Time Odyssey: The Soul’s Memory
Part I: Dreamtime
By J.F. Weckesser
Second Edition
Copyright 2013 J.F. Weckesser
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My deepest thanks to Gary, Davia,
and the great Mystery of Mysteries—the Source.
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Part 1: Dreamtime
Chapter 1 - An ancient love returns
Chapter 2 - Edak, child of Mu
Chapter 3 - Ropl du Meh’s school
Chapter 4 - Ketzah, child of Atlan
Chapter 5 - Falima
Chapter 6 - Murian education complete
Chapter 7 - Voyage from home
Chapter 8 - Atlan
Chapter 9 - The vexing dream
Chapter 10 - An adolescent’s lessons
Chapter 11 - A deeper purpose
Chapter 12 - Back to Mu
Chapter 13 - Golden marshgrass
Chapter 14 - Califia
Chapter 15 - Healing energy
Chapter 16 - Califia’s request
Chapter 17 - Mu’s Council of Nations
Chapter 18 - The Atlantean Council
Chapter 19 - A time of goodbyes
Chapter 20 - Family and Falima, farewell
Chapter 21 - Last days of Mu
Chapter 22 - Last days of Atlan
About J.F. Weckesser
Part 1: Dreamtime
Chapter 1
Everything that is has been already,
And everything that is to come has been already,
And God summons each event back
In its time.
—The Preacher, Ecclesiastes
What’s that pink clump by the pine tree? Aaron slowed to a fast walk and stepped off the path into the woods.
Someone’s down there, a child...no wait; that's a woman.
He stopped and studied the small figure hunkered in the snow. “Who are you?”
She looked scared, and said something—it sounded like French.
That’s not right. “What did you say?”
She hesitated, then spoke again.
What is this? That’s Spanish, for Pete’s sake. “I don’t understand you. Don’t you speak our language?”
She shook her head in frustration. “Rats. I don’t know what you’re saying.”
“You spoke English!”
Her lip curled. “So do you.”
“But why are you speaking English?” This doesn’t make sense. What’s she doing here? How’d she get in? ...
Wait a minute, have I seen her before? …
My God, I think it’s her! But it can’t be…
“Because, that’s my language. What did you expect?”
“What are you doing here?” But he already knew why she was here. Yep, he knew her, all right—from another time, another place.
She looked different now—lighter, and with blue eyes! His heart leapt. Such a long time...
Now as she followed him through the forest to the Lodge, his thoughts drifted back, far back—back in time to ancient memories, when it first began...
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Chapter 2
25,000 BCE
Before the EarthChange
In the stillness of a tiny stone dwelling, a small boy lay tense on a grass mat and stared into the darkness. It would be a while before dawn and he couldn’t sleep; he lay in the dark silence, half-listening to the sound of his hushed breath whispering in his ears.
The volcanoes were silent this night, so it would have to be now. He might not have another chance—or the courage—for a long while.
For how would he know the answer if he didn’t venture forth?
Edak would have to go outside into the black night and wait. But he had been told again and again by his parents never to do this. Words of warning flooded his memory. “You must never enter the darkness of the outdoors alone, my son. The beasts are terrible and always hungry. Never, Edak. Never.”
Edak knew well of the animals—large, terrible creatures that might crush him, or carry him away and eat him. He had heard the tales of reptiles, bears and tigers. “Do not go out into the darkness,” they insisted.
Slowly, quietly, so as not to wake his family, he arose. Silent blackness surrounded him. The air hung still and moist. Brushing waist-length silky hair out of his face, he searched his seven-year-old brain, trying hard to remember the position of everything in his meager hut. He mustn’t make a sound.
Inching along the dirt floor slowly, cautiously, he crept toward the door. His hand reached out, gently feeling for anything he may have forgotten that would be in the way. There was the large clay amphora of water, now another small one of oil, and there in the center of the room the circle of stones marking the hearth. The fire had been out since the previous morning’s breakfast, yet the acrid smell of ashes lingered.
Baby Klad should be to the right of him. Ah, there was his mat. Now he could feel the heat of the little head beneath his hand. Directly in front of him were his parents Ogra and Rehm. He could hear them breathing. Good. That meant he had everything correct in his mind.
He eased around the mat toward the entrance. Almost there. His hand touched the doorway and felt at the bottom for air coming in from outside. No wind. As slowly as he could move, he unfastened the latch of thick leather and eased the wooden door open, hoping the leather hinges wouldn’t creak. Then he listened. Ogra and Rehm’s breathing was the same—deep and slow.
He slipped out the door and stopped before he silently closed it all the way. Heart pounding with excitement and a tinge of fear, he fought to relax and regain calmness. Then, clearing his mind of all thoughts, he waited...and became aware of an area in the center of his forehead. It pulsated slightly now as he drew attention to it. He crouched motionless for a few moments. No sense of danger loomed there, so he stepped away from the house and sat down to wait.
It was quiet.
The air smelled fresh and sweet with a pungent odor of the eucalyptus and redwood trees. It was more noticeable now when he couldn’t see. Again, he stilled his mind to allow his special sense to warn of any danger. As before, the area centered above his eyes remained calm.
At last it was safe enough to concentrate on this burning question: Do the birds wake and sing before or after sunrise? A simple thing to ask for most of humanity, yet a profound one for this young inquiring mind.
Edak had always been curious, much more so than other children. Every item, every work of nature, every act of everyday life seemed to have an inner, hidden meaning to be found by studying, prying and questioning. For a long time he had known how to build a house, for at the age of three he had looked hard at his and the surrounding huts. He studied and studied and asked questions of his father until Rehm thought he would go mad.
At four he learned all he could of fishing, and Rehm asked boat builders how they constructed the watercraft, so he could explain to his eager son.
At five it was, “Why do flowers and birds and snakes and trees and people and everything but rocks grow?” Rehm and Ogra didn’t know. At six, “Why can’t fish live out of water? Why can’t we breathe in water like the fish?” Again, Ogra and Rehm couldn’t answer.
More and more, they were not able to answer his questions, yet these puzzles kept nagging at him. Now at seven he had become increasingly more observant, determined to find answers for himself. He climbed and dug, smelled and tasted. His appetite for knowledge was ravenous—old questions found answers, then new questions arose.
Now he sat, naked, his back resting up against the stone hut. The d
ew was wet on the ground. Moisture formed in his nose and he wiped away a drip with the back of his hand. His long hair warmed him slightly, yet he was comfortable, for in this tropical land the nights were a welcome respite from the day’s sweltering rays.
Slowly, almost imperceptibly, the black sky changed to a dark blue. Edak’s ears perked up slightly and he listened hard. The dark blue gradually turned to a lighter shade in the east.
The young dreamer smiled. The first song of a bird, a haunting-sweet sound of a mourning dove, cooed the answer, and it echoed into the air.
Edak remained quietly seated, entranced while he watched the beauty of the morning unfold before him. The sky became lighter and in the east the blue turned to pink and gold. The world changed from dark shadows into the familiar village he lived in. All about stood little round huts of stone with thatched roofs like his own. Down the narrow dirt road to the right, in the middle of town, towered the domed temple hall, its white marble shining pink in the new light.
To the left, a blanket of blue-gray mist silently flowed on the floor of the redwood forest. The songs of birds saturated the air and, with a thrill of joy, he stood to watch the magnificence of the gold-white ball of sun rise slowly from what seemed the edge of the earth.
His body jerked—the roar of a great beast thundered and echoed from the woods.
Even the monsters sleep and awaken, he thought. I wish they were plant-eaters and would leave us alone.
Then he wondered: Are plants afraid? Do they feel pain when they’re eaten?
Ogra opened the door, her soft arms reaching out for her son, her eyes apprehensive. “Edak, why are you out here? What’s wrong?”
He turned and enveloped himself in her embrace. “Nothing’s wrong, Mother. I just wanted to see if the birds sing before dawn. And I found out that they do. They wake up just as the sky starts to fill with light. Did you ever wonder about that?”
Ogra smiled and shook her head as she caressed his cheek, her black, wavy hair still tousled from sleep. “No, son, I never did. But it’s good that you think of things like that. You have answers before I even think of the questions. Now come in and rest before it’s time to start the day.”
They slipped into the house and quietly closed the door. “I was wondering about some more things,” he whispered, “but I’ll wait until we all get up to ask about them.”
He crawled onto his mat in the back of the room and covered himself with a light cotton blanket, then peacefully drifted back to sleep, oblivious of Rehm and Ogra’s soft whispers.
Soon thereafter, little Klad awoke and started to gurgle and squeal, waking the others. The day had begun.
Edak sat up and fixed his long dark hair into a single braid down the back of his neck, as all the males of Mu did. Then he slipped a brown tunic over his head and tickled Klad on his tan plump tummy. As he played with the naked toddler, a familiar muffled sound carried from across the room. It was Rehm, clearing his throat. He yawned and stretched, his chest seeming to expand the entire width of the mat.
Rehm was big-boned and muscular, and when he lifted the tunic over his head, his arms flexed and rippled. Years of working on the docks had kept his body in prime condition.
Edak most resembled his mother—tall, graceful features accented by large round eyes. It was Klad who resembled Rehm. In fact, he seemed a tiny twin. Already his walk and structure resembled his father.
Rehm sat up and adjusted the tunic on his large frame. He looked over at Edak. “Son,” he said, his voice soft and deep, “go and gather wood for the morning fire.”
Edak started toward the door, then stopped short and eyed Rehm’s large callused hand held in the air. “Then hurry back, as I have something important to tell you.”
Edak’s eyes widened. “What, Father? Could you tell me now?”
A quick laugh escaped Ogra’s mouth while she adjusted her tunic and tied a thin sash around her waist.
“Yes, I could tell you now. But it’s more fun if I make you wait.”
Edak shook his head and smiled, heading for the door. “Very well, but I shall go like the wind.”
“Edak.” Rehm’s voice was stern now. The boy paused for further instruction. “Please, son. Be wary.”
“Yes, Father. Always.” Edak knew what could happen to the person who wasn’t cautious. The giant creatures were always hungry. One must ever be alert for their presence.
A memory emerged from another time. A toddler, Edak had gone with Ogra down to the edge of the forest to collect wood. It was a warm, beautiful day and the two felt secure so close to the woods because the men were there cutting trees. Talking and joking, the workers weren’t as wary as usual. Of course, torches were always near to keep the animals away, yet one man made his way too far from the smoldering rods.
There was no warning—no growl, no snapping of twig underfoot. A great cat exploded from the jungle and pounced. One startled scream escaped before huge fangs silenced the man forever. Men thundered upon the beast in an instant with clubs and torches, beating it to death. But the grisly deed was done.
Edak stood terrified, wailing. Ogra had tried to shield his eyes but it was too late. His ears throbbed from the awful roar and the man’s cry. And the blood—so much blood. Thuds of clubs still pounded in the pit of his stomach. The trauma burned itself in the tot’s mind forever.
It was with him now as he stopped at the doorway and, as usual, he stilled his mind. He closed his eyes and waited quietly for a feeling in the pulsating organ of his forehead. No peril made itself known, so he went on his way up the road to a clearing that was left when the men had chopped trees for boats.
The air was fresh with morning dew and again the pungent smell of eucalyptus filled his nostrils. The sun shone warmly on his brown skin. Tiny pebbles underfoot tickled his bare feet. Gold and red butterflies fluttered about, lighting on pink and white blossoms of the oleanders.
The sky was clear with a wisp of cloud here and there. Off in the distance beyond the village stood the volcanoes. Often there was smoke rising up from their cones, but today they rested.
Edak gathered enough bark and sticks for the morning fire, enough for the meal, but not to heat. It was always warm enough in Mu to be comfortable.
Usually he lingered in the early morning air, but today was different. Excited over his father’s message, he hurried to finish his chore, snagging his garment on a fallen branch in his rush. He had to put the wood down to free himself, then quickly gathered up the bundle and ran home.
The door burst open. “Here I am!” he announced as he entered. “Now what is it you would tell me...”
His voice trailed off and he grew shy, for on a mat next to Rehm sat a tall, thin man with graying hair and smile-wrinkles etched into a narrow leathery face. Edak stared wide-eyed.
“Edak,” said Rehm, taking the wood from his son’s arms. “This is Ropl Du Meh. He will be having breakfast with us.”
Edak shyly studied the visitor, then looked at the floor. It seemed like everyone was looking at the boy, as if he should act a certain way. Yet, what way should that be? He smiled at the man. This is the way Father would treat a new acquaintance, he reasoned. With kindness.
The stranger smiled warmly at Edak, which caused his eyes to nearly close. “I’m glad to meet you, Edak. Your parents have been telling me a lot about you. It seems you have quite a curiosity about life. I decided to come and see for myself.”
My parents? Telling this stranger about me? Why?
He looked at Ogra for answers. She smiled back, but her expression revealed nothing. This must be the surprise Father spoke of.
Ropl Du Meh continued. “They tell me you were up this morning, before dawn, to study the birds’ sleep habits. Is that true?” He again smiled gently, which calmed Edak and helped him to feel comfortable.
“Yes, in a way. I just wanted to know if the birds sing before or after the sun touches the sky. And I found t
hat they are awake as soon as the sky begins to become light. Did you know that?” He quickly averted his eyes to the floor and hoped he didn’t appear rude by asking a question of an adult.
Ropl Du Meh’s smile broadened and again his eyes nearly disappeared. “Yes, Edak. I know that. And do you know how I know? By the very same method you used. A long time ago when I was a lad, just like you.”
Edak liked this man. Such a nice person to have for a family friend. More questions emerged, but then Ogra came with goat milk, tea, flatbread, beans and honey for breakfast, and he pushed his thoughts aside.
Talking ceased and they dipped bread into the communal clay bowl for the beans, which were herbed and sweetened. While they ate, Edak attempted to find out more about this man without being rude. Strangely, the visitor seemed to be talking almost solely with him. This was not a common thing to happen. Adults spoke with adults, children with children.
Edak helped Klad sip from his cup, then set it down beyond the toddler’s reach. “Do you work with my father at the boats?” he asked as nonchalantly as he could.
“No,” said Ropl Du Meh, chewing on a small bit of bread. “In fact, I didn’t know your father until he came to me recently. You see, I am a tutor. I usually have three students, but now I have two. One has grown and no longer needs me. Your father has asked me if I would care to teach you. How do you feel about that?”
A tutor! This was something Edak had longed for. To think that his parents wanted him to be educated. This isn’t an opportunity most children get. He really liked Ropl Du Meh. Still, he had doubts. He took another bite, chewed and swallowed before he asked, “Father, can you afford to have me educated?”
Both parents smiled and Ogra’s eyes rolled up toward the roof. She shook her head.
“Don’t you worry about what we can afford and what we can’t,” said Rehm. “We want very much for you to learn. No mind as sharp as yours should be wasted. Now, do you want to go with this man?”
Edak could barely believe this. At last, he thought, I can learn everything! He saw his beaming parents and was happier than he could ever remember being.
Time Odyssey: The Soul's Memory; Part I, Dreamtime Page 1