slopes with a soft pink glow. Splendid, I thought, like an inspiring omen of something extraordinary to happen, though I had no idea what that could be. Maybe a contract had landed on my desk back home offering a permanent lectureship.

It appeared conditions would be ideal for me to begin my descent back into civilisation. Though I still wasn’t yet sure which might be the best route, I would try to find a way with fewer escarpments, even if it took longer.

As I hiked to the far end of the ridge, I hoped to spot Mo and Eli so that I might bid them adieu. Notwithstanding all the inexplicable incidents here, my time had been eventful; the food, drinks and accommodation were extraordinary, and the company…  what can I say? Interesting would be an understatement.

Also, I wanted to exchange contact information with them, assuming they had an address. At least that way, we could stay in touch in case we wanted to meet somewhere again, perhaps in London.

That was another thing about them; they never did tell me where they lived. I assumed it was somewhere in Britain, but Englishmen tend to live throughout the world of former colonies. Since I was planning to do a lot of travelling in the future while attending various academic conferences, who knows, perhaps our paths would cross again.

They had given me much to think about with their insights into my dream metaphors. Nevertheless, it was now time to put that behind me and begin my long descent before I encountered more orbs, voices, wizards, nymphs, fairies, and whatever phantoms lurked within the shadows of my frenzied imagination.  

With that thought, I smiled as I  headed back to the cabin to stuff my bedroll and belongings into my backpack, along with a few provisions to take with me. I had achieved all I set out to accomplish, ascending where few could have gone! Now, it was time to return home… back to the land of bogs, swamps and hovels, I chuckled to myself. With my friends’ imaginative tales, I would never again be able to view London in quite the same way.

Thinking about home, I wondered if any of the fine young women I recently dated had missed me, wondering where I had gone. Likely, I wouldn’t receive a hero’s welcome; still, I looked forward to whatever might come when I got home. When l left, I told a few friends about my plans to go to Chile, but I didn’t say anything about tackling this peak alone since I didn’t wish to hear anyone nattering to me about how absurd such an expedition might be.

It occurred to me that this secret, too, might be interpreted as a scene from my dream... the part where I slunk away at night. If not literally at night, at least I managed to keep everyone in the dark about my intentions.

It would be great if I could make significant headway before nightfall. Then, it would probably take only a few days to make it back to Santiago, provided the weather continued to hold. Likely, at this time of year, shortly after the summer solstice in the Southern Hemisphere, I might have about sixteen hours of sunlight remaining if I left right now.

I had carefully observed the mountain’s topography while on my ascent, but it was only from one angle, leaving me concerned about how to spiral down. What unforeseen challenges might I encounter in such rugged terrain? From what I could tell, it seemed there was no simple route.

It might be advantageous to find a better way down than what I chose for my ascent, which had turned out to be more than circuitous. On occasion, I had become disorientated after a few unfortunate twists and turns. At times, I had to descend a considerable distance while attempting to find a better approach… as with much of my life’s setbacks, I thought, smiling.

I hoped to see Eli before leaving; possibly, he could advise me on avoiding dangerous glacial crevices of thinly veiled layers of melting ice. It would be easy enough to tumble down, and even if I survived the fall, it’s unlikely I would be able to claw my way out of an ice fissure. Worse, there would be little chance of being rescued in this remote region of the world. Hypothermia would overcome my body within a few hours, and it would soon be over. What a way to go! I didn’t even want to think about it.

Also, it would be helpful if he could advise me on the best route down. Having discussed the mountain’s topography earlier, it seemed he might know where to proceed specifically. A direct route might seem best, but it might take much longer if I encountered steep precipices along the way.

Since there was no sign of them on the trail, I had no idea what to expect, nor did they didn’t say if they would be returning. Nothing suggested they had remained on the summit.

 As I was returning to pick up my backpack, I smelt smoke wafting from the cabin. It was a mystery how I could have missed them, and yet somehow I had. Who, then, lit the fire? It seemed anything was possible.

As I stepped through the door, Mo was preparing breakfast on the stove. They greeted me with a jovial ‘Buenos Días’ as Eli poured me a dark roast coffee. Indeed, a hearty meal wouldn't hurt before commencing my long descent.

As we sat at the table, Eli and I discussed possible routes that I might wish to follow for the long trek down. He offered a few suggestions; still, the advice seemed to be disingenuous, as if he didn’t believe I would actually be going anywhere.  

Meanwhile, I enjoyed what Mo had prepared, which I can only describe as delightfully extravagant. That was the problem; they both could be so damned disarming with their graciousness charm, yet everything about them seemed ambiguous. I was never sure where I stood with what they said and did… as if they were holding something back from me.

This morning, especially, they were going out of their way to be extra hospitable, such that I couldn’t help but wonder if they might have some ulterior motive in keeping me here. I hoped it was because they were making amends for leaving me alone last night after abruptly disappearing into the night, leaving me concerned for their safety.  

‘After you two faded off into the dark,’ I said, ‘I wasn’t sure I’d ever see you again,’ I said. ‘So where in the heavens did you disappear last night?’ 

‘Most perspicuous of you ask,’ Mo grinned. But where in the heavens… is not so easily explained.’

‘I mean, is there another shelter further up the ridge?’

‘If not further up, Eli said, ‘certainly beyond.’ 

Yes, of course, I thought… always more intrigue. Somewhere, someplace, somehow… yet never definite. So, what’s the big secret; why can’t anything be straightforward? Obviously, I need to get out of here before I lose my mind.

‘Well, gentlemen, my time here has been extraordinary; unfortunately, it’s time for me to be on my way. I must get as far down as possible while it remains daylight. Besides, I’m sure there might be a few señoritas waiting for me in Santiago before I catch my flight home. Thanks to you and… gracias a la vida.’[33]

‘James,’ Mo said, ‘before you go, have you given any consideration to what we discussed yesterday about your dream and what you think it means?’ 

‘As I said last night, typically, I don’t pay much attention to dreams since there are more important things to do than make sense of all the subliminal nonsense that surfaces in the brain at night.

‘Still, I’ll admit I never had a dream quite like that before, leaving an indelible impression on me. Most curiously, near the end, I remember standing on some precarious ledge just before awakening. Guess I’ll never know what that was about.’

‘A real cliffhanger, eh,’ Eli smirked.

‘I suppose it was… so to speak. Don’t get me wrong; your interpretations were provocative; nevertheless, I reserve judgment as to what this dream may or may not mean. But since it was mine, maybe we should keep it proprietorial,’ I chuckled.

‘Perhaps we should arrange for you to have a session with Dr Jung,’ Mo said. ‘I’m sure you’re aware how big he was on dream archetypes.’

‘That would indeed be most interesting,’ I said. ‘The only problem is Jung is no longer with us, having died over fifty years ago. Unless you’re proposing we try to arrange a séance with the esteemed professor. As ludicrous as that might be, it wouldn’t surprise me if you believed you could talk to the dead.’ 

‘We agree; a séance would be ludicrous,’ Eli said, ‘since we can do it face to face.’

‘Yes, of course,’ I said, ‘except once you’re dead, you’re dead! That’s obvious! So-called psychics who claim to conjure the dead are only playing the same type of mind games you two chaps seem to enjoy, except they charge fees.’

‘Are you saying our narrative of your dream was only a mind game?’ Mo asked. 

‘As I said, your narration of events lines up remarkably well with what I experienced on my ascent. Almost too well, considering how you evoked many of the same impressions I remembered, except the last part when you said I was on a narrow ridge… you didn’t mention what happened after that.’

‘Don’t you remember?’ Mo asked.

No, that’s when I woke up in a panic, trying to get across the chasm.

‘If you wish, we could tell you why you don’t remember the ending and why you woke up in a panic, although I’m not sure you would believe us if we did.’

‘There’s no need to bait me; go ahead, tell me your interpretation… I still have some time. After all, it was only a dream, but before you say more, I’m curious to know how you were able to guess my dream – however you did it,  I must say, it certainly was a clever trick.’

‘Are you sure you want to know?’ Eli asked.

‘Of course I do… this should be good,’ I laughed. ‘But make it quick; I need to get going.’

‘It’s quite straightforward,’ he said. ‘And yes, it was a trick. So, here’s how it happened: when you weren’t looking, Mo and I scampered up the stairs to your flat. It was easy enough for us to walk through the door and find the notes you recorded of your dream inside your desk.

‘By the way, you sure have a lot of junk in your drawers. Regardless, we found your notes, ran down the stairs and made our way to a nearby stationary shop to make a copy. Then we ran back the whole way, laughing about the prank we were going to play on you. When we got back to your flat, we put the notes back in the drawer before you got home from class. We had it planned rather well, wouldn’t you say? 

‘So, when you finally made it here to the summit, we were ready for you. I hope you don’t mind, but we read your dream straight from your notes… makes sense, doesn’t it; there’s no need for any psychic voodoo when everything can be so easily explained rationally. Since there has to be a natural explanation for everything, it must be, isn’t that right?’

Before I could respond to his jest, Mo said in a conciliatory tone: ‘Ignore Eli; he’s just having a little fun. Actually, we understand why you might feel slightly confused by what we say and do since some of our machinations might seem a little bizarre at times.’ 

‘Like throwing a flaming stick into the air that doesn’t come down,’ I said. 

‘Oh, that… not a big deal,’ he said. ‘Think of it as a shooting star in reverse. They generally burn out before they hit the ground.’ 

‘If that impressed you, you should see what Merlin can do,’ Eli said with a straight face. ‘Now there’s a real wizard for you.’ 

‘I’m sure he is,’ I said, ‘but let’s not bring Merlin into this; things are strange enough here as it is.’ 

‘Though I realise you’re anxious to begin your descent,’ Mo said, ‘indulge us a little longer so that we might clear a few things up so you won’t remain confused.’

‘Fine,’ I said, ‘I’d be pleased to hear what you have to say if it doesn’t take long.’

‘We’ll do our best, but first, we need to explain a few more things regarding your dream. There was an important event we didn’t tell you about yesterday. If you don’t know this, nothing else will make sense.’

‘Nothing here makes sense,’ I said. ‘Nevertheless, carry on, if only to confuse me more.’

‘Don’t be concerned,’ Eli said, ‘by the time we’re done, we will have cleared up much of the confusion. After all, your life seems to have nothing to do with marshes, mosquito-infested swamps with slimy snakes slithering around in your highly coveted hovels built on sand, made of wood, hay and stubble.’[34]

‘No, nothing like that,’ I said, ‘not even figuratively.’               

‘In explaining your dream, we recognise why some of the meanings behind these images are not that apparent to you,’ Mo said, ‘having been taught to believe in only the limited material precepts of the world you’re most familiar with. However, these beliefs no longer serve you. Our universe is much different from what your third-dimensional perspective can imagine. Soon, you will understand what we’re saying, or you likely wouldn’t have come this far.’

How condescending, I thought, as if they knew everything and I knew nothing. The presumption is that if I come around to see things as they do, then, and only then, would I know how things are.

‘Sorry,’ I said, ‘I’ll be the one who decides for myself what is real and what isn’t.’ 

‘Of course,’ Mo said, ‘but do you remember what happened at the beginning at the behest of the orphic voice that portended your ascent from the Lowlands to the Summit? Down deep in your soul, you know why you climbed this Mountain. You didn’t just come; you were invited.’

Looking up at the rafters, I shook my head. ‘What nonsense… no one invited me here.’

‘Listen to what Mo’s saying,’ Eli said, ‘there’s much more to your dream than you wish to acknowledge. You wouldn’t have risked life and limb just to prove you could climb this remote and treacherous mountain. Considering the danger exacted on your body, it would have been ill-advised and even foolhardy to make any such attempt had there not been something more thrusting you forward.’

‘If anything was thrusting me forward, it was my iron determination and herculean physique! Although, it probably wasn’t the most judicious plan in the world. Nevertheless, I felt I needed to do it… so I did. That’s why I told only a few friends about my scheme to, or, as you say, stealing off into the night.’

‘That’s because after your dream,’ Mo said, ‘you began to understand there was more to life than you were experiencing in the Lowlands, even when you weren’t sure exactly what that might be. You realised you could no longer bear to live in the swamps where life had become too shallow to fulfil your higher aspirations.’

‘And, in that sense,’ Eli said, ‘you never did wake up from the dream; the dream woke you up and slowly changed your life. You knew you had to follow where you were called. Now, this is it; the adventure you sought, and as you will soon find out, much more.’

‘Seems like you think you have me figured out with all these metaphors from my dream that you keep throwing around.’

‘You already know there’s something to what we’re saying,’ Eli said, ‘even if you won’t admit it. Your dream was a call to take you beyond the mists of the Lowlands, far beyond what you understood. You may not realise this, but that’s about to change. As is your world, at least as you currently know it.

‘You don’t say,’ I muttered incredulously.

‘The Mountain represents your quest for what’s higher, and soon,’ Mo said, ‘you will find it becomes more than a metaphor; instead, it could turn into an emerging reality of a higher timeline. Without a doubt, it would be a more substantial foundation than the bogs you kept building on in the Lowlands. After all, this mountain is rather solid, is it not?

‘All that was presented in your spectacularly vivid dream portended what was to come, just as all you seek to understand was projected into this dream. Whether you realise it or not, it has become your new reality. When you become aware of this, you will realise why you are here.’

‘I can hardly wait.’

‘Trust us, James,’ Eli said, ‘we’re not making this up. You need to understand that your dream presaged what would transpire here. We only wish to remind you of what it was trying to tell you, so don’t shun this gift you gave to yourself. It was a revelation from you to yourself. You earned it, my friend; therefore, it’s all yours: your guide and future reality. It gave you the vision you needed to find your way here; it didn’t come from your mind but from your heart.’

‘Of course, it did, so pleased to know… whatever in bloody hell that’s supposed to mean.’

‘It means it’s taken you this long for your heart to show you the way up, just as it seemed in your dream! You’ve gone to a lot of trouble to make it this far.’

‘Ah, yes, of course… all that time meandering in those mucky ruts and bogs,’ I laughed. ‘But, really, chaps, let’s not get too carried away creating allegories and archetypal dreams unless you imagine you’re Freud and Jung. Besides, I think it’s only been about a week since I left London.’

‘Well, that’s not entirely true,’ Mo said, ‘but we can talk about that later. The fact is, you are here, although you will need to go a lot further in before you can ascend further up to higher realms.’

‘Further in… further up… what are you talking about?  

‘That’s how you get further up… by going further in. Always remember that.’

‘Ah, more metaphoric posers,’ I said. ‘Every major philosophy throughout antiquity has contrived ideas of how to ascend to higher understandings. So which philosophy are you flaunting?’ 

‘Maybe in the past, but as you know, much of modern philosophy remains more interested in leading their followers down into the Flatlands where they can impose their shallow beliefs on impressionable minds.

‘But don’t take this personally,’ Eli said, ‘we’re not necessarily referring to you. You’re here and not there because you've had enough of the shallow claptrap. Whether you’re aware of it or not, you’re already well on your way to higher realms of reality; it’s just that you haven’t figured it out yet. Nevertheless, your journey upwards will become more apparent the further in you.’

‘Actuality, my journey is not further up but further down… all the way to London. Which reminds me… I really need to be on my way now if I hope to have a full day of sunlight.’

‘Before you go, there’s something more you should know that could save you a lot of trouble,’ Mo said as he focused his penetrating eyes on me in a way that made me feel uncomfortable. If you accept it, you will finally have eyes to see what you could see before and ears to hear what you couldn’t hear before. Although you may not at first comprehend what we are about to tell you, eventually, you will adjust to this new reality.’

‘New reality,’ I said. ‘What’s wrong with my old reality? Reality is reality; it’s not the kind of thing you can go around making up to suit your fancy. Although, I find various substances can be helpful in imagining new dimensions if that’s what you’re referring to,’ I smirked.

‘There’s no reason to imagine new dimensions when you can discover what already exists instead of reinventing the universe. Though it seems you haven’t twigged onto this yet, eventually, you will experience this reality once you discover the dimension in which your body now exists. Unfortunately, it may remain difficult to do when limited to the reductionist terms of your rational inquiry.’

‘What’s wrong with rational enquiry? – it’s impossible to understand anything without reason.’

‘Except when reasoning gets in the way of what it can’t understand.’

‘Sorry, Mo, but that made no sense.’

‘Though it can only answer questions within the scope of its understanding, we don’t wish to dismiss reason. Yet when it comes to recognising what’s of the heart, the mind, of its own accord, sees only shadows and distortions in the cave of its limitations rather than discerning the light.’

‘Ah, cave and shadows. Yes, of course, Plato’s infamous metaphor. I think most of us have moved beyond that now.’

‘You don’t like Plato?’ Eli asked.

‘Of course, but I think we have better, more profound modalities of logic to understanding what’s out there.’

‘We can discuss that later,’ Mo said; ‘still, after we tell you how your dream ended, you will have to accept that your consciousness is more than the mental processes of your brain. Your old terms of reasoning are inadequate because they were crafted in the old clay crucibles of Lowlands foundries. Until you recognise that, you’re going to knock yourself out trying to figure out what has happened to you.’

‘Balderdash,’ I said. ‘Reason is either rational or irrational; there’s nothing between.’

‘We agree, there’s nothing between,’ Mo continued, ‘nevertheless, there’s much more to explore that’s beyond the third dimension.’ 

‘Such as what?’ I asked.

‘If this had been taught to you in the Flatlands, you would already know. And, if it had been taught, the Flatlands would no longer remain flat.’

‘Flatlands, [35] where’s that? Is this another one of your metaphors?’ 

‘Indeed, it is,’ he said. ‘A place you’ve spent most of your adult life. Let’s just say it exists where it’s lowest and driest in the Lowlands, where reality has little meaning. Unfortunately, that’s because few there understand who they are.

‘If they cared to find out, they would leave for higher ground as you did. Once one discovers who they are, it’s too constricting to remain on such a plain for long. You may spell that, plain or plane, since each applies.’   

‘Good to know… along with all the other creative riddles and metaphors you come up with. Possibly, we can later discuss such recondite matters and assorted abstractions should you ever visit London. I know of several pubs in the area where we can meet; I’ve even worked at some of them.’

‘So, tell me, James, do you know who you are?’ Mo asked.

‘You mean about understanding who I am? Sorry, I don’t wish to get into any big ontological conundrums with you at the moment. But I can tell you this much: I’m a male Caucasian of British citizenship, thirty-three years of age, six feet two inches, 198 pounds of lean muscle and bone, with enough brain tissue left over to be a sessional Professor of Philosophy at King’s.

‘I might add, a connoisseur of fine wine and women, though not necessarily in that order. I don’t wish to disappoint you, but that’s all I’m prepared to say; it seems you already know more than enough about me.’

‘I’m not disappointed,’ Mo said. ‘In fact, the point of me asking you is so you would realise how little you know and how difficult it is for you to find an answer as to who you really are within. Don’t despair, though; there will be an answer… there always is. That’s why you’re here.’

‘Okay then, so what’s the answer? I’m sure many philosophers would like to hear what you have to say about this, including me.’

‘I only said there is an answer; I didn’t say what it is since it can only be known to you, no one else, since we don’t share your soul. It can’t be learned; it can only be discovered, not by the mind but rather by the heart. Only the heart knows. Do you remember what the ancient inscription on the Temple of Apollo at Delphi said?’

‘Of course, NOSCE TE IPSUM! Along with many other Greeks, Pythagoras and Plato were obsessed with this, along with you and my physicist friend, Miguel. As I told him, you do what works for you; as for me, I’m getting tired of being harangued about knowing who I am.

‘But if you really must know who I am, I have a quick way to find out. It’s on my ID tag hanging on the chain around my neck. I had it inscribed on a pendant in case I was in an accident or got killed climbing here.’ 

‘Oh really,’ Eli said. ‘Did you hear that, Mo? James’ identity is hanging on a chain. I’m curious; let’s see what that looks like.’ 

I felt around my neck. ‘Bloody hell, it’s gone… I must have lost it! Damn. Why didn’t I notice this earlier?’ 

‘What does it look like?’ Eli asked.

‘It’s a silver chain with a pendant and gold-plated cross.’

‘A gold cross? I thought you said you weren’t religious?’

‘I’m not, but it has sentimental value, given to me when I was a child. Only recently did I come across it, so put it on my chain for good luck.’

‘For good luck? So, you’re saying you’re not religious, just superstitious.’

‘Well, actually, I’m neither… if you know what I mean.’

‘I do, but do you?’ 

I stared at Eli, trying to think of something clever to say.

‘Don’t worry about it,’ Mo said. ‘I’m confident you will eventually find your identity, be it here or somewhere else.’

‘Nevertheless, I’ve got to be going now… not eventually. Damn it; it must some place nearby… I haven’t gone that far. Unless it’s at my campsite.’

‘No, that’s true, you haven’t gone that far,’ Eli said. ‘However, your cross and pendant might have.’

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ I asked.

‘If you can settle down and stop pacing for a bit, we might be able to help you understand your situation. Take a seat; this is important.’

‘Of course, but let’s make it quick… I need to be on my way.’

‘We’d be pleased to help you find your ID,’ Mo said, smiling, and when you do, it will be time for you to return.’

‘I’m ready now,’ I said.

‘I don’t think that’s what Mo meant,’ Eli said. ‘It could take you considerably longer than you think; most don’t do it in a lifetime.’

‘I don’t have a lifetime… not if I want to take in the festival before my flight. Maybe we should go to where I camped by the fire and see if it’s there. Oh wait, perhaps it’s in the loft where I slept.’

‘Don’t bother, James,’ Mo said. ‘We already know where it is.’

‘You do? Then why didn’t you say so?’

‘We will, but first, you’ve got to listen to what we have to say, or you won’t understand.’

‘Then tell me.’ I said, raising my voice in exasperation.

‘Make yourself comfortable, James… this might take a while. You have been curious about much even since you arrived here, have you not?’

I looked at him blankly, then said: ‘Of course, that’s an understatement. No offence intended, but this place is getting to feel weird.’

They didn’t say anything as I poured a cup of tea, then sat down, taking a bite out of a scone, waiting to hear what they had to say.

Finally, Mo spoke up and said: ‘It’s time we tell you everything, James, even if it’s more than you wish to hear… full disclosure about the end of your dream.’

He had my attention now, although I wasn’t sure how seriously I ought to take any of this.

‘Understand, the more we say, the more questions you will have. Undoubtedly, it’s about more than the identity on your chain. So, be patient; take several deep breaths and clear your mind.’

What’s this, some freaking yoga class? I already had plenty of deep breathing exercises on my way up the Summit. And now I’m being told to be patient, I thought as  I muttered an obscenity under my breath, which they may or may not have heard. It didn’t matter; I didn’t care. Why did I always let them push me into their whacky, make-believe world? For all I knew, they might be part of some weird cult.

‘Okay, I’ve taken a few deep breaths, so what’s next, satori or charades? These might be fun games to play if we had more time.’

I tried to keep the sarcasm to myself, though it wasn’t easy to remain calm and not appear more agitated than I already was. Hopefully, they would now tell me where I could find my chain.

When I was done, Mo said in a soft, conciliatory tone, ‘We appreciate you’ve been waiting for us to explain why things are as they are here. It’s now time you hear what we have to say.’

‘Okay, so what is it? – it sounds like you’re about to say something of importance.

‘This might shock you, but much has gone on that you’re unaware of, so be prepared. What I say might be difficult for you to believe, so it may take time for you to come to terms with what happened, although I’m confident you will eventually….’

‘Wait a minute,’ I said. ‘Let’s back up. What do you mean, what happened?’

‘What happened,’ Mo said, ‘has to do with the hidden end part of the dream you’ve been suppressing all this time. We need not say much since your soul already knows. It’s the most significant part of your dream; everything else is only a preamble to what happened. So I think we need to….’

‘Oh please, not that damn dream again. I have a bus and flight to catch.’

‘I think your bus left the station some time ago,’ Eli chuckled.

‘Eli, talking to you is sometimes like trying to have a rational discussion with the Queen of Hearts.[36] So let’s cut to the chase,’ I said, sitting in my chair as if I were about to leave. I was losing patience, yet I tried not to overreact. If I didn’t play it cool, they might not tell me anything.

‘We wish to answer your questions, James,’ Mo said, ‘all of them. What you wish to know was already foretold in your dream, which, whether you realise it or not, has become your new reality.’

‘Trust us,’ Eli said, ‘we’re not making this up. On a deep subliminal level, you already know your fate was presented to you in your spectacularly vivid dream. It portended all that was to come. That’s why you must understand everything you experienced on your journey here was already merged into your dream. We’re only reminding you so you will know what it was trying to tell you.’

‘In fact, you may soon realise your dream allegory is more real than anything you thought to be real. In some deep, prescient state of consciousness, you already knew what was about to happen even before you landed in Santiago. And that, my friend, is what brought you here. So, are you ready to hear the rest?’

‘Of course,’ I said, ‘whatever you mean by the rest. I’ll admit my dream may have some merits as an interesting allegory. After considering it last night, I probably understand more than I’ve been letting on, especially your allusions to swamps and snakes. As I thought about it, it reminded me of my work environment, especially the snakes in the grass. But let’s hurry this along so I can get going.’

They didn’t answer. As they looked at each other, the atmosphere became sullen and deadly serious. It appeared this might be more than a literary analysis of my dream’s allegorical composition. Still, they remained silent, gazing intently at me. I felt an eerie foreboding. I studied Mo’s graven countenance and understood something ominous was about to be said and that it probably had to do with my fate.

‘What is it, Mo?’ I asked. ‘You’re making me nervous. Is there a problem?’

‘There’s no problem,’ he said, ‘unless you consider it such. So, are you ready to hear the rest of your story?’

‘Again, what do you mean, the rest of my story?’

‘The part where we ended,’ he said… ‘the part that was the beginning… the beginning of your new life. What we are about to tell you will explain this and why things now might seem so… ah, different. It will also help you find your pendant and cross.’

‘So, rather than getting too involved with how this dream allegory may or may not have ended. Just give me the bottom line; I’m fine with that; after all, it was just a string of metaphors from my subconscious mind to teach something or another about higher aspirations. I mean, that’s why it became my Mountain obsession… right? Still, they remained silent.

‘Anyway, if you wish, I promise to give this more thought after I return. Dreams can do strange things, although I don’t think we should get too carried away over-analyzing them. Don’t you agree?’

‘You see, James,’ Mo said, ‘it’s like this: this string of metaphors, as you call them, have more to do with your current state of reality than you realise. It’s really about your destiny.’

‘Interesting… and what destiny is that?’

‘This one with us,’ Eli said, ‘how do you like it so far?’

‘You wondered why you woke up from your dream in a panic,’ Mo said, ‘still, you didn’t know why. It took you to the brink, yet no further. That’s why you don’t know what happened. So, now we’re finally going to tell you.’

‘What more is there? I woke up… dream’s over!’

‘But what if the dream wasn’t over? What if something happened not far below from where the chasm opens into a bottomless abyss? You panicked not just once but twice, first in your dream last autumn and then again recently, just below this cabin.’

‘Sorry, I have no idea what you’re going on about.’

‘That’s because your mind doesn’t wish to relive its trauma. And yet… it must. We’ve been trying to tell you, but you keep evading what we have to say. So, tell us, James, what was happening as you approached the summit. Close your eyes; go deeply within. Take your time… what do you see?’

‘All I remember is that it was tough getting up the last precipices. I was really knackered and had to rest below before going the distance. Then, as I got closer, I saw something extraordinary.

‘At first, it appeared there were two or three shimmering orbs that I imagined as aliens from space; not that I believe in any of that, although the brightness had me curious. I was anxious to pass over to the other side of the chasm to find out what this was about.

‘Crossing seemed too treacherous, though I couldn’t see another way to reach the summit.  While wondering what to do next, I thought I heard a voice urging me towards a fissure hidden in the precipice towards the left where I found it. That was very strange; I would never have discovered it on my own, but that’s how I made it up the summit… circumventing the chasm.’

‘Indeed you did; nonetheless, don’t you also remember another timeline when you tried to cross the chasm?’

‘It’s interesting you should mention that. In my dream, I remember crossing an abyss on a narrow ledge inside a chasm like the one below. It seemed so real and frightful. However, this confusion in my mind was likely from adjusting to the altitude; probably, I got a bit muddled… you know how it is, hearing voices and all.’

‘Close your eyes again, James,’ Mo said, ‘and take another deep breath. Then relax for a moment and tell us what you see on a ledge crossing the chasm. Take your time and concentrate. Did you cross over?’

‘Well, I must have. Here I am.’

‘Indeed, here you are, that much is certain. No doubt about it, but how far did you cross over? Was it all the way?’ 

‘What do you mean: was it all the way? Aren’t you listening? Of course, I crossed over; what other way is there?’

‘How about the other approach you just mentioned? – the one you said a voice directed you towards; didn’t you just say you scaled a fissure to the top?’

Even before Mo mentioned this, my last words caught in my throat. I knew something didn’t sound right; how could I have done both while approaching the summit?  Was it all just in my imagination? Yet, crossing the chasm felt so real.

‘Now you have me confused; I don’t know what to say or think.’

‘That last step, James, do you remember it… where your dream seemed to end?

I got up, staring out the window that overlooked the chasm. But I didn’t see anything, lost in my inner world, trying to visualise what happened next.

I was bewildered by Mo’s question as I continued to stand there, eyes closed, concentrating on what was stirring deep within me. I wasn’t sure what was emerging; whatever it was… felt foreboding.

Then, slowly, fragmented scenes of blurred cliffs and canyon walls flashed upon my mind. First, they appeared as still frames, then merged in slow motion. The images quickened, running seamlessly in vivid detail, as the horrific scene began to play itself out. The veil of amnesia was lifting.

I felt my body falling through space; a torrent of wind swished by me with the force of a tsunami. My cup of tea dropped from my hand as I saw myself falling through an abyss. I observed craggy rocks thrusting upwards over and past me, with slopes of scree and snow approaching me from below. Then nothing! All went blank; there was only dark oblivion.

I continued to grip the window ledge so I wouldn’t fall further. I don’t know how long I stood there; finally, I shuffled back to my seat and slumped in silence, eyes closed as the reels continued to replay. Each time, the images became more vivid and fearsome. As much as I wanted to believe none of this was happening, I couldn’t deny it. I was mesmerised by the terror I felt and couldn’t look away.

Next, I saw my body lying in a heap below the canyon. At once, I was fascinated, bewildered and horrified by what my mind enacted. How could I not have known about this before? Did Mo and Eli see this happen? If so, would that have been them, standing on the summit above, appearing as orbs of light?

Finally, I managed to utter faintly, ‘I must be losing my mind; I just went through the most horrific phantasm you can imagine. It was dreadful! I was hurling down through an abyss. Then, I saw my body lying in a bloody lump at the bottom on a sheet of rocks and ice.’

‘Yes, James,’ Eli said quietly, ‘that was your body after your almost fatal fall off the chasm’s ledge. And yes, we saw it all. We witnessed the end of your dream – the beginning of your new reality.’

‘What I saw couldn’t have happened,’ I muttered, ‘it must have only been something I dreamt.’

‘Nevertheless, it did happen,’ Mo said, ‘and not just in your dream; it all occurred below this cabin.’

‘Until now, I didn’t remember any of this in my dream; therefore, I’m sure what I just witnessed in my mind didn’t actually happen; rather, it was just an extension of the dream I suppressed. But what a helluva dream it was… I’m still shaking.’

‘But was it just a dream?’ he said. ‘Let us now tell you exactly what happened and all that was foreseen in your dream. You weren’t ready to hear about any of this when you first arrived; however, now that you’ve relived your fall, realise it actually did happen in 3D space and time.’ 

‘If I had my druthers, I think I’d prefer it to remain a dream of my mind’s imagination and nothing more.’

‘But it wasn’t what your mind imagined,’ Eli said, ‘it was what your mind censored because of the trauma it might invoke. Only by our prompting did you witness what your conscious mind suppressed. So, let’s go back again and see if we can help you remember what caused your fall as you crossed over. Again, do you recall that last step?’

‘No, not really.’

‘That’s because there was no step. The thin ledge gave way, and your body went flailing down through the canyon, twisting and gyrating until it hit a scree slope below, as it continued to slide to the bottom.’ 

I shook my head in disbelief, not wanting to accept any of this, though it was what my mind’s memory had seen and felt. 

‘James,’ Mo said, ‘you need to accept what your mind is trying to tell you so we can reveal what happened next. Don’t fear it. It’s all over now, but understand you were this projectile. Do you recall how your life flashed before your eyes as you flew down?’

‘Yes, I felt something dreadful like that.’

‘Then, as you fell, your body ricocheted against the canyon walls while tumbling through the air. As your legs smashed against the igneous protrusions, they broke in several places. Being in shock, you felt nothing. Then, as your body slid down the scree slope, something snapped. It was your neck, and you remembered no more.’ 

‘That’s ridiculous,’ I said. ‘My neck doesn’t even feel sore; in fact, my legs and body have never felt better.’

‘Please understand that your body should be dead under normal circumstances, but the impact was buffeted with brushes and a thin layer of snow covering the underlying scree that caught your body as it continued its slide to the bottom. Had it gone much further, it might have fallen over a steep precipice, likely never to be seen again.’

‘We observed your body lying there, mangled and bloodied,’ Eli said. ‘Barely alive, yet it breathed. That’s when you departed your familiar earthbound vessel.’

‘Departed, I hardly think so. Look at me; I’m fine.’

‘Yes, look at you, you are fine, but it isn’t.’

  

[33] Spanish: Thanks to life.
[34] This last statement of Mo’s made little sense to me until I later discovered that it was in reference to a quote about what has lasting consequences in life: ‘Now if any man build upon this foundation gold, silver, precious stones, wood, hay, stubble, every man's work shall be made manifest: for the day shall declare it, because it shall be revealed by fire, and the fire shall try every man's work of what sort it is.’ I Corinthians 3:12 (KJV)
[35] The first writing I know of that uses the term flatland, at least in the context spoken of here, was a science fiction classic simply called Flatland (1884) by Edward A. Abbot (1838-1926), a London headmaster, scholar and theologian. Then later, Thomas Mann also wrote of the flatlands in his seminal novel, The Magic Mountain (1924).
[36] From Alice’s Adventures Wonderland by Lewis Carroll, first published in 1865.
[37] Pierre Teilhard de Chardin (1881-1955), French philosopher, Jesuit priest, palaeontologist and geologist. 
[38] All’s well that ends well, the name of a play by William Shakespeare.
[39] Ludwig Wittgenstein (1889-1951). Considered to be among the most influential philosophers of the twentieth century. He came to regret much of what he wrote in his Tractatus Logico-Philosophicus (1922), and yet its influence carries on to this day. One of its famous phrases is: Whereof one cannot speak, thereof one must be silent. During WW1, he was greatly influenced by the writings of Dostoyevsky and Tolstoy, later becoming a fierce opponent of what he considered Scientism and the reductionism he once championed. 
[40] Tabula rasa is Latin for erased tablet, meaning to keep the mind a blank slate so that it may receive new impressions.

CHAPTER FIVE

 

THE FALL

We are not human beings having a spiritual experience.
We are spiritual beings having a human experience.
                                           Pierre Teilhard de Chardin[37]

 

I sat there for some time, pondering what Eli had said, reliving the horror show of what I had experienced in my dream. But what if they were right… what if it wasn’t a dream? The one I had forgotten at the end. Indeed, it felt like more, much more… like it really happened. And yet, how could that be?

Finally, I got up and paced across the floor, deep in thought. For the moment, I remained calm, composed, and detached, more stunned than detached, while attempting to reconcile myself with this vision. Nothing in my higher learning could have prepared me for this. I felt like I was witnessing some ghastly accident with ambulance sirens blaring as I watched from the sidelines, grateful it wasn’t me slumped in the car. This time, however, I saw it was me lying in the blood.

Still, I remained calm and controlled as best I could; no emotional breakers had blown with surges melting the nervous circuits in my switching station. Stay steady, James, I thought; you can work through this. There’s a reasonable explanation for everything; likely, it was only a flashback from some wicked psychedelic trip I was high on years ago.

Unlike past trips, however, this felt too real not to be authentic. Though I was familiar with that fleeting, ephemeral feeling of altered consciousness, this wasn’t anything like that.

Then, the images started to surge back into my mind as I slumped deeper in my chair; my eyes flickered in deep reverie. I no longer heard the crackling of the logs in the fire, now entranced by the disturbing scenes that flashed before my mind’s eye. I felt my body twisting and tumbling as it gyrated past the canyon crags, all seeming to happen at once.

I continued to relive my journey into oblivion until, at last, I opened my eyes. After a few moments, I spoke in a near whisper.

‘Yes, of course, I remember, now… the last step, mid-way across the chasm. It didn’t hold, did it… I forgot about that.’

‘That’s right, James, it didn’t hold,’ Eli said, ‘but the trauma sure did. You now need to come to terms with this and all that has happened since. There’s so much more to the story… it’s just begun.’

I wanted to believe all’s well that ends well[38] yet I wasn’t sure what the end was. Still, I couldn’t put the images out of my mind as they continued to haunt me. The more I tried to dismiss them, the more the impressions impinged, over and over. And it was true; I recalled how my life flashed before me while I fell. There was no longer any doubt about it; something serious had happened, even if I didn’t wish to believe it.

But had I not arrived on the Summit by climbing up an escarpment somewhere to the left of the chasm? I thought I had; if not, how did I get here without a bruise or scratch? Everything was a muddle as I grappled to reconcile what might have happened or might not have happened.

‘Okay, Mo, tell me what you think; you said you saw me fall.’

‘Indeed, we did; we saw it all!’

‘Then tell me, what did you see after?’

‘We can tell you that you, the soul essence in your immortal spirit body, parted your mortal body. Don’t worry; that body isn’t dead, at least not yet.’

‘So, Eli, you’re saying I literally left my body, not just my dream… well, doesn’t that beat all,’ I laughed nervously. ‘I don’t have a mirror with me, but I’m most certain that if I looked, I’d likely see me looking at me. Sorry, but I thought you would know better.

‘Science understands there’s no such thing as disembodiment, even though it might seem that way after the human brain, under certain conditions, secretes endogenous opioid neuropeptides, giving an illusion of being out of the body. These chemicals induce experiences that may momentarily appear real. You must know what I’m saying if you’ve experienced some emergency like that.’

‘Yes, I’ve heard of such,’ he said, ‘though not in quite the same way as you’re suggesting.’

‘Good, then maybe you can relate to what I’m saying. As I indicated, I have had several illusory meanderings, so I know what I’m talking about. That’s why I can tell you it’s not logical or scientific to say my body isn’t here. I mean, if it’s not here, neither am I; how could I be?

‘At best, this experience would only be a dream or an altered state of consciousness. If my body had died from the fall, I wouldn’t be here with you now, would I? I would be dead and gone. But since I’m here….’

Mo and Eli said nothing as I sputtered along, repeating myself as I attempted to latch onto a reasonable explanation for my terrifying regression. Admittedly, my attempts at rationalising what happened weren’t the best, yet their account was even less convincing, if not absurd. If they couldn’t come up with something better, I would prefer not to listen.

When I couldn’t think of anything else to say, I stood and raised my hands.

‘See these hands before me; how can I take anyone seriously who says these aren’t real?’

‘Oh, they’re real, alright,’ Mo said, ‘more than you realise, but not in the way you might think.’

A most annoying, evasive answer, I thought. Yet what more could I say? They were the only ones who purportedly saw what happened… if it did. I had to get a grip before my mind got out of control, even if there wasn’t a damned thing I could do about any of this. What they said agitated me as an insult to my intelligence, yet my vision begged the question of what I was doing here.

Now restless, I poured a drink of vodka, ostensibly distilled in St. Petersburg. Who knows if it actually was; nothing here was certain.

Without saying more, I stepped outside, gazing blankly into space. I hoped to find some compelling evidence to prove I was right, but there was nothing in the sky to inspire me: no epiphanies or writings, not even inspiring cloud formations where the sun’s light was shining through.

Partly, I blamed myself for getting drawn into their sham explanations. But if I really did fall and got knocked unconscious, shouldn’t they accept some of the blame? And if they were watching from above as they seemed to suggest, couldn’t they have at least warned me before attempting to cross the chasm?

After going back in, I continued to pace about, glass in hand, venting my frustrations. Having them call my body’s existence into question was hardly rational, although I wasn’t being entirely reasonable either, reacting as I did. I insisted, most belligerently, that they were mistaken, yet offering little evidence as to why. I suppose that’s the way of anger; it’s often irrational and incoherent.

‘Not only do you keep evading my questions about everything that goes on up here with your voodoo,’ I said, ‘you won’t even give me a straight answer about this alleged mishap. Even if you witnessed something, why was it necessary to tell me? Everything here was fine until then... more or less.

‘And now, just as I’m about to make my descent, you’ve managed to disrupt everything, causing me to question my sanity and the very state of my existence. Why are you holding out on me; there’s got to be a rational explanation for what happened.’

‘There is,’ Eli said, ‘and we already told you, but unfortunately, it seems you don’t care for our rational disclosure. So, if that’s the case, could you explain how you managed to get up here in one piece after such a gruesome fall?’

‘Who says I had a fall?’

‘You did, in graphic detail.’

‘The mind can do a lot of funny things, imagining what’s not there. But if I fell somewhere, I’d probably have been catatonic for a while. All I recall, after a long rest, I climbed to the summit through that fissure I told you about below.’

‘All that is true, but do you have any idea how long you, your soul, rested below?’ Mo asked.

‘As I said, my body was probably out for some time having the best sleep I can ever remember. God, I must have really been knocked out cold; it felt as though I had been asleep for days. Possibly, I’m still a bit stunned, which might explain why so many bizarre things seemed to have happened: voices in the air, orbs of light flittering about, not to mention two strange mind readers uncorking champaign. Then there’s the matter of making things appear out of nowhere; that’s extraordinary, yet probably to be expected since my brain still feels a bit scrambled.

‘So, yes… obviously, I’m nuts! I need to see a doctor as soon as I get home. Hopefully, this will only be temporary. Although, I’m not sure how any such derangement would explain all the nonsensical things you both keep saying unless I imagine that, too. But I won’t make excuses for you, so I guess you’ll have to take responsibility for what you do and say.’

‘I’m curious, James. Do you have any lumps on your head?’ Eli asked.

I stroked my scalp to find a lump. ‘Most peculiar… must have been quite the blow to my head, yet I don’t feel anything… guess it went away. I wonder… how long I was out before I regained consciousness. Any idea?’

‘Yes, we have a very clear idea; are you sure you want to know?’

‘Of course, I want to know. I suspect it may have been for some time, though I’m not sure. I do remember; however, the sun didn’t seem to be in the right place when I awoke.’

‘You’re right; it was for some time,’ Mo said. ‘Sit down, James; you’re making us dizzy, pacing back and forth; you need to hear the rest of what happened.’

After pouring another shot of vodka, I sat down, curious to hear what else they had to add to this bizarre story. Even if I wasn’t entirely in my right mind, it might be worth listening to before heading down the mountain.

‘There’s a logical reason why you remain confused about what happened after your fall,’ Mo said. ‘It’s not because there’s anything wrong with your mind, just your beliefs.

‘So, here’s what else occurred: As your body tumbled down the last twenty yards, a Chilean forestry helicopter fortuitously flew over where you lay while en route to a small forest fire they were investigating near the Argentine border.

‘As if by Providence, the pilot noticed your body strewn out on the snow. The odds of it being spotted at that critical moment before convulsing to death with hypothermia was far from remote.’

‘So, you’re saying I was lucky?’

‘I suppose so… if luck had anything to do with it.’

‘Then what?’

‘Your body was lifted out.’

‘Lifted out? That’s interesting; no one told me. So where did they take me?’

‘They took your body to a hospital in Santiago.’

‘Really? Then why would they later return me to the ravine while I remained unconscious? That doesn’t make sense.’

‘You’re right; it doesn’t make sense. Why, indeed, would the medics bring your body back?’

‘You tell me,’ I said. ‘You said you saw it all.’

‘Most assuredly, we did.

‘Look at me, James, listen carefully to what I have to say.’ Mo then paused, ensuring he had my attention. ‘No one brought you back. Rather, they took your body away. Far away. Not you… your body! Do you understand the difference?’ 

‘Okay, that’s jolly,’ I said. ‘Have things your way if you must. I think I’m getting the picture now. You really had me going there for a while! Most impressive! So, when you are not trying to guess people’s dreams, what do you do… a little comedy routine on the side? Am I right? Of course, I’m right, so how much longer do you plan to carry on with your shtick of appearing to violate natural law with rabbit hat illusions, not to mention all the mind games of supposedly reading my thoughts? A little intrusive, wouldn’t you say? Nice work, even if it meant manipulating my slightly off-kilter brain. 

‘But you know something? If I wanted someone to mess with my mind, I would have hired Madame Peyroux, the whacky psychic broad with a studio over the pawnshop down the street from where I live. Although she’s probably not as whacky as me for paying her to amuse me with her exotic predictions.’

‘You mean for your love life?’ Eli smirked

‘Or lack thereof.’ I said

‘Lack thereof? Would you care to... ah, elaborate? I’d be interested in hearing more about her erotic predictions.’

‘I said exotic, not erotic.’

‘Yes, James, do tell,’ Mo said, ‘what do you mean by a lack thereof?’

‘Never mind, smart-arses; it’s not so much a lack, more a matter of what’s adequate. I’m in no mood for jesting after having my intelligence insulted. So, why can’t you give me a straight answer about what happened?’

I carried on some more, hoping I might come up with a plausible explanation of my own. But after exhausting every argument I could think of, I realised nothing I said sounded any more convincing than Mo’s account. To their credit, they sat quietly, patiently listening to my unhinged rant. Even with my biting sarcasm and ridicule, they didn’t get annoyed. If anything, they seemed amused, with their insouciance upsetting me even more.

 After having said it all before, I couldn’t think of anything else to say, so I thought I’d try another tactic; I’d put them on the defence.

‘You know,’ I said, ‘if you truly saw me fall, why didn’t you come down to help me? If you wanted to, I’m sure you could have. Isn’t that what friends do?’

‘Why would we?’ Mo asked. ‘Take a moment to examine your body. Have you noticed? It’s flawless. If it seems biological to you, it’s because that’s how you perceive it.

‘In reality, your plasmic astro body is more of a holographic projection of your soul’s expression since that’s the only way you can experience yourself as a supposedly materialised form. In which case, why would you have required our help as a light being?’

‘Light being, eh? I’ve been called many things, but never a light being,’ I laughed.’

‘Believe it or not,’ Eli said, ‘light is what gives form and substance to this subtle body of yours, an energetically configured pattern of your true essence- being, just as with us.’

‘I’m not sure what that’s supposed to mean; it sounds absurd; perhaps you’ve been watching too many sci-fi fantasies.’

‘What if sci-fi is nothing more than a prescient guess of how reality appears on the other side of your boundaries?’

‘Yes, what if? In any case, I’m most certain that I wasn’t whisked off anywhere.’

‘That’s true,’ Mo said, ‘you weren’t. Although, as I keep trying to tell you, your body was… not long after your fall when a helicopter airlifted it out. The pilot couldn’t land safely on the slope, so one of the crew was dispatched to bundle your body in a sling. After lifting it into the fuselage, they rushed it to a hospital in Santiago. A few days later, it was dispatched to London by a Medivac Learjet.’

‘You keep referring to me as it,’ I said. ‘That’s not very dignified.’

‘Nor did it appear so. Don’t worry about the cost; your university’s insurance plan covered most of your body’s flight. You may rest assured that a competent medical team in London is now attending to your body, although it remains in a serious condition requiring plenty of intensive care. Not only was your neck fractured, but your brain is barely functional, now remaining in a deep coma.

‘By the way,’ Eli said, ‘they identified your body with the ID information on your chain. Now, if only you would go to the trouble to find your true identity,’ he smirked.

I stared at them in disbelief, thinking how the story just kept getting better,  or should I say worse?

‘You know James,’ Mo said, ‘it wasn’t only your body in London having a rest. Your soul was in a state of deep sleep for some time. That often happens after a trauma such as this.

‘You awoke near where your biological body parted company with you. Your clothes, backpack, and contents manifested according to the expectations of your beliefs. That’s how things work on this side.’

‘You don’t say,’ I said wryly, unconvinced.

‘And just in case you were wondering, your fall occurred over two weeks ago.’

‘Oh really – amazing how time flies.’

‘Almost as fast as being medevaced in a Learjet to London,’ Eli said. ‘Next time, though, do it while you’re awake; it might be more fun,’ he grinned.

‘Really, gents, do you expect me to believe your stories; they keep getting richer all the time? So, can we finally get serious unless you’re doing a secret comedy video? However, it’s not that funny to joke about something that could have resulted in death. In this case, mine!’

‘You’re right, James, it’s not, and we’re not,’ Mo said. ‘We agree this was serious; believe us, we’re not joking about your body’s death. But realise, we view life from a very different perspective. So, let me assure you, nothing is remotely dead about you or your body lying in Room 3017 of the Critical Care Unit. The last we heard, it remains stable, albeit a bit marred and twisted. Again, note that we’re saying it, not you.

‘Even if its lights got knocked out,’ Eli said, ‘it’s most fortunate that it remains alive since you will likely wish to gain access to it again sometime in the future. Nonetheless, as things stand now, you’re much better off being here with us, where it’s much more fun than sleeping your life away in a coma, wouldn’t you say?

‘Your brain’s hardware was severely shaken,’ Mo said, ‘so it will require time to heal before firing up its synapses to reactivate the neural axons and dendrites. The neurologists say until your neck’s cranial and vagus nervous systems mend, there’s not much they can do except keep your body alive on their life-support system.

‘Should it survive, it could be a while before it awakens. But if the doctors determine your body won’t recover, they can pull the plug anytime they wish. Nevertheless, we’ve been informed your body will likely recover, although it will likely take much longer before it regains consciousness. In other words, before you can re-enter the body you assume you are.’

‘You two won’t let up, will you? Did you say re-enter the body I assume I am… do you know how weird that sounds? Furthermore, what do you mean by our informed sources? We’re way off-grid, a long way from any transmitter service, so you can’t possibly receive information from anyone unless you have a satellite phone you’re not telling me about.’

‘When you are the grid, you don’t need a phone,’ Eli chuckled.

‘When you are the grid – what in bloody hell is that supposed to mean?’

‘What I mean is that there is nowhere that Source is not. And since we’re all part of Source….’

‘Save the metaphysics for later, Eli; I only want to know what’s real and certain.’

‘There’s nothing certain about your fragile mortal body,’ Mo said, ‘so it’s quite possible that won’t make it; then how real will it be? Nothing temporal is real; rest assured; however, you’re not temporal; only your mortal body is. If you haven’t learned that yet, you soon will.’

‘It’s obvious there is only one side. Either you’re dead or alive, not both. For now, I prefer to be alive, and if you please… alive, in this body.’

‘And so you are.’ he said. ‘It’s true; your mortal body must either be dead or alive. For now, it’s alive. But when it’s not, you still will be… wherever you are and in whatever form you manifest.’

‘To the contrary, I think the evidence is apparent that once your body is dead, so is your brain, and with it, your conscious awareness since it obviously comes from the brain.’

‘Obvious to whom?’ Eli asked.

‘Neurologists and anyone else with a brain,’ I said wittingly. ‘I think I might need to give you a lesson in philosophy. Ever heard of Descartes’ famous pronouncement, Cogito Ergo Sum: I think therefore I am? Yes, I’m sure you must have.

‘So, my friends, ask yourselves, what is it that thinks? There must be something causing it to think since it is most apparent thoughts are an effect requiring a cause. Hmm, now, what could that be? Ah, yes, of course; it’s the brain; what else? Something had to do it.

‘Let me give you a little lesson in phenomenology; even as I speak, it's obvious my brain has formulated the words I’m articulating. Otherwise, I couldn’t be speaking its thoughts! If you take away my brain, how could the mind think? – which, of course, proves there’s no difference between the thinking brain and the thinking mind; they are the same; the brain and mind are one. So, let’s not make this difficult since it’s all straightforward: the brain thinks, ipso facto, therefore, I am.’

‘And so you are,’ Mo said. ‘At least your I am is, albeit a tad confused in thinking it’s only a few pounds of flesh of mostly fatty tissue. To help you recognise the fundamental nature of your identity, it might help if you subordinate the separate ego-mind that mistakenly believes it’s just a brain of mortal flesh. Your divine I Am knows its identity is not grounded in the flesh but at one with its immortal Source.

‘Once you understand this, you will recognise your true identity is infinitely more than a biological modulating device that remains subject to the laws of entropy and death. You have a mind because you are one with the universal Mind. Most assuredly, it didn’t originate in the muddy primordial slime as they would have you believe in your anthropology classes. Rather, Mind is the indivisible divine awareness from which all thought-forms emerge and evolve into variations and variegations of consciousness, including that of your mortal body.’

‘What’s wrong, James,’ Eli said, ‘you look perplexed, if not a bit agitated. Let me explain what Mo is saying. First, you must realise your consciousness is not limited to the receiver-transmitter device resting on your mortal shoulder… you know, the one that transduces consciousness to the material plane of human existence. For now, it’s not of much use to you since its systems are down. Besides, you’re present cognition exists in a higher frequency on a 6D matrix grid.

‘So, you see, your brain’s condition is not a problem; in fact, as you’re here, your mind has never been better; it just needs you to take the fetters off your beliefs by accepting that your consciousness is not made of material stuff. If I may say, it has a mind of its own.’

Once again, Eli was being clever, yet I wasn’t amused; it was bizarre, if not delusional!

‘Sorry, Eli, I’m not buying your twaddle. Even my befuddled brain knows nothing you’re saying makes sense. Nonetheless, the sun’s shining again, so I’m going to take my body, and if you don’t mind, my brain too, for a final stroll along the summit ridge to determine the best route to begin my spiral down to the base.’

By now, I was anxious to get down the mountain rather than waste any more time with all their nonsense. Still, I hated to leave before finding my cross and pendant since, obviously, my chain couldn’t have found its way back to London as they suggested. More bull! Nevertheless, it was evident they were intelligent men, if not brilliant, which made my situation even more confusing.

As I trekked along the ridge, considering everything said, I had to ask myself if there was something I was missing, possibly where there was more to the story than what I was aware of. For example, it still amazed me that my body had no trace of injury after sustaining such a life-threatening fall. Even all my recent cuts and bruises from a few days ago had healed as though they hadn’t happened. Nor could I deny that my body was in perfect condition; in fact, never better.

I didn’t understand how this could be; all I knew was what I saw and felt, with or without scratches. So what was this tripe about my body being in London? Sure, I may have had a severe fall, but that didn’t render me crazy; at least I had that much going for me, notwithstanding what they were trying to do to my mind. However, with everything going on here, perhaps I was crazy, but not as much as these two… not yet, which is why I had to get out before it was too late!

I turned around near the high end of the eastern ridge, where I first met my companions. As I reflected on this morning, I felt a bit contrite that I might have been rather rude. I needed to try harder to have a rational conversation to see if we could work through our misunderstanding since that’s what it must be. A bit of compromise and goodwill might go a long way. Besides, who else did I have to talk to here? As far as I knew, they were the only ones who witnessed this fall I envisioned.

I was outnumbered. Though my choleric temperament might have its strengths at times, it didn’t always serve me that well today, so I’d have to find another way to challenge them while remaining dispassionate.

When I returned, a steaming hot meal awaited me. While eating, no one brought up our earlier discussions. We then retired to the fireplace area as Eli filled our glasses with what tasted like Castello Mio Sambuca. How did he know? – my favourite Italian liqueur.

As it turned out, the truce didn’t last for long, picking up where we left off. It seemed the fate of the universe, or at least my universe… hung in the balance! So, after attempting to prove them wrong again, Mo said disarmingly, ‘It’s okay, James, we understand why you continue to resist what we’re telling you about the current state of your bodily existence. Realise we don’t disagree that you have a body; that’s evident since we have bodies, too.

‘If we didn’t, how would we communicate with each other? It’s apparent we’re not an amorphous fog hovering in the air; still, you need to realise that our bodies, any more than your current vessel, are not constituted as you might think; instead, they express the essence of what we are within.

‘In fact, we can communicate in more ways than you can imagine since we exist in several dimensions and so we don’t have the same limitations as the earth’s physical body. Therefore, what we might be quibbling about here is not the existence of a body but instead the ways it might manifest. As we’ve suggested, the body is an energetic pattern projected onto whatever dimensional matrix you find yourself in.’

‘An energetic pattern, you say? Except, I’m not a bloody pattern; I’m a body.’

‘As we can see,’ Mo said. ‘Most certainly you are here with us… just not as you think. Sorry, that body is gone! Not to dust, not to Jesus, but to London. If you find that hard to believe, we could visit the hospital where your body currently resides, and then you could see for yourself. Perhaps we should make reservations for a field trip.’

‘That’s a splendid idea!’ Eli said. ‘We can then check it out, not to mean check it out like a library book since it’s not currently in circulation,’ he laughed. ‘Still, considering all it’s been through, it only seems right we pay it a visit.’

‘Before we do, however,’ Mo said, ‘we still have plenty of work to do to prepare you to realise who you are, not just what you think you are. Fortunately, we have lots of time since your body won’t be ready to readmit you for some time.’

‘Thank you for your consideration, but as I said before, if I want to see my body, I’ll look in a mirror. I’m sure the women like my body just as it is, hard and firm... in every way. And why wouldn’t they? The more they can get, the better they seem to like it. So, don’t try to take that away from them… or me.’

‘I’m sure if you choose, there will be plenty of women to go around when you slip back into your befallen body. Meanwhile, we’re here to help you adjust to living in this, your rarefied body of higher frequency.’

‘Are you now? Yet what good is this so-called subtle body without being able to bonk a woman or a brain to secret testosterone!’

‘But when you think about it, James,’ Eli said, ‘sex really is a no-brainer.’

‘You’re hilarious with your word plays, Eli. Okay, fine; if you can’t answer my question, then at least tell me how I can have memories if I don’t have a brain to store them in! And please don’t speak to me about inhabiting some etheric light body. That’s rubbish! I think one body is enough. I mean, ask any neurosurgeon about this; they are the bright people who poke around in the brain’s labyrinth of memories to get all kinds of impulses! They should know.’

‘Is the shadow more real than the reality that casts it?’ asked Mo. ‘What comes first, the brain or the mind?’

‘Obviously, the brain comes first,’ I said, ‘or there could be no mind. Had you been listening, you would know I already made that point. If I may use your analogy, the brain is the reality that casts the shadow of the epiphenomenal mind.’

‘Then tell me, James, can any surgeon, scientist or philosopher explain how an intricately configured organ can evoke exquisite thoughts of love, beauty and truth?’

I wasn’t sure how to respond to his trick question since I couldn’t follow is logic. It was becoming most evident this conversation wasn’t going to resolve anything. I had taught enough Philosophy of Mind classes to recognise this red herring. There are always more questions than answers since it’s a complicated topic.

Even though I wanted to call their bluff rather than get into more philosophical abstracts about shadows, minds, love, beauty, truth and ultimate reality; still, my problem was I didn’t know what more to say, not being entirely lucid these days. So, rather than argue, I threw out my challenge to them.

‘Okay, enough of this,’ I said, ‘I don’t wish to argue more about what ought to be obvious. What you’re calling into question aren’t just epistemic nuances; this is about the very existence of my physicality. So, chaps, if I’m not physical, then jolly well prove it!’

‘There’s no need for us to prove anything to you, James,’ Eli said. ‘You can prove it for yourself.’

‘Sure, Eli. So how can I prove what I’m not? That’s stupid.’

‘We told you we’ll visit your body in London to prove that you’re not him. Then you’ll see for yourself no one is home, at least, not until you return from your vacation.’

‘That’s brilliant, Eli; you certainly are a genius, aren’t you? So, what do you expect me to do when I arrive there?

‘Oh, I know. First, I’ll catch a cab from Heathrow, then go directly to whatever hospital I’m supposed to be resting in. Then, when I get there, I’ll ask the nurse what room I’m in. And she’ll say you’re not in a room; you’re standing here in front of me in the reception area.

‘Then I’ll say, no, I mean my body; you know, the comatose one lying in one of your rooms? What number is it in? – my friends say I need to see how it’s doing. She’ll probably whisper something to one of the other nurses as they give me a funny but polite smile. I supposed they would then ask me to follow them to the elevator as someone makes a phone call to a special ward in the basement.

‘Obviously, they won’t take me to my room to see me since, most obviously, I’m not lying about in some room. Instead, they will introduce me to some nice young men dressed in white who will outfit me in a tightly fitting garment before escorting me to a room with rubber walls where I’ll be safe for myself.’

‘Actually,’ Eli said, ‘that was rather funny, wouldn’t you say, Mo?’

‘Indeed, James can be humorous at times when he wants,’ Mo replied. ‘Regardless, you need not be concerned since no one will notice you are anywhere other than where they laid your body in Room 3017. Nevertheless, we’ll come along so you have someone to visit besides your body since it probably won’t be the most congenial company to spend time with.’

‘Then I guess we’ll have to try to book a couple more seats on my flight home if you wish to come to London with me… unless’, I smirked, ‘you aliens plan to take your spacecraft.’

‘We can do better than that,’ Eli said. ‘I believe you mentioned before you were a fan of The Wizard of Oz, right? Well, think of Dorothy and how she seemed to get around. But before you click your heels, remember you’re no longer in Kansas.’

‘Neither am I in Oz, although it sometimes feels that way.’

‘Trust us, once you realise which dimension you’re in, you won’t even have to think about how to get to places like Kansas or London; you just will. Now, you can extricate yourself from the swamps in the Lowlands anytime you like; that alone would be worth more than the ticket… if there were a ticket.’

‘Do you remember the voice in your dream calling you to climb the Mountain?’ Mo asked.

‘Of course,’ I said. ‘It was so bloody weird, even for a dream – some exquisite voice, calling from afar, reverberating so plainly that it didn’t seem distant. And why not, especially after a few too many refreshments at the Pig and Whistle that jolly night? That’s when voices come to me,’ I laughed.

‘But do me a favour, gents; try not to get too caught up in my fantasy. I’m flattered you’re such big fans, yet it seems you’re even beginning to take credit for some of the sound bites I heard at the beginning. I find that hilarious!’

‘What if the Voice was calling you to where you might become something more than you could in your stifling Lowlands?’ Eli asked. ‘Now that you’ve ascended beyond the swamp gases, does this Mountain not seem more real?’

‘It’s your mixing dream metaphors with facts that make things seem unreal,’ I smirked.

‘Why should it confuse you when myths and metaphors are but concealed realities that can’t be perceived from the Lowlands? But since you’re now up here, not down there, all should become clear, like mists parting in the morning sun. And not just that, as you discover where you are, you’ll ascend even  further up, far beyond the earth plane where you can see beyond the world to lands you could never have dreamed.’

‘You’re now sounding like some medieval mystic, Eli. Still, I admit this mountain is unlike any I’ve climbed before. Indeed, it is a new world up here… just take a look at the view.’

‘I don’t think you completely understand what I’m saying. Perhaps it’s not easy for a modern thinker to concede to transcendence after being conditioned and steeped in the narrow presuppositions of mechanistic theorems and linguistic paralysis.’

‘Did you say linguistic paralysis?’ I asked.

‘Ah, sorry, I meant analysis, although paralysis might apply in some cases. My apologies to Ludwig Wittgenstein, yet even he understood the limitations of what he had posited after grasping the higher spiritual significance of where you now exist.’[39]

‘What’s this about Wittgenstein?’ I asked.  

‘In case you didn’t know, Mo said, ‘many of his colleagues thought he had gone off the deep end, even after such an illustrious career. And, who knows,’ perhaps one day they might say the same about you…  and in a sense, they would be right. You certainly did go off the deep end, far beyond what you realise. But then, maybe that’s what life’s chasms are all about, going down far enough to be catapulted up to the stars. That’s what happened to Wittgenstein, although not many philosophers in the Flatlands wish to hear that.’

God, I thought, what a curious load of claptrap. What in the bloody hell did Wittgenstein have to do with me and this mountain? Regardless, I had to admit Mo had an impressive handle on philosophy and its philosophers… surprisingly so, more than should be expected of anyone.

Although I was vaguely aware of Wittgenstein’s esoteric speculations, I wasn’t sure what his point was, though I would have to be careful not to dismiss what he had to say too lightly. If I tried to bluff him with specious arguments, he doubtlessly would challenge me, which in the end might prove embarrassing.

‘I think you must realise,’ Mo continued, ‘much of last century’s unfortunate reductionist trends have recently been getting stale. Nevertheless, the implicit assumptions continue to spread like a nasty virus among many of the natural and social sciences in the Flatlands.

‘Possibly, wiser minds will emerge one day, yet unless someone leads them to the Mountain, it may take generations to correct the errors of the world’s prevailing sophistries. One day, if you are willing, you might help save the world from itself.’

‘Of course, right after I finish saving myself from myself,’ I laughed. ‘But really, Mo, not only are you telling me what to believe, it now seems you expect me to convince the world of what I might not even believe myself! Besides, I’m not sure the world needs saving, and even if it did, I don’t aspire to be anyone’s hero or carry anybody’s torch but my own. I’m an independent thinker.’

‘We suspect you are very independent,’ Eli said. ‘That’s why you’re here. We realise there’s considerably more to you than you see or know. That’s why it’s more important that you discover the essence of who you are so you will know which torch to carry. So, to help you find out who you are, we will hold up a mirror to reflect you to who you are.’

‘That’s a lot of you in just one sentence.’

‘That may be, yet there remains only one individuated you, even if you doubt who that is. Outwardly, you weren’t expecting to lose yourself in this little side adventure, so now you’re feeling unhinged, confused, and, at times, angry. Considering what you’ve been through… who wouldn’t be? Yet, after spending more time here, you’ll probably find yourself becoming more of who you are. But if you remain uncertain, you will become more fearful since fear is uncertainty.’

‘What do you expect? After experiencing the trauma of my fall, I have every right to feel a bit shaken, though you’re not exactly helping when you insist I’m not in my body. That’s like being told you’ve been evicted from your flat while on holiday.’

‘We sympathise with your concern,’ Mo said, ‘but rest assured, you can never be evicted. Once you find who you are, you will know your home exists beyond space and time. Then your shackles will be removed, and you will discover there’s more to you than you realised or could realise, a soul that can never die, no matter how many mountains you fall off. If you refuse to understand this, you will only prolong your confusion and uncertainty.’

‘I’m not sure if it’s just me who’s confused,’ I said wryly.

‘Did your world not seem to change after the fall? Not surprisingly, this has left you baffled and bewildered, and we recognise it may take a while for you to accept that you aren’t what you assumed yourself to be. As I already indicated, you’re much more!   

‘Nevertheless, don’t be concerned,’ Eli said, ‘we’re here to help you through this transition. Life may seem different, even though your essence hasn’t changed. When you finally realise you’re an immortal spiritual being, you will no longer be uncertain or afraid. Instead, you will be joyful and confident in your new identity, nor will you look for it hanging on some chain.’

‘That was mildly humorous,’ I said. ‘So, out of curiosity, tell me who you think I am other than what is obvious.’

‘As we keep telling you, that’s for you to discover,’ Mo said. ‘No one but you can know. Nevertheless, we can tell you this much: you are a spirit like us, regardless of how physical you may appear on the outside. Depending on which dimension you exist in, your body will manifest in the resonance of your spiritual essence. For now, we only wish you to accept that you’re more than your body as surely as you are more than the clothes on your back.’

‘So, you’re saying that you’ve got it all right, and I’ve got it all wrong. But did I tell you I have a doctorate in philosophy?’

‘Oh really – did he actually mention that, Eli?’

‘Yes, I believe he did... actually, more than once.’

‘Yes, I thought so. Unfortunately, James, with all due regard for you and your doctorate, most of the things you believe about yourself and the universe are wrong. And if you don’t like the word wrong, let’s say, an inaccurate representation of the truth to which you have assigned meaning.’

‘Is that so? And who appointed you as the arbitrator of truth?’

‘I’d hate for this to turn into a pile-on,’ Eli said, ‘yet Mo’s right; to gain an authentic understanding of reality, you will need to unlearn and reexamine much of what was taught in the Flatlands. You say you’re an independent thinker; congratulations; nevertheless, the truth is, you can’t be independent and remain in the Flatlands for long. That’s why you’re here and not there.’

‘It’s not only the flat patterns of thought you acquired throughout life,’ Mo said, ‘but what you were taught to believe as real. Without realising it, you came here to be deprogrammed by enrolling in our post-doctorate programme at Summit U.’

‘I’m not so sure; the main reason I booked my flight to Chili for my winter break was to get away as far as I could from academia.’

‘And so you have... more than you realise. What you experience here will be unlike anything you’ve ever learned. There’s nothing anywhere in this world like the education you’ll receive with us at Summit U. It will begin with learning who and what you are. Undoubtedly, this will take some time since it’s a process requiring plenty of contemplation.  

‘If you prefer to return home rather than remain under our tutelage,’ Eli said, ‘you are free to leave at any time, although I suspect you would find it rather lonely back there. You won’t even be able to get a date when your women friends treat you as if you don’t even exist. Which, for them, you wouldn’t.’

‘Think about it,’ Mo said. ‘Should you accept our invitation to enrol, your mind must remain tabula rasa.[40] Your lessons will begin tomorrow morning immediately after breakfast. For the first semester, Eli and I shall serve as your instructors; our programme will focus on deconstructing all you believe to be true. With this, you might discover the nature of the universe and your purpose in it.

‘Nevertheless, we welcome and encourage you to challenge what we say with whatever rebuttals, protests or outrage you care to offer. That might be good therapy for you. However, we advise that you spend the rest of the evening coming to terms with all we’ve told you today, including your fall and the new realm in which you unwittingly exist.’

Then, without giving me a chance to reply, they stepped outside and literally vanished into the dark as the night before.

‘Buenas noches, hasta mañana mis amigos,’ I called out at the doorstep. There was no reply; they had already gone to who knows where. I returned to the fire, sitting, as images of my fall again flashed across my mind as on a movie screen.

While staring into the glow of the waning embers, Mo’s comments about my supposed disincarnated existence left me unsettled. After years of academic training, I hadn’t given much thought to the spiritual realm since reading Swedenborg years ago. But now, my existence was no longer just about nuanced ontological questions; it was about who and what I was, be it a spirit or a body.

After witnessing all the shenanigans going on here, it occurred to me that perhaps I was out of my mind. And if I was, maybe my body too.

[41] Known for wisdom and learning, Hermes Trismegistus was considered a scribe of the gods in Hellenic Egypt.
[42] The Republic, by Plato, Book VII.
[43] See in The Republic, Allegory of the Cave; written by Plato 380 BC.
[44] The Child and Eagle is a pub on Giles’ Street in Oxford where these authors frequented for years, including Barfield, Williams and the others, sometimes referred to as the Inklings.
[45] Plotinus (204-270 AD) wrote his Six Enneads possibly to clarify Plato’s philosophy. His writings have influenced Christian, Islamic, Gnostic, Pagan and mystical thought through the centuries.
[46] Wittgenstrein’s Linguistic Analysis has had a considerable influence on the direction and occupation of philosophical enquiry over the last century. Nevertheless, as already indicated, he was not entirely happy about the limitations it placed upon philosophy.
[47] Weltanschauung is a German word meaning worldview/perception. It’s often used in philosophy since there doesn’t seem to be a suitable equivalent in the English language. It seemed my whole purpose there was to acquire a new weltanschauung. 
[48] The Vienna Circle of logical empiricism was a movement in the 1920s to 1930s comprised of philosophers who sifted out metaphysical elements in philosophy to achieve what they considered a purified logic of science. It’s interesting to note this movement was formulated about the time the spooky discoveries of subatomic physics were first being observed.
[49] I found this statement to be most intriguing, so I was interested to learn that the Doctrine of Correspondences was foundational to the writings of Emanuel Swedenborg. (See Appendix B)
[50] Groupthink was a term from George Orwell’s novel 1984, published in 1949, meaning obsequious group thought. Individual thinking that threatens the conformist/collectivist trends was regarded as offensive or criminal, as on many university campuses in the West these days. Orwell also caricaturized other forms of social psychosis with terms such as Newspeak and Doublethink.
[51] Joshua 24:15 (KJV)
[52] According to Jewish scripture and tradition, Jews were said to be God’s chosen people. This is supposedly why they, of all peoples, were given the Ten Commandments.
[53] In reference to the Beatles’ 1967 album title.
[54] Lucid dreams are understood to be a conscious participation while the body remains asleep.
[55] Mount Aconcagua is 6,961 metres high (22,838 ft.), about fifteen kilometres east of the Chilean border.
[56] 1 Corinthians 15:54 (KJV)
[57] Physicist Sir Arthur Eddington (1882–1944) once stated it this way; Science has nothing to say as to the intrinsic nature of the atom. The physical atom is, like everything else in physics, a schedule of pointer readings.

 

CHAPTER SIX

SUMMIT UNIVERSITY

 

A man can only attain knowledge with the help of those who possess it.
One must learn from him who knows.

                                                                Georges Gurdjieff

 

The next morning, Mo and Eli walked in just as I was stepping down the stairs from the loft. I wasn’t hungry, but as Mo began to cook breakfast on the blazing hot stove, I couldn’t resist. After learning about my shocking fall yesterday and the controversy ensuing about my existential situation, I was in a surprisingly good mood this morning. However, our friendly morning repartee turned sombre as we settled into our lounge area to debate the state of my physicality or lack thereof.

‘So, James,’ Mo said, ‘let’s put the debate aside for the moment. The first order of business is whether you are prepared to accept your scholarship to Summit University. We need an answer: yes or no!’

‘You mean to become a student again? Why would I? Having already earned my doctorate, I have a job to get back to, so this is the last thing I need after years of studies without pay. Instead, perhaps I should be teaching you.’

‘And possibly you will at some point since there’s much we can learn from each other.  Teaching is always the best way since we learn by what we teach. Learning is not just about acquiring more information… I’m sure you’ve already had more than enough of that. Instead, think of us as being facilitators rather than instructors, although we won’t be the only ones working with you. Later, others might join in.’

‘So what’s this about, if not a mountain climbing academy?’

‘It’s something like that, only different,’ Eli said. ‘Think of mountain climbing as a metaphor for your ascent and you as a protégé at Summit University. We have a much different approach to higher learning than any establishment you’ve experienced or ever will experience.

‘Once you get past the base camp of unlearning, you will become unanchored, discovering much that will take you to new heights that rise far above this summit.’

‘New heights, aren’t we high enough already?’

‘You’ve hardly begun… just wait.’

‘Sounds interesting; maybe I’ll try it sometime when I have an opportunity, perhaps if I can find the money after next semester in spring. So, where is this university?’

‘There are many places,’ Mo said, ‘but initially, your classes will be conducted in this sitting area. Then, when you’re prepared, you will go on various field trips for your practicum that will involve diversified learning opportunities throughout your world and beyond, some of which may be regarded as surreal adventures. By the time you graduate, you will have discovered more than anyone on this planet.’

      ‘Whatever this institution is about, sounds incredible… though more incredulous than impressive,’ I laughed. ‘I appreciate your laudable offer and intent; most gracious of you; however, I require no further accreditation, so there’s no reason to begin again. Over the years, I’ve acquired much erudite learning; therefore, I’m more than capable of continuing extended studies under my own cognisance.’

      ‘Do you know what it means to be a philosopher?’ he asked.

      ‘What kind of question is that? – as if you know what a philosopher is, and I don’t. You may try to convey the impression you know something about philosophy, and perhaps you do, but are either of you actual philosophers? I would say not; if you were, you wouldn’t be promulgating fantasies you keep mistaking for reality, which is why neither you nor Eli is qualified to teach me post-doctoral studies.’

‘Then tell me, what do you think the word philosophy means?’

‘Obviously, it’s the conjunction of love, being Philia, and wisdom, being Sophia.’ 

‘That’s correct, and so, would you not say that wisdom is of greater importance than learning?’

‘That’s a foolish question since wisdom is acquired through learning.’

‘I mean no disrespect to the impressive certificates you have framed and hung on your bedroom wall as a testament to your learning. But again, do you know the difference between wisdom and learning?’

I paused to think of a clever response to his annoying question.

‘Though you’ve gained admission into the fellowship of the world’s most sophisticated institutions and thinkers, I’m not sure if even they understand the difference between learning and wisdom.’

‘I’m sure my colleagues would take great offence at your remarks.’   

‘Don’t get me wrong; I’m not judging the intellectual integrity of the learned gents you’ve studied under in your hallowed halls. No doubt, they make significant philosophical contributions in analysing parts. After all, linguistic analysis has its place. So I’m sure they’re good at that since this is how they’ve been trained.

‘Unfortunately, that’s about all they do these days, which is perhaps why they no longer grasp what wisdom means. If they did, they wouldn’t be living in the Flatlands but would have moved on long ago as Wittgenstein did.’

‘I’m not sure where you are going with this,’ I said, ‘nevertheless, I’m certain most philosophers and scientists know what they’re talking about.’ 

‘I’m not sure they do,’ Eli said, ‘when all they’re concerned about are analysing the fragments of parts, reductio ad absurdum. Wisdom, however, concerns itself with the whole because only the whole provides definition and meaning to the parts. What meaning or purpose has the kidney or liver separated from the body?

‘Seldom are these questions raised in the Flatlands, where they’re more obsessed with parts than understanding the whole, which always remains more than the sum of the parts. Without integration of knowledge, the Flatlands remains fragmented… and  believe me, that’s not wise.’

‘Whatever it might be,’ I said, ‘it seems you don’t recognise the importance of rational analysis.’

‘What is of importance,’ Mo said, ‘is not more advanced logarithms but a comprehension of the spiritual principles as understood on Earth long before recorded history. Ultimately, what lasting benefit has reason when it can’t be applied to the art of living in all domains, including all that lies beyond?

‘Of course, we understand that analysis is necessary as a tool, provided we accept it’s never sufficient unto itself. Philosophers must realise the difference between what is necessary and what is sufficient. As I’m sure you realise, this is foundational to philosophy. Parts are what’s necessary, yet only the whole is sufficient. Once philosophers understand this, they can inform their scientific colleagues what they’re missing.’

‘Missing? That’s quite the dismissal. Our scholars in the humanities and sciences are among the best in the world.’

‘I’m sure they are among the best at what they do,’ Mo said. ‘And yet how many of these understand life as profoundly as the ancients? The expansive inter-dimensional nature of the Infiniverse requires macroscopic lenses in order to see beyond earth’s material limitations.’

‘Infiniverse, inter-dimensional; what in bloody hell is that supposed to mean?’

‘Many ancient writings display an overwhelming understanding of the integration of mind and matter, yet these teachings remain mostly incomprehensible to a world more interested in better cars, trucks and vacations than embracing the mysteries of life.’

‘You may have a point,’ I said, ‘but in all fairness, technology has made our lives much better. I, for one, wouldn’t have been able to fly here had science not discovered aerodynamics.’  

‘That’s evident,’ he said, ‘not to mention your flight back on life-support. Yet what is life without the support of wisdom? Did anyone in the Flatlands teach you anything about the venerable Vedas? Did any of your instructors read the Upanishads or the Chuang Tzu? – or how about the ancient wisdom of the Kabbala that alchemizes the soul into rarified gold? Then there’s the Egyptian Hermes tradition of the gods;[41] surely you must know something about that.

‘Does anyone in the Flatlands understand the writings of the Sufis and Christian mystics? And how many speak of Pythagoras, or was his wisdom too arcane? So why do so few of your academic luminaries see value in these works of antiquity?’

‘I’m sure many do, at least in certain departments such as in the Classics.’

‘Of course,’ Mo continued, ‘all separated, desiccated… scattered fragments, thrown to the wind. While mystics continue to study this esoterica in remote areas, few in the modern world are aware of these treasures, yet ancient wisdom passed down through the ages is beyond compare. Unfortunately, their meaning remains incomprehensible, if not irrelevant, to the Flatlanders who can only understand exoterically, which is how their land became so flat.’

It was becoming apparent how passionate Mo felt about the ancients, repeatedly rising to his feet, emphatically gesturing as he spoke.

‘A while back, you wanted to talk about Plato; well, there never was much of lasting value inside his cave, no matter how mesmerising the shadows may seem as they shift about on the stone walls. So, who are the real cavemen, those carrying bludgeons or others carrying briefcases stuffed with stock portfolios? Both dwell in the cave’s inner recesses of spiritual ignorance, refusing to be exposed to the sun’s divine illumination lest the light irritates their eyes.

‘As Plato so eloquently stated, Their truth would be nothing but the shadows of images.[42] What could be flatter and more linear than modern minds that don’t wish to understand what truths lie beyond the shadows of their understandings?

‘Since you’re the philosopher, James, can you tell us why Western philosophy remains threatened by non-dualist teachings of unity and spiritual wholeness? Is it possible these views of divine union would have compromised their ambitions of power?’

‘That’s simplistic,’ I said. ‘Western rationalism has led to a much better world of scientific enquiry and development than any ashram could. Continually repeating Om doesn’t lead to more effective cancer cures.’

‘Of course – more pharmaceuticals, more chemicals, more gadgets, not to mention better war machines... makes you wonder how the ancients managed to get along without them?

‘Your world prides itself in knowing more and more, and I suppose it does, but it always seems to be about less and less! Who out there in your academic world has an understanding of anything comprehensive? Many in academia dislike the term holistic; therefore, they perfunctorily dismiss any such notion. Fragmentation is the order of the day, a game that rips everything into meaningless pieces. 

‘If I seem to overstate the insanity of your world, it’s only to draw attention to the intellectual miasma that knows so much about so little while knowing little about so much. That’s got to be confusing, if not irritating!’

‘To the contrary,’ I said, ‘Having earned my PhD in philosophy, I know what it’s like to acquire a broad spectrum of knowledge.’

‘Have you, James, or does it only seem that way?’ Eli asked. ‘After you compare what you think you know to what you’re about to discover, you will understand how narrow your broad education was. The cosmos is not only expansive but infinitely deeper, higher and more profound than you or anyone can imagine.

     ‘It has no limits or end. We can only give you a fleeting glance at what’s behind the curtain, but first, you need to become aware of the shadows in your world.’

‘I’m afraid you’re now moving from iconoclasm to condescension,’ I said.

‘No, not at all,’ Mo said, ‘we only want you to be aware of what we weren’t when we lived in the world. We remember how dark and confusing it can be in the bowels of the Cave and how brightly things appeared when we stepped into the sunlight. It’s most unfortunate how so few choose to remain in the darkness rather than dwell in the light.

‘Nevertheless, we understand that darkness serves a purpose when light is recognised for what it is and then freely chosen. Your benighted world allows everyone this opportunity once the difference is known. Most exist somewhere between the light and the dark, as neither this nor that. And so, they are perceived as they have chosen to perceive.’

‘An interesting hypothesis, but I’m not sure what this has to do with me.’

‘Then let me remind you what your dream was trying to illustrate to you. As you ascended here, you rose above the clouds and fog below, allowing the sun to reveal what you couldn’t see before. When your vision shone through the clouds of the Lowlands, you left your hovel cave and ascended towards this realm of light.

‘Now that you have reached this plane of existence, the light may seem irritating until your inward eyes adjust. Nevertheless, you will soon understand what you believed was only a fading shadow of the eternal reality that awaits you.’

‘Okay, Mo, thank you for your inspiring oratory. I’m sure Plato, with his head stuck high above the clouds, couldn’t have said it better. From what you’ve said, you seem to know your way around philosophical concepts, as evidenced by your allusions to Plato’s Cave allegory.[43] What you say might appeal to some mystics frolicking about in the meadows, as did St Francis talking to animals. Still, all this mysticism is far too abstract for a world increasingly preoccupied with science and economic achievements.

‘Regardless, should we ever meet in London, we ought to discuss more of Plato’s conjectures, including his more exotic musings about Atlantis, reincarnation, and other enchanting topics.

‘In fact, I know a couple of professors at Oxford who are scholars in Greek philosophy that I’m sure would be happy to provide their insights into such perspectives, perhaps over a few pints of bitter at the Child and Eagle with the ghosts of Lewis and Tolkien.[44]

‘To be honest, I’m more inclined towards Aristotelian perspectives since, to me, these are considerably more practical than Plato’s metaphors, where a greater emphasis on particulars gives more practical substance to Plato’s universals. Still, certain Neo-Platonic concepts in Plotinus’ Enneads[45] are more palatable to me, though they are often regarded as too arcane for contemporary Western realism.’

‘You’re certainly right about that,’ Mo said. ‘It’s not easy to advocate the meaning of spiritual transcendence without being shouted down by the more militant advocates of flat determinism. As I alluded to earlier, Ludwig Wittgenstein, arguably the mastermind of modern rationalism, did not limit his views to humanism, stating the whole modern conception of the world is founded on the illusion that so-called laws of nature are the explanation of all phenomena.[46]

‘Only he could get away with that because he was, well… Wittgenstein. Today, unfortunately, if anyone has ambitions of advancing into higher academic ranks, it’s best to keep such ideas on lock mode, at least until tenure has been granted.’

‘Say what you will, Mo, I still think you’re being over-critical of contemporary Western philosophy.’

‘If it seems we challenge Western philosophy too harshly, Eli and I want you to be aware of the contrast between where you’ve been and where you’re going in your beliefs. Like most caught up in Flatland’s current intellectual zeitgeist, you assume you will achieve your ends by continually acquiring more information. We hope you do; however, don’t assume more learning is what will get you there. Though you may not yet understand why, you came here to enter into a new, higher dimension of reality.’ 

‘Really, now?’ I smirked. ‘So you’re saying I’m now occupying another dimension of time and space? I wouldn’t doubt Eli does,’ I laughed, ‘but not me; I’ve got my feet on the ground, not in the air.’

‘Sure, like when you were torpedoing down the chasm, your arms and legs flailing about.’ Eli chuckled. ‘But that abyss was your portal into Summit U. When you graduate and return home, you will understand how the cosmos exists in dimensions far beyond the shadows of your world.’

‘That’s along the lines of what a friend of mine told me while I was in my Graduate studies in Canada, so this wouldn’t be the first time someone tried to lead me astray, especially when studying for my doctorate. For a time, I entertained such outlier postulates as these, but you should have seen the sidelong glances after I submitted my dissertation. I knew I was in trouble for going too far, not because it was unscholarly, but rather, for not remaining fettered to the norms of their established perspectives.’  

‘You must have been spending too much time gazing out your hovel window towards a Mountain,’ Mo said, ‘the one in your dream which, according to them, didn’t exist, not even as allegorically.’

‘I was going through a phase back then, feeling a bit confused when this friend tried to influence me to view life differently, in fact, much like you… a bad influence, at least for my future career.’

‘I suspect you got a bit distracted by the higher truths he introduced to you, and it showed. Unfortunately, your adversaries in the Flatlands could read between the lines… and so they did. Only by complying to flatten your thesis were you awarded your doctorate by acquiescing to the limitation of their narrow weltanschauung.[47] Do you now understand why you continue to remain at the end of the tenure queue?

‘I can hardly wait till you tell your story when you return,’ Eli said… ‘if you dare. Still, it will become increasingly difficult to pretend nothing happened here. Even if you dismiss whatever flashbacks come to you, we predict one day, much to your amazement, someone will show up, and everything you’ve been experiencing will be revealed to you.

‘Of course,’ Mo said, ‘it will be contrary to everything you were taught, so it might take some time for you to access the universal field of consciousness to restore your memory. But when it returns, you’ll have to decide if you will tell the world about your adventures here with us.’

‘If I did, I’d soon be in trouble with my academic taskmasters.’

‘It would give us great pleasure to watch you rock their boat. The question is whether you will have the ballocks to do this.

‘I think I’ll have better things to do with my ballocks when I return,’ I laughed.

‘I’m sure you will,’ Eli said, smirking. ‘Nonetheless, I hope you not only rock your colleague’s boat but capsize it into their sea of sophistries.’

‘I appreciate your nautical allusions, although I’m not sure I wish to rock anyone’s boat until I’m awarded tenure.’

‘Don’t be concerned about that; we’ll be there to pull you out of the waters into a much larger boat that sails into the galaxies.’

‘Allow me to take this allegory further,’ Mo said.

‘Why not,’ I said, ‘we’re already pretty far out there.’

‘Let’s look at it this way,’ he said. ‘Should you insist on clinging to your boat, laden with dense and heavy beliefs, you could eventually go down unless you’re prepared to jump ship.’

‘I doubt my ship will be going down anytime soon once the winds begin to blow my way. Though the system may not be perfect, I’m sure I’ll have smooth sailing once my tenure is secured as I navigate my way forward on the seas of academia.’

‘You’ll probably find you have little desire to chase after tenure once you discover where you’ve been,’ Eli said. ‘None of your old beliefs will be able to sustain this new reality you’ve stepped into. Try as you might, you won’t be able to walk away from where you’ve been; you will take it with you wherever you go.’

I didn’t respond; what he said caused me to wonder if he might be right. Though I might have been reactive to what they were saying, nonetheless, I didn’t like where my thoughts had become stuck in the stifling world of academia.

‘I guess it all comes down to what we wish to believe,’ I said – reality or phantasms of reality.’

‘I’m not sure how many are even aware of what they have chosen to believe,’ Eli said. ‘Too few are aware of what assumptions they have unquestioningly accepted, preferring to go along with whatever their friends, leaders, and institutions tell them. It’s easier and safer that way.’

‘That much I can agree with,’ I said. ‘Too many of our contemporary beliefs are based on what’s fashionable with little substance, often based on uncontested reactions toward more traditional belief systems.’

‘That’s why we expect more from you,’ Mo said. ‘At least you are becoming aware of what’s going on. Blind acceptance isn’t much different than what religion impose as dogmas. Even more concerning are the beliefs totalitarian governments relentlessly impose on the masses with subtle and overt propaganda showing why beliefs have significant consequences. Likewise, what you believe about your current state of existence will have profound consequences for you when you return. And not just for you, but for everyone who hears about your experiences here.’

‘Sure, provided you can convince me what you’re saying is true, I might even go on a speaking tour… as long as I get paid.

‘Trust us,’ Eli said, ‘as you ascend higher up, you will find yourself getting lifted towards people, places and events you would never before have dreamed.’

‘Speaking of getting a lift, may I catch a helicopter ride back with you to Santiago so I have more time to spend at a festival there this weekend?’

‘Helicopter?’ Eli asked.

‘Of course. The outfitter you hired to get up here. You can’t fool me. Then, perhaps we could do a little partying in the plaza before I catch my flight.’

‘Sorry, but you already had your helicopter ride; at least your body did when it departed this mountain. As for us, we have a more efficient mode of transportation that doesn’t require the trans part. To participate, however, you will first need to open your mind. When it becomes tabula rasa as you unlearn what you thought you knew about time and space, you too will be able to go wherever you wish.’

‘Eli, do you have any idea how preposterous you sound? Regardless, I’m curious about this portation device you speak of. What is it, if not a helicopter –

some spacecraft that exists in your fertile imagination?’

‘No, none of those,’ he said, ‘instead, something more efficient than machines with far less cling, clang and bang. There’s really nothing to it.’

‘Well, if there’s nothing to it… what is it?’

‘Think of it more as a mode than a device.’

‘That’s great; I’ve never had a ride in a mode before; perhaps we should take a spin some Sunday afternoon.’

‘Why wait till then? You can go anytime.’ 

‘Before you do,’ Mo said, ‘do you know why spaceships aren’t necessary for us? You will never understand what you don’t know if you don’t first ask. Isn’t that what philosophy is about, asking constructive questions to discover constructive answers?’

‘Of course, yet I don’t need to ask about spaceships since I’m relatively sure they don’t exist.

‘You assume you know, but you don’t, and so you haven't discovered anything yet.’

‘Asking ridiculous questions can only result in ridiculous answers,’ I said, ‘much like this ridiculous conversation.’

‘The most meaningful answers you will ever receive will be to questions that might not make sense at first, yet only such questions lead to more significant realities than helicopters, UFOs, and other modes of transportation.

‘The problem is that too few philosophers bother to ask out-of-the-box questions of what lies beyond. Instead, they prefer only to ask questions that give safe answers or no answers at all. Such reticence and timidity have become most apparent since the days of the Vienna Circle.’[48]

‘Pardon me: helicopters, UFOs and the Vienna Circle… that’s a jolly mix. What would any of these have to do with the other?’

‘Helicopters and spaceships achieve liftoff and go somewhere, unlike linguistic analysis and syllogisms that keep everything grounded. Sometimes, that can be good, but more often, it’s not, particularly if you want to get somewhere. How can one transcend to higher planes when it’s assumed such realms don’t exist?’

I laughed. ‘That’s a great illustration, Mo… I wish I had thought of that while writing my thesis.’   

‘Of course,’ he said, ‘logical constructs are essential in debating concerns limited to the earth plane. However, these analytical tools don’t go very far when inquiring into life, death, meaning and the source of consciousness. That’s why so few philosophers these days bother to ask questions they don’t understand.’  

‘I think lots of people ask these questions,’ I said.         

‘Sometimes they do, but where are the philosophers to answer them? – not many in your circles, that’s for sure. That’s because philosophy put a lid on itself when it stopped enquiring about anything unrelated to external affairs. Many philosophers now regard any religious or metaphysical language as nonsensical.

‘Consequently, any mention of God, Source, or any other name denoting deity is not deemed acceptable in their discourse. No more than UFOs, for that matter.’

‘That might be the case among certain reductionist philosophers,’ I said, ‘though not everyone.’ 

‘I hope not; nonetheless, such prejudices are rooted deeply in the intellectual moorings of the Flatlands, beginning back to the eighteenth century and even earlier. In truth, that’s how the Flatlands got its name; it was by imposing its flat, mechanistic interpretations on everything.

‘Because of this levelling, you still find it difficult to acknowledge what we tell you about the vertical dimension of reality, even when your heart understands what your mind resists. It knows what’s flat and narrow can never satisfy your soul’s deeper longings. Your problem is that you’re not aware of your inward journey… the one you fell into, the new realm of your existence beyond.’

‘Existence beyond what,’ I chuckled, ‘my sanity?’  

‘Beyond the limits of what you consider sanity and today’s mode of rational enquiry. You can only expand your understanding to new realms of infinite possibilities when you ask the most important questions, including, Who am I? Then, when you return home, you can challenge the assumptions that no one dares to address except the most fool-hearted.’

‘Such as what?’  

‘Assumptions that already have answers conveniently inserted into the questions with selected presuppositions,’ Eli said. ‘Rigged questions can’t help but yield answers crafted for ideological ends. Plenty of this sleight of hand occurs when special interest groups are funded to legitimise their agenda; have you ever heard of computer models? Even the revered Scientific Method is based on prejudicial assumptions of what can and cannot be proven.’

‘Again, I ask, such as what?’

‘Let’s begin with Mo and me. Current methods can’t investigate our spiritual presence since they’ve already decided we don’t exist. That’s an assumption. That’s scientism. And, it’s what Wittgenstein detested, even if his methodology was conscripted in service to scientism.’ 

‘I was always a bit of a rebel,’ I said, ‘so as an undergraduate student, I used to ask many inconvenient questions, not that anyone cared to listen, much less answer. Finally, I stopped asking when it seemed they knew something I didn’t, although I wasn’t sure what that might be.’

‘Perhaps that’s why you were finally drawn here after years of not being able to get satisfactory answers to your untoward questions in the Flatlands. But now that you’re here on a higher plane, far higher than you could have envisioned, it’s up to you to discover what can’t be discovered anywhere else.’

‘You mean Summit U?’

‘Indeed. Generally, mainstream science and philosophy don’t wish to go anywhere near questions of a metaphysical nature, such as life after death. That’s what you’re going to learn here. But first, you will need a crash course to discover where you’ve fallen, and I don’t mean the abyss below.’

‘Crash course? That was clever, Eli.’

‘I know; nonetheless, think about it; you literally crashed down the void to wake up in a dimension you continue to deny even though it’s the substratum that undergirds the apparent world of surface appearances.’

‘That last part was quite the mouthful. Where do you come with this stuff?’

‘Don’t worry; even though you consider yourself an intellectual, we can help you recognise you’re no longer confined to the world’s linear plane of understanding and what hitherto remained difficult for you to believe, such as being with us here now in this dimension.

‘But be assured, we’ll do what we can to help you realise the narrow box of reality you’ve been carrying with you doesn’t have nearly enough space to contain what you will soon be experiencing here. In fact, there are disciplines in Western academia that have influenced you where the sides were so narrow they sometimes touch.

I know he was trying to be funny, yet I found Eli’s comments a bit presumptuous, as if he and Mo were gurus sitting on this mountaintop, assuming they knew more than the rest of us. With their peculiar epistemologies, they seemed too sure of themselves, as with most amateur philosophers. Nevertheless, I decided to hear them out and, if necessary, forgo the festival in Santiago. If nothing else, their antics would make for some amusing stories I could later share with my students.

‘You say my box of reality is too small,’ I retorted. ‘Well, you know, Eli, I prefer my box to be small rather than a large box stuffed full of rubbish.’

‘What we say may now sound like rubbish to you,’ Mo said, ‘but that’s because you haven’t learned how to engage your heart, only your mind. As we keep saying, without the heart, the mind is always confused. It’s always been that way, so the intellect, on its own, can never understand anything of lasting significance.

‘So, for you to come into a fuller understanding of existence, you will need to subordinate your mind to the heart’s inner wisdom. I don’t mean for you to displace your mind; only make it subject to the flow of divine wisdom. The ego’s mind remains externally focused, separating itself from the essence centre of your being.

‘That’s why few of your so-called intellects can see the implicit unity of the universe and why even fewer care. Too many on earth hear only the meaningless clatter of whatever intrudes into their lives, never acting intentionally; instead, reacting to outward circumstances.’

‘It’s why the mind needs to unite with the heart so it will learn to respond, rather than react,’ Eli said, ‘or it will lose itself to all the inane distractions of the ego. As we keep saying, the heart is the spirit’s divine portal to higher consciousness, which is why the constraints of your past training will fall away as soon as you learn to reconcile your heart with your mind.’

‘Yes, but science shows that the heart is essentially a pump that circulates blood and nothing more, so why do you both keep talking about the heart as something more than it is? Isn’t there a better term you could use for a metaphor?’

‘The heart is not only the centre of your physical being,’ Mo said, ‘it’s also the nonlocal, invisible centre of what is called the soul, that which you are. Just think abou it fact, James, you don’t have a soul; you are the soul.’

‘However, science doesn’t recognise the existence of what’s called the soul since it can’t be seen or measured.’

‘So be it, which is why science is often considered soulless, a threat to humanity when not informed by the heart. I think history and modern warfare bear this out. Just think what AI, a child of science, might do to your world if it is allowed to pre-empt the soul.’

‘Remember,’ Eli said, ‘it’s the heart that’s the divine receptacle of love and light, not the misguided ego-mind. Until science defers to its wisdom, the mind will not recognise that all physical appearances, including the heart, are vibratory interpretations of our Source… the divine essence in all of existence. Furthermore, all spiritual reality has a corresponding form that manifests across the full spectrum of dimensions,[49] which means all appearances proceed from the thought patterns we have co-created.’

‘I have no idea what that means: vibratory interpretations. At times, Eli, you sound like some sideshow shaman with an English accent. Mysticism is hardly my orientation, so I’m not sure how well I would fit in with this crash course of yours. I hate to be the first to drop out of Summit U, but I have a job I need to get to.’

‘You may go whenever you wish,’ he said, ‘no one is holding you back. Although, as we already suggested, it might get a bit lonely wandering the halls of your university campus by day and the streets of London by night, virtually lost and unknown to anyone. You’ve probably felt that way before, particularly after getting jilted. Yet that’s nothing compared to how you would feel now.’

‘Really,’ I said, ‘so, you’re telling me I should consider myself fortunate to be sitting here alone at night… how lucky is that?’

‘More than you know,’ Mo said. ‘We’ve repeatedly told you this, but you seem to forget. So, let’s start from the beginning. Whether you choose to recognise it or not, you wished for something more than what the Lowlands had to offer. Agreed?’

‘I’m not sure about that, although there might be some truth to me wanting to move on to some better things in life.’

‘Okay, I’ll take that as a yes. At some unconscious level, you wanted to find a new dwelling for your soul, the essence of your being. Even if you didn’t know what or where that may be, you realised you couldn’t find what you were looking for if you remained stuck in bogs and ruts, be they metaphorical or not.

‘As your dream illustrated, one night, you finally embarked on a journey towards the mountain vision, albeit with a few wistful glances back to the Lowlands before scaling these rugged precipices. I suppose looking back with such apprehensions is to be expected, considering how challenging the journey can be.

‘The temptation to turn back remained until you were high enough to see Lowland’s misty clouds below; that’s when you first realised you had never seen direct sunlight before. It’s what you’re here to experience: a bright reality beyond your wildest dream.’

‘Here we go again,’ I said, ‘can’t we talk about something other than that damned dream? It’s ridiculous that you expect me to believe I’m somehow living out some strange drama I dreamt of last October. And now, to top it all, you expect me to believe that my brain and I have parted company, with my mind currently residing on two different continents.

‘No, I didn’t ask for any of this, whatever this is, so it’s probably time I take my leave… things are getting a bit out of control here.’

 ‘It might be a good idea, Eli, to pour James a stiff Scotch,’ Mo said. ‘He doesn’t need it, but he thinks he does when agitated, so I guess he probably does.’

‘I’m not agitated,’ I said, raising my voice, ‘just irritated having my intelligence affronted by…

‘Oh, my… I must say, that’s delicious Scotch, Eli.  With enough shots, you might convince me of most anything… hell, I may even join you in your fantasyland, at least until I head back down to Earth.’

‘In reality, libations don’t work that way here,’ he said smiling, ‘unless you want to imagine you’re getting a buzz for old times’ sake. Nevertheless, we prefer that you remain lucid for the moment,’ as he refilled my glass.

‘So, James,’ Mo said, ‘let me offer you a bit more clarity regarding your situation here since I don’t think you’re getting the whole picture. First, take a few deep breaths and relax. This subtle body of yours is well-adapted to imbibe the ubiquitous prana more effectively than your physical body is capable of.

‘You may think of this as divine oxygen or life-force spiritual energy absorbed into your form. Be it here or the earth plane, it sustains and vitalises the frequencies of whatever body you manifest.’ 

I considered this to be more yoga schlock, but after a few swigs, I decided to humour him, imbibing a series of deep breathing exercises as he directed.

‘You know,’ I said, ‘this isn’t all new to me. I took some Hatha Yoga lessons in the past… the kind they do in ashrams.’

‘I’m curious, how did you get involved in yoga?’ Eli asked.

‘I think it may have had something to do with meeting an exceptionally apt instructor in demonstrating her contortion skills. Once we got to know each other, we would practise more deep breathing exercises at her place, sometimes the whole night.’

‘So, with all that,’ he said, ‘and climbing this Mountain, you should have no problem taking another twenty breaths. This time slower and deeper; it’s all about the cadence.’

‘That’s what she used to say, too,’ I laughed.

‘Focus, James,’ Mo said, ‘and become aware of your breath.’

‘Is this how you’re trying to convince me I’m out of my body by getting me to hyperventilate and fall into some wild Sufi trance? If that doesn’t do it, what’s next, a little Dervish whirling? Scotch, breathing and whirling... something’s got to work, and before long, you might have me chasing after mountain nymphs dancing on the mountain peaks in the morning sun. You know, the ones I like to imagine up here.’

‘Keep imagining, James,’ Eli said, ‘you never know where you might find them… or where they find you.’

‘I’ll drink to that,’ I said as I threw back the Scotch, having completed the last deep breaths.

‘Now, how does that feel?’ Mo asked.

‘Excellent! Most exceptional… authentically Scottish.’

‘No, James, the breathing. How do you feel now after the last few deep breaths?’

‘Well, I’m still in my body, not out of it as you seem to wish.’

‘And so you are: it’s only a matter of which one. So, try doing a few more breaths, and I’m sure you’ll feel much lighter, with or without libations.’

‘And yes, this brand is one of our best,’ Eli said. ‘A virtual version patterned after Edinburgh's old Dimple Pinch brand.’

‘Virtual version, what’s that,’ I asked, ‘some knock-off like this version of reality you’re trying to convince me of? In any case, this is a real treat… goes down more smoothly and lusciously each time. Pinch is one of my favourites… too bad it’s so damned expensive.’

‘Cheers!’ Eli said as we shot back another.

‘I don’t know whether it’s my imagination,’ I said, ‘but I feel considerably lighter after these breathing and elbow-tipping exercises. Strangely, I don’t feel my awareness is compromised, except my mind feels a little airy.’

‘As we told you,’ Mo said, ‘it’s your beliefs that make it so. Now, I want you to relax and try not to fall asleep. Listen carefully to what we have to say even if you’re weary of us referring to your dream.’

I slouched down into my seat, glass in hand, put my feet up on the table and closed my eyes, feeling very relaxed. ‘Sure, whatever you say; as you can see, I’m listening… how much Pinch did you say is left in the bottle?’

Ignoring my question, Mo went on to say, ‘The dream represents what you were unconsciously asking about long before you set out to find the Mountain. At a deep subliminal level, you desired to know what lies beyond the shadows of the Lowlands. You wanted to see beyond the ruts, bogs, fog, thorns, thistles and gnarly shrubs of your daily routine.’

‘Yes, no doubt about it; there’s been many ruts, bogs, thorns and thistles on my life path.’

‘And don’t forget about the unfortunate relationships where you got stung,’ Eli said.’

‘I’ve had a few,’ I chuckled. ‘Not a good place to be when they hiss, bite and sting!’

‘I’m sure it’s not; however, now that you managed to ascend above those swamps and marshes, you’re high enough to see lands you could never have imagined before. Best of all, the higher you ascend, the more expansive the view beyond the sierras.’

‘Beyond the sierras? I’m not sure that’s possible with the earth being a sphere.’

‘You might be surprised,’ Mo said. ‘In fact, I’m sure you will be, which is why we’ll show you only a little at a time of what’s on the spectrum, so you don’t get too overwhelmed with what’s in the infiniverse. Once you ascend to new vistas, the views will remain with you even when you return home. Believe us; nothing will seem the same as before.’

‘That’s jolly, but I hardly know what in bloody hell you’re talking about half the time with all your allusions and metaphors from the Netherlands.’

‘Eventually, you will,’ Eli said. ‘And yes, you will always have a choice in what you wish to believe. Remember, Summit U is a liberal arts university. You get to speak your mind as they once did on campuses in the Western world. Unlike much of the debilitating Groupthink[50] that has gripped and paralysed your planet, there are many acceptable ways to perceive and think. It’s bizarre; many in the Flatlands don’t even seem to realise they have a choice… they’re that programmed.’

‘Being a freethinker of sorts, I can’t imagine anyone willing to be caught in another’s dream.’

‘Regrettably, that’s a large part of human history,’ Mo said. ‘If you don’t see yourself as having a choice, then in effect, you don’t, especially when you give your power away, letting others decide your life for their gain. When you become aware of who you are and what you want, you will always choose dignity over slavery, just as you choose light over darkness.

‘Now, as you ascend higher, you will observe how much more there is to your existence. You will soon find that you can manifest anything that aligns with the creativity of your higher consciousness. The further in and higher you proceed, the more life becomes accessible to you. That’s always been the divine plan.’

‘That’s splendid, and yet…  how about the perfect woman?’ I asked. ‘How do I access her?’

‘I guess that depends on whether you’re the perfect man,’ Eli chucked. ‘More likely, she will find you once you know what you want, but that can only happen when your desires are in vibratory alignment with her soul. Women admire men who know what they want and will seek them out from the masses of confused men.’

‘There’s no mistake about that; women in my life know what I want,’ I laughed.

‘You may think you know, even though you can’t until you discover who you are. For much of your life, you have been caught between worlds, wedged in a passage between the earth and what lies beyond, without understanding what that was, leaving you double-minded and uncertain of who you are and what you want.’

‘Not really, not even figuratively. As you might observe, I’m not wedged in a passage but high on a summit… and most definitely, I know what I want.’

‘But do you?’ Mo asked. ‘Once you recognise you’re betwixt what you left behind in the Lowlands and what remains ahead for you on the Summit, you still have to decide whether you wish to ascend higher or descend back to where you were, but you can’t just stay in one spot. Choose you this day whom ye will serve,[51] the past or the future.

‘If you decide to move forward, it will become your Stargate as you launch out to discover and create what you could never have imagined in the world. Though you may have several attachments in the temporal plane of existence, these must eventually disappear since only what is real lasts. And so, whatever you choose to experience in this, your new reality, I can assure you, will be far more engaging than anything you will find in your world, custom-designed to manifest as a match to your soul’s most laudable affections.’

‘Not that this makes you special,’ Eli said, ‘since no one possesses a more divine essence than anyone else; we all are unique expressions of the Source, according to what we choose and what we resist, be it light or darkness. We become more of what we are, more uniquely refined with every decision we make and every relationship we enter.

‘You were interested in ascending to higher realms; therefore, you ventured further in and further up. Few choose to leave the Lowlands, so few are chosen. In that sense, you are chosen. Now take it the distance.’

‘One of the chosen, am I? By whom, the Almighty? I’m not even religious… or Jewish, for that matter.’[52]

‘Because you have chosen, you are chosen!’ Mo said. ‘Because you dared to take on this challenge, you’ve been afforded the opportunity to enrol at Summit U, an honour you have yet to recognise. As you know, the Lowlanders prefer to remain in their boggy swamps rather than ascend to higher elevations. Most have chosen not to choose, which becomes a choice unto itself. But not you! To your credit, you wanted more and so went on to make the most significant decision of your life. 

‘That’s why you have entered this new world far beyond the thorns, thistles and mire that had you stuck. Though you may not have been aware of it, you’ve been seeking the truth for most of your life. That’s why you became a philosopher. Your soul has been trekking towards this Summit for much longer than you realise, albeit circuitously. Though the resistance in your ego-mind slowed you down and held you back, as with gravity, you never gave up but kept moving forward.

‘All the crevices and valleys were part of your journey; there were no wrong people or places; it only seemed that way. They all played a part in your conscious evolution, revealing to you what you didn’t want so you would discover what you did want.’

‘I can’t believe how much you remain stuck in my dream,’ I said. ‘Though I welcome your affirming remarks, I suspect your interpretations are closer to poetry than fact. As far as I know, I came here to climb a Mountain. It’s that simple! It seems you’re trying to extrapolate my dream into some mystical extravaganza… like some Magical Mystery Tour.’[53]

‘Don’t dismiss this dream you’re on… a special revelation from yourself to yourself. It’s all yours: your poem, your reward, and your future. You earned it, my friend. That was no ordinary dream; it was a lucid dream that prefigured your new reality, possibly the best your heart could have ever written.[54] Through it, you received the vision and inward guidance to find your way here. The directions didn’t come from your mind but from within, and the best part is that you’re still in it.’

‘Possibly in some metaphorical sense, I am. At least, I can agree with some of what you’re saying. Making it up here was like a dream, so I guess you could say it was my big reward. There are always risks with expeditions such as these. In that sense, we might say making it to the top of any Mountain has a certain cadence that, in a sense, seems poetic.

‘That’s why I’d love to climb Mount Aconcagua should I ever return to the Andes for another expedition. From what I can tell, it’s probably only about forty or fifty miles northeast away on the Argentine side.’

‘Definitely, we should do that,’ Eli said. ‘Even if it’s not as steep as Everest, the altitude has killed a lot of climbers. Of course, the reward is more than just the literal ascent up this or any other mountain, so it might feel like poetry in motion to climb the highest mountain in the Western Hemisphere.[55]’

‘That’s jolly, yet I prefer to live my life literally,’ I said, ‘rather than figuratively.’

‘The longer you’re here,’ Mo said, ‘the more you will realise what seems literal is never just literal but inextricably linked to what’s inwardly figurative. Whether Logos or mythos, life is a dynamic expression of both. As you often hear us say, as within, so without. Whatever you outwardly manifest is derived from the thoughts created within. Your outward ascent is only as challenging or rewarding as your inward ascent.

‘Unlike Sisyphus, who struggled to roll his heavy boulder up the Mountain, there will be less toil the higher you ascend until only lightness remains. Have you ever noticed how the word light refers to both illumination and weight?’ Eli asked. ‘When illuminated by the Light of the Spirit, the weight of your burdens become so lightened that they eventually cease to exist.’

‘I don’t know about that, ’ I said, ‘although it’s always easier to lighten up when there’s some light at the end of the tunnel. Or, might I say, on top of a mountain… especially if it happens to be a bright orb,’ I chuckled.

‘It is easier, indeed,’ Mo said. ‘That’s why you will find that this Summit is only a base camp for even more spectacular adventures, should you decide to ascend higher. Though you may feel you are in an unfamiliar dimension of reality, you aren’t. It’s merely a higher octave that has always remained ensconced within your multidimensional DNA that’s being activated.

‘Whenever a person sheds their physical body, the immortal body can manifest in the higher vibratory form of the soul. As it’s said: This mortal shall have put on immortality.[56] The immortal body you now see is an outward expression of the soul’s immortal spiritual essence. However, the version of your body in London is far from immortal; in fact, it’s barely hanging on. What you’re experiencing now is for keeps, formed and sustained by divine light. It’s always there with or without the mortal shell.’

‘All metaphors aside, are you trying to tell me I appear as a ghost?

‘Do we appear as ghosts, as you might conceive a ghost to appear?’ Eli asked. ‘What you’re now experiencing is a body of incorruptible spiritual essence, not the human sheath. If it doesn’t seem you’re disembodied, it’s because you’re not, no more than when you occupy your biological body. It’s a case of your third-dimensional body being dispirited while vacated by your soul. It’s the same as what happens when the mortal body dies.

‘The soul knows no such thing as death, except for the illusion of how things may seem by those who chose darkness over light. But we can talk about that later. Time and space are not the same limiting factors in this dimension; there is no obstruction to your spirit body’s agility when teleporting or engaging in other modes of spiritual experience.’

‘Is this what you meant earlier by portation – teleporting? You’re joking, right? Please tell me you are. If not, how can I take anything you say seriously? Even Superman can’t do that.’

‘Remember, this immortal body is not subject to the limitations of the physical plane,’ Mo said. ‘Did you know the several exotic names meaning spirit body that emerged in various cultures over the centuries?’

‘Such as spook?’ I asked with a tinge of sarcasm.

‘The depth of understanding in the West, or lack thereof, is often revealed in its dearth of descriptive terms, which is why it’s sometimes necessary to borrow appropriate terms from other cultures. The fact is, everyone has a divinely created spirit body – that much doesn’t change, regardless of bodily manifestation. You, being an eternal soul,  will always remain an individuated expression of Source, much like good, in its essence, gives unique expression to truth in whatever form it may take. So, tell me, which body is more authentic, the temporal or that which is an expression of the immortal spirit?

‘If we had no bodily form, how would we communicate our essence to other souls when there was no individuated appearance of locality? So you may rest assured your spirit body bears no relation to what you may imagine as an amorphous spook.

‘And in case you were wondering about ascended spirits, I can’t tell you how they might manifest on Earth except they can transduce to lower frequencies in denser realms.’

‘To be honest, Mo, no, I wasn’t wondering about these, nor am I particularly interested in whatever you’re going on about. All this talk about frequencies, spirits, planes and realms sounds like a bunch of psycho-babble.’

‘I think you might change your mind if you were to go to London and ask some chap on the street about your present form. If you could speak to him, he’d probably say you have no-body, then run like bloody hell in the other direction to get away from the voice in the air. However, that shouldn’t offend you since you actually do have a body, only not in the same way he sees or doesn’t see it.

‘That’s right, James,’ Eli said, ‘you don’t have to feel like a no-body just because every-body ignores you when you don’t have any-body. Kind of like when you were trying to hook up with some-body at the local pub before getting jilted… only for different reasons.’

‘More word plays, Eli? I’m sure you can do better if you try.’

‘As questionable as these plays might seem,’ Mo said, ‘Eli makes an excellent point. Have you ever noticed how English terms, such as somebody, nobody, everybody and anybody, illustrate the way humans like to identify themselves as bodies rather than souls? Don’t you think your clairvoyant friend above the pawn shop would agree that there’s more to you than what the average person on the street sees?’

‘Possibly, but then, she’s hardly an average person,’ I said.

‘So why not pay her a visit next time you’re in London,’ Eli said; ‘if she sees your spirit body, at least you’ll then know you’ve been getting your money’s worth. In any case, rest assured, you will always remain an individuated form offering a unique expression of your divine essence in whatever dimension you manifest. Just because someone can’t see you doesn’t mean you don’t exist, any more than vapour in the air doesn’t exist.’ 

‘Some call the spirit body an astral or etheric body,’ Mo said, ‘although it’s called a lot of different things by various cultures throughout the world. It doesn’t matter; call it what you wish; names aren’t important, especially when you realise there are more rarified bodily manifestations than you can perceive. For now, you need only realise your body is an expression of your soul’s light manifesting as a unique thought-form.’

‘You mean like shapeshifters?’ I asked, laughing. ‘As a lad, I remember reading fantasy comic books about that sort of thing.’

‘What if this is not a fantasy but an extension of subatomic reality? The body you now experience may be understood as an ecto-plasma read-out emanating from a higher frequency instead of the lower frequency of the mortal body like the one currently residing in a London hospital you regard as you.

‘Since you’re now dwelling within a higher spectrum of zero-point light, your soul’s vibratory form may re-enter its earthly vessel as long as it remains alive. Conversely, your human form, such as it is with its lower material frequencies, could never enter your spiritual vessel, so it ends up as dust or ashes when it, as they say, gives up the ghost. The only exception to this is when Yeshua’s body was transmuted into an immortal body upon his resurrection.

‘Even your physical eyes,’ Mo said, ‘as incredible as they may be, only provide crude read-outs of the electromagnetic configurations in the third dimension. When you get right down to it, the atom’s supposed physicality doesn’t exist when it’s ultimately nothing more than a schedule of probability pointer readings.’[57]

‘So you’re saying that all physicality is merely an illusion.’

‘As I said, only what lasts is real. Everything we think we see, even the smallest microtubule in the body, is on a grid of shifting energy patterns without any underlying solidity. Only the divine Source is constant, yet never static, extending divine essence through creation’s eternal expansion.’[58]

‘What you seem to be saying sounds much like Alfred North Whitehead’s Process Philosophy. I don't understand much of his abstruse esoterica, and I'm not sure many do, but I remember attending a lecture series on this topic by an eminent Whitehead scholar.[59] The concepts are very complicated, even for professional philosophers.’

‘Indeed, they are,’ Mo said. ‘I'll see what I can do to scrounge up one of his books should you wish to brush up on his unique cosmological blend of theology, philosophy and physics. What Whitehead attempted to express is how God’s thoughts continually evolve through co-created thought-forms.

‘That would include all the individuated consciousness that manifests in the Infiniverse. There can be no other reality or substance other than divine essence-energy. Even what we call inert matter may be described as crystallised light energy.’

‘What I learned at the Whitehead lectures,’ I said, ‘is that there’s some support for such far-out concepts from various physicists such as David Bohm.[60]

‘Indeed, Bohm considered matter to be the manifestation of explicate reality, a virtual kaleidoscope of variegated energy forms enfolded in what he described as the implicate order. As such, I believe Bohm was on to something, suggesting there’s an inward implicate universe reflected in the explicate universe we experience.

‘Again, as we keep saying, ad infinitum, as within, so without; it’s the same thing.  Physics might be a good place to start, yet it can only go so far in comprehending the true nature of the universe.’

‘Not to say we wish to reduce God, the infinite Source, to a concept of energy; the kind of thing you generate from wind turbines or pump out of the ground as fossil fuel? Or, as many suggest, The Universe, which to me sounds like a massive accumulation of objects and then assigning a name with the same paucity as any other.

‘Depending on what is meant by that term, it might lead to a regrettable pantheistic ad absurdum as if God is a composite of created parts – but created by Whom? A tad tautological, wouldn’t you say? Besides, where’s the love in that? – it’s vacuous.

‘I have to agree, even from my agnostic perspective, deifying the universe seems facile, although many who loath the word God might prefer this term when speaking of that which they consider ultimate.’

‘This is where,’ Mo said, ‘the concept of the Ray of Creation[61] can help to shed light on the subject when it’s understood that this Ray is a metaphor for how the effluence of divinity proceeds outward from the Source. Although there are no words that adequately describe divine transcendence, at least Whitehead gave it an admirable shot.[62] 

‘When we are born into the world, we become enshrouded with progressively refined sheathes of energy on a spectrum that intermingles with Earth's base frequency. That’s how the human body exists as a duality of spirit and physicality. But since the soul isn’t inextricably tied to the biological body, it’s free to leave at any time, which it often does during periods of deep sleep.

‘Or, in your case… a very deep sleep!’ Eli said. ‘That’s how your consciousness, often referred to as a soul, managed to be released from your flesh even while you remain connected to it for as long as your body remains alive on Earth.[63] Think of consciousness as a continuum of progressively higher octaves of divine thought-forms[64] emanating from the Ray of Creation.’

‘Divine thought forms, eh? Such as what?’

‘Such as Mo, such as me and of course… such as you.’

‘Oh really, and how about this Scotch I'm holding?’

‘That Scotch,’ Mo said, ‘didn't come from Scotland; only the thought did. Still, a most divine thought it is, wouldn’t you say?’

 

58] In traditional religion, it would more likely be said that the Father extends His divine essence...  However, neither Mo nor Eli used overtly religious terms very often. Perhaps out of deference to me, or possibly they weren’t comfortable with certain words and expressions they considered archaic or misleading.
[59] While attending university many years ago, I once attended a lecture by preeminent Whitehead scholar John B Cobb, a philosopher/theologian and founder of the Centre for Process Studies in California.
[60] British Physicist 1917-1992, Fellow of the Royal Society. (See Appendix ‘A’ for quotes.)
[61] An esoteric cosmology taught by G.I. Gurdjieff.
[62] I thought that someday I might delve into Whitehead’s barely comprehensible Process and Reality.  To this point, however, I hadn’t.
[63] What I understood is that consciousness, being non-local, remains infused in the biological body for as long as it lives, ensuring each cell remains animated with life. Likely, this is in reference to the silver cord, alluded to in Ecclesiastes: Remember Him before the silver cord is severed. Ecclesiastes 12:6 (NIV)
[64] An esoteric term for thought-forms is egregore: or in Greek, egrēgoros, manifestation by awakening

 

CHAPTER SEVEN
       

DOWN BUT NOT OUT

Not all those who wander are lost
                         J.R.R. Tolkien

 

After this chin wag by the fireplace, there was much for me to consider. Even though I refused to be convinced I was anything other than my human body, at times it seemed like they were wearing me down. In any case, I looked forward to having a sound sleep that night to re-evaluate and, if necessary, reconsider the old beliefs I continued to cling to.

After many of my rationalist moorings had been mercilessly threatened by my friendly adversaries, I thought a good sleep might help sort things out. It was late now, and the fire had burned down to hot coals. Finally, they got up and bid me Buenas Noches as they walked towards the door. I asked if they wished to stay for the night since it was their lodge, not mine.

‘We think you need some quiet time to consider our conversation unless,’ Eli chuckled, ‘a mountain nymph happens to drop by to distract you.’

‘If necessary, I’m sure I could handle that,’ I grinned.

Mo then gestured with a casual salute on his way out the door.

I still couldn’t figure out why they kept wandering off at night; it didn’t make sense. And yet, it didn’t have to since nothing else with them did. At least that much was predictable! I was tempted to trail behind to see where they were headed, then decided against it lest they catch me and question why I was stalking them. For now, this would remain just one more enigma in this strange assortment of unreconciled enigmas.

With images of my swift plunge freshly emblazoned in my mind, I climbed slowly to my bed in the loft. Where did these traumatic scenes come from; was it from a suppressed dream, or was it from something more, perhaps a conscious-altering hallucinogen in my drink? Maybe I hadn’t fallen, only imagining it. How else could I explain my body appearing to remain unscathed in this near-fatal fall?

Adding to my confusion were their outrageous, esoteric explanations for everything. Never before had I heard or read anything so peculiar, not even in fantasy literature. But what if what they said proved accurate – I would be wrong about almost everything I believed, and nothing could remain the same; my life would forever be altered in ways I could hardly imagine. What then would become of my career?

As I took off my clothes, I examined my body once again. It still amazed me how my body appeared as unblemished as I ever remembered, other than the navel anchor tattoo on my left arm. No bruises or cuts remained on my legs and arms after scrambling up the jagged precipices.  

Mo said it was because there weren’t any wounds to heal, not even scars I incurred years ago. It was reassuring if this was supposed to mean I wasn't in my natural body. For now, though, I didn’t wish to be vexed over such concerns; my mind was too frazzled to process more mysteries.

Still, I had to consider if I had somehow stumbled into an inverted vortex in some alternate dimension. I wasn’t sure that made much sense, yet it didn’t have to. With the way things were going, I wouldn’t be surprised if I might soon bump into Alice.

Though my body didn’t feel fatigued in the least, I slipped under the quilt, unsure if I could sleep. Yet, sleep I did, most soundly until awakening with the morning sun rising over the easterly Sierra. As I stepped down the stairs, Mo and Eli were cooking breakfast by the stove.

‘Buenos Días amigo.’ Eli shouted to greet me. ‘Did you sleep?’ I found it interesting he didn’t ask how I slept or if I slept well, but rather, did I sleep – as if sleep was merely an option.

‘Yes, I certainly did, as in deep hibernation. I don’t remember anything, from the moment my head hit the pillow until the sun’s rays woke me now.’

‘You may not realise it,’ Mo said; ‘there’s much going on below your conscious mind, more than you’re aware. You will require plenty of rest, not for your body, but for your active mind to get out of the way so your spirit can sort things out. Possibly, we overloaded your circuits yesterday; nevertheless, you have an inordinate natural appetite to comprehend reality, even as you resist our answers.’

‘Speaking of appetite,’ Eli said, ‘I hope you’re ready for breakfast.’

‘Actually, I’m not hungry, even though everything tastes extraordinarily delicious in this alpine atmosphere. If I had more time, I wouldn’t mind staying another night or two to find my chain and learn more about this fall I supposedly had. Perhaps I could delay my flight a day or two, provided I can still make it back in time for classes.’

‘Good luck with that,’ he said, grinning. As we said earlier, stay as long as you like. Soon, you won’t want to leave, nor will you need to.’

‘Oh, I think I will; meanwhile, this is a great place to hang out. I don’t know how you two mountaineers came across this lodge in such an inspiring setting.’

As I walked around, closely examining its rustic interior and charming artefacts, I felt a powerful déjà vu vibe with the dark logs seasoned from decades of fireplace smoke and pipe tobacco.

‘There was something about it that possessed a familiar, genius loci,[65] as Mo described it. It was hard not to be charmed by its alpine ambience, complete with an old cast iron stove, fireplace, and old leather lounge chairs, all nestled in the grandeur of the Chilian Andes. 

Though isolated in this remote mountain region, I had everything I needed, including a charming cellar with a large cache of fine wines, bottles of lager and other assorted libations. Oddly enough, there was no outhouse, so where did everyone go when they needed to go? Curiously, I hadn’t required such facilities since I arrived. Considering the amount of food and drink I had consumed here, I found that most peculiar.

I also wondered where the water contained in the urns had come from. I had no idea how they would have accessed it. Perhaps they melted ice from a glacier, though that would have been a long way to go. Possibly, there was a well or spring nearby I hadn’t noticed, although that was most improbable on the mountaintop.

If I asked, the only thing I could be sure of was getting more ambiguity and equivocation. For now, it didn’t matter; this was the kind of retreat I had always dreamed of living in.  Who knows, one day, I might build a retreat like this somewhere in the Swiss Alps.

‘Still, it’s a mystery to me how these logs could have been hauled up these steep precipices considering how high this lodge was situated above the tree line. From all appearances, it must have been built at least a hundred years ago, yet it would have been impossible for horses or mules to scale these escarpments; even an experienced climber like me could barely make it up here. I can think of no rational explanation.’ 

‘And yet, here we are,’ Mo grinned while nonchalantly turning over the sizzling bacon with an old metal spatula. Amazing… unless, of course, this cabin doesn’t even exist on the 3D grid. Did you think about that?’

‘What’s to think, except what exists here and now?’

‘Didn’t you say there was no cabin here when you first approached the summit?’ Eli asked. ‘If it had been here, you would have been blind not to notice it… unless, of course, you didn’t have eyes to see it.’

‘My eyes are fine, thank you,’ I said. ‘I don’t require glasses, and I generally see most of what there is to see.’

‘Which must make you wonder how you could have missed this fine edifice,’ he said. ‘Considering you would have been less than thirty yards away, it would have been rather difficult to avoid, would it not?’

‘As I neared the summit, I remember being distracted by what I imagined as voices in the air, along with what appeared to be brilliant orbs of light on the peak. I don’t know; perhaps I had become delirious before adjusting to the rarified air. Still, I admit, it seems peculiar now how I could have missed this structure.

‘It would be a lot easier,’ Mo said, ‘if you would believe us when we tell you you’re now in a different dimension than when you perceived things before your fall. We understand, though; it’s only been a few days since you were released from the limitations of 3D perception, so it may take a bit longer for your mind to expand beyond what it still believes is possible and what it assumes is not possible.

‘To experience this expanded awareness, you will need to shift from the prejudices of your old paradigms of belief so that you may see with new eyes where limited parameters of perception no longer apply in this elevated sphere of reality.

‘Oh my,’ I said, ‘it appears we’re back in the pixie dust again, where everything and anything becomes possible. I might need a lot more of your coffee brew to make it through another day of these impossible possibilities.’

‘It will take more than coffee to shut out what you’re denying yet experiencing,’ Mo said. ‘That would be like a fish shutting its gills from off the water. Where you find yourself, my friend, is beyond normal. But then, you never were all that normal, were you?’

I looked at Mo blankly and said: ‘You’re right; this is not what you would call normal… I’d say more like paranormal… if such phenomenon existed.’

‘Welcome to your new world,’ Eli said. ‘I think you’re going to love it here now that you’re getting used to a matrix field that better suits your current reality. Without having a mortal body to hold you back, your spirit can now soar to a much higher octave than before.’

My new world? Did they actually expect me to believe I was in some altered state of existence? All this was getting to be a bit too much. I wasn’t about to be taken in… at least until Mo passed me a stack of hotcakes with syrup.

‘Here, help yourself; at least they’re normal,’ Mo chuckled, ‘depending on what you consider normal.’

‘They are delicious,’ I said. ‘You’re not a bad chef!’

‘Anyone can be a five-star chef here. There’s not much to it; you just have to know what you want, then manifest it.’

‘Maybe you can teach me so I can get an honest job when I return home. I might earn more money in some kitchen than I make as a part-time university instructor.’

‘Why not do both?’ Mo asked. ‘Prepare food for the body and food for the soul… all on the same day.’

Why not, indeed, I thought as I pulled out my topographical map from my backpack showing the contours of the course I took on my ascent, where I made a couple of unfortunate turns. After Eli and I discussed various routes I could take for my descent, Mo suggested it might be a good idea if I stayed with them a bit longer.

‘If you do, he said, ‘I’m sure we can find you another way down that can get you there in no-time.’

I didn’t understand why Eli chuckled when Mo said no-time. Was this an inside joke or more banter about their quantum world of non-locality?

‘I appreciate the offer, Mo, but I really should to be on my way while the weather remains favourable.’

The sun’s rays streamed through the window, and from what I could see, there weren’t many clouds in the sky, with the exception of a few wisps lingering on the horizon. Despite that, I was conflicted about leaving while there remained so many unresolved questions about what I had been witnessing here. Likely, it would drive me bonkers if I didn’t get some real answers instead of forever speculating on what was happening here.

‘If you give us the opportunity, we can show you a shortcut that will amaze you,’ Eli said.

‘That would be splendid,’ I said, ‘provided you’re certain I’m not overstaying my welcome at your paradisiacal retreat.’

 ‘It’s your retreat, too, so you may use it for as long as you wish.’

‘That’s most generous of you, Eli,’ I said as I got up from the table to get more cakes stacked in the old cast iron pan. ‘I suppose I can take a bit more time to plan a route that will get me down quicker in time to catch my flight out of Santiago.’

I wondered what it might be like to be isolated in this primitive old cabin. The idea appealed to me as the perfect place for a retreat. I could give civilisation a pass for another day, possibly two, while soaking in this ambience. If it weren’t so far away, the lodge would serve as an ideal venue for some intriguing philosophical discussions.

Or better yet, find a nature girl who thrives in the rugged wilds. They’re out there; I’ve met several on mountain slopes across the world. Regardless, this summit was practically inaccessible for most, except with a helicopter.

For much of the day, we talked about various matters of mutual interest. I’m not sure how acceptable our discussions would have been to my university colleagues. Nevertheless, my new companions didn’t seem to care about the conventions of modern philosophical discourse. Not that they were irrational; it was just that they reasoned in ways I didn’t always understand causing me to wonder what logic undergirded their mental processes. After all, isn’t logic supposed to be logical, plain and simple? So, what was their system… trans-rational, supra-rational, or something from Mars?

Nevertheless, I recalled how I once came across a book called Tertium Organum by P.D. Ouspensky,[66] a Russian mathematician and writer espousing ideas along these lines. So is this what that was about, I wondered? While in Moscow, he wrote this book before the Bolshevik Revolution, not long before meeting Georges Gurdjieff, an Armenian esoteric philosopher who later became his mentor and associate.

I was an undergraduate student back then, busy with other things, so I only read parts of the book. Prior to that, I hadn’t been exposed to enough esoterica to understand much of what he said. From what little I remembered, though, it seemed to relate to how Mo and Eli reasoned: abstractly and broadly, yet precisely as if there was a more inclusive way of reasoning than with the syllogisms of current scholasticism. 

In some esoteric circles, including Ouspensky’s, this mode of transcendent reasoning is the domain of third logic, where the rigidity of philosophy is unfettered from the limitations within its parametric scope.

Mo later described Tertium Organum as a system of organic reasoning flowing from a unified field of body, soul, and mind. By this means, the isolated, fact-orientated mentation must learn to reason in concert with the wisdom of the heart. Through this broad spectrum, a higher sphere of awareness is achieved, both mentally and spiritually.

‘Unfortunately,’ he said, ‘within Flatland’s centres of supposed higher learning, no one understands the nature and reality of the soul, so it’s no wonder you had difficulty with this third Organum, which requires an appreciation of not only the exoteric outward world but also the esoteric world of inward spirituality.’

It was true; not until later, while on my so-called Magical Mystery Tour to the Flatlands, did I begin to recognise how flat and narrow my understanding of reality had been. Even if I was a professor of philosophy, my rational discourse was mostly linear since my mind, in its confusion, wasn’t prepared to acknowledge the vertical sphere of spiritual reality.[67]

Later in the day, while taking a break from our discourses, I stood on the deck viewing the sierras and then looked towards the abyss below that supposedly had swallowed me whole. I wondered where I might have taken that final disastrous step before plunging into the void. It didn’t seem possible I could have survived such a fall, and, as with everything else around here, I had no answer.

Furthermore, they were right; the cabin wasn’t far from where I would have fallen. I really should have seen it since it would have been along the trajectory of my vision as I looked towards the Summit. So, the question remained: why didn’t I see it? Was it because I was too distracted, as I suggested, or was there nothing to see because it existed in another dimension of space? – a most preposterous notion!

Yet, on this mysterious mountain, where time seemed to have little meaning, and items such as wine and food magically materialised out of nowhere, why not a cabin, too? Though I remained sceptical, I couldn’t be bothered to argue what I didn’t understand; it was easier to nod my head and smile.

It was true; space and time seemed different than before, causing me to wonder how long ago it had been since I supposedly fell down the chasm. Was it a few days ago, or was it weeks, as Mo suggested? It was as if someone was playing with the hourglass, or was it all in my mind?

It was reasonable to speculate that the fall could have altered something in my brain, where time had an inexplicable elasticity. That, too, was an unsettling thought. If it were true that I had been out cold for weeks, I would have missed my flight home, and classes would have already begun.

That would not be good for my career unless I could convince the authorities of my story. I wasn’t sure I could, but then, I wasn’t sure I would either. To claim my body survived a concussion on a cold mountain slope for who knows how long would stretch the limits of credulity.

As I was thinking about this, Mo stepped outside. From his serious demeanour, it seemed there was something else on his mind that he wished to speak to me about. It felt like things had been building up to the point where we needed to resolve our contrary views of reality.

Since Eli hadn’t yet returned from below with more firewood, Mo suggested we take a hike along the ridge, which I agreed to.

‘Eli and I have been wondering why you still find it so difficult to accept your new reality here. Is it because you still have questions about what happened after your freefall down the abyss?’

‘Of course, I have questions,’ I said. ‘In fact, plenty of them. Ever since I arrived, I’ve asked about a lot of things going on here, yet I can’t seem to get a single straight answer from either of you.’

‘Have we not told you repeatedly that you, your soul, is an immortal spirit body, even while your mortal body convalesces in London? That’s rather straightforward; what more do you need to know?’

‘The truth,’ I said.

‘What good is the truth if you refuse to accept what should be obvious, preferring to dismiss it as fantasy. Regardless, once you see past your scepticism, everything will make sense. It’s only a matter of time… as you might fashion it.’

‘Say what you will; none of this makes logical sense,’ I said, almost shouting in frustration. ‘I’m not at all convinced it’s possible to exist outside a biological body, as you both claim. Though some may believe in being suspended outside the body, such experiences are merely hallucinatory mental projections of chemical processes occurring in the brain and nothing more. I should know; it’s all in the mind. You don’t go anywhere … the trip is an illusion. So, whatever paranormal experiences I might seem to have had up here are probably more a result of my brain getting a bit knocked about after my fall.’

‘Well, then, it appears you don’t have any more questions for us since you already have things figured out. Or is it simply a matter of what you don’t believe to be possible… as if beliefs are the arbiter of truth.’

‘Of course, I have beliefs, but at least they’re based on facts, not fiction.’

‘Can you honestly say you know the difference?’ Mo asked. ‘You need to understand that the earth plane has a limited range of perception for what lies beyond its parochial beliefs. So why do you find it necessary to cling so tightly to what blinds you from this broader spectrum of reality? Contrary to what some might suggest in your esteemed halls of learning, reality isn’t based on what we wish to believe. Even when the egoic mind projects its illusions, the truth is still true, revealing a much different reality than most are prepared to accept.

‘That’s why those with the narrowest perspectives on earth only recognise surface appearances instead of the greater reality of what’s spiritually transcendent. Since reality is infinitely expansive, far beyond what can be imagined, this is what scares so many to live their insular lives in fear of the unknown. It’s a shame, considering how they could experience so much more in life.’

‘To that much, I will admit, since throughout my education, it was always obvious that there is more to the universe than I could ever fathom.’

‘Then allow us to open the universe up for you. But before you can grasp anything of eternal significance, you must realise that you now exist in an imperishable, non-temporal form. At the while, your physical body continues to function on the earth plane in its temporal form, albeit marginally, which will become more obvious when we visit London.’

‘That will hardly be necessary when we can see my body right here, right now! Take a picture if you like. As the saying goes, wherever you go, there you are. Besides, how would it be possible to have a body with a conscious identity while outside the boundaries of a body? It seems you have forgotten the obvious question of individuation.’

‘Not really; remember, your conscious soul is you, not your body. That’s why we tell you that even after the death of your mortal body, you will continue to have an individuated presence that embodies your expanded consciousness.

Nevertheless, you seem to wish to believe you’re the reflection of what you observe in a mirror. But that’s not your identity; instead, it’s only a temporal expression of who you are.

       ‘Only what exists inwardly can exist outwardly; form follows content, not otherwise. Inward consciousness characterises the soul’s outward appearance, regardless of what fleshly suits you might wear from lifetime to lifetime.’

‘Let’s back up a moment; you still haven’t answered how it’s possible to have memories without a physical brain.’

‘It’s possible because your memories aren’t in your brain; rather, think of them as an echo of imprinted impressions adapted for the material plane of existence. These are recorded effects of your memories, like inscriptions on a CD or vinyl record surface. They are not the music; they record the music played by the spirit, which explains why the music endures after the soul departs the body.’ 

‘Then where are memories stashed? If what you say is true, they would have to be somewhere, if not in the brain.’

‘And so they are; like a radiant wave, they dwell in an amorphous vibratory field we might describe as a cloud of universal consciousness.’

‘I’m not sure that’s much of an answer,’ I said.

‘I understand why it might be difficult for you to accept you are more than your physical form since you associate your soul’s identity with whatever memories are experienced in that body. Trust us; all your memories will remain accessible to you in your immortal body long after your temporal form has expired.’

‘Still, I don’t understand how that’s possible unless there is a physical repository for memories.’

‘It’s not the brain that creates consciousness any more than it establishes memories; instead, it’s consciousness that creates wave patterns in the brain, as the science of neuroplasticity demonstrates.

‘Nevertheless, the brain’s ability to access memories or remain conscious is affected by biological limitations which become evident with ageing or brain injury… as with your brain’s current comatose condition. Regardless of memory loss or the brain’s decomposition after death, memories remain in this zero-point field, which exists within the non-local Mind of God, that being the Source of all that is or can be.’

‘That may be fine to believe if you’re religious,’ I said, ‘but I’m not. As I’ve said, I would describe myself as agonistic, so I would prefer not to bring a hypothetical God into this discussion. It’s not scientific.’

‘As if God has to conform to the intellectual conceits of what is regarded as science. Reality is reality, whether you acknowledge it or not. The same goes for agnostics, atheists and mud wrestlers; no exceptions.’ 

‘That’s jolly, and yet, I would say one body is plenty enough for reality. And, most obviously, this body is mine as you now perceive it… all mine!’

‘Indeed it is, yet isn’t it interesting you didn’t say this body is me; instead, you said it is mine?’

‘Hmm, you're right; I must be spending too much time with you and Eli,’ I laughed.

‘What you don’t seem to understand,’ Mo said, ‘is it was necessary to transcend the density of your physical body to dwell on this plane of existence.’

I smiled. ‘No discipline I know of would countenance such a hypothesis as planes of existence?’

‘No? You may then be surprised how many traditions accept such a reality, whether you consider them respectable or not. Even in the Christian scriptures, upon which Western civilisation was founded, the Apostle Paul writes about a mysterious encounter with the third heaven.[68] However, he seemed a bit confused about what to make of his out-of-body experience since this concept was outside the purview of his old Pharisaical order. Orthodox Jews didn’t address such concerns in their temples any more than in your current synagogues of academia today.

‘Many religions, particularly in the West, prefer not to acknowledge terms such as celestial body, astral travel, soul travel, out-of-body, or even near-death-experiences. Their teachings are more outward expressions of instituted faith, as evidenced by their shrines, temples, cathedrals, mosques, priests, liturgy, icons, and sacraments. Yet, many expressions of faith involve nothing more than direct encounters with the divine. So, I find it ironic how many religions oppose what ought to be the relational foundation of their faith. 

‘Unfortunately, many of these organisations tend to be dismissive, or even hostile, towards direct encounters with Spirit.[69] In fact, some religions suggest any non-physical experience must have something to do with the devil. As I’m sure you’re aware, not that long ago in the past, they would burn anyone alive with contrary beliefs so they might rid themselves of what they feared or didn’t understand.

‘Not surprisingly, these purges remain in the Flatland universities. Even if bodies are no longer burned at the stake, they won’t hesitate to burn the reputation of any opponent who would defy whatever flat beliefs they consider most sacrosanct.’

‘I wish I could disagree with you, but more than once, I’ve witnessed such censuring, even in my university.’

‘Indeed, it’s almost amusing to observe how closely religious and atheist fundamentalists tend to align when defending their prejudices against what’s inwardly spiritual. Both camps make the same linear assumptions about cognition and avoid dealing with inexplicable paranormal phenomena such as you’re experiencing here. 

‘If they only knew how much their souls engage in nocturnal adventures while their bodies sleep, they might change their attitudes towards what’s beyond, though I doubt many would if it went against their entrenched beliefs.

‘As for you, James, your soul has awakened in this elevated domain, even if your mind hasn’t caught up to what your heart already knows. That’s normal enough; without the guidance of the heart, the mind is always confused. Nevertheless, once you acknowledge your spiritual state of existence, you will feel even lighter as you experience gravity to be a weak force field that can easily be adjusted to function in higher octaves.’

After returning from collecting wood below the tree line, Eli joined us while we were returning from the ridge’s pinnacle. I wasn't sure how he could have accomplished so much in a fraction of the time it should have required, but then, I could no longer be sure of anything else here. What seemed impossible to me was normal to them. Regardless, I wasn’t prepared to concede to the unthinkable fairytale they were proposing, the consequences of which were too extreme, not to mention bizarre.

‘I find it curious, I said, that you both often use the term Earth plane. So, tell me, what’s that supposed to mean?’

‘Understand,’ Eli said. ‘you are walking on this Earth, although not on the same plane where your emaciated body lies somewhere in London. And yet, you, qua you, the essential James, are nowhere near there but instead with us dwelling within a higher frequency that transcends Earth’s limitations. When you accept you are no longer subject to the density where your physical body currently resides, you will be able to do many interesting things.’

‘Do interesting things like what?’ I asked. ‘Apart from observing your weird antics, there’s not a lot of spectacular things I can do up here. Not that I’m complaining since I needed the rest.’

‘Well then,’ Mo said, ‘what might you wish to do? Get creative, James; you can fly off anywhere just like Peter Pan.’

‘Fly? What do you mean by fly? I think I already had enough flying after being dispatched down the abyss, so I have no intention to fly off anywhere other than out of the Santiago International Airport.’

‘I don’t blame you,’ Eli said; ‘I mean, getting smashed about all the way down… that had to hurt. Anyway, for now, there’s no need for you to fall into more black holes since there are better ways to get to where you need to go. We only ask that you cooperate with us so we can help you discover what’s available to you in your new realm! Think of this as a sneak preview of better things to come, even while your physical vessel in London remains on standby. Be grateful; few get to experience anything like this, a once-in-a-lifetime afterlife adventure!

‘A once-in-a-lifetime, afterlife type of experience; what are you smoking, Eli?’

‘Probably a knock-off from Armenia,’ Mo said. ‘For whatever reason, Eli enjoys that pungent East European taste. Nevertheless, whatever he’s smoking won’t get you as high as where you are. So, be sure to appreciate your time here with us; before you know it, you’ll get slammed back into your body, and it probably won’t feel good. Don’t be surprised if it feels like being thrown into a body bag.

‘Although, once you readjust, you’ll appreciate what an astonishing learning device your body is and no longer feel confined by it. But let’s leave that for now; we need to get you up and flying high.’

‘Yes, of course, I’ll leave first thing in the morning to get back to Santiago in time to fly out before I completely lose track of time.’

‘For now,’ Eli said, taunting me, ‘why not try jumping the chasm below? I’m sure you’d have much better luck this time than last. I dare you!’

‘That’s madness,’ I said. ‘I’m neither an acrobat nor a kangaroo!’

‘You don’t have to be either,’ Mo said, ‘since you are lighter and more agile than both, so go ahead and try… you might be surprised. Compared to your biological body, which was constricted to this world’s density, you now have the freedom to manoeuvre through the aether at will. The physical body serves several purposes, but flying isn’t one of them. However, in this disincarnate state, that’s all changed now… you just need to accept it.’

‘We chose to be born on the earth plane,’ Eli said, ‘because it provides our soul with obstructions that can only be experienced through the resistances of physicality. These encounters are often challenging, but that’s how we discover who we are and what we want. We could never learn these lessons in the spirit domain. Regardless, for now, we don’t recommend you jump into any chasms even if it served you well as a temporary portal into our  reality.’

‘I’ll try to restrain myself,’ I said wryly, not that I believe in whatever you’re talking about.’

‘Maybe not now,’ Mo said, ‘but you will once you become more enlightened. Should you answer the call, you will view life much differently, and most certainly, your spirit will have no desire to return to the Flatlands, the Hill Country or the Lowlands but rather remain on this Summit, even while you physically occupy these lands below as you contribute to humanity’s spiritual evolution. In this contrast lies the perfect opportunity for you to advance, not alone, but with many who will share your vision.’

‘There you go again, talking about the Lowlands, Flatlands and now the Hill Country, too. So, where in your fertile imaginations do these phantasmic lands exist?’

‘After you return from your adventures,’ Eli said, ‘you will understand where you’ve lived most of your life. Then, you will forever say goodbye to the swamps, bogs, ruts, flat deserts, and thorny hills and remain on the Summit regardless of where you lay your head below on God’s green earth.’

‘You certainly are intent on taking this story about as far as you can, aren’t you?’

‘Probably not as far as where you will be going.’

‘I laughed. So what in bloody hell is that supposed to mean?’

‘If you knew who you are,’ he said, ‘you would already know.’

‘Wonderful, now you’re answering your riddles with more riddles. Did you dream this stuff up?’

‘No, but maybe you did,’ Eli chuckled, ‘how else would this reality you’re now experiencing have manifested into existence? Did it not start with that dream several months ago?’

 I’d have to think about that; they might have me there. Still, they had pushed the limits of credulity, expecting me to make sense of what made no sense and to believe that we somehow exist in an alternate dimension. What kind of fool did they take me to be?

After returning to the cabin, Eli made a fresh pot of tea as we relaxed by the fireplace. Unfortunately, they didn’t let up, as they continued to go on about lofty esoterica that I didn’t understand or care to understand. It almost seemed they were trying to provoke me into reacting to what they were saying.

After a while, Mo turned to me and asked: ‘You look intent, James; what are you brooding about now?’

I got up to my feet, visibly agitated, pronouncing most emphatically. ‘You know something, chaps; you’re both wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong! How can you expect me to believe anything you say? No matter how much you try to convince me otherwise, sure as bloody hell, I’m still in my body!’

‘You sure as bloody hell are,’ Eli said with an annoying smirk, ‘though more of a caterpillar version than the butterfly version you seem to think you are. Even when you shed your outward cocoon, your essence will remain the same; it can never die or become harmed since it’s of spirit and, therefore, unlike your body, remains immortal.

‘As we mentioned, many names have accumulated over the centuries for more subtle forms of body. We call it your spiritual body, a divine thought-form that’s derived and projected from spiritual essence in whatever dimension you exist.

‘Therefore, it has no best-before date and never becomes stale-dated. That’s quite the opposite of how entropy debilitates the material body over time until it finally expires. Literally, the spirit body lasts forever and will keep getting lighter and brighter as you continue towards higher realms of existence. In higher dimensions of pure consciousness, the physical body, as you think of it, no longer has a reason to exist.’  

‘Sure thing, Eli… always the metaphysician, almost as bad as Mo. Obviously, you both believe in paranormal phenomena; in fact, I’m sure you do since it’s all you seem to talk about. That’s fine; I can tolerate that if that’s where you’re at, but you take things too far when you insult my professional intelligence, telling me I have no brain. What a joke!’

I wasn’t in a credulous mood and let them know I wasn’t about to be taken for a fool with more of their chicanery.

‘You know, I’m a trained, rational sceptic, so I’m not about to sacrifice hard, real-life logic for fantasy.’

‘All we ask,’ Mo said, ‘is that you open your mind long enough for us to prove to you that you are not in the kind of body that’s subject to the limitations of the third dimension. That’s all. We can prove this to you in a flash... quite literally. No matter how clever you think you are, you can’t learn anything by closing your mind to what’s possible; that’s as foolish as it is arrogant. Is that the kind of sceptic you pride yourself in being?’

That was below the belt. Now I was really irate! After being subjected to all their bunkum, they had finally pushed me over the edge. I had had enough. My intellectual sensibilities had been amply taxed; it was time for me to move on. As a professional philosopher, I didn’t need anyone to tell me whether my mind was open. At least I was rational, and that’s all that mattered, which was a lot more than I could say for them!

In silence, I went to the window, staring blankly towards the Western Sierra. Finally, I turned around. ‘Sorry, chaps, I’m from London, not Tibet. We believe much differently there, so your metaphysical speculations are of little interest to me. But don’t let me stop you. Carry on… only without me. It’s already past when I planned to leave. Provided the old bus makes it back, I might have enough time to visit a few historic sites in Santiago before my flight.’

With that, I climbed to the loft, stuffed my belongings into my backpack, slung it over my shoulders, came down and headed directly to the door.

‘Cheers and salutations… if you’re ever in London, call me, and I’ll show you around my campus. I know a great pub where I’d be pleased to buy you a couple of rounds of bitter; it’s the least I can do after all your generosity.’

‘That would be jolly,’ Eli said. ‘I’m sure we’ll see you soon… possibly much sooner than you think.’

‘Here,’ Mo said, ‘take a few provisions with you. You don’t need them, but since you think you do…’

‘Adios amigos,’ I said as I walked out the door.

While making my way towards the westerly ridge, I glanced at my topographical map, noting this route would be much different than what I took on my ascent. Nevertheless, I was confident I could save at least half a day by taking advantage of the northwesterly slope, where I’d be able to surf down the loose scree at least 1,200 metres before things dropped off precipitously. With my experience, however, I was sure I’d soon find a way to the base.

It was already mid-afternoon when I started, so after a few hours of descent, I was satisfied I was on course. I noticed a small plateau far below where I could spend the night. It wouldn’t be too big a challenge to access, although I couldn’t be sure about how feasible it would be to continue below that, but that was a rish I was willing to take. At worse, I could always scramble back up to find a better way.

As I carefully lowered myself down the jagged rocks, I had a few flashbacks where things didn’t end well when I tried to cross the chasm. It's funny how I had put those dreadful scenes behind me as though nothing had happened. And maybe it didn’t… though it seemed it had. Still, I didn’t know for sure; it could have all been just a dream relapse. At least I was in great shape, so there was nothing to be concerned about since I could always improvise. If I could survive that last fall without even a scratch, I should be able to survive almost anything. I was right about that, only for a reason I didn’t yet understand.

It wasn’t until I got most of the way down the last drop that it occurred to me that I might be in trouble. Possibly a lot of trouble! In my haste, I became a bit careless while lowering my body down several ledges where it would be challenging to retreat if necessary, especially with the rock being so sheer. Without thinking, I slid part of the way down an escarpment, which, if I couldn’t continue further down, might leave me no way up again.

Even if I were able to anchor my rope higher up, it wouldn’t have been long enough to pull myself all the way up. I tried not to be too concerned since I felt reasonably confident I’d be resourceful enough to find a way.

As it turned out, I was wrong. Short of a parachute, there was no possible way. ‘Bloody hell,’ I exclaimed, cursing. ‘Now, what am I supposed to do?’

I was in a precarious position where I needed to retreat about thirty yards back up and hope to find a more feasible way to descend. With some struggle, I scrambled toward the ridge where I had lowered myself. It was most evident climbing up the precipice was too sheer and steep to get any traction. 

‘Damn… damn, damn!’ I exclaimed again as the skies darkened with thick storm clouds moving in from the Pacific. It might rain within an hour or less, and then it would be getting dark. But since there wasn’t much I could do about it, I’d have to wait until morning and then try to figure something out.

As it rained through the night, I attempted to distract myself in my miserable solitude, recounting all I experienced on the summit with those two peculiar characters. If there ever were a reason to believe in off-world aliens, they would be it.

By now, it had become impossible to focus on anything. As despondency overwhelmed me, I wondered if I’d end up dying on this ledge with condors picking away at my rotting flesh until there was nothing left.

As the sun rose, I continued searching further along the ledge where I might find an approach to get some footing. It wasn’t the first time I was in a tight spot before finding a way out. But by midday, I had exhausted every possibility: up, down and across… I was hooped! I really should have planned this better. A satellite phone would have come in handy. Unfortunately, I was overconfident, tempting fate, causing me to be ill-prepared by leaving the cabin so impulsively.

Before taking this route, I should have gone down the way I came up or at least studied the topography map more thoroughly on this side of the mountain before assuming what I shouldn’t have since it wasn’t what Eli recommended… which probably was why I chose it. But then, I didn’t find him all that helpful, as if he didn’t care, or possibly he wasn’t as knowledgeable as he led me to believe. Or worse yet, had he set me up for failure, possibly to teach me some lesson?

Regardless, I shouldn’t have flown off the handle as I did. Even if there was some truth of my being arrogant and ignorant, as Mo seemed to suggest, they had pushed my limits. The ontological implications of existing in another dimension were unsettling, which is why I resisted most of what they had tried to tell me. It was easier to dismiss them as delusional than admit I was wrong.

A less educated person, unskilled in critical thinking, might have accepted what they said, but not me; I knew too much. Over the last few years, I had increasingly become a hardened agnostic and sometimes atheist sceptic, so how could I ever believe in any such nonsense as a spirit body? Even Yeshua’s resurrection story, I told myself, was another myth contrived and perpetrated by Constantine’s newly instituted Latin Church, although evidence for the Shroud of Turin being imprinted with a photo-negative gave me pause.

After attempting every possible alternative, I sat slumped on the ledge, helplessly watching the sun drop below the horizon for the second time. Feeling broken and defeated, the stark reality I might be doomed gripped me, frightening me to the core. I didn’t wish to die since it seemed there remained more for me to accomplish, not to mention all the young women I’d disappoint if I ceased to exist while still in my prime.

I was not one to pray, except in jest, as I did to Zeus the night before my wild dream. So, instead of supplicating imaginary mountain gods, I tried a technique to relax my mind. Unfortunately, I was not that good at meditation, even less now while paralysed in fear.

I reasoned that even if there were a God or gods out there somewhere, there would likely be better things to do than conduct a Search and Rescue mission for a stranded philosopher in the Andes – especially one who refused to believe in anything other than himself. Judging from the pictures transmitted from the Hubble Telescope, the infinite cosmos seemed a sizeable area for any such deity to manage.

After another fitful and sleepless night, by sunrise, I had resigned all hope of ever finding a way out alive. I decided to pray my agnostic prayer just in case someone up there was listening. Though the prayer wasn’t all that elaborate, nevertheless, it was to the point: ‘HELP!’

Not surprisingly, the heavens remained brass, just as I expected. Of course, no one was up there listening. No one at all… except for…

‘Get yourself into a situation down there, mate?’

I looked up to see where the voice was coming from. Oh yes, there was someone up there, alright, though not as high as in the heavens. Sitting about thirty yards above me was Eli, calmly taking a drag on a fag he held between his finger and thumb like some Bohemian, legs casually dangling over the ledge.

‘If I were you, I’d be concerned about missing the bus back to Santiago,’ he said with an impish grin. ‘And, if you insist on lounging about here all day, you might miss your flight too.’

‘Eli, what in the bloody hell are you doing here?’

‘Obviously, I’m watching you! Mo and I noticed the route you took might not have been such a good idea, so I decided to check lest something unfortunate might occur on the way down. If I’m not mistaken, you appear to be stranded; is that right? Or, did you decide to camp here?’

‘God, am I ever glad to see you!’

‘And I’m sure God is happy to see you too.’

‘This is no time for joking, Eli… I hope you brought a rope,’ I yelled up to him. ‘We’re going to need at least ninety feet. If you don’t have a belay anchor, you’ll need to tie it around your waist so I can pull myself up.’

‘Sorry, James, I didn’t think to bring anything except this pack of fags. Want one?’

‘No rope… that’s just brilliant! So, now what are we supposed to do?’

‘You mean, what are you supposed to do?’ he chuckled. Most apparently, he was enjoying himself.

‘I’ve already tried everything I could.’

‘Have you tried jumping up? You must have jumped down, so why not try jumping back up? I can’t believe you didn’t think of that.’

‘Jump straight up to where you’re sitting – are you crazy?’

‘Possibly, but why not try it anyway? Unless you don’t think you’re up to it?’ he snickered in self-amusement.

‘Eli, this is no time for your clever word games; I need you to go back to the cabin and find me a rope… quickly. I don’t want to have to spend another night here.

‘I’m not sure if we have a rope… definitely not with anchors. Don’t worry, though; I’ll give you a hand.

‘James, look over there… what’s that, a condor swooping down at you?’

‘Where?’ I asked as I turned, alarmed.

 ‘There’s no condor.’

But when I looked back up, he wasn’t there. Instead, he was standing behind me, laughing, fag still hanging out the side of his mouth.

‘What the… how in bloody hell did you get down here?’

‘Same as you; what else?

‘Eli! Now we’re both doomed, you cretin. What were you thinking?’

‘Didn’t I say I’d give you a hand? Though, don’t expect an applause... at least not yet.’

He must have thought he was funny, even if I didn’t, considering we were now both stranded.

‘Here, sling on your backpack and grab my hand.’

Even though I didn’t understand what he was up to, I clasped his outstretched hand as he laughed, obviously amused at the bewildered look on my face.

‘Okay, James, all I need you to do is empty your mind and focus on where I was sitting above. Can you do that much? – because that’s where I’m going. If you wish, you’re welcome to come along for the ride.’

Before I could ask what he meant, he shouted: ‘Get ready, here we go!’

And sure enough, go we did… instantly, straight up to where Eli had been sitting. I was in shock.

‘Jesus Christ, Eli! Who are you?’

‘That’s a question you might wish to ask him, not me. I’m not your saviour, just a bloke on the path who gave you a hand when you most needed it.’

‘Sure, of course,’ I said, feeling both relieved and confused.

‘Still, what you did, Eli… was impossible.’

‘But no, James, it’s what you did. In taking my hand, even at that moment, you allowed yourself to do what was always possible. You could have done the same had you realised what you were capable of in your body’s higher dimension.’

‘I’d say that had to be some kind of mind trick; what else could it be?’

‘Ah, James, my intellectual egghead… has not everything Mo and I told you not been most apparent? Unladen by the ego, most would have twigged on to this by now… at least those not filled with preconceived philosophical beliefs on how things can and cannot be. Think about it… or perhaps not, since that seems to be your problem… overthinking things! 

‘Nevertheless, let’s be on our way; we can talk more after we return to the cabin. By the way, Mo said he’d have dinner ready for us.’

‘That would be splendid, but how would he know I’m returning?’

‘I just told him. So, unless you wish to search for another way down, I hope you like baked Yorkshire pudding with beef and gravy… better than you’ve ever tasted back home.’

‘Yes, of course. Besides, I could use a change of scenery; I’m getting rather tired of this.

After being rescued, I wasn’t about to argue about the dinner menu. As much as I wished to carry on with my descent, it was not possible since I would have to ascend a long way up to find a more viable route down… if I could.

Though humbled, I was not ready to think about what had occurred with Eli on the ledge. The physics of natural law had been violated, and along with that, my rational sensibilities had been threatened!

As we commenced our arduous scramble back up to the summit, I could hardly believe how effortlessly Eli scampered up the slopes and even the precipices. It hardly seemed possible. After waiting for me to catch up, I remarked that he must participate in Triathlon competitions to be in such excellent shape.

‘James, I realise you’re bright, and I respect your cognitive prowess… but when are you going to get it? I just transported you off the ledge, and now you’re perplexed by how effortlessly I scramble up these precipices. It’s always the clever ones who have difficulty accepting what should be obvious since they’re too full of intellectual clutter to see things as they are or could be.

‘So, yes, most certainly, I’m in excellent shape since I can hardly be otherwise. You don’t need to train to be an Ironman when that’s what you are. And you know something else? – so are you! Why keep pretending you’re an underperformer by making this a lot more difficult than it needs to be? There’s no reason we shouldn’t have made it back to the lodge long ago. Hopefully, our dinner won’t be cold.’

But I couldn’t do it! My concerns about gravity determined that I must claw my way back up, which is the only way I knew how. It was most humiliating to see him far ahead, waiting for me to catch up. Of course, he could have slackened his pace; instead, it seemed he wanted to make a point. Still, I had to ask myself, what if, as he suggested, I had these same abilities? Not possible! Even if he could, I certainly was no comic book hero defying the laws of gravity.

After several hours of struggling back up to the summit, we finally arrived… a most welcomed sight after all I had endured. Considering how indecorously I exited, I felt a bit sheepish as I stepped through the door. Nevertheless, Mo greeted me graciously.

As we sat down to eat, he said, ‘It’s too bad you had to go through some difficulties with your descent. Had you stayed, we could have saved you a lot of grief by giving you a demonstration in what might be called kinesiology-unhinged. But don’t worry, we’ll see what we can do to give you an introductory course in the morning. Meanwhile, dig in.’

That night, after I retired to my loft, all I could think of was how Eli must have tricked me like some stage magician, even after all that occurred the last couple of days, including my rescue. Though I sought a rational explanation, I couldn’t seem to come up with anything that made sense for his stunt… as I still considered it. My entrenched beliefs wouldn’t permit the possibility of an alternate, more expansive description of natural law as they had proposed and perhaps demonstrated.

Was it possible that our physical laws were not as immutable as I assumed? What if they were subject to other laws that both transcended natural law instead of negating what we call natural law? But if so, my little universe would come crashing down or at least need to expand significantly.

After breakfast, Mo and Eli led me along the eastern portion of the summit ridge. Though they didn’t say why we were going there, I suspected this was where they wanted to demonstrate some of their voodoo. Though I continued to feel frustrated in not coming up with an explanation for what happened yesterday, I still hadn’t forgotten how Eli saved my life, so, for now, I would go along with their charade. Nevertheless, I was in no mood for going along with whatever they were contriving.

‘Today, James, you’re going to learn how to fly, only without flying,’ Mo said. ‘It’s part of the entrance requirements for Summit U. You must pass this test before you can receive full admission into our post-doctorate programme.’

‘No offence, Mo,’ I said, ‘but I’m not sure I wish to be admitted to your university at this time since I have classes of my own to teach.’

‘I’m sure you will change your mind as soon as you discover what we’re about to show you. To make this easier, let’s start with the basics: picture yourself on that stump beside the big rock just past the shrub. It’s not going anywhere, but you are. Now, see yourself there, repositioned.

‘Once you realise you’re not limited to Earth’s frequency,’ Eli said, ‘it will make it a lot easier to deport your body like you did yesterday, only this time you will do it on your own. There’s nothing complicated about this. It’s like being transported, except no transition is involved since there’s no in-between getting from here to there. There is no getting; you’re just there… instantly.

‘In fact,’ Eli said, ‘electrons do it all the time in your science laboratories back home. If you’re up on your physics, you will know you are comprised of entangled energy units, regardless of what body you’re in. As a philosopher, you should know that.’

‘I’m not exactly sure what you have in mind with this exercise; it sounds like another mind game, making me susceptible to your suggestions. I know how good you both are at doing that. Nevertheless, after what you did for me yesterday in rescuing me off the ledge, I’m willing to play along. So now, what do you want me to do?’

‘Start by relaxing to get you in the right zone,’ Mo said. ‘Then, take a few deep breaths and let go of whatever doubts your lower mind harbours. Next, I want you to envision your body teleporting without getting up and walking over there. Any notion of a physical transition would defeat the purpose.’

‘So, you want me to go somewhere without going anywhere in between? Most amusing!’

‘Was it amusing when we relocated off the ledge yesterday?’ Eli asked. ‘Do you remember any in-between there?’

‘Okay,’ I said, ignoring his comment, ‘but what if I wish to go somewhere else?’

‘Go anywhere you like, as long as you know how to find your back.’

‘Good point,’ I said.

‘So, to get you started, begin by envisioning yourself beside that stump.’

‘Are you serious? That’s a long way!’

‘It’s less than thirty yards, James, and it’s not even straight up like yesterday. Your problem is that you don’t want to believe it until you see it, but how can you see it unless you first believe it? So go ahead, what’s holding you down?’

It was becoming increasingly apparent the laws of reality were about to shift for me. Yet, I wasn’t about to admit to myself I had been wrong about almost everything up here. How could I, my education had been too long and expensive to dismiss it now.

Again, I wondered if I was on a drug trip. At least that would be more palatable than finding I was in the company of two spooks, even though everything pointed to it. Worse yet, what would that make me? I didn’t want to think about that. 

Mo stood gazing at me sternly, provoking me to make a move.

‘Just do it,’ he said, ‘it’s not like we’re asking you to jump across the chasm. You’ve already tried that, albeit not so successfully. Nevertheless, if you get this right, you might want to try it again. At least the landing would be much softer.’

‘I’d prefer not to consider that possibility,’ I said with some annoyance.

I didn’t particularly appreciate being taunted into some trick that, ostensibly, was designed to prove Newton wrong… along with me. How did I get myself into this?

‘I have an idea, I said. ‘Why don’t you try it, Eli? From what I saw yesterday, you’re rather good at such manoeuvres! If there’s something to this, perhaps I can learn from that.’

‘I’d prefer that you go first, James,’ he said. ‘I don’t need more practice. If you don’t experience this directly, how will you learn? Your sceptical mind will always rationalise things away, telling you it was only an optical illusion. Worse still, you would probably believe your mind before your eyes.’

Having exhausted my excuses to evade this exercise, I felt I had no choice. These blokes had me and weren’t about to give me an honourable way out.

‘Sure, why not? I’ll go along with your sport. Then, maybe later, we can take turns playing. So, tell me again, what is it you want me to do?’

‘First, stop thinking and see yourself standing by the stump. Intend it; then believe it is so. That’s all you need to do, nothing more. And for God’s sake, stop trying to talk yourself out of this.’

I was about to make up a shaman incantation in jest, yet I didn’t get the chance. Somehow, I must have imagined myself standing on the stump by the big rock because suddenly, there I was… instantly!

I was shocked, even more than yesterday, since I did it myself. I had performed my first impossible stage trick… except it was no trick.

‘Holy (bleep)! Did I do that?’ I exclaimed from where I was standing.

‘Cool, eh?’ Eli said.

‘Bloody hell… how could this have happened? And yet, most evidently, it did. Imagine that; I just broke Newton’s most established law!’

‘Why not,’ Mo said, ‘Newton doesn’t have much sway in these parts, although Heisenberg[70] sure does!’

‘Okay,’ Eli said, ‘now try to make your way back to where you were. As you mentioned before: Wherever you go, there you are.’

‘Sure, no problem,’ I said laughing, wholly caught up in my new hop-skip game, fascinated with the lightness of my newfound agility. I did it! I would have to set my intellectual pride aside and re-consider my old ontologies. For now, though, I couldn’t care less.

‘Okay, so let’s step things up,’ Mo said. ‘And I mean really up. See if you can levitate.’

I was beginning to feel like Luke Skywalker being instructed by Yoda with his gravity-defying exercises. The movie scene came to mind as I imagined floating up somewhere above where I was standing. ‘Okay, here goes. WOO-HOO! Look at me!’ I yelled. ‘Up here, over the tree!’ (One of the few stunted trees growing on the summit). ‘So, how am I supposed to get down?’

‘You could climb down the tree,’ Eli said, ‘or how about coming down the way you went up by simply intending it; it’s that easy. The will is of the spirit, so this body must respond since it’s nothing but the manifestation of your spirit.’

‘Ah, yes, coming down! Oh, that was fast, and I didn’t even smash my head against the rocks this time! Houston, the Eagle has landed! That was bizarre: like being an eagle.’

‘You’ve certainly had your share of ups and downs these last days, haven’t you,’ Eli chuckled.

‘Really nothing to it. I didn’t even have to flap my wings to get from here to there. That technique would be handy back at my flat; I wouldn’t even have to climb the stairs.’

‘Much like gravity,’ Mo said, ‘it’s more of an expression of your spiritual existence than a technique.’

‘Never thought of myself as a spiritual,’ I chuckled.

‘It’s hard not to be spiritual when that’s all you are. But we agree, you’re not exactly a saint, although you now have something in common with a saint. Ever hear of Saint Teresa of Ávila, a Spanish mystic from the medieval era?’[71]

‘I remember hearing something about her. Even though I’ve never read anything she wrote, it seems she had some rather profound things to say… at least for the devout.’

‘Indeed, she did. Yet, what you did took her several years to achieve. Not that she intentionally worked at levitating; likely, it came naturally from her sublime devotion and openness to Spirit. Many purported to witness her levitating during mass: quite the accomplishment at that time in history. It’s amazing she didn’t get burned at the stake.’

‘Although she wasn’t the only one. On occasion, it happens to various yogis and mystics, though rarely. I once saw this while walking through a square in Rome. I’ll tell you about it sometime.’[72]

‘Most interesting; I wonder if I’ll be able to do that when I return home.’

‘It might be worth a try.’ Eli said, ‘by giving a little demonstration to your colleagues during a faculty meeting sometime. Just think, by perching yourself a few feet above, you could talk down to them, then they’d have no choice but to look up to you,’ he laughed.

‘Although I’m not sure if I would want to be perceived as some circus freak, I’m already considered a bit of an oddity in the department, so it might be a bit embarrassing if word ever got out what I was up to,’ I chuckled.

‘I wouldn’t be too concerned… what happens on this side stays on this side,’ Eli grinned. ‘I suspect, however, even if you got glimmerings of what happened here, you will be your own greatest sceptic where you would create an intricate web of clever rationalisations so this reality would seem more like a dream in a dream.’

‘Still, it might be fun trying to levitate in class should my students get bored with my lectures. That might get their attention, although I’d soon get into big trouble with the authorities for doing the impossible. They frown on that sort of thing,’ I chuckled.

‘Instead of trying to suspend your body in mid-air,’ Mo said, ‘we suggest you suspend any doubts and judgments you might have had.’

‘I still can’t believe I did this,’ I said. ‘That was unbelievable… how could that happen?’

‘You might say this was your leap of faith... literally. You had to make it so. No one can convince you to do anything you don’t wish to believe is possible. Though we did a little prodding, it was you who created a wedge of belief, allowing you to make this leap.

‘Had you refused to believe,’ Mo said, ‘teleporting would not have been possible, but fortunately, your soul knew more than your mind would admit. That’s why, once you allowed yourself, you were able to accomplish this feat with relative ease. It’s also why we didn’t insist you try this earlier since your beliefs would have ensured that you fail, and you may never have tried again. We first needed to open you up, so yesterday’s lift off the ledge helped you to believe it was possible, though somewhat begrudgingly.

‘Yes, I guess I did make the big leap, both literally and figuratively. You blokes win; not only am I out of my mind… it seems I’m out of my body, too,’ I laughed. ‘So, whatever became of gravity in all this?’

‘As you observed,’ Mo said, ‘you don’t need to experience gravity if you don’t wish to since it’s part of the Earth’s lower frequency, not ours. As such, we can modify or even suspend it, but it can’t have its way with us, such as casting us down abysses or anything that’s not in accordance with our will.

‘And so, your etheric body, being in a higher octave, can never be constrained by gravity’s force field. Instead, increasing our frequency can claw back its draw to the extent we wish to remain grounded or release it all together while teleporting as you just did.

‘The fact is, no one seems to know what gravity is,’ Eli said, only that it’s somehow part of an electromagnetic matrix that keeps things from floating away. Most of your world’s understanding relates more to what it does than what it actually is. Yet for a moment, you were able to suspend your resistance long enough to become untethered.’

‘Some scientists consider gravity a form of electromagnetic energy transduced to sustain life on Earth. Did you know electromagnetism is 1037 more powerful than what we call gravity? Talk to any physicist you wish about this phenomenon; they don’t have any definitive answers for this, just more questions.’[73]

‘Now, for as long as you remain here, your spirit body, being of a higher dimension, is unencumbered by electromagnetic forces, so there are no limits to where you can go. Ever since you metamorphosised into a spirit body, you were free; it’s just that you didn’t realise it.

‘However,’ Mo said, ‘very few in your world are able to transport themselves beyond their physical bodies; nevertheless, it can be done and continues to be practised by a few advanced souls. Some can even bi-locate.’

‘Bi-locate – what’s that?’

‘Certain advanced beings have learned to manifest in more than one location at a time simply by splitting their consciousness, even while remaining in the flesh. And best of all, they can do it without falling down an abyss,’ grinned.

‘So you’re saying there might be better approaches to bifurcating than abandoning my body.’

‘Indeed,’ Eli said. However, that might have been the only way for you to shake off your body’s low density, allowing your soul to enter this dimension. Seemingly, a bit dramatic, or should I say traumatic, but at least you got here.’

Later that night, after retiring to my loft, I thought about how some of us, as humans, resist what should be evident. It seems especially true if someone tries to convince us of something contrary to our established beliefs. And triple that for anyone like me who takes pride in being right about everything. Scepticism can be a good thing, provided one keeps an open mind.

I had to face it; these revelations about my body’s altered state would overturn most of my philosophical applecarts. I wouldn’t have been able to do what I just did today if what Mo and Eli said weren’t true. It was hard to believe, yet it seemed Newton’s rules weren’t the only game in town, at least not on this summit. It was apparent that I would have no choice but to accept this state of existence as my new reality… a reality I hadn’t asked for… or had I?

[65] This was an unfamiliar word to me until I heard Mo use the term, having to do with a replete presence, evoking awe ad even mystical resonance.  
[66] Peter D. Ouspensky (1878-1947), the Russian philosopher, writes in this book, Tertium Organum, (1912) ‘I have called this system of higher logic Tertium Organum because for us it is the third canon - third instrument of thought after those of Aristotle and Bacon. The first was the Organon, the second, Novum Organum. But the third existed earlier than the first.’
[67] I've elaborated on this in Book Two, Chapter 13, First Stop, The Flatland Plains
[68] I believe Mo was referring to the passage: ‘I know a man in Christ who fourteen years ago whether in the body I do not know, or out of the body I do not know, God knows-such a man was caught up to the third heaven… and heard inexpressible words, which a man is not permitted to speak.’ 2 Cor. 12:2-4, (NIV)
[69] Of course, Mo would be the first to agree that many mystical traditions exist within these religions, such as Muslim Sufism, Jewish Hasidism, Christian Gnosticism, and many other esoteric expressions.
[70] In reference to physicist Werner Heisenberg’s Uncertainty Principle, which was central to the development of quantum theory in the early twentieth century.
[71] Saint Teresa of Ávila, the Spanish mystic of the sixteenth century, was observed to have levitated during mass on certain occasions while in a mystical state of consciousness.
[72] Mo later told me about this incident, which will be relayed in the following chapter.
[73] One such example would be Carlo Rovelli, an Italian theoretical physicist and head of the Quantum Gravity group at the Centre de Physique Theorique of Aix-Marseille University. He is also the author of Reality Is Not What It Seems: The Journey to Quantum Gravity.

 

PENDING PUBLICATION OF ELYSIUM’S PASSAGE SERIES

                                       

 

THE ASCENT: Chronicles of Elysium’s Passage

THE SUMMIT: Chronicles of Elysium’s Passage

QUANTUM LEAPS: Chronicles of Elysium’s Passage

SURREAL ADVENTURES: Chronicles of Elysium’s Passage

MYSTICAL ROMANCE: Chronicles of Elysium’s Passage

THE ELIXIR: Chronicles of Elysium’s Passage

THE RETURN: Chronicles of Elysium’s Passage

 

1. THE ASCENT is the first novel in the Chronicles of Elysium’s Passage that’s foundational to everything that happens in the following narratives, which embark on an adventure that will surprise and delight the reader like no other book.

It all begins with an extreme adventure of climbing a remote and challenging mountain somewhere in the Andes Mountains. Just as James, the protagonist, is about to reach the mountain summit, he falls into an abyss that leaves him in a coma for almost a year.

After being airlifted by a forestry helicopter and flown back to London, where his body remained for almost a year. Eventually, he learns it was not he but his body that was rescued. Several days later, without understanding what happened, he continues to climb to the summit in an alternate dimension of higher consciousness.

Fortuitously, he meets two adventurers on the summit ridge who are no longer of this world. After that, his surreal life leads him to several new adventures in the subsequent chronicles, which include a rich mix of adventure, romance, and fantasy, along with profound discussions of philosophy, spirituality, and the afterlife.­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­

2. THE SUMMIT, the second novel in the Chronicles of Elysium’s Passage, carries on where James, the narrator and protagonist, is taught more about a multidimensional reality that he finds difficult to comprehend.

Not only does he find he’s not as clever as he imagined, but his off-world companions on the summit demonstrate that much of what he believed about life was not just parochial but wrong. At first, he finds this difficult to comprehend since their teachings are contrary to his limited understanding of non-material reality.

After being tricked into teleporting off a ledge where he was trapped, James becomes aware of a new reality that makes him capable of far more adventures than he could have ever experienced in his physical body back home.

Now, if only he would win over the only woman in this life who matters, the nurse on the other side of the veil, who continually demonstrates her unconditional love toward his healing.

This book may also open the reader’s eyes to a much vaster reality than many may be aware of. As with the other Chronicles, there are discussions of philosophy, the spiritual afterlife and what might seem like fantasy.

3. QUANTUM LEAPS is the third novel in Chronicles of Elysium’s Passage, where James, the philosopher-protagonist, teleports back to London to visit his body and make contact with the special nurse taking care of it in his absence. Immediately, he feels an inexplicable spiritual bond with her for reasons he remains unaware of.

Now aroused by a renewed interest in matters of love, the beginnings of a relationship begin to emerge as he attempts to reach across the chasm of their worlds. But it’s not until the fifth novel, Mystical Romance, that he encounters her in a way that he finds difficult to believe.

However, before that can happen, there is much about his failed relationships that must be resolved before he is ready to move forward in his new life in Elysium’s Passage. It is during this time he christens his comatose body as the fall guy since it took the fall for him down the abyss so he could learn the lessons he’s now learning.

That will be the next focus of his life, where, in his next Surreal Adventures, he is given virtual lessons to release many of his past beliefs about the world and his life.

4. SURREAL ADVENTURES is the fourth novel in the Chronicles of Elysium’s Passage, which finds James, the protagonist and narrator, escorted by his companions to a remote South Pacific Island, where he is left to reflect on what he’s learned.

During the next forty days, he battles the demons of his past as he works through some rather painful issues from his early youth. Here, in a tropical storm, he encounters an eerie, suspended spectre of the one he loved yet still resents for abandoning him as a child.

After this, he achieves peace of mind and is ready to return to his lodge to join his off-world companions on the Andes summit. However, just when it seemed things couldn’t get any stranger, a sixteenth-century sea captain sails his ancient ‘ghost’ ship onto the beach. Together, they sail off on a mystical ocean voyage to a couple of virtual islands supposedly in the South Pacific, where he witnesses and, at times, participates in several important life lessons.

Near the end, these encounters help prepare him for a new challenge within the interior of a mountain, where he falls deep into a dark tomb of fear. After being rescued by a mysterious stranger wielding his Excalibur, he continues on to where his life is about to be transformed in the following chronicle, Mystical Romance. 

5. MYSTICAL ROMANCE is the fifth chronicle in Elysium’s Passage, which will surprise the reader with a romantic twist of how love is expressed in higher realms. From this lofty perspective, everything about intimacy is understood as within, so without.

After escaping his tomb, James, the narrator and protagonist, makes his way through a maze of tunnels until he arrives at a large oak door, which he opens with the golden key he had been given. There, he steps into Elysium’s Passage’s Great Hall, where his life and recent achievements are celebrated now that his eyes have been opened to perceive a fascinating interior world of wonderment… and romance.

To say more might risk diminishing the multitude of delightful surprises as circumstances begin to open to The Elixir, where James is about to re-enter his earthly body’s existence. 

6. THE ELIXIR is the sixth chronicle of the Elysium’s Passage series that prepares James, the narrator-protagonist, to awaken and return to his body in London. Before that can happen, however, his off-world friend presents a mysterious equation, enshrouded within a light code frequency, that will stimulate the multidimensional DNA strands within him.

Much of this narration is centred in London, where his nurse unknowingly becomes involved in how the Elixir’s equation finds its way from a taxi cab driver to higher echelons of science. There are many twists in how she unwittingly brings the Elixir to the attention of mathematicians and physicists, after which they eventually discover how to code the equation into a laser ray to stimulate his fall-guy body into full consciousness.

Ostensibly a new Adam, he is destined to return humanity to a higher multidimensional existence. How this happens is filled with intrigue, as is his shocking return to his earthly body.

 
­­­­­7. THE RETURN is the seventh and last chronicle in the series where James, the narrator and protagonist, has re-emerged from Elysium’s Passage as he readjusts to life in the third dimension. Many of the events from the previous novels are tied together in an exciting, fast-paced, and action-packed narrative that spans several countries.

 At first, it seems all memories have been lost, with his fall guy’s brain not being aware of what happened to him while in his coma. As a consequence, it takes a while for him to be convinced he had been out of his earthly body for almost a year.

Through some unexpected events and evidence, along with his girlfriend’s urging, he comes to an awareness of what had occurred. It takes a while for his mind to catch up with the changes made in his heart during his stay in the alternate realm. But after experiencing several harsh realities, he discovers what he has become while out of his body. Gradually, he comes to understand the many challenges that lie ahead for him in fulfilling his future mission on Earth.

This book is filled with adventure, romance and personal intrigue that ties together all six previous narratives of the Elysium’s Passage series.

 

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