In the waking dream Hrim often appeared as that pivotal person that caught someone’s attention and helped him or her have a synchronistic experience. In sleeping dreams he and Jahni had played as all forms of significant others in his project’s lives. Hrim mused on the many tag team combinations he had played in with Jahni: mother, father, siblings, employer, partner, distant relatives, and neighbors.
Hrim had written the book on tapping into the memories of individuals stored in the space between the stars. He had chaired the committee on shape shifting, and produced the code of conduct for enacting the characters which would most benefit the human subject.
Hrim found metaphor to be one of the most effective tools serving both as major contributor to important life changes and as seemingly meaningless dream-stuff. Hrim appreciated the subtle energy of having appeared to Amelia as an elephant. It bypassed typical useless scenarios the human mind often associated with the Wait Zone by adapting a symbol that held interest for Amelia, it helped Amelia get to work as soon as possible. Thinking of useless Wait Zone scenarios reminded Hrim of how difficult it was to get new arrivals to let go of their pearly gate expectations.
“I could ask for a month of St. Peter duty.” He laughed before Jahni voiced his objection.
“Oh no you don’t!” Jahni nearly whined as a student given extra homework. “Let the newbies take on the book of life!” Project’s expectations of having their lives reviewed by some authority in book format could take eons to clear through the Wait Zone if the subject was unwilling to awaken from their belief system and see the true configuration of life on the other side. Both Hrim and Jahni had more or less paid their dues which had landed Jahni the professorship and Hrim first pick of the most interesting cases.
Hrim had become aware of Amelia’s presence as soon as she entered the fog. The circumstances of her arrival had been set-up decades before. Amelia was effectively comatose, neither dead nor alive. What would transpire in the Wait Zone would determine if she would awaken from the sleep that had engulfed her. As they strolled through the marketplace Jahni pressed Hrim for a commitment.
“This class is a group of new apprentices covering the illusion of good and evil.”
“Some things never change,” Hrim smiled and shook his head. The pair turned and entered an alley, stopped outside a worn and weathered wooden door and waited patiently. In a moment the door creaked open inward giving the two entry to a respite site for guides in the Wait Zone.
“If you are teaching,” Hrim inquired, “what are you doing in the Wait Zone?”
“Field trip,” Jahni replied. “I’ll pick them up in a few hours.”
“Okay then.” Hrim slapped his hands together with anticipation of spending more time with his favorite student. “Let’s get something to eat.” The pair’s joint imagining of some good home cooking morphed the respite area into a trucker’s dream café. Their walk had been quiet and comfortable. Hrim was grateful. He knew most of Amelia’s dreaming would not afford him much downtime. Not everyone in the Wait Zone was an etheric guide like Hrim. Many humans accessed the Wait Zone during average sleeping dreams when they were drawn there by the intensity of circumstances surrounding another person’s presence there. Amelia had attracted many helpful, benevolent and not so helpful, malevolent entities to the Wait Zone. Hrim had called in Tetta to help him handle the overflow.
Pause, pause, pause…
Dreams occur in the theta brain wave state. Lucid dreams are those during which the dreamer becomes aware he or she is dreaming and may take control of the dream. When one wishes to achieve a lucid dream experience they look for a predetermined sign or symbol that they are dreaming. When you see that sign, you will know you are dreaming and can set about creating the dream you desire. Some people love to take flight in lucid dream states. Others meet with long departed loved ones and sometimes help them reach the other side.
Amelia didn’t remember going to sleep. Am I dreaming? My dreaming seems to be a documentary film. Amelia strained to see in the dark auditorium. She adjusted her eyes away from the screen and momentarily was able to discern the shadowy shapes of heads around her in the audience. Where am I? she wondered. A section of shadowy heads three rows in front of her turned at once and shushed at her in their thoughts.
Okay! she thought. Sheesh, I’m new around here! I can’t tell from one place to the next who can hear me thinking or not! Amelia heard a few grumbles from distracted viewers around her. Sorry. She apologized, turned her attention to the screen and listened as the narration was thought-communicated.
Astral projection is the ability to project one’s energetic body away from the physical body. This is not necessary in the dream state as there is no physical body in dreams. Amelia watched as a shadow figure on the screen seemed to eject a ball of energy from his upper stomach area into the air. Ewww! She withdrew from the scene in her mind. Amelia pinched herself hard. There was no pain. Am I astrally projected? she wondered. The crowd in front of her shushed again. She thought of the pain she experienced when she first arrived in the fog. Something was different but she couldn’t be sure what it was.
When humans arrive in the WAIT ZONE they are assigned a guide. Guides often work within a family system for generations in order to facilitate personal evolution. Guides facilitate transitions and also work to keep anyone from crossing over before their time.
Amelia perked up and paid close attention to the words that were rattling around her brain. Recognizing only a few of the terms the documentary was explaining, “Crossing over” was one that immediately struck a chord with her. If I’m in the Wait Zone, Amelia’s thought voice quietly mimicked the intonation in the movie, I don’t recall meeting any guide.
Humans customarily enter into transition at a level of consciousness once called Purgatory or Limbo. Today this region of consciousness is generally referred to as the WAIT ZONE. The words reverberated in Amelia’s clenched jaws. Because, the voice continued, humans hanging in the balance of life and death typically WAIT at this level until a guide can assist them.
Humans who have experienced this field of consciousness and returned to the waking dream often think they have experienced an intermediate stage to heaven or hell. Sometimes they report meeting a relative who told them it wasn’t time yet and they needed to continue living. That relative was often a disguise for a guide intercepting the wayward traveler. Those who begin to move beyond to the next level of consciousness but then return to the waking dream often remember a bright white light and tunnel as their experience. When crossing out beyond the Wait Zone with an experienced guide the journey is completed to the next plane of consciousness awareness.
This film is produced by the University of Interplanar Consciousness. Amelia’s left eyebrow piqued at what sounded like a fake school offering bogus degrees on the internet. Once, the only humans in the Wait Zone were there by necessity. All guides were etheric. Training for humans from the waking dream as apprentices in the sleeping dream to help in the WAIT ZONE was once inconceivable. But working with just a few has opened the doors for many to participate in a system of higher education that has been developed over the eons. What had once been gatherings of a very few souls is now a well-coordinated movement of thousands of souls to the University dream located at a beautiful between-level of consciousness.
With funding from the Universal Mind Center, the University offers students guided field trips to alternative dimensions of consciousness where they can resolve their karma and help others do the same. This inter-dimensional travel also serves as training for guide reserves who step up during periods of great activity on the WAIT ZONE brought about by disasters both natural and man-made, such as war. As you pursue your course of studies with the University there are certain issues we wish to address directly.
Amelia scrutinized the screen images as scores of angelic guides floated to assist in hurricanes and battlefields. Her attention was drifting to wonder what her faith or religion might be when she
detected the sound of snoring. She glanced around and identified the source as a man just about her age, sitting two rows behind her. I guess he won’t be graduating today. She thought, and a few giggles broke out in the minds around her.
Heh-m-m-m-m! The movie continued as if it detected the distraction in the audience. Amelia looked up and watched the shifting shape of a human onscreen. One of the most difficult things for human students to comprehend at University is the lack of form and gender among the teaching staff. Eternal guides -- those who NEVER lived a human life, Amelia noted a tone of condescension, are neither male nor female and not even young or old. They are, as they are needed to appear, according to the beliefs and challenges of their human projects. Amelia wasn’t keen on possibly being considered someone’s project.
They are the stuff of angels. Though they bear no wings, they can, according to one’s belief that angels have wings, appear wearing them if necessary. What is essential is that a guide be able to engage the human spirit in the conscious use of its imagination. The goal of guidance is to get the human to break free of its limiting ideas and to open itself to receive Truth. Amelia noticed she was slightly taking offense at the lack of gender allotted for humans in the narrator’s vocabulary.
Am I a feminist? she wondered.
Guides assume these roles in all fields of consciousness. However, in the sleeping dream-state and the WAIT ZONE, Amelia covered her ears in an impractical attempt to dull the louder sound of the words, everything, not just some things like synchronicities, but EVERYTHING could be symbolic of some need or issues from the person’s waking life.
Amelia wondered which, if not all, of her present circumstances might bear a clue that could help her find her way home…especially the golden slippers.
“Excuse me madam.” An usher with an out-loud manner of speaking appeared in the aisle next to Amelia with a small flashlight pointed at the red carpet floor. “You have a call in the lobby.”
“I do?” Amelia wondered who could be trying to reach her. She stood and stepped out into the aisle.
“Oui. Madam.” The usher guided her to the back of the theatre with his little flashlight shining ahead of them.
The lobby was bright and filled with the aroma of fresh popcorn. Children were playing video games along the walls while clerks doled out candy and fountain drinks from behind the snack case. Amelia turned to ask the usher where she was but he was nowhere in sight. Four feet in front of her a phone was sitting on a clear acrylic pedestal. An amber colored hold button blinked on and off patiently as she gathered the call must be waiting for her.
Amelia advanced to the phone, picked up the receiver and pressed the blinking button.
“Hello?” she said.
“I have a long distance call for Miss Amelia Bradford,” a voice announced. “Will you accept the charges?”
“Charges?”
“Yes. Shall I put the call through on your account?”
“Where is the call coming from?” Amelia asked
“Long distance ma’am. That’s all I can tell you.” Amelia looked up. The usher was standing in front of her.
“May I help you, mademoiselle?”
Am I a Madam or a Mademoiselle? Amelia wondered.
“I cannot say.” The usher replied. “However, I can suggest you take the call.”
“Yes, I’ll accept the charges,” Amelia agreed into the phone.
“Very well then,” the operator replied. “You are being charged with negligence of your three-dimensional life and failure to show up and start your day.” The operator paused. “Go ahead, sir.” There was a brief clicking sound and then a deep male voice came on the line.
“Hello. Is this Amelia Bradford?” the voice asked.
“I suppose,” Amelia replied, stretching her mind to see if Bradford might ring a bell as her real last name or if it was a name in dream only.
“Ms. Bradford,” the voice went on, “we’re trying to reach you. It’s incredibly important that we hear from you soon.” The call suddenly ended.
“Hello?” Amelia called into the receiver. “Hello?” She turned to see a finger depressing the receiver buttons on top of the phone. The finger was attached to a man who looked exactly like the manager of the restaurant Amelia dreamed before she landed in the fog with Zeke. The manager was missing his cape and his horns, but he glared at Amelia in exactly the same way as he had when the waiter had pointed him out across the room.
“Excuse me Miss.” The man addressed her with an ordinary American accent. “You’re not authorized to use this phone.”
“Excuse me?” Amelia questioned.
“That’s quite alright,” the man cut her off. “Now what are you doing here?”
“I’m not sure that’s any of your business.” Amelia tried to sound indignant. I think I’ll take my business elsewhere, she tested to see if the man was privy to her thoughts. He seemed unaffected. She stepped toward the exit sign. He watched as she walked across the lobby. Isn’t he going to try to stop me? she wondered. Oh, I get it. He wants me to leave.
Amelia’s stubborn streak lit up, she turned on her heel and headed back toward the auditorium doors, but something was wrong. She stopped and looked down. The gold lamé shoes were missing.
Pause, pause, pause…
Amelia’s body jumped as she awakened. Guru Tetta’s warning tone sounded in Amelia’s memory of their earlier conversation. “They stay,” the guru had said of the gold lamé shoes. Amelia rolled over on a pile of pillows that molded to her body. She felt her feet click together. The gold lamé shoes were back on her feet.
Amelia thought of Judy Garland and Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz. She wondered if the shoes had some magical power to get her home. Amelia glanced around the room and remembered the place Elissa had taken her to after she finished her meal. It was small and everything in it was close to the floor. There was a long table on which sat a pitcher of water, drinking glass, bowl of fruit with chapattis bread and a vase of flowers. Cushions and pillows were arranged in piles near the table, but there was no one else in the room. It was clearly lodging for one.
Amelia removed the silken cover under which she had slept and sat up on the cushion stretching her legs out in front of her. Ever since she found herself in the restaurant she had been running on automatic. She had been suddenly whisked away, woke up in a fog, gone with Hrim down a path, picked-up Jojo, and met a guru in a remote village. The similarities to Dorothy’s trip to Oz were piecing together. Fearing that they could be heading on a similar course, Amelia eyed the gold lamé shoes. The caped, horned-devil manager seemed as though he could be equated with a wicked witch and she didn’t want to get into any altercations with him.
Perhaps, she thought, I can cut to the chase. She had to try it. Sliding, Amelia stuck her feet out over the edge of the cushion. Pressing the toes of the gold lamé shoes together she brought the heels together with a click three times and whispered softly, “There’s no place like home. There’s no place like home. There’s no place like home.” Amelia and the gold lamé shoes stayed very still on the cushion. They weren’t a bad imitation of the ruby slippers, but they didn’t do the trick. Her head slumped back onto her pillow.
Who am I and what am I doing here? Amelia thought. There was no answer. Well, at least no one is listening in. She tried to remember her dream but there was hardly a shred of it left in her memory.
When you awaken, she remembered a piece of the narration in the documentary, try not to move or you’ll change frequency and lose track of your dream.
“Well, I guess I screwed that up.” Amelia muttered. The image of the manager from the restaurant came to mind but she couldn’t remember how he played into her most recent dreams. The glare in his eye remained penetratingly uncomfortable.
Of all the people she had thus far met on the road, she trusted the manager the least. Jojo certainly seemed harmless enough except for his grandiose superhero dreams. Hrim made her feel safe. She hadn’t quite come to
a conclusion about Guru Tetta. Although his name was strange for the setting, Miguel seemed nice enough, especially to Jojo. Amelia stared up at the stars in the sky through her window.
Below the window a shadowy figure listened for any indication that Amelia was awake or what she might be thinking. The moment he saw her, he knew he was dealing with a delicate situation. He didn’t think he would ever see her alive again. Now that he had been seen, he knew he needed to be very careful.
Pause, pause, pause…
Hrim shook his head and rolled over onto his left shoulder. The tapping continued near his right ear. Hrim flicked his hand across his face and a flutter brought him to bolt upright position on his cushion. He looked across the room and saw Jahni sleeping peacefully. Hrim held his arm in front of his face in the darkness. “Come.” He whispered. Binga lighted on his hand and hopped up Hrim’s arm to his shoulder and then leapt to the top of Hrim’s head.
What’s this about? Hrim frowned, eyes crossed looking up toward his forehead.
The woman has a visitor! The little bird nervously jumped back and forth from Hrim’s head to his shoulder.
Is she all right? Hrim scrambled to his feet, slipping on his sandals.
She hasn’t seen him. He is hiding below her window. Binga reported.
Hrim imagined a softly lit candle and held out his finger. Binga hopped on. Be Still. He instructed her with his thoughts. Hrim closed his eyes and focused on his breath for a moment then connected with the consciousness of the little bird. In the next moment Hrim’s awareness was pressed through the walls of his room and projected beyond the restraints of time to the Guru’s home on the other side of the village.
Beneath the window he observed the figure in the shadows. Moving past him Hrim flew up to the open window in Amelia’s room and hovered there. Amelia lay on the cushion staring straight through him contemplating the coolness in of the night air. Hrim looked back to the ground. The man listened at the window a moment longer and then quietly headed down the deserted street breaking into a jog and disappearing around a corner.
Gold Lame' (That's le-mayy) (Gold Lame' Series) Page 4
