by Miles Harman
He speaks in a quiet and calm voice, “Allow your mind to relax and become one with the present moment.”
A part of me wants this experience, that’s why it appears in my dream. Closing my eyes, I go along with it.
“We are not our thoughts, we are not our circumstance. Go to that place between your thoughts and between your circumstances.”
Thoughts surface about my present experience in this dream, and I allow them pass, knowing I’ll soon awaken and they’re of no value. More thoughts, this time of my own death here flood in. Any future here is a dream and death is awakening. The thoughts pass. Approaching a void state between thoughts, several vivid images and memories of my past pull me back.
Eating dinner with my parents when I’m young, I’m surrounded by a caring family…VOID…My father and I hike through the woods…VOID…Allison and her family play on the beach with us…VOID…We adopt a dog, nursing him back to health. Refocusing in the present, I find peace in the void between thoughts. Like the ocean behind the wall around this city, thoughts try to flood in through any crack.
Captivating memories and images from different lifetimes in the chamber come. As a lawyer, I fight for my client in a courtroom. Justice must exist in the world…VOID… Desperately trying to save the life of a young boy, as a paramedic I fight for the health of humanity…VOID…Inside a collapsed building I dig through rubble to preserve human life…VOID…I’m a soldier, charging an entrenched gun nest, firing my rifle at a stranger. My nation will remain safe…VOID…I return to the present between each vivid memory.
Upping the ante, my mind displays the most captivating memories to pull my attention back to it. Inside the compound, my parents have left me alone. Emerging into an empty life, over several days I put together the pieces of what happened. Distraught, I search for them, forced back into the compound by a blizzard. Waiting for them to return, I’m devastated and alone. Without a purpose I consider ending my life, but chose to enter the chamber instead…VOID……….I settle in the quiet place beyond even this memory.
Becoming the witness, the thoughts and memories cease. From this heightened viewpoint I understand how everything that plays out inside this dream stems from somewhere in my mind. My desire is the source of all objects manifested here. Seeing my death the following morning I fully embraced the transition of awakening back into my reality. Every death in my dreams is the end of one story which allows for another to begin.
Snapping back, I open my eyes while everyone around me remains in a deep state of quiet concentration. With far greater understanding of myself, I quietly stand and leave the meditation center. Walking through the chaotic streets, I enter the hotel and return upstairs to my room. Falling asleep on the old mattress its clear tomorrow will be a very short day.
*****
Beep…beep…beep…beep…the alarm on my wristwatch pierces my deep sleep. Nine o’clock. Standing, I emerge on to the balcony, the bright morning makes me squint. The streets of Honolulu eerily sleep. Stillness is abruptly interrupted by blaring sires, echoing between the buildings throughout the city. The ear-piercing noise resonates below, causing people to run through the streets in panic.
Off the west coast, a naval warship sequentially launches several intercept missiles. Additional missiles are launched from a land platform higher in the mountains. They disappear into the clouds, only delaying the inevitable.
Towards the center of the island, blindingly bright light fills all space. My thoughts turn to Allison’s family and the man who took my motorbike over the mountain. After quickly ducking into my room, a swift pressure and heat wave passes the room. Diving behind the thick bed, I hear glass windows shatter. A burning electrical smell fills the air, but I’m unharmed.
Back on the balcony, most of the distant mountain side is afire. The city and retaining wall are still intact, but this was just the first strike. Bracing for the end, I look down at people screaming below. The edges of my vision outline in the familiar calming colored energy pattern I experienced just prior to awakening from the burning roof with Allison. The energy pattern expands to the center of my focus, until the entire ocean and all the buildings are overlaid in the serene light.
Raising my arms in the air above my head, I smile as a brilliant flash erupts above the city, drowning my body in brightness. Instantly detaching from the sensation of my body, I merge with the calming light overlaying my dream. Any desire to remain in this dream world incinerates with my body- I’m ready to reawaken.
Chapter 14
Preparing For The Journey
“It’s never too late to be what you might have been.”
-George Elliot
I slowly regain the sensation of my body, lying in the chamber. I remember my dream as a fireman, my awakening here and decision to find meaning, the awakened dream throughout in the Hawaiian Islands, and all the flashbacks of my life. It all occurred in only two days time. I’m still trying to develop a relationship to time across my realities.
Climbing out of the chamber, I enter the library and continue making plans for my journey using the knowledge gained inside the dream. I’ll visit Haleakala on Maui, Pearl Harbor on Oahu, and finally the wind turbine farm on Kauai. The next hurdle is traveling to these distant places. Taking out a new map, draw my route over the frozen ocean.
Analyzing the map, the vast majority of my journey will traverse 400 miles of ice each way. All options are considered. Walking the vast distance and towing a large sled of supplies behind me is the most primitive. This journey will take around forty or fifty days each way if I cover ten miles a day. There must be a faster way. Exploring the towns along the way, maybe I can find a working vehicle somewhere. This option is extremely uncertain and highly unlikely to be successful. Can I build a vehicle?
People used to regularly sail around these islands when there was a liquid ocean. Is it possible to build a wind powered vehicle, capable of traveling on the surface of the ice? Taking some paper and a pencil, I go to the kitchen to eat while drawing potential blueprints. Over the course of a fresh meal and after several failed drafts, I sketch plans for a sled powered by sail:
Building my contraption will be an even greater challenge. With the exception of a few items in the storage room, there are no parts in the compound. Where I need to go to find the necessary materials will make for a long day. Finishing the meal, I pack a backpack with food and water. I don a cold weather suit, fold the blueprints for the sail sled in my pocket and load and sling the rifle.
Emerging into the frozen world, the frigid air stings my exposed face. I pull the neck of my coat tight against my skin. The morning sky is dark, what little light gets through is reflected by the snowy white terrain. This is my first time outside in at least two days, probably much longer. Making my way towards the town below, I wonder- How often do I leave the compound?
After walking over an hour, I finally approach the outskirts of the quiet town. Seeing the abandoned buildings, another flashback- I’m looking for my father as a teenager. In a state of fear and panic, I feel alone. Returning to the present, a residual uneasiness is still here so I chamber a round, making sure the rifle is ready to use. No signs of life exist around the significantly weathered buildings.
Knowing a large sail is the most obscure item needed, I meticulously look through the yard of every house I pass for an old sailboat. Hiking up and down the empty residential streets for the greater part of an hour, nothing is found. Approached the final street, another flashback- I’m here in search of my father. Everything described in the journal including the cannibals, the fight, and rescuing my father vividly enters returns. Freezing in terror I fully recall what happened on this street long ago.
A few moments pass before I’m able to bring myself beyond the terrifying memories, and continue to walk up the street. Rifle drawn, I slowly make my way towards the house where my father was held captive. Cautiously walking in front of the garage, I look inside from the street a safe distance away.
The steel drum is still in the driveway, although deteriorated significantly. The faint outline of two mounds at the edge of the garage and two more inside must be the remnants of the men I fought that night.
My adrenaline spikes with another flashback- The eyes of four men charging me glazed over with intent to kill. The struggle fills me with rage. The knife slashes my stomach, followed by more struggle. My attackers are motionless. Returning to the present, it’s apparent I killed all four men during my father’s rescue.
Calming myself, I realize there’s nothing else here to see. Leaving the scene, the rifle is relaxed at my side. I refocus on finding building materials for the sail sled.
Continuing up the street, I search. Rounding a bend, my eyes light up. In the distance sits a medium sized sailboat on a trailer in front of a house. The outside is weathered from years of exposure but hopefully it contains a sail and rigging. Climbing on top, I peer into the dark hull. Neatly folded in the front compartment is a large sail, exactly what I need. Removing the canvas sail and several old ropes I decide to assemble the sail sled here in the driveway. Searching nearby houses and yards, I scavenge for the remaining necessary materials.
Over the course of the day, I collect all the materials for my plan and begin to assemble the triangular wooden frame and attach steel skis. Making great progress throughout the day, I suddenly realize- it’s going to get really dark soon. I quickly secure the construction materials and expeditiously return to the compound. Attempting to retrace my previous tracks, the sky darkens.
*****
I arrive home after nightfall and enter the warmth of the compound. Chilled to the bone, I need a warm shower. On my way through the compound, I pass the bedroom, and have a flashback- My parents scream and struggle the night the intruders attacked. I pass the library having a different flashback- My mother sits on the couch next to me, explaining a book about the science of dreaming. Continuing to the shower, I pass the exercise equipment and receive yet another flashback- My father spots me while I bench press. Returning to the present, I intensely miss their company.
Under the stream of warm water in the shower, I try to get past my thoughts, just like in the awakened dream. The void between is my only escape from the loneliness and pain of the returning memories. Beginning to understand who I am through these memories, I see why I often yearn for escape. I must avoid clinging to the memories and their emotional pain, which is easier said than done.
Finishing the warm shower, I go to the kitchen with some more fruit. In the kitchen, another flashback- Cooking some freshly picked vegetables with my mother. My sadness grows with every returning memory of my parents. Gripped and overwhelmed by intense loneliness, I desperately need to handle these thoughts. The chamber would take them away. I fantasize about a distracting life inside, with Allison.
Breaking with the line of thinking about the using chamber, I refuse to sacrifice all the progress made. After walking through the greenhouse to ease the painful memories, I return to the library and see the volumes of journals chronicling all the time I’d already lived a dream. Refocusing on getting between the thoughts as the witness, my mind returns to a calm state. I need to do something constructive to help me hasten my departure away from the things that are causing me to recall the past.
Back in the kitchen, I take stock of how much food remains. There are about twenty large bags of dried fruit, vegetables, and peanuts on storage shelves. This will last about a month. I need enough food to get me all the way to Kauai and back, as well as a supply that’s ready to harvest after returning. There lot’s of work to be done.
In the greenhouse, I work down the aisles, picking all the ripe crops, replanting new seeds as I go. Throughout the night, I pick all the remaining food and fill the massive dehydration machines. Exhausted after finishing the harvest in the early hours of the morning, I’m just happy to avoid entering the chamber for another day.
Waking the following morning on the kitchen floor, I’m stiff from an uncomfortable night’s sleep. Standing up and stretching, I finish cleaning out the food dehydrators. After refilling them with a fresh crop, I take stock once again and ensure nothing is missed. Walking back through the greenhouse, I brush some leaves overhanging an aisle.
Passing the leaves triggers a flashback- I’m a child, running after Allison down a narrow trail in the forest by her house. We’re about nine and I chase her through the dense foliage. Catching her by a stream, we both laugh.
“Gabriel, what do you think it’s like to kiss someone?” she asks.
I reply, “I don’t know, it must be pretty good if my parents do it all the time.”
She leans over, kissing me on the cheek and runs back down the path, laughing. This innocent childhood kiss is the only one I know of I’ve had outside a dream. Returning to the greenhouse, I desperately miss her and everyone else constantly remembered. It’s now necessary to continuously force each thought and memory to pass without attachment, especially the ones involving entering the chamber.
Chapter 15
Breaking The Cycle
“I don’t want to be the one, the battles always choose.
Cause inside I realize, that I’m the one confused…
I’m breaking the habit tonight.”
-Linkin Park
Gardening, dehydrating, and packing food and supplies are what I use to distract myself for the rest of the day. By evening, thirty-five bags of food are prepared, which should be enough for the journey. Exhausted from working all day and continuously trying to train myself not to attach to the memories, I lay on the bed to sleep. Needing to get out of the compound and away from the places that stimulate recollection of my past, tomorrow I’ll go to town to finish the sail sled.
Sometime during the night, I dream of running across a frozen landscape, trying to escape pursuers. My feet sinking into the snow, I barely make headway. Just when they’re going to catch me, I wake in a cold sweat.
Realizing I’m ok, I get out of bed and take a warm shower. Thinking about this dream, I wonder- What’s the difference between a chamber and a sleep dream? The chamber provides electrical stimulation, causing me to remember the entire dream, but who is to say that I don’t live full lifetimes in every sleeping dream, but don’t remember? Both experiences can be equally vivid and real while engrossed in them. Finishing my hot shower, I dress in warm clothes.
After eating fresh fruits and vegetables, I decide to get out of the compound soon before more of flashbacks return. Six bags of dried food are placed in a large backpack. After donning my weather suit I return to the frozen world, the rifle still at my side.
After a little over an hour of fast-paced hiking, I arrive at the unassembled sail sled, just how I left it. The bags of food and other gear fit nicely inside. Knowing there will be ample storage space in the sail sled after it’s finished, I move the supplies out of the way inside the sailboat on the trailer and return to my work.
Diligently, I assemble the sail sled through the morning and early afternoon. It needs to be light enough to be moved by the wind, but strong enough to stay together under the stress. If it breaks in middle of nowhere it’ll be a disaster. I finish my work late in the afternoon.
The sail sled has a triangle shaped base with two fixed steel rails on either side. The forward corner of the base houses a movable ski, enabling control from my feet inside the body of the vehicle. A small bench with a backrest is mounted in the rear center where I sit and sail it. The sail is supported from the mast taken from the sail boat. Comparing the sled to my original drawings, they look surprisingly similar.
It’s getting late in the day once again so I pack the supplies into the completed sled and hike back up to the compound with a sense of accomplishment. Tomorrow will be the real test on the ice below. Building the sled was such a distraction, I didn’t think about the chamber or the painful memories the entire day. Upon returning to the compound, I crawl into bed and fall fast asleep.
*****
&nb
sp; After waking in the early morning, I eat a quick breakfast. Carrying the backpack with six more bags of food I’m excited to leave and try my new contraption. Arriving at the sail sled in under an hour, I quickly load it with all of the supplies. Towing the sled down the rough mountain slope to the ice won’t be easy.
Pulling the sled for most of the morning, my excited state gradually turns to frustration due to the difficulty maneuvering across the jagged and frozen landscape. If any repairs need to be done on the sail sled they’ll have to be done on the ice below, because getting the sled back up this hill isn’t possible. Approaching the edge of the ice, my excitement returns.
Decently strong winds on the ice give me added confidence that the sail sled will work. The sled passes from the frozen rocky landscape and glides onto the smooth icy surface. Have I ever ventured down here since the freeze? There haven’t been any flashbacks, so I doubt it. After rigging the sail offshore, I sit in the seat and position the ropes where they need to be, ready to begin the test.
After raising the sail, I tie it in position. The sail fills with wind, and the sled creeps across the ice. It’s working! The sled builds up speed moving faster across the surface.
Traveling straight is easy, but how will she turn? I push the bar next to my feet, turning the front ski. The sled quickly digs in and changes direction of travel. Momentum immediately topples everything to the right. I violently land on my arm while the sled crashes over. Clumsily spilling out of the bench seat, I slide sideways next to the sled across the icy surface. Coming to a stop, I look over the sled- fortunately it’s undamaged. I’m miraculously fine too with the exception of my bruised dignity.
Frustrated and not wanting a repeat, I set the sled upright and rig the controls. To make a real sailboat turn, the angle of the mainsail needs to change and have slack while the direction of travel changes. Making another attempt, this time I turn slower, working the sail in conjunction with the front ski. The sled turns slowly and awkwardly, but successfully. The rest of the afternoon is spent perfecting my sailing skills, and by the end of the day all goes well.
