Page 18(or thereabouts)

The smell of freshly brewed coffee wafted up to the already acute olfactory senses of the her talking cat.

"Susie," said the cat, "this has to be the best coffee I have ever encountered.  But do we know where it came from?  How do we know it doesn't have the mold?  Is it from a single source?  Are the beans grown in the shade and transported by the burro?  I'm developing a social consciousness in case you haven't noticed.   I want all my hard earned money to benefit only the most environmentally friendly operations."

"Ha," she smirked, "we'll to begin with, Taylor,  it is my hard earned money my feline friend.  The last time I checked you had nine lives, but not discernible source of income."

"A minor detail to be sure.  Have I ever told you best thing about you is your waist?  Wait until you see the statues in Taylor's bathroom."

"Now you are talking like a soft boy my feline friend.  I have something for that.  Why don't you chew on this flowery like substance for awhile.  Its called Trillium.  I obtained it from a medicine man.  It will expand your (cough) consciousness."

(Taylor the cat chews the white flower that looks something like a lotus blossom)

"Oh my God," hissed the Cat.  "We all so interconnected.   The coffee, you, me, Sergio, the guy who makes the coffee, the burro (whose name is Pedro), the details of transaction are automatically coded into blocks of data that are cryptographically linked together with other transactions and secured over a network.   The linked chain of data blocks have formed an incorruptible record of all the transactions that can be replicated on every computer that use the network.   On this blockchain that I see before me, you can see not only debits and credits of the transaction, but other information such as history of ownership and location, title, contracts, real world objects, each individual coffee bean—and even personal information.   I now need to explore all of this."  

"Be careful Taylor, you might not like what you find," she replied with a warning that sounded amazingly like what Dr. Zaius said at the end of that old movie about Apes.

"Here is what this chain says:  Start the weekend off right with tasty treats out in the Cortex food truck meetup from 11am--1pm.  Due to the rain today, DJ's Gul-licious Backyard BBQ treats will not be with us this week.  But you can still find them at your favorite grocery store.  This chain over here says that our neighbor has irritable bowel syndrome.   While he is away, I suggest we break into his house steal his hard drive and hide it in a place he'll never find.  What if social media is just something that drives human societies insane?  What if the negative externalities outweigh the total use value?"

"Taylor, I told you not to go into the forbidden zone."

"If fake news actually influences reality, it takes all the fun away from satire, and especially from the Jean Paul Satire.  By the way, I think I'm having an existential crisis over here, what was in that flower?"

"I'm going to take you back to my room and give you the Languedoc wine."

"Did it come from a single source?  Here, give it to me now and I will check its Blockchain distribution." 

Page 24

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 were 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, as with 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 also there as well.  I'm not sure.   If you were there we were sort of only observers at this time.  We weren't really in the room in the way that the others 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 was almost awake, but I didn't want to be.  I had it in my mind I had to go back into 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 attempting 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. 

Page 23

In the land of Nod, she began life in a relaxed lucid dream, much as her mother and grandmother before her.

Some people believe there are only two forces which shape human beings:  nature and the environment.   And since the personality is largely formed during the first three years of life, it is written that it is the environment which is paramount.

Not so in the land of Nod, where dreams can be controlled by the dreamer. As such, the effect of the environment on the personality is negligible.  An after thought.  What is important are desires. Because desires in the land of Nod are endlessly fulfilled, the quality of desires determines the character of the individual.

But in all lands, even Nod, there are rules.

Most of her prison term in the land of Nod was served in Mimizon where the beds are small and uncomfortable.  Nevertheless, in Mimizon, she had wild adventures in the four corners of the realm and intrigue with the most handsome men.  She also vowed to the warden at the appointed times that she would never again dream the forbidden.  But still she stayed and was not be released.

Her bed of course was a magical bed, but as she grew older objects began to appear that she could not control.  This is as true in Nod as it is in other realms.  In fact, one of the interesting things to explore in this little circle you have started is the lack of difference between Nod and the other realms.   

Anyway, one of the most persistent objects that appeared and she could not control was a white tree.  The tree beckoned to her, but she knew better than to listen to the objects in her dreams for it was written that voices in dreams are the path of nightmares.

"You are alone," said the tree.  "I live as one with all objects around me.  Forgetting an individualized self, you discover the totality of who you are.  Love is forgetting your self.  Set aside you worldly desires,"  and so forth, and so on.

And she felt that there was a certain element of truth to what the tree said.  For she knew this was the Pando tree, the largest organism in the land of Nod which spread its many tendrils, roots and branches into many lands, including the legendary land of wakefulness.  But still for many years she avoided its call.

I'm not sure what pushed her to listen to the tree.  When we are under stress we sometimes take drastic steps and sometimes throw caution to the wind--perhaps regretting it later--perhaps not.  It is written that every dreamer eventually wakes up.  But its not clear exactly what happened to her.  At least not yet.

Table of Contents

You don't have to start at the beginning of this book.  I know its the customary thing to do, but a little bird told me that you can start wherever you want.   I think I'm going to start at page 23.  Page 23 is a great place to start if you just woke up and are not really focused yet.  If you still remember the dream you had last night, page 23 is recommended   But I'm sure wherever you start, we are going to meet somewhere along the way, like we always do, like all humans always have and always will.  Because we are not really separate.  But we won't get to that until page 42.

I guess I'm really not that much into the idea that there are beginnings, middles and ends of things, even books.  Think of what you are reading more as a circle, perhaps.  Or don't think of it at all.  I think I'm more into exploring things rather than thinking.  Or at least that is my aspiration.  

If you do keep reading, page 2 can be a little disconcerting.  I think in some ways it is the end of this little adventure, the answer to all our little questions, perhaps even before the adventure started.  Which is a natural progression of things, I suppose.  We are born, we live, and we die.  And its not a happy ending, actually kind of macabre unless there is a whole lot of context.  And I think that is where the fun begins: adding context.  Or maybe letting everything else fall away.  Or both.

So without further adieu, 

Elevator Going Down

 So I was in an elevator last night at 1:30 am, holding onto my new grounding wire connected to the cold water pipe of my bathroom, going down into the earth, literally and figuratively.  And in this dream, I was waiting in line to get in the elevator, I think, but that wasn't the important part.  And there were kids milling about.  And I think even one of them pushed the button to go down.  And there was a female also associated with the elevator.  And she was running the show.  Kind of.  

So the elevator started slowly down, and then it sped up, disconcertedly fast--making me wonder what button the kids pressed.  Or mushrooms they may have eaten before the dream.  I remember an abrupt stop after what seemed like 99 floors going down.  And the doors opened up to a dark area.  And the kids all dispersed.  And I think it was just me talking to the woman.  And the woman was stating rather plainly that we should not have come here.  And part of me wanted to go back.  This place was uncomfortable.  Physically uncomfortable.  But part of me felt that this was the place I should be.  It was very quiet and still.  And part of me belonged here.  This was what I had been searching for but not yet recognized.  There was a conflict in me.  And the woman pointed out a path in the distance and motioned for me to go to the "natural disbursement area."  To follow that path.  And there was nobody around.  And it was dark and very dimly lit.  And I can sort of remember another dream about this as well.

So I know I'm looking for too much meaning here and liable to get my butt spanked for doing so, but the kids inside of me are always pressing buttons without really thinking about anything.  But I want to go to that underground place in the stillness.  This is the end of the road for me.  Literally.