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“Many would say that it’s you sending yourself a message or a warning,” John answered.
The man’s only response was a deep frown. He was undoubtedly worried about what he was trying to tell himself.
“You mean my subconscious is trying to send a message to my active conscious?” he asked.
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“Maybe,” Sandra answered. “Or maybe the other
‘you’ is sending it. Either way, pay close attention. Dreams can warn you of potential danger if you allow them to and most likely, you’ll keep having it until you understand what it means. Many bring messages from some part of your soul’s evolution.”
Heather cut her gaze over to Jade’s plate and noticed that some fat and gristle from the beef had somehow escaped her ravenous appetite. She would have been impressed by her sister’s restraint if it hadn’t been her third plate.
“So do all of our dreams exist in the parallel world?”
asked a younger man on the other side of the room.
Heather wondered if he was asking because he really wanted an answer or if he was just amusing himself at the expense of the rest of them.
“No. Our dream time is spent in parallel grids of experience. We can make contact with the other world but we can’t become a part of it, not even for a moment.
If the two worlds met, each would undo the other.” John paused and Heather knew it wasn’t a feeble attempt at dramatics. He was fi guring out how to word something he wanted to say.
“We would cease to exist,” John fi nally said.
“What a buzz-kill,” Jade whispered a decibel too loud and Heather’s expression screamed “Shut up.”
Sandra took up where John left off but she interjected with a lighter and more upbeat tone of voice.
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“Picture a parallel grid as the lobby to the parallel world,” she helped.
A voice from a table somewhere in the back called out a question. Heather couldn’t pinpoint the location or the owner but its familiarity nagged at her. She felt goose-bumps spread down her arm and she willed away the paranoia with all her might.
“Sometimes I see something in my dreams and then it happens in real life. Is that a premonition?” the guest asked. His southern drawl had her craning her neck to see him.
“It could be related to information you’ve received from the collective unconscious,” Sandra answered.
“You mean, it’s not just me talking to myself? It’s everyone talking to me?” he continued, just a voice hidden in the crowd. But his confusion sounded phony. Whoever asked the question sounded like he knew more than he was letting on.
John addressed the two-part question alone.
“They’re usually refl ective of religious experiences and said to occur as a means of changing the course of the future.” His answer was unusually pat and Heather wondered what had rattled him.
He paused while he scanned his brain for words again, obviously having no trouble identifying the man with the question. John’s glare was steady and unmoving.
He had only one target in his sights and he didn’t look pleased.
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“We’re all part of a larger world that we’re not meant to understand in the here and now. There are times, however, when something does try to pass through,”
John continued, annoyed.
“Pass through?” asked the amused voice in the back.
“We’ve all heard stories throughout our lifetime,”
John answered. His voice was fi rmer than she’d heard it all night. He seemed to be having his own private conversation with the man amidst the room of vying hands.
Sandra also seemed distracted by the man with the questions. She picked up where her co-facilitator left off.
“We’ve all heard of ghosts and spirits and strange, inexplicable happenings, right?” she asked the crowd.
The murmurs that followed were affi rmations that most had been witness to bizarre sightings at least once.
Feigning the need to stretch her legs, Heather stood up when she was called on to ask the next question. Her real intention was to scan the room until she found the man with the questions and the inside joke. The problem was that he was no longer asking and was now camoufl aged by fi fty other strangers she didn’t know from Adam.
“What if we wanted to have a lucid dream on purpose, could we do it?” she asked. She tried to pull off nonchalance but really felt the beginnings of a panic attack.
“Yes. There are exercises and techniques that can be done to initiate and to enhance the experience,” Sandra answered.
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“What are they?” another guest wanted to know.
“You have to let go of everything; every thought, every fear, every worry has to be released. You need to learn to achieve a deeper concentration than you’re aware even exists. Imagery is important so learning things like ‘vivid recollection’ can help,” she said. “It can be a lot of fun to those who work at it. When you learn to manipulate your dream-state, you can travel any way you want. You can fl y, you can fl oat; you could even transport yourself if you wanted. And things can unravel as quickly or as slowly as you choose. That way, you receive the information at your own pace.”
Sandra was excited. She seemed to be speaking more from experience than from textbook knowledge.
“Can you feel emotions in a lucid dream?” asked the man with the southern drawl. Heather couldn’t think of another reason to stand so she craned her neck as far as it would go. She wanted to stand up and demand that he show himself immediately, but she resisted and decided to wait and ask Jade to point him out at the end. They could investigate together.
“You can experience the emotions but not from the inside, as you’re accustomed to. You perceive them as the observer only. The goal is to diminish your fear using the knowledge that you’re only in a dream. The result, if achieved, can be very powerful and very wonderful but it’s a long road there.”
“So the road to paradise is a long stretch of nightmare?” asked a woman at their own table.
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“Simply put, yes,” Sandra answered. “Once you start to feel scared, you can lose your way. Your courage is what lights the way and once the light fades, you chance losing your way back. Your fear can, literally, be the vessel that takes you to a place you don’t want to go to. If you feel yourself getting scared and you can’t fi ght it, remember to turn back.”
Heather wondered if Sandra had ever been aboard such a vessel. From the way she had to force her composure, she guessed the answer was yes.
“What if you don’t turn back on time?” asked a nervous old man in the front.
“You don’t wake up and the coroner writes it off as a massive heart attack,” Sandra answered, almost apologetically.
“If dreams are powerful enough to kill you, why don’t we hear about it all the time?” asked the old man again.
“It doesn’t happen all the time,” John replied. “It happens very rarely, in fact. You can’t fall into such a deep sleep that you end up there by accident. It’s not about the depth of your sleep. It’s about your ability to let go, your belief system and your desire. It can hardly be achieved by one who studies for years and practices every night.
It’s a higher state of awareness that we can’t just happen upon. It must be worked for.”
The group wanted to know how to practice for a lucid dream. They readied their pens and paper and looked eagerly at their hosts for tips. Heather was one of them.
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“Before going to sleep, tell yourself you’re going to have a lucid dream. Then decide on a symbol – something that when you see it in the dream, it works to remind you of what you’re doing. It’s kind of like an alarm you’ve set for yourself. Whe
never you see that symbol in your dream, your mind will gain awareness of the dream and you’ll be able to interact.”
11:11, thought Heather.
“Has anyone here ever heard of Edgar Cayce?”
Sandra asked.
A few hands went up and Heather’s was the highest.
The work of Edgar Cayce had long been a passion of hers and one she inherited from her father. He had introduced her to the book, Many Mansions, at the age of six and Heather’s belief in reincarnation had only grown stronger every day since.
“He studied a lot in reincarnation but his powers were in what he could do during a sleep state,” John said. “His dreams were seen as prophecies and he used the trances to guide actions in the waking world. He’d have out-of- body experiences and from them be able to describe the needs and cures of patients he visited. He saved many people. There are several recordings of the lives he helped.”
“Did the Bible say anything about dreams?” asked a well-coifed woman near the middle of the room. Heather wasn’t surprised. She knew the question would come up eventually.
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“Sure,” John said. “Solomon, Jacob, Nebuchadnezzar and Joseph were all visited in their dreams by God or by prophets.” Heather wondered why her speaker was so well-versed in the Bible and decided the man had many secrets.
“And the Upanishads had two perspectives on dreams,” joined Sandra.
“What’s the Upanishads?” asked about fi ve guests.
“It’s a collection of philosophies and beliefs gathered throughout the centuries,” she answered. “Because of the many different authors, the book ended up with two very confl icting perspectives on dreams. The fi rst was that dreams are nothing more than our inner desires. The second is that the parallel grid is the only place where Satan can die. They believed that Satan can penetrate any time and any place in our life except for our dreams. Our dreams are safe and their content belongs only to us. If they become frightening or uncomfortable, we’re solely responsible. We can’t blame the devil.” She smiled.
“What about dream sharing?” asked Jade. Heather was surprised to hear her sister ask the question. She had never heard Jade mention anything about dream sharing.
“That’s another practice that takes several years and a lot of practice to achieve. Both dreamers would require not only serious concentration but also some sort of telepathic link to one another,” John said.
“In the dream, you would select a spot where the two of you would normally meet,” Sandra continued. The 194
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look she passed her partner was a knowing one. Heather wondered if her hosts had ever met up in the parallel grid.
“Like the Cheesecake Factory,” Jade said, referring to their favorite restaurant.
“Yes, if that’s what’s comfortable for you,” John said.
“You would allow yourself to become the reality you perceive in your mind’s eye. You would look around at your surroundings and allow yourself to feel the textures, hear the sounds and draw in the sights of everything around you.”
Everyone remained quiet.
“Your target will show up. You just have to keep your eyes open and your nerves calm.”
“How do they get there?” asked another guest.
“You bring them in yourself,” Sandra answered smiling. “You draw their physical being from your memory of them. The stronger the memory, the quicker you can get them there.”
“So, if I just picture my husband, he’ll be there?”
asked an old woman. Heather wondered if the lady had been widowed and if she was trying to make contact with her dead husband.
“That’s where it becomes more diffi cult,” John piped in. “There’s an adjustment issue when you go from being an observer to being an active participant.
Just remember to keep meditating on the other person.
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the vibrations and energies you felt when you were last with that person.”
“If you don’t see the other person right away, don’t give up,” Sandra said. “It’s still a dream so there will be surprises.”
“Surprises?” everyone asked. The thought didn’t conjure up happy thoughts.
“You may not fi nd the person sitting in a booth, for example,” Sandra answered. “Her or she may be in the kitchen, working as the cook.”
“Or maybe waiting on you,” John added.
Heather accepted the creepy thought reluctantly. It reminded her of a world where reality was only a fl eeting memory of the past and a place where everyone had forgotten who they really were.
“Is there any way to cheat?” asked a hippie with long hair and a beard. He reminded Heather of Tommy Chong and she thought the question was interesting. They both waited patiently for the response.
“What do you mean?” John asked but sported a knowing smile.
“I mean, say our concentration doesn’t work so well,”
the hippie continued. “If our mind refuses to power down and allow us the trip, are there any shortcuts?”
“Some feel that they need hypnosis to travel to such a raw state of subconscious,” John answered hesitantly.
“Others try to use drugs to force their systems into hibernation.”
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He didn’t sound like a fan of shortcuts and Heather wanted to ask why but remained quiet.
“Our minds come to accept things only when we’re ready,” John continued gently. “Hypnosis forces us to remember things we’re not ready for and drugs suck away our self-control. The road is a diffi cult one and we should pave it carefully to ensure its safety. We shouldn’t throw more obstacles in the way.”
Heather heard the message loud and clear. Should she ever safely enjoy lucidity, she would have to do it on her own. She wouldn’t be able to rely on psychology by asking Dr. Angel for hypnosis or on medicine by popping a Xanax.
The seminar fi nally ended and the sisters shook their hosts’ hands. Heather snuck peeks toward the table where the southern voice had come from and wondered which one of the men had been so rude. Unable to determine his identity, she pulled Jade into a quiet corner to ask.
“Did you see the guy asking the questions?” Heather asked.
“Which questions?” Jade wanted to know. She was having trouble fi tting her arms into jacket sleeves.
“The one with the premonitions who sounded like he was heckling the hosts,” Heather answered.
Jade looked as though she was preparing for a punch-line. She didn’t answer at fi rst and her expression changed to surprise when she realized the question had been a serious one after all.
“Are you insane?” Jade asked calmly.
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“Why?” Heather asked. She was no stranger to the question but she couldn’t understand why it came up then.
Jade stayed quiet for a long time, obviously trying to choose her words carefully. Heather looked around again, her suspicious glare traveling from one guest to another.
Finally, Jade answered.
“It was you, Heather,” she said. Worry outlined both her words and her facial features. “You’re the one who asked those questions.”
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Chapter 13
Somebody Told Me
Jade lived in a district that offered daily opportunities for a tarot card reading and a cup of coffee. Ybor City was congested with shops that appealed to those in search of the supernatural and the sisters were on a mission to fi nd answers. They weren’t sure which direction to look in and made the only decision that felt right when they made an appointment with a psychic.
The sisters walked the populated streets, both still distracted by memories of the dream seminar the night before. Knowing Jade had serious concern fo
r her mental health, Heather felt as though she’d lost the only person who ever believed her. Her sudden scream and the projection of her own questions onto a stranger who didn’t exist had been too much for either of them.
The atmosphere felt calm but had an undercurrent of excitement. It felt as though a storm were threatening to wash the streets of its patrons and send them running into stores, clothes dripping wet.
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They passed a Wiccan shop that boasted a life-size painting on the door. Worshippers lay at the feet of the sun, their hands uplifted in prayer. Patchouli wafted out through the open front door, its scent reminiscent of Heather’s short-lived days as a Pagan.
The shop next door advertised Israeli archeological gifts. An oil lamp and a jug dressed up the front window and a sign invited customers to a candlelit and historical shopping experience. She fi gured the owner couldn’t afford an electric bill and had decided to pass it off as an ambience he meant to create.
They continued down the sidewalk and stopped when they stood at the door of a Chinese restaurant. A small Asian man had just unlocked and come out of the front door. He offered them a smile that took up two-
thirds of his face.
“Good morning,” he gushed happily.
His thick accent dripped from the three short syllables.
Heather had always seen Asians as harmless but had decided they were the smartest people on earth. If any other country succeeded in claiming hers, she believed China would be the one.
“I mean good afternoon!’ he corrected. “Come in, come in.”
He waved his arm in invitation and welcomed the sisters in to experience his version of the Orient. Heather wondered if he was really as cheerful as he came off or if his delight lacked sincerity.
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She wasn’t in the mood for a public outing but her hunger won over. She followed him in and found herself face to stomach with the Chinese God himself. Heather giggled at her literal run-in with the Buddha. He stood almost as tall as the ceiling and seemed to beckon customers through sheer intimidation.
“Jesus,” Jade muttered.