The Pando continued to whisper in her ear as it had throughout the eons: "We aren't really anything. We are the ocean. We are vast and rhythmic. When we have thoughts, we become more solid. The disturbing thoughts will even bring calcification and pain to our body," and so forth, and so on.
But she paid little attention. She was already interested her other characters who were lost in some subterranean maze. They trying to escape from something. Or trying to solve a puzzle. Or both. They were circumnavigating levels. One of the characters seemed to have success. She focused on that character. In fact, she may have become that character as the adventure continued. Now she seemed to have the required answer to progress to the next level.
The whispering continued in a gentle rhythm: "In this way, each thought we have/become brings its own little separation. And its separation from the whole in a way is a little trauma. But each thought also becomes its own little act of creation. This is the magic of reality. Trauma creates thoughts and thoughts are what makes us Choate. Thoughts are what bring something out of nothing. And like a snake eating its own tail, my companion the Ouroboros, our act of creation is a way of working with our trauma, perhaps building a structure around the trauma, perhaps dancing with the trauma," and so forth, and so on.
Eventually, she found herself in a room with several other people. One of them was a man who had been in her group before, on previous levels. One of them was me, the author of this book. Maybe you were there as well. I'm not sure. But I we were sort of only observers at this time. We weren't really in the room in the way that they were in the room. There were also several others.
As events unfolded, she and the man were sorting out some of the documents that lay spread out on the table before them. There was rhythm to their sorting Several of the other people in the room were also assisting on moving the documents around. There seemed almost to be a competition going on between her and the man and the others. They started emitting a soft humming which grew louder as the sorting increased in intensity in rhythm to the sounds of the sorting.
When this was going on, from deep within me, a little voice started saying like a mantra, "I am here, I am here" I kept saying this over and over in harmony with their humming and sorting. It seemed that as I kept saying this, my body started to take form. I felt like I was the answer to what she and the man were trying to do with their sorting. I tried to get her attention to let her know that what she was doing was successful because I had been created. I realized that what she was doing was conjuring me up in a sense. I was being created. I tasted bile in my mouth and I was having trouble breathing, like I was being born or something. I became anxious. It was almost like I was in a simulation, like that space in ayahuasca I go to where I realize that everything I have known, lived or thought was an illusion. But we won't get to that until page 47,
Then I found I almost awake, but I didn't want to be. I had it in my mind I had to go back in the dream, to connect with her again and to find out what information was in the prior levels of her adventure. I don't remember specifically what she was doing when I started to wake up, but I felt it was important. Then I eventually woke. It almost felt like she was an aspect of my consciousness finding its way to the surface, and the reason why she was so successful in navigating it was because she already knew how to create things like me and exist on a variety of levels of reality.
The pando continued: "Some thoughts will repeat, like our bodies attempt to heal ourself by oscillating us back into motion, into the ocean. And healing oscillations also arise in trance states, drumming, or mantras," and so forth, and so on.
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