August 2007 - Posts

Gideon McGee's Dream: Chapter Seven
“You didn’t have much to say,” Gideon said as he and Zacharaias sped away from the Land of the Gatekeeper and back through the door through which they entered.

“The visit wasn’t for me, Gideon. Millions of years ago a guide, much like myself, first introduced me to the Land of the Gatekeeper. Lessons once learned can be remembered at any time.”
“What lessons are those?”

“You speak of luck and of unfairness just as I did long ago. The lesson of the Gatekeeper is that as long as you believe luck and unfairness determines the course of your life, you will occasionally find lady luck on your shoulder and unfairness will follow you wherever you go. Your belief is your truth.”

As the galaxies sped by, Gideon reflected on his life and how Zack’s words seemed to penetrate his mind as easily as an arrow pierces a straw target. He tried to squeeze some meaning from what he heard. “If I believe everything that happens to me is fair and that luck plays no part in my destiny, then my life will be perfect?”

“Your life is already perfect, and always has been. You just stopped believing it at an earlier age than most. You came into this life for the experience of it and to explore physical reality. There is nothing you have to be. There is no holy path. There is no better. There is no worse. Everything you do, not what you think about what you do, but what you actually do, moves you along the path of your intent. My job in this journey we have undertaken is to try and show you how to do it with as little trauma and conflict as possible.

“For example,” Zack continued, “many teenagers turn to alcohol and drugs for a high. Wanting this ‘high’ is perfectly normal for humans, for unconsciously you all desire the vaguely remembered experience of the reality you find yourself in now. It is called freedom. Some of you call it heaven, but it is merely a state of being at peace, where no choice is the wrong choice.”

“I didn’t remember that experience,” Gideon said.

“With your brain you don’t remember, but within the deeper levels of who you are you remember everything. Do you remember that iceberg Dr. Spiro used as an example? The visible part is your thinking mind, but the bulk of the iceberg is below the surface, out of view. That part, the submerged part, remembers, and unconsciously your reason for using alcohol and drugs is to regain that spiritual ‘high,’ that sense of oneness with the cosmos where choices are made freely without the value judgments that are attached to beliefs.”

“Then why does everyone say drugs and alcohol is bad?” Gideon asked.
“Because as humans you have chosen to experience life in physical form. It is your choice. There are many others. But you have incorporated in your reality the belief system of duplicity. Duplicity says that some things are good and some things are bad; some things are better and some things are worse. These are beliefs. They are not absolute truths, but they are your truths. Everyones’ beliefs constitute their truth and therefore their reality. This is what your mother was getting at when she told you there are six billion worlds. You create within trauma and conflict because you hold your truth to be THE truth. It is only yours. Do you know the myth of the Phoenix, Gideon?” Zack asked.

“The only thing I know about the Phoenix,” Gideon replied, “is that a city in Arizona is named after it.”

“The Phoenix is a bird that appears in many world myths. It is a bird that burns itself on its own altar, and perpetually rises from its own ashes. It is one of the early models of the resurrection. Like the Phoenix, the contents of our unconscious perpetually attempt a resurrection through the light of consciousness. If we refuse to become conscious, to become awake, our unconscious will throw us into the fiery furnace in an attempt to resurrect itself. After all, there could never have been a Christian resurrection had there not been a crucifixion.”

“So you're saying that sometimes bad things happen to get us to move away from a place where we’re stuck?” Gideon asked.

“Yes. If we don’t pay attention to the more subtle signs the messages will get stronger. It is much like someone knocking gently on your door, knowing you are inside. If you don’t answer he will knock harder until he gets your attention. If you still don’t hear he will knock the door down fearing you may be incapacitated.”

“So, in a way the bad things that happen to us, or the bad that we do, really aren’t bad. Right?”

“There are many realities,” Zack replied. “In your reality you hold the belief that some things are good and some things are bad and you judge both. Try to remember, your judgment perpetuates that which you judge. Good and bad is relative, and a perfect example is to be found in the Diamond Galaxy where we will find the land of ‘What is Good? What is Bad’.”

“How do we get there?”
“Take my hand and think ‘fast’. I’ll do the navigating. If we were in one of your spaceships the journey would take fifteen trillion years, hardly a manageable time frame. This is why thought-travel will be the way you explore the Universes. Are you ready?”

“Ready,” Gideon replied. He held his breath as though he were about to jump into a river from a train bridge.
“Those specks of stars you see are about to streak, as a child’s fingers will streak a dewy window. Watch as they change color. I thought you might enjoy the light show so I’ve slowed down our speed.”

As Zacharaias and Gideon surpassed the speed of light the Universe became light, and the two began traveling back in time. The trillions upon trillions of nuclear infernos that each star represented turned into highways of colored light, a Universe full of rainbows, beginning and ending in infinity.
“Look ahead and to your left, Gideon,” Zack said. “Do you see it?”

Gideon looked as he was instructed and saw an immense black funnel in the middle of one of the red highways.

“What is it?” Gideon asked. “It looks like a tornado.”
“It is what your scientists call a Black Hole, some call it a frozen star. It is a star that has collapsed in on itself, and whose gravitational field is so strong no light can escape it and therefore time stands still.”

“Wow,” Gideon said, surprised that he understood what Zack was saying.
“Your scientists are on the verge of discovering that these Black Holes are actually doorways to different Universes.”

“Did you say Universes? Like more than one?” Gideon asked. “I thought you said Universes before, but I figured I misheard you.”

“They are infinite in number,” Zacharaias replied, as though the knowledge of infinite Universes was kids stuff.


Gideon let loose a high-pitched whistle, for to him this was headline news. As he and Zack grew closer to the Black Hole, Gideon noticed other journeyers. To his left he saw a young girl, no more than ten years old, holding hands with her guide, a woman of indeterminate age, and dressed in a robe much like Zack’s. The little girl was clothed in a hospital gown. Gideon saw the same silver thread attached to her that was attached to his body that lay light years away at the bottom of Round Pond. Her’s reached back as far as his eyes could see. He was reminded of his sister, Prudence, and how much he missed her, although he would never admit it. Gideon wondered if she had made it to the fire station yet.

Gideon turned to Zacharaias. “Is that little girl dead?” he asked.
“Not as long as the silver thread remains,” Zack lied. He knew that she too needed the silver thread as a reassurance. “The girl’s name is Tarla. She has Leukemia and is in the midst of a crisis. Her doctors are trying to revive her as I speak. Her home planet is Zontar.”

“But she's human!” Gideon shrieked. He didn’t know if he could stand many more surprises.

“Indeed,” Zack said. “Humans are the God-seed of many physical realities. It is through you that the Creator experiences her creations. As you create the creator creates and as the creator creates so too do you create. In totality the creator is all that is conscious, and all is conscious.”

“Am I going to remember all of this if I decide to stay alive?”
“You will remember, but not all at once. The lessons, or should I say reminders, you learn on this journey will become available to you as you need them.”

“It looks like everyone is getting sucked down a drain,” Gideon said, changing his attention back to the Black Hole. “How will we get back out? Everything is going into the funnel, but nothing is coming out.”

“Nothing ever escapes out of a Black Hole, with the exception of a particle or two of light,” Zacharaias explained. “But each Universe is connected to every other Universe by these Black Holes. They are like entrance and exit doors, worm holes so-to-speak, each opening in only one direction. To get back to this Universe we merely find the exit in that Universe that connects it to this Universe.”

“God has a lot of irons in the fire, doesn’t he?”
“Yes, she does, Gideon,” Zack said, wondering if Gideon caught the change in pronouns when he referred to God.

“Why do you keep calling God a ‘she’?” Gideon asked.
“Why do you keep calling God a ‘he’?” Zack asked in return.
“Because I was taught God is a man.”

“But it says in your Bible that you were created in the image of the Creator. Your interpretation, Gideon, would exclude half the human race from that image.”
“Yeah, but how can we or God be both male and female?” Gideon asked, sure Zack was playing with his mind.

“Your bodies can’t, but the energies within you can. Whether you know it or not, you learned much at Dr. Spiro’s office. Do you remember the picture hanging in the hallway of his home, the one that you referred to as two fishes eating each other’s tail?”

“Yes,” Gideon answered. “Susan called it the symbol of the Tao, the Way.”
“That’s correct, Gideon. Some refer to those two fishes of yours, the black and the white, as yin and yang, male and female.”

“And each fish has an eye the color of its opposite’s body,” Gideon joined in.
“Very good,” Zack said. “Each fish has its opposite’s energy located at its very center, and, in this way each human being carries both aspects of the Creator despite the sex of the carrier.”

“You're saying I’m part girl inside,” Gideon asked in disbelief. He looked around to see if anyone was within ear-shot.

“How could you ever fully represent the Creator if you weren’t? But it’s not really male/female, more than it is viewing the world through different perceptual lenses. Male and female are merely genders. There are actually three perceptual orientations through which you view the world. Each gender may have any of the three orientations. How could you ever become what you potentially could be if all aspects of the creator were not forever present within you? Male and female still have much to learn from each other and their gender is not as important as their perceptual orientation.”

“No one will ever believe this back home,” Gideon said.
“Many already do, but it will be some time before you remember this teaching if you decide to return to your body.”
“So... Jenny Bloom is part man, and I’m part woman?”
“Not exactly,” Zack replied. “She is female gender and you are male gender, but you both hold the same perceptual orientation.”

“Wild, Zack. Just wild. I don’t understand it all, but I’m beginning to realize that things aren’t what I thought them to be.”
“Your race is still a few generations away from understanding what their reality is all about and how it is changing, but, when you do, the gate to that paradise you think you lost will be refound.”
“Paradise isn’t in heaven?”

“The heavens are mostly empty space,” Zack answered, as they approached the outer rim of the Black Hole. “We’ve traveled billions of light years and through millions of galaxies. Have you seen a heaven? Paradise has always been right in front of your noses, but you were too attached to your unexamined beliefs to see it. For a focus of the soul to incarnate...”

“Incarnate?” Gideon asked.
“For a particular focus of the soul to be in a body, and therefore in space and time, it abides by certain rules of the particular reality it enters. Your reality is constructed by what you believe.”

“Why do you say a focus of the soul incarnates?” Gideon asked. “I always thought the soul was somewhere inside of us, like in our chest or something. You know, a little white spot in our chest.”

“The soul is no puny thing, Gideon. The body is a single focus of the soul, not the other way around. You are the totality of your soul, while at the same time a single focus of the soul. The soul is a little like a TV with an infinite number of stations. You are but one station.”

“You mean I’m like one spotlight of a beam that can generate many, many spotlights and that my soul is that beam?” Gideon asked.
“That’s a good way of looking at it. You’re beginning to get the idea. Come. It is time to enter the Land of What is Good? What is Bad?”

The center of the Black Hole, the door through which they were to pass, was vast. Gideon estimated its diameter to be equal to that of the Earth’s, but the bottom of the funnel, the part that opened to the other Universe, was just wide enough to accommodate two people. It reminded Gideon of a water whirlpool going down a dish drain, wide at the top, but very small at the bottom.

Gideon and Zacharaias entered the Black Hole directly behind the little girl, Tarla, and her guide. “Is it possible for me to talk to any of the other guides and their...” Gideon thought for a moment, his finger absently scratching his temple. “What are we called when we’re not in our bodies?” he asked.

“Yes, it is possible for you to speak with whomever you wish. For lack of a better word you are called a spirit when you are not in your body.”
Gideon looked at Tarla, who flashed a toothy smile in return. At ten her teeth were closer to their adult size than was the rest of her body. She was thin, and most of her blond hair was gone as a result of her chemotherapy. Gideon wanted to approach and, as though reading his mind, Tarla motioned him to join her.

“Hi,” she said. “Zondata tells me your name is Gideon, and you are from the planet Earth.”

“And you’re from Zontar. Zacharaias says your name is Tarla.”
“Yes,” the young girl said, wishing she had remembered to wear her head bandanna before drifting toward death.

“I don’t usually look like this. I’ve been sick.”
“I know,” Gideon said. “Zack told me. You’re very pretty, and your hair will grow back.”

“Thank you, you’re very kind,” Tarla said, a furrow creasing her brow. “Until I nearly died I didn’t know that there were Samans on other planets. Zondata, my guide, says we are everywhere, and that we are God’s seed in all physical realities.”

It took Gideon a moment to realize what Samans were. “We’re called humans on Earth, and I have a sister about your age. You remind me of her, except she wasn’t sick. She was a pain in the neck, but I guess I was a bigger pain. Do you have any brothers or sisters?”

“I have two brothers,” Tarla answered. “Zimec and Rondar. Both are older than me. Rondar is fourteen, and Zimec is eighteen. Rondar never liked me much until I got Leukemia. He was always complaining that life was unfair, that Zimec was better looking, that Zimec was smarter and stronger. Rondar complained about everything. He took his anger at the world, and his jealousy of Zimec, out on me. I think he was really angry at himself.”

“Sounds familiar,” Gideon said, guilt dripping from his voice like honey from a bear-clawed hive.

“Anyway, when I got Leukemia, Rondar began to change. It was almost as if I was supposed to get Leukemia just to wake up Rondar. It was my gift to him. At least that’s what Zondata says. She said I chose my illness for my own reasons, but that Rondar used my illness to learn how to love.”

“Have you decided to go back to your body yet?” Gideon asked, looking at her silver thread.

“Not yet. This is like a vacation. I feel so good in my spirit form, and I know if I go back to my body there will be more pain and suffering. Zondata is showing me things that will help me if I decide to return. She’s showing me how everything has meaning in relation to the intent I had upon entering the world.”

“I haven’t decided to go back either, but I’m beginning to get the feeling that there is much more for me to do back on Earth, and that the doing will be a lot easier.”

“Me too,” Tarla agreed, “and I really miss my parents. They’ve been wonderful and have learned a lot about themselves from my illness. Zondata says that sometimes our soul and other souls send out their focuses in a group so that we can help each other with our intent. My family and I have shared many lifetimes together. Zondata says I’m an old soul. An old soul is not really old, because all souls have always existed. An old soul, Zondata says, is one that has had many, many lives in physical reality. I’m glad we’re all different. It would be pretty dull if we were all the same.”

“I don’t know if I’m an old soul or not,” Gideon said. “But I sure don’t feel like one. I was a real complainer, and sounded much like your brother, Rondar. How did your illness change him?”

“Well, it’s hard to continue thinking life is unfair when you are healthy and strong, and your little sister is battling for her life with Leukemia. He couldn’t be the ‘poor me’ kid anymore, once I got Leukemia. It sort of stinks for me, but when you think about it, it was good for Rondar. I’m sort of glad I could do it for him.”

“It’s funny how a bad thing can have some good in it,” Gideon said, realizing for the first time what Simon meant about seeing manure as crap or fertilizer. It had always been his choice to see it either way. He became excited about his impending visit to the Land of What is Good? What is Bad?

Their descent through the Black Hole made the Cyclone at Six Flags park in Massachusetts seem as tame as an old house dog. They dropped as though sucked from below by an industrial-strength vacuum cleaner, while spinning around the circumference of the funnel with a centrifugal force so strong they couldn’t close their eyes. As the funnel’s circumference grew smaller their bodies began to stretch like so many pieces of salt-water taffy. When they finally reached the end they were spit out into the adjoining Universe like pieces of over-chewed bubble gum. They were scattered in all directions, millions of them.

Gideon was more impressed with the ride through the Black Hole, but wondered about the numbers of fellow travelers. “Why are there so many spirits going to the Diamond Universe?” Gideon asked Zack.

“No more are going to the Diamond Universe than to any other,” Zack replied. “Each Universe offers its own teachings, and each guide determines which Universe would be the most appropriate for each lesson. I have friends who chose the Land of What is Good? What is Bad? in your Universe rather than the Diamond Universe.”

“Why did you choose the Diamond Universe for me?” Gideon asked, noticing for the first time that some spirits had the silver thread attached and some didn’t.
“For the same reason you go to Burger King sometimes instead of McDonald’s; for a change of pace. You get the same beef, but the fixins’ are different. You’ll find the same lessons in the Diamond Universe as in any other, but the fixins’ are different.

“You better say good-bye to Tarla,” Zack said. “We’re going in different directions, and you won’t be seeing her again until you leave your body for good.”
Gideon took Tarla’s tiny hand and wished her luck. She motioned him to bend down, and she kissed him on his cheek, much like Prudence used to do when she was smaller. With no more than a thought she and Zondata were gone, off to a place that Tarla needed to be.
Posted 16 August 07 01:05 from 21st Century Reality | 0 Comments   
Gideon McGee's Dream: Chapter Six
As the galaxies sped by, Gideon thought of the similarities between Moebius and Earth. Although he had done little or no traveling, the technological age in which he lived brought the wonders of his home planet to the twenty-five-inch screen in his living room. On those occasions when he was not allowed to watch MTV because his parents were watching NOVA or National Geographic, Gideon forced himself to view the mysteries of his own world.

In the quietness and solitude of his mind Gideon reluctantly admitted that the volcanic eruption of Mt. Kilueha in Hawaii was more spectacular than watching MTV, although both had a place in his life. He was mesmerized by the sight of the Earth’s most formidable species standing helplessly by, while the inexorable slow-motion flow of lava made a meal of everything in its path.

“Why does the Earth have so many bad things happen? I mean, why does it have earthquakes and volcanic eruptions, hurricanes and tornadoes, lightning and fire?” Gideon’s attention was momentarily diverted by a brilliant three-star system that whizzed by just above him. He thought of his asteroid dream the night of the ice storm.

“The Universe is alive, Gideon, just as you are alive. It is pure consciousness, as you are pure consciousness,” Zack replied. “As your body changes and grows, so does the Earth. It is a reflection of you. You have your breath, the Earth has its atmosphere. You sneeze, the Earth has a hurricane. You cough, it tornadoes. You cry, it rains. You lash out in anger, its volcanoes erupt. You cut yourself, the Earth quakes. You have your blood, the Earth has its water. Your arteries carry your blood to feed your body, the Earth has its rivers to feed the land. The Earth is infinitely more than a mere orb upon which you happen to reside. It is your living home. It has given you birth, just as you have given it birth. The Earth is your collective creation. It is a reflection of your own energies.”

“Why do we pollute it then?” Gideon asked as a red dwarf star exploded into a super nova directly in front of him.
“For the same reason you pollute your own bodies with drugs, alcohol and tobacco,” Zack replied. “You are unaware of the sacredness of all things. How can you respect the Earth when you have yet to learn to respect yourselves? Just as the human infant’s awareness is such that it will swallow poison if made available, so too is the awareness of your species at the infantile stage. You are learning, however, to become aware. Look! The door to the Land of the Gatekeeper is just ahead.”

Floating in the black void, spinning slowly like a merry-go-round, was a red door, a door attached to nothing, and apparently opening into nothing.
“Grab the handle and open the door, Gideon,” Zack said, gently nudging his companion toward the opening.
“But it’s just a door floating in space,” Gideon objected.
“And your body is lying at the bottom of Round Pond, and you are here. There are many realities. Open the door.”

Gideon reached for the golden knob, and turned it hesitantly to the right. As the door opened Gideon saw brilliant sunlight on the other side, but none escaped into the darkness in which he stood.

“Go on through, Gideon. There’s nothing in the Land of the Gatekeeper that will hurt you. It is a world much like your own where each soul creates its own reality.”
“Talk English, will ya, Zack!” Gideon whined. “What does ‘create your own reality’ mean?”

“You must discern that for yourself, but if you remember your mother’s words about four billion people and four billion worlds you’ll have a leg-up on the answer.”

With a gentle yet firm shove, Zack pushed Gideon through the portal then stepped through himself. The Twilight Zone was stuff for three-year-olds compared to this, Gideon thought. In every direction, as far as his eyes could see, was desert sand, but not like any desert he had ever seen on Earth. This desert glimmered like welding sparks, and had he been in his body Gideon McGee would have needed a welder’s visor just to keep his eyes open. In his current condition, however, the brightness of the landscape merely heightened his appreciation of its beauty.

“What am I going to learn here?” Gideon complained, sounding like his old self. “There’s nothing here but sand. It’s beautiful, but I’m fourteen. I’d like a little action.”

“Look again,” Zack said. He pointed eastward, and sitting on the horizon, in stark contrast to the blue sky, was an immense walled-city. From his vantage point, some twenty miles away, Gideon saw five crystal spires reaching to the angel-hair clouds a thousand feet overhead. The city was laid out in a square, with one spire standing sentinel in each corner, while the fifth rose out of the center. As they approached the city, Gideon realized it was surrounded by a fifty-foot gray stone wall, and sitting atop the wall was a glass bubble. It finished the job of enclosing the city that the stone wall began. It looked as though the entire city was climate controlled.

“Why is the city enclosed? There doesn’t seem to be any way in,” Gideon said as they thought-traveled around the immense metropolis.
“The only way in is through the Gatekeeper,” Zack said. “Anyone can leave whenever they choose, but all those wishing to enter must first speak with the Gatekeeper.”
“He sounds like a security guard at a bank or something. Does he wear a gun?”
Zack chuckled at how ridiculous the idea of a gun sounded. “Look! You can see him now, off in the distance. Straight ahead.”

Gideon’s eyes followed the line of Zack’s pointing finger. Two hundred yards ahead, in front of a gleaming gold door, as high as the stone wall, stood the Gatekeeper.

“Will the Gatekeeper be able to see us?” Gideon asked.
“The Gatekeeper sees all. Come; let us pay him our respects.”

The Gatekeeper was ancient, older even than Zacharaias. His face was so deeply furrowed with the creases of age that were he to lie on his back during a rain-storm they would have held enough water to quench a thirst. His hair was as white as the down of a gosling. It was drawn tight against his head and tied off in the back to form a ponytail that hung lazily to the center of his back. The old man had bushy eyebrows that came within an ant lip’s length of meeting just above the bridge of his long, bulbous nose. Tufts of long white hair stood atop each ear like antennae.
His body was short, lean and erect, and looked as though it still carried much of the power of his youth. But it was his eyes, as it was Zack’s eyes that drew Gideon in. They were as blue and as deep as the lacquer on a new Ferrari, and seemed to see straight into Gideon’s soul. Everything about the Gatekeeper proclaimed him to be a ‘Wise Old Man.’

“Why does this city have such an old man for a Gatekeeper?” Gideon whispered to Zack, lest the Gatekeeper hear him. “Anyone could get by him.”
“So, you think I’m an old relic, do you, Gideon?” The Gatekeeper’s voice was steady and firm, seemingly uncracked by the weight of life and time.

“Well...You are old,” Gideon stammered, “but...I don’t know... you’re different from all the old people I know.”
The Gatekeeper smiled, and the furrows of his brown weathered face narrowed. “How so?” he asked, learning eons ago that a teacher’s best tool was a well-timed question.

“Where I come from,” Gideon began, “old people look like you... sort of. I mean... their bodies look like yours, but somehow theirs seem more tired and bent, as though some heavy load weighed them down. You have an old body, but you seem... light.”
“Well put, lad. I too have noticed that the aged in your world look old in their bodies,” the Gatekeeper said. His eyes twinkled, and Gideon noticed the trace of a smile, evident only at the corners of his mouth.

“I don’t get you,” Gideon said. “And how did you know my name?”
“Ah, you humans have not yet adjusted to the news rules of your reality, and have so much still to learn regarding your ability to create what you want. Your old people act and feel old, because they place such a premium on youth. They value youth above all else, and see old age as a time of loss and burden. They therefore meet those expectations of themselves because that is what they believe.”

“But what good is being old?” Gideon asked, not getting the Gatekeeper’s point. “They’re forgetful. Some are senile. They’ve lost their strength. Their kids have to take care of them. They don’ look good in bathing suits.”

“Enough!” The Gatekeeper put up his hand. “All you say is true, but it need not be true for all time. Your young people must rethink what it means to be old, or their fate will be that of their grandparents. Old age can be of equal value as youth and all the other stages of life if you believe it to be. It can be a time for reflection and life-review, for it comes directly before your disengagement from this reality. It need not be worse than the stage of life you call youth, but it does need to be different, for what value would there be in it if it were the same as every other stage? If what you value is running fast and looking good in a bathing suit, then of course old age will weigh you down. All experience has value.”

“You still haven’t told me how you knew my name.”
“I heard Zacharaias speak it on your way here.”
“Great hearing!” Gideon said, looking at the long white hairs atop the Gatekeeper’s ears.

“You’re right. I do have good hearing, but I didn’t hear Zacharaias here.” The Gatekeeper pointed to his ear. “I heard him here.” He pointed to his heart.
Gideon turned at the creak of the golden door, and out walked a boy that looked to be his own age. The boy waved and sent a warm smile toward the Gatekeeper then wandered off into the desert. Gideon looked at the Gatekeeper, and when he turned again to look for the boy, he had disappeared.

“Who was that, and where did he go?” Gideon asked the Gatekeeper.
“The young man’s name is Parsifal, and he is off to find another city, another Gatekeeper. He was unable to find what he wanted here, and so will be wandering for many years.”

“There are more cities like this, and more men like you?”
“Indeed,” said the Gatekeeper. “There are as many cities and Gatekeepers as there are stars in the sky, but not all of us are men. Half our ranks are filled with women.”

“But where are the other cities? When we thought-traveled here, we only saw this one. The rest of your world seems to be desert,” Gideon said, convinced of his own perceptions.

“That is because you only see with your senses and not with the other aspects of awareness. Parsifal is off to find his heart and all the aspects of his awareness. When he does he will be able to see. He is like you in many ways.” The Gatekeeper tugged on his chin and looked up as one often does when trying to catch a thought. “I think I would like to invite you and Zacharaias to sit with me for a spell, while I perform my duties. Will you join me?”

Zack looked at Gideon. “Sure,” Gideon said, “but what exactly is it you do?”
As though on cue, a young girl, who looked as though she had only recently entered the mysteries of womanhood, appeared before the Gatekeeper. She was dark-skinned and well manicured, but her walk and her posture belied her beautiful exterior. The girl shuffled over to the Gatekeeper as though her shadow weighed more than her body.

“Welcome traveler,” the Gatekeeper said. “You look as though your journey has been long and arduous. What is it you are in search of?”

She seemed not to see Gideon and Zacharaias, for her gaze went beyond them to the fifty-foot golden door. “My name is Tanisha, Gatekeeper, and you are wise to know that my walk upon this land has blistered my feet.”

“What is it you are in search of, young woman?”
“I search for a city whose inhabitants treat each other with respect and kindness, a city that knows no hatred, and where all people are looked upon as equals.”

“A noble search, Tanisha,” the Gatekeeper acknowledged. “A noble search, indeed. A world where differences are seen without judgment is a noble search. Might there be more you are looking for?”

“Yes, Gatekeeper. I am looking for a place where a stomach never cries for food, where children are treated with more respect than their parents’ cars, and where depression is known only as a dip in the road.”

“You are wise to desire such things, Tanisha,” the Gatekeeper said, nodding. “But tell me. Could you not find these things in the land from which you came? Tell me of the place you left.”

“It is everything my Nirvana is not,” Tanisha cried. “There is no fairness. The rich hoard, and the poor starve. Parents are children, and children have babies. Where there are good people there are always the bad. The chain cannot be broken. Could this city, whose gates you guard, be the one I search for?”

The Gatekeeper shook his head sorrowfully. “This city is not the one you search for. If you were not able to find the things you search for in the city you left, you will certainly not find them through this golden gate. You will find everything you left behind, right here.”

Tanisha sighed and turned toward the desert. A single tear dropped from her eye, and moistened the sand in front of her feet. The young girl continued her resolute march toward a place only she could create. As long as she persevered in the search there was hope of finding what she longed for.

“What kind of city are you the Gatekeeper of?” Gideon asked. He picked up the moistened sand created by the mournful girl’s teardrop, and threw it at the Gatekeeper.

“What kind of city would you like it to be?” the wise old man asked, catching the sandy missile between his thumb and forefinger. Gideon’s reply was cut-off by another traveler. This time it was a middle-aged man, smartly dressed, and apparently in good physical condition. His face was as deeply tanned as the Gatekeeper’s, and Gideon sensed he had been in the desert for a long, long time. He looked vaguely familiar.

“Greetings, Gatekeeper,” the man said excitedly. “Do you remember me?”
The Gatekeeper smiled in his knowing way. “Need you ask, Parsifal? You had just turned fourteen when you left through that golden gate thirty-five years ago. What is it you seek?”

“I seek what I refused to see when I left,” Parsifal replied. “I went from Gatekeeper to Gatekeeper, each telling me their golden door would admit me to a world that was a carbon-copy of the one I left. If I saw fear and hatred in this city, I would find it in the next. If I thought others got the luck, while I got the shaft, that too would I find in every city the Gatekeepers attended, for it was what I believed.

“My journeys taught me much, Gatekeeper,” Parsifal continued. “I seek to enter the gates through which I passed thirty-five years ago.”
“And what do you expect to find that you did not find before?” the Gate¬keeper asked. “How will my city be different this time?”

“If I judge unfairness, I will find it. If I judge fairness, I will find that also. If it is love that I seek, I must first learn to love and accept myself. But should I have hatred in my heart, it is hatred that will find me, for I believe in its power. I enable that which I judge. There will be abundance, and there will be scarcity. Abundance for those who believe it is their due and scarcity for those who believe in it. All these things were present when I left, but I only saw the unfairness, the hatred and the scarcity. My judgment of these things as bad and my non-acceptance of their perpetuators created the reality. The other Gatekeepers were right in telling me that was all I would find in their cities.”

“You have learned well, Parsifal.” The Gatekeeper embraced the younger man, who brought back memories of his own journey scores of years earlier. With the embrace the golden door opened and Parsifal stepped through to the home he refused to see as a young man.

Gideon was dumbfounded. “That man left your city no more than fifteen minutes ago as a fourteen-year-old. How can that be?”

“How can it be that you are here and your body is at the bottom of Round Pond?” the Gatekeeper asked in return, echoing the words of Zacharaias a short time earlier. “You humans have so much to remember. If you decide to return to your body, Gideon, you may want to remember something about Quantum Mechanics. Those who do are beginning to see a different world than the one you see. A new worldview is being created.”

“Quantum Mechanics? Why would I want to learn about working on engines? And how can I remember something I've never learned?” Gideon asked.
The Gatekeeper chuckled. “In a way you are right, Gideon. It is the engine of the Universe, the study of the very smallest of particles, and since the entire universe is conscious, all knowing is available to all. It is not a matter of learning, but rather a matter of remembering and allowing.”

Zacharaias laid his hand lightly on Gideon’s shoulder. “We must be going,” he said. “Is there anything you’d care to ask the Gatekeeper before we leave for the land of ‘What is Good? What is Bad?’’”

Gideon thought for a moment then spoke. “Before I fell through the ice on Round Pond I had a dream of a tug-of-war between white and black circles pulling against a golden center. Could you tell me, Gatekeeper, what this dream means?”

“Your dreams are created by you, Gideon,” the Gatekeeper began, “and it is for you to decipher their meaning. I can only tell you how your dream resonates within me, and if in doing so it strikes a chord in you then for us the dream has the same meaning. If your dream were mine it might be telling me that there are parts of me that need to be united, parts that seem to be opposite, but if reconciled would be turned to gold. Learn the story of the Prodigal son.”

A new traveler appeared, and the Gatekeeper ceased his interpretation of Gideon’s dream. “I’m sorry, Gideon, but as you can see, a new traveler demands my attention. Good luck in your travels with Zacharaias, and remember, the way to self-knowledge is through a narrow gate. The path is difficult, and few will choose it. The wide way is easy, and many will take it, but it will never lead you to your own truth. Your truth is the reality you create. Pay attention to what you do and not what you think about what you do; for the doing will reveal the belief behind it. I bid you a fond farewell.”
Posted 07 August 07 10:34 from 21st Century Reality | 0 Comments   
Gideon McGee's Dream: Chapter Five
Simon felt the thrashing before he heard the screams. It was a gurgling sound he heard first, as though someone was drowning. Then came a howl of terror. Simon threw off his covers and jumped the six feet to the floor, landing hard on his heels.
“Gideon!” Simon said, shaking his shivering brother. “Wake up. You’re having a bad dream.”

“What?” Gideon asked, gradually awakening from a deep sleep, and realizing he had been in the middle of a nightmare.
“Come on...” Simon shook his brother again. “Wake up. You’ve had a nightmare.” He wondered what junk food his brother had eaten to cause such a reaction.

It was two a.m. Sunday morning. The room was as black as a Kentucky cave at midnight. Gideon could hear and feel his brother, but his body was formless, blending with the color of night.

“Man! I’m freezing,” Gideon said, his body shaking as though he had gone for a swim in a glacier-field lake. “Why is it so cold in here?”
Simon felt the goose bumps on Gideon’s arms, and had he not been in the same room with his shivering brother he would have sworn Gideon just left a meat freezer. “That must have been some dream,” he said. “I’ve never seen you like this before. What happened?”

Gideon stopped shaking for a moment as he tried to remember. “I was falling through a funnel that looked like a tornado. It was blacker than the pupil of my eye, and cold, so cold.” His shivering increased.
“It was just a dream,” Simon said, trying to soothe his brother. “Go back to sleep now. It’s over.”

Simon tucked-in his still-shivering brother, then felt his way to the linen closet in the hall for an extra blanket. By the time he returned Gideon was asleep. Simon covered him with the blanket and went back to bed.

* * *

By the time Gideon McGee woke up five hours later he had largely forgotten his dream, but an unsettled feeling lingered, a sense of foreboding. The January warm-snap continued, but did little to diminish the chill that remained in Gideon McGee’s bones. It was like a cold virus that nothing could touch but time. He needed to get out of the house, and when Prudence asked to join him for a walk in the woods, he accepted.

“You’re being really quiet this morning,” Prudence said as they entered the path through the woods to Round Pond. “You haven’t said a single mean thing to me and it’s almost noon.”
“You talk too much,” Gideon said, wanting more to listen to the crunch of the dead leaves under his feet than to his sister’s voice. He was glad she was with him, but needed the silence. He didn’t know how to say that, so he had snapped at her instead.

“There’s the Gideon I know,” Prudence said, scrunching up her face at his response, but out of his line of sight.

Gideon was tired. Prudence could see it in the slump of his shoulders and the downward cast of his eyes. His inner world reflected itself in the way he carried himself in the outer world. Gideon McGee was tired of complaining. He was tired of feeling that life was nothing more than good luck or bad luck, and that his was usually bad. He was tired of seeing his life governed by the whims of others. He was tired of all these things, but didn’t know it. What Gideon McGee knew was that something strange was happening to him, something beyond his comprehension. As he walked with his sister to Round Pond he felt like a marionette, and wondered who the puppeteer was.

The ice from the storm of a week ago had long since melted, and the woods were dry and brown, deep in their winter hibernation. Round Pond, looking like a perfect circular diamond, loomed before them. Prudence broke into a run.
“It’s so beautiful, Gideon. Come on,” Prudence yelled in a voice filled with the wonder and excitement of a ten year old, a voice that indicated no awareness of the critically thinned ice.

By the time Gideon snapped out of his dark brooding Prudence was at the edge of the ice-covered pond, and fear grabbed her brother by the throat.
“Get off the ice Pru! Get off! It’s too thin!” Gideon screamed. He broke into a run, his legs turning faster than he thought possible, while his sister glided to the center of the pond.
“Don’t be silly,” she yelled. “Look! It’s holding me just fine.” To prove her point Prudence McGee began jumping as if on an invisible pogo stick. On the fourth jump she disappeared.

Gideon dove belly first onto the ice as though thrown by an invisible hand. He slid twenty feet before coming to a stop, still thirty feet from the black hole through which Prudence disappeared. He snaked forward on his belly, spreading his weight over a larger area, and reducing his risk of falling through. Prudence’s head popped above the surface of the ice like a fishing bob, a look of terror frozen on her face.

“Gideon!” she screamed between coughs that sprayed the air with forty-degree pond water. Prudence managed to get her arms onto the ice, but the cold water brought on a sleep-like state that turned her spindly muscles into oatmeal. She was too weak to save herself. Only her eyes reached out to her brother.

“Grab my hand, Pru,” Gideon said, extending his straining arm toward her. He was plastered to the ice like paint on a wall, flat on his belly, and uncaring of the danger he was in. Prudence was too weak to speak, but her eyes spoke for her. Gideon knew the look, for he had it in his own eyes only a few short hours ago as he spiraled down a dark tunnel in his nightmare. The memory flooded him with a will to succeed.

With an effort, he thought only his older brother could muster, Gideon grabbed hold of Prudence’s small cold hand. From his position he didn’t have the leverage or the angle that would allow him to pull her out. He had to stand up.
Gideon heard the low-pitched growl of cracking ice, and time stood still as he saw himself plunge into the black water of Round Pond. With a presence of mind that seemed not his own, he realized that time was short and that his sister's life depended upon his quick and decisive action. As his head resurfaced, Gideon McGee grabbed his sister by the waist. He gasped for air, and with a prayer on his lips he threw Prudence out of her watery grave and onto the ice.

“Stay on your stomach, Pru!” Gideon screamed. “Crawl to the near-bank and get help at the fire station. Hurry!”

Gideon attempted to pull himself out of the water, but his weight was too much for the thin ice to support. His body grew numb, and his mind weary. Thick winter clothing, soaked with ice-water, sealed his fate. Gideon McGee’s mind drifted between reality and dream. The world slowed down, as though he and all that he surveyed were part of a slow-motion movie. His voice dragged like a tape on a Walkman whose batteries could no longer hold a charge.

“Hurry...Pru...” The words oozed out like cold molasses, his mouth numbed like the rest of his body. Novocain could not have done a better job.
The sun’s light began to dim as though a full eclipse was in progress. As the last of the sun’s light faded from Gideon McGee’s mind, he saw his sister reach the bank and race toward the fire house a hundred yards away.

Gideon felt nothing. A peace came over him as he slowly sank to the bottom of the shallow pond. Ten feet above, like a halo, stood the hole through which he fell. Suddenly a light appeared. Could it be that his rescuers had arrived so soon, he thought. Then, through the opening in the ice there appeared a Being-of-light that floated down toward Gideon’s still body.

“Do not be afraid, Gideon,” the Being-of-light said. He was as bright as a thousand floodlights, and difficult to look at.
“Who are you?” Gideon asked, surprised at his own calm until he noticed he was floating beside the Being-of-light, breathing easily, and looking down at his body.

“My name is Zacharaias, but you may call me Zack.”
“I didn’t ask what your name is. I asked who you are, what you are. What are you?”
Knowing that Gideon could not accept the truth he told him what he could accept. “Your people call me a guardian angel; others call me a spirit guide. The name is not important. I have been with you since the beginning. We’re a team, so to speak.”

“Am I... dead?” Gideon asked, with no more concern than he’d have when asking about the weather.
“The choice is yours,” Zacharaias replied. “No one dies before their time despite the evidence to the contrary. But before you make your decision you must accompany me on a journey. I will show you things that will make your passage through life much more bearable, if you decide to live.”

“Easier?” Gideon asked.
“Not necessarily easier, but certainly easier to bear.”
Gideon was at peace, maybe for the first time in his conscious life. He trusted this Zacharaias, whose form was beginning to coalesce within the light. He was old, but not like the old people he knew. There was a youthfulness to him like that seen in a playful old dog. But it was Zack’s eyes that won over Gideon McGee. They were the eyes of someone who no longer searches, the eyes of a man who has found what he was looking for, the eyes of peace and compassion, the eyes of knowing and love, the eyes Gideon wanted to have. And so he fell under their spell.

“Where will you take me?” Gideon asked, staring down at his lifeless body, unconcerned.
“We shall visit several realities,” Zack answered. “The first is the realm of the ‘Gatekeeper’. From there we shall travel to the world of ‘What is Good? What is Bad?’ Our third sojourn will take us to the land of the ‘Tree Clingers’, and finally, our most important stop, ‘The World of No Opposites.’”
Gideon was not completely ignorant of the effects of time on a body lying ten feet under water that was a heart-stopping 40 degrees.

“Uh...that sounds like it will take a long time,” Gideon said nervously. “Won’t my body die?”

Realizing that only a small percentage of humans understood that time existed only in their universe, Zacharaias extended his arm and pointed at Gideon’s lifeless body. From the tip of his long bony finger shot a beam of golden light that surrounded the body that lay at the bottom of Round Pond like a sunken ship. From Gideon McGee’s physical body to his light body ran a silver thread.
“Have no fear, Gideon,” Zack said. “Nothing shall happen to your body until you have decided to either complete your work here, or move on.” Zacharaias didn’t really need to surround his body with light or run a silver thread from it, but he knew the gesture would comfort Gideon because he had a belief in such things.

Gideon felt as he did many years ago as his mother rocked him in her arms, and sang him a lullaby to soothe his raging fever. He felt safe and loved in the presence of Zacharaias, and was tempted to have him cut the silver thread. But the vision of him in his mother’s arms reminded him that he might be able to recapture that feeling on earth.

“When do we leave?” Gideon asked.
“Take hold of my hand,” Zacharaias commanded, extend¬ing his glowing left hand to Gideon.

No sooner had Gideon taken hold of his guardian’s hand than they began rising out of Round Pond, slowly at first, but then with ever-increasing speed. Gideon looked down and saw his body surrounded by the golden light and from it to his new light-body ran the silver thread, no thicker than the edge of a razor blade.
“Is there any part of your home that you would like to visit before we begin?” Zack asked. “Your home is very large, much larger than you imagine.”
“Larger than I imagine?” Gideon repeated. “What do you mean?”

Zacharaias was a master teacher, spending thousands of lifetimes traveling the universes, imparting his knowledge and wisdom. He began his first lesson. “In 1492 you thought the earth to be flat and the heavens to be filled with seven thousand stars that you could see with your naked eye. That flat plate was your home, and the stars were out there. That was your reality.” Zacharaias pointed to the heavens that both he and his traveling partner were fast approaching.

“In your time the earth has expanded to the dimensions of a globe, and trillions upon trillions of stars, more than your computers could ever calculate, populate the heavens. Your earth is larger now, but you are more crowded than ever. You refuse to see that your real home is eighteen trillion galaxies big. You are made of stardust yet you insist upon seeing yourself as puny, insignificant beings.”

Zack held his thumb and forefinger together so that the slimmest filament of light passed through. “Come!” he commanded. “I am going to show you your home.”
Gideon floated alongside his newly discovered friend and held tightly to his hand. Suddenly his concept of speed, travel and time were challenged to the limits of his imagination. The speed of light appeared as sluggish as a horse-drawn cart in comparison to the rate at which he and Zack were hurtling through the universe. Stars, even galaxies, streaked by in a kaleidoscope of blurred colors.

“How can we be going so fast?” Gideon asked, stunned by the ease with which all the physical laws he knew were broken.
“This is how the exploration of your home is to be done, Gideon,” Zack replied. “We’re actually traveling at a snail’s pace due to your inexperience with thought-travel.”

“Thought travel?” Gideon asked.
“Yes. In the future you need only think of where you wish to be, and you are there. You see, Gideon, you continue to see yourselves as a mere hodgepodge of cells and matter that through some cosmic coincidence learned how to think. The reality is that you are a consciousness, that is to say, a mind that has learned to create a body. You are energy.

“You are much like the light bulb. What is important about the light bulb is not the glass or the filament that carries the light. It is the light itself.”
“This has got to be a dream,” Gideon said, looking back to see if the silver thread was still attached. “As a matter of fact, this is weirder than any dream I’ve ever had. Where are you taking me?”

“We’re going to the planet Moebius, in a galaxy its inhabitants have named Spiral. Next to your planet Earth, Moebius is the most beautiful planet in this universe.” Zack turned his head slightly to the left and pointed. “There it is now.”
Moebius, the second most beautiful planet in the universe, stood suspended in the black void of space, as though from an invisible thread. It was a world much like Earth in size and color. The skin of Moebius was splashed with different shadings of blues, browns, greens and whites. As Zacharaias and Gideon slowed to a more reasonable space\time speed, Moebius came into sharp focus.

“This is great,” Gideon said, feeling much as he does when around Jenny Bloom. “I feel like an eagle. How do I steer myself?”
“Just think of where you want to go,” Zack replied. “It’s a lot like flying a plane, but without the rudder and ailerons. Thought-travel is tricky at first, because you’re so used to moving across distances. You see yourself moving from point A to point B by moving across space, and by taking a certain amount of time. In advanced thought-travel no time lapses between the thought of where you want to be and being there.”

Gideon looked down on Moebius and decided to visit a kidney-shaped continent colored in greens and browns and a few specks of white that looked like bird droppings. His attention was drawn to the white, and no sooner had he focused his attention on it than he appeared directly above the snow-capped peaks of a mountain range.

“Sh...” Gideon caught himself. “I mean Wow! That was wild. Did I do that myself?”
“I provided no assistance in that maneuver, Gideon.”
“Does my body need to be...almost... dead to be able to do this?”
“No, but thought-travel will not be accomplished by the human race during your generation. You are only now beginning to scratch the surface of the potential of the right side of your brain, but even more importantly it is your beliefs that hold you back.”

“Why will it take us so long?” Gideon asked, more interested in the flight than the answer to his question.
“Because you are still operating under the old rules of your reality. Just as an infant must sit before it stands, and crawl before it walks, so too does awareness take time to develop. It is a process of experience.”

“Awareness?” asked Gideon.
“Yes, awareness. At this stage of your shifting reality your awareness is quite limited. You continue to focus your awareness on things external, and not on your self. If I could compare your awareness to your physical development, you are just reaching the stage where the infant begins to sit unsupported. But it will develop rapidly.

“You only perceive what your five senses submit to your brain. You think it is all ‘out there’ when in reality it is all created ‘in here’.”
“What else is there, though, beside what I perceive?” Gideon asked, his interest shifting from the planet to the answer.

“How about me?” Zack answered. “I’ve been by your side like stink on ...well... never mind the analogy. I’ve been with you like a shadow from the moment you were born, yet only now do you be come aware of me.”

“Why did you hang around if I couldn’t see you or hear you? I mean, what good are you if I can’t hear your advice?” Gideon noticed a large bird, unlike any he had seen on earth, soaring over the peak of the highest mountain.
“You could hear me, Gideon. You just didn’t know it was me. I’m that little voice in your head you always wonder about. Most of the time you ignore me, but there are times when I come through, like your question to Dr. Spiro about the ocean that the iceberg floats in.”

“But I never see you,” Gideon pro¬tested.
“Do you remember two years ago standing on the corner of Hazard Street?” Zack asked. “You were paying no attention to traffic, and stepped off the curb into the path of an oncoming truck. An old man with a white beard, tattered clothing and pushing a grocery-cart filled with his worldly possessions jerked you back just in time. Do you remember?.”

The realization hit Gideon like a dive into the North Atlantic in May. “That was you?” He shrieked in astonishment. “But if I could see you then, why can’ I see you all the time?”
“It takes nothing more than a glance in the mirror. You are so much more than you realize. You need only remember.”

This information stretched Gideon’s awareness to the limit. His mind felt like a balloon that was blown-up to the point of popping, and before it exploded he refocused his attention on Moebius below. The mountain range he hovered above extended from one end of the kidney-shaped continent to the other. It looked like a ragged brown and white belt made by a child.

“Moebius is a young planet,” Zack explained. “It is in the middle stages of self creation

Gideon and Zacharaias traversed the planet in what seemed an instant, yet every detail of the earth-sized planet registered on his mind. The twelve oceans running in color from black to sky blue; the ten continents, some flat, barren and sandy brown, and others lush, undulating and kaleidoscopic in their range of colors, reminded Gideon of earth. The thought travelers saw active volcanoes, fierce hurricanes that leveled the vegetation that lay in their path, lightning storms that ignited the forests, and earthquakes that split the skin of Moebius like a sharp knife.

They also saw the peaceful face of the planet; gentle waves lapping white-sand beaches under clear blue skies; lush tropical forests teeming with wildlife very similar to earth’s, and huge azure lakes upon which nested all forms of water fowl.
“There are no people on Moebius,” Gideon observed.
“It is preparing itself,” came Zack's cryptic reply. “Just as a woman’s body must be prepared before giving birth.

“Come. It is time for you to visit the Gatekeeper.”
Posted 02 August 07 11:29 from 21st Century Reality | 0 Comments