Obviously, Dick’s integration of the VALIS phenomena was a dynamic, ongoing process, marked by a sense of humor regarding his theories of the moment. Yet underneath his jokes and wild speculations, Dick remained firm in his conviction that something had happened to him, something with a significance reaching beyond his own psyche. It was fortuitous for Dick that his career as a science fiction author placed him in one of the few niches in Western society where wild visions of alternate realities are accepted and honored.
Dick’s Mythos
Myths need not be literally true to be both meaningful and useful. The legend of the Holy Grail has a symbolic value quite apart from the historical question of whether there was ever an actual Grail. Similarly, in Dick’s case, despite the palpable flakeyness of many of the specific details of his scenarios, the overall thrust of his mythologizing indicates an effort on the part of his embattled psyche to balance itself.
Dick’s tutelary spirit identified herself at one point as St. Sophia, a “saint” who is not an actual person, but rather the feminine personification of divine Wisdom, the subject of the Old Testament’s “Song of Songs” and the Apocrypha’s “Book of Wisdom,” and also the primary link between the Earth and the Unknown God in various Gnostic scriptures. As predominantly patriarchal mythoi, the Jewish and Christian religions have utilized mostly masculine symbols in their characterizations of the Absolute, although feminine components such as the Shekinah (the Presence of God), Sophia, and the Blessed Virgin Mary have survived, albeit in semi-autonomous and often underground form.
It can be argued that the monotheistic religions that have shaped Western civilization have been overbalanced towards the Logos (i.e. God as Word and this Word as the structural glue of existence). Dick as a writer—and an extremely prolific writer at that—shared this Logocentrism. Small surprise then that the eruptions in his inner world triggered by the pink beam should be clothed in the garments of Sophia or Aphrodite pointing him towards wholeness. Dick’s own 1978 Exegesis account of the process is instructive:
At the center of psychosis I encountered her: beautiful & kind &, most of all, wise, & through that wisdom, accompanying & leading me through the underworld, through the bardo thodol journey to rebirth-she, the embodiment of intelligence: Pallas Athena herself.
Needless to say, Dick was not willing to let well enough alone and his subsequently endless theorizing about this psychospiritual a breaction threatened to bury “that which cannot be described” beneath a mountain of words. Thus the Exegesis simultaneously veils as it unveils, marching resolutely towards an ever receding horizon.
Next to Kafka, Dick is arguably this century’s best novelist of alienation. Long before 1974 his books were filled with the notion—mirrored in Gnosticism—that there is a fundamental error present in Creation and that this earth is a godforsaken place. This gut-level sense of estrangement, exacerbated by heavy drug use and a series of personal upheavals, made Dick the quintessential countercultural novelist in the ‘60s, but it also produced a tremendous inner tension within Dick which cried out for resolution.
Dick’s experience of Sophia/ Pallas Athena/ Thomas/ Elijah reaching down through the darkness to offer him saving glimpses of Light parallels the Gnostic myth of Sophia’s descent into the world to gather the sparks of divine light within Creation back up to their rightful place in the Pleroma (Fullness). Or, to cite another myth, Dick, as Osiris, had been dismembered; his Anima (Soul), as Isis, was gathering together his limbs to make him whole once again.
A myth has been called “a lie that tells the truth,” and this may be the best way to appreciate the significance of Dick’s subjective experiences rather than quibble about their objective relation to so-called reality. Besides, as Dick would be the first to ask, what is reality?
Whether the events or epiphanies of Dick’s final eight years were ultimately indicative of “genuine” mystical encounters or of “merely” psychological origins, I’ll leave for each reader to ponder. Since Dick’s death, theories have multiplied over what occurred, with critics noting parallels between the February/ March 1974 inner events and the characteristics of temporal lobe epilepsy, drug side effects, and even multiple personality disorder.
Ultimately, what matters isn’t the cause of his shamanic journey so much as its effect. To his credit Dick was able to turn his experiences into compelling literature. Dick viewed his final three novels as a trilogy of sorts and VALIS, THE DIVINE INVASION (originally titled VALIS REGAINED), and THE TRANSMIGRATION OF TIMOTHY ARCHER are proof that despite his fascinating maze-like wanderings in the Exegesis, Dick was able to rise above his musings and speak to his readers from the heart. The book that you hold in your hands is an invitation for a short excursion into Dick’s maze. Be forewarned, however, that exit signs are few and the Sphinx at the middle of the maze may ask you to answer a very tough riddle before you can leave.
—Jay Kinney
May, 1991
Jay Kinney is publisher of gnosis Magazine, and a longtime reader of Philip K. Dick’s work.
Notes
1. An alternate chronology of these events has been expressed by PKD’s wife, Tessa B. Dick, in an interview by J. B. Reynolds published in The Philip K. Dick Society Newsletter, #13, February, 1987, p. 6. According to Tessa Dick, Dick had oral surgery the day before the incident in question, was “full of codeine, for the pain” and was awaiting the delivery of medication for his high blood pressure.
2. From “How to Build a Universe that Doesn't Fall Apart Two Days Later”, published as an introduction to I HOPE I SHALL ARRIVE SOON, Doubleday, 1985
3. From interview in DREAM MAKERS: THE UNCOMMON PEOPLE WHO WRITE SCIENCE FICTION, Charles Platt, Ed., Berkley, 1980, page 155.
4. Ibid, p. 155-156.
5. PKD letter to Ira Einhorn, February 1978.
6. PKD letter to Peter Fitting, June 1974.
7. VALIS, Philip K. Dick, Bantam, 1981.
8. VALIS, pg. 17.
9. STARSEED, Timothy Leary, Level Press, 1973; THE SCIENTIST, John C. Lilly, Bantam, 1981.
10. MEMORIES, DREAMS AND REFLECTIONS, C. G. Jung, Vintage, 1961, pp. 190-191.
11. Jung, op. cit., p. 190. The Seven Sermons are reprinted as an appendix in the book. For an insightful discussion of the Seven Sermons, Gnosticism, and depth psychology, see THE GNOSTIC JUNG, Stephan A. Hoeller, Quest Books, 1982.
12. THE EXPLORATION OF THE INNER WORLD, Anton Boisen, Harper, 1936, pp. 30-33.
13. PKD letter to Claudia Bush, July 16,1974.
14. Ibid.
15. Boisen, op. cit., p. 119.
16. “Shamans and Acute Schizophrenia,” Julian Silverman, American Anthropologist, Vol. 69 (1967): p. 28.
17. Platt, op. cit., p. 155.
18. VALIS, pp. 216-217.
19. VALIS, pp. 217-228.
A PKD Chronology
1928 Dec. 16th. Philip K. Dick and Jane C. Dick born at home, Chicago, Illinois.
1929 Jan. 26th. Jane Dick dies of malnutrition.
1929 Dick family to Colorado, then northern California.
1933 Parents divorced. Phil stays with mother.
1935 January. Phil and Dorothy (mother) to Washington, D.C.
1938 June. Phil and Dorothy return to California, settle in Berkeley.
1941 Starts reading science fiction.
1942 First short story published, in Berkeley Daily Gazette. Writes first novel.
1944 Summer. Starts working for Herb Hollis at University Radio.
1946-47 Phil’s last year at Berkeley High School. Claustrophobia/agoraphobia. Weekly psychotherapy. Studies at home, with tutor.
1947 Autumn. Enters, drops out of University of California, Berkeley.
1947 December. Moves out of mother’s house.
1948 Marries Jeanette Marlin. Divorced after six months.
1949 (approx) Called for the draft; rejected because of high blood pressure.
1949 Working at Art Music, Berkeley. 1950. June 14th. Marries Kleo Apo
stolides.
1951 November. Sells first short story, “Roog,” to Anthony Boucher at The Magazine of Fantasy &Science Fiction.
1952 May. Becomes client of the Scott Meredith Literary Agency. First story appears in print.
1952 Quits or is fired from Art Music.
Early 1950s Phil and Kleo approached by FBI to attend Univ. of Mexico and collect information on student activities; they decline. Phil forms friendship with one FBI agent, George Scruggs.
Early 1950s Phil taking Serpasil for tachycardia, Semoxydrine (an amphetamine) for agoraphobia.
1953 Phil’s mother remarries.
1953 Thirty short stories published, including seven in one month.
1954 Sells first novel, SOLAR LOTTERY.
1955 First novel published, by Ace Books; sells two more, also to Ace.
1956-57 Writing mainstream only—no science fiction.
1958 Autumn. Phil & Kleo buy house in Point Reyes Station, Marin County; leave Berkeley. Phil meets Anne Rubenstein. Phil asks Kleo for divorce.
1959 April 1. Marries Anne Williams Rubenstein, in Mexico.
1960 February 25. Laura Archer Dick born. Phil’s first child, Anne’s fourth.
1963 July. Scott Meredith Agency returns Phil’s mainstream novels (ten or more) as unsaleable.
1963 September. Phil wins Hugo Award for Best Science Fiction Novel of the Year (THE MAN IN THE HIGH CASTLE).
1963-64 Writes ten science fiction novels in less than two years.
1963 Phil and A start attending Episcopal Church. Phil baptized.
1964 March. Phil files for divorce, moves to Berkeley/Oakland.
1964 June. Dislocates shoulder and totals his VW in auto accident.
1966 July 6. Marries Nancy Hackett; moves to San Rafael.
1966 or early ‘67 Visits Bishop James Pike in Santa Barbara, participates in seance to contact Pike’s dead son.
1967 March 15. Isolde Freya Dick born.
1968 Sells option on film rights to DO ANDROIDS DREAM OF ELECTRIC SHEEP.
1969 August. Hospitalized for pancreatitis.
1970 August. Nancy leaves Phil, takes Isa.
1971 November 17. Break-in and burglary at PKD’s house.
1972 February. Leaves San Rafael, flies to Vancouver, B.c., to be guest of honor at SF convention; decides to stay in Canada.
1972 March. Suicide attempt; enters X-Kalay, heroin rehabilitation center, Vancouver.
1972 April. Leaves Canada, flies to Fullerton, southern California.
1972 July. Meets Leslie Busby (Tessa).
1973 January. Starts writing fiction again, after two—and-a half-year hiatus.
1973 April. Marries Tessa.
1973 July 25. Christopher Kenneth Dick born.
1974 February/March. Series of mystical experiences, as described in VALIS, RADIO FREE ALBEMUTH, the Exegesis, etc. Begins writing the Exegesis.
1974 April. Hospitalized for extremely high blood pressure.
1975 May. Phil’s first non-SF novel is published, CONFESSIONS OF A CRAP ARTIST.
1975 FLOW MY TEARS, THE POLICEMAN SAID WINS The John W. Campbell Jr. Award for Best SF Novel of 1974.
1975 October. Rolling Stone profile of PKD appears.
1976 February. Tessa leaves with Christopher; Phil attempts suicide.
1976 Moves to Santa Ana.
1977 July. Sells option on film rights to short story “We Can Remember It for You Wholesale,” later (1990) filmed as Total Recall.
1977 September. Flies to France to be Guest of Honor at the Second International Festival of Science Fiction at Metz.
1978 August. Dorothy Hudner (Phil’s mother) dies.
1981 May. Completes THE TRANSMIGRATION OF TIMOTHY ARCHER, his last novel.
1981 June 29. Sees first clip from Blade Runner, movie based on DO ANDROIDS DREAM OF ELECTRIC SHEEP, on television. (Movie is released in May 1982.)
1982 February 18. Suffers a paralyzing stroke and is hospitalized.
1982 March 2. Dies in Santa Ana.
In pursuit of VALIS: Selection From The Exegesis
Chapter One: Direct Accounts of Personal Experience
The best psychiatrist I ever saw, Dr. Harry Bryan, attached to the Hoover Pavilion Hospital,[20] once told me that I could not be diagnosed, due to the unusual life I had led. Since I saw him I have led an even more unusual life and therefore I suppose diagnosis is even more difficult now. Something strange, however, exists in my life and seems to have for a long time; whether it comes from my odd lifestyle or causes the lifestyle I don’t know. But there it is.
For years I’ve felt I didn’t know what I was doing; I had to watch my activities and deduce, like an outsider, what I was up to. My novels, for example. They are said by readers to depict the same world again and again, a recognizable world. Where is that world?
In my head? Is it what I see in my life and inadvertently transfer into my novels and to the reader? At least I’m consistent, since it is all one novel. I have my own special world. I guess they are in my head, in which case they are a good clue to my identity and to what is happening inside me: they are brainprints. This brings me to my frightening premise. I seem to be living in my own novels more and more. I can’t figure out why. Am I losing touch with reality? Or is reality actually sliding toward a Phil Dickian type of atmosphere? And if the latter, then for god’s sake why? Am I responsible? How could I be responsible? Isn’t that solipsism?
It’s too much for me. Like an astro-physicist who by studying a Black Hole causes it to change, I seem to alter my environment by thinking about it. Maybe by writing about it and getting other people to read my writing I change reality by their reading it and expecting it to be like my books. Someone suggested that.
I feel I have been a lot of different people. Many people have sat at this typewriter, using my fingers. Writing my books.
My books are forgeries. Nobody wrote them. The goddam typewriter wrote them; it’s a magic typewriter. Or like John Denver gets his songs: I get them from the air. Like his songs, they—my books—are already there. Whatever that means.
The most ominous element from my books which I am encountering in my actual life is this. In one of my novels, UBIK, certain anomalies occur which prove to the characters that their environment is not real. Those same anomalies are now happening to me. By my own logic in the novel I must conclude that my (own) perhaps even our collective environment is only a pseudo-environment. In my novel what broke through was the presence of a man who had died.[21] He speaks to them through several intermediary systems and hence must still be alive; it is they, evidently, who are dead. What has been happening to me for over three months is that a man I knew who died[22] has been breaking through in ways so similar to that of Runciter in UBIK that I am beginning to conclude that I and everyone else is either dead and he is alive, or—well, as in the novel I can’t figure it out. It makes no sense.
Even scarier is that this man, before his death, believed that those who are dead can “come across” to those who are alive. He was sure his own son who had recently died was doing this with him. Now this man is dead and it would seem he is “coming across” to me. I guess there is a certain logic in this. Even more logical is that I and my then wife Nancy participated as a sort of disinterested team observing whether Jim Jr. was actually coming through. It was our conclusion that he was.[23]
On the other hand, I wrote UBIK before Jim Pike died out there on the desert, but Jim Jr. had already died, so I guess my novel could be said to be based on Jim Jr. coming through to his father. So my novel UBIK was based on life and now my life is based on it but only because it, the novel, goes back to life. I really did not make it up. I just observed it and put it into a fictional framework. After I wrote it I forgot where I got the idea. Now it has come back to, ahem, haunt me, if you’ll pardon me for putting it that way.
The implication in UBIK that they were all dead is because their world devolved in strange ways, projections onto their environment of the
ir dwindling psyches. This does not carry across to my own life, nor did it to Jim’s when his son “came across.” There is no reason for me to project the inference then of the novel to my own world. Jim Pike is alive and well on the Other Side, but that doesn’t mean we are all dead or that our world is unreal. However, he does seem to be alive and as mentally enthusiastic and busy as ever. I should know; it’s all going on inside me, and comes streaming out of me each morning as I—he—or maybe us both—as I get up and begin my day. I read all the books that he would be reading if he were here and not me. This is only one example. It’ll have to do for now.
They write books about this sort of thing. Fiction books, like THE EXORCIST.[24] Which are later revealed to be “based on an actual incident.” Maybe I should write a book about it and later on reveal that it was “based on an actual incident.” I guess that’s what you do. It’s convenient, then, that I’m a novelist. I’ve got it made.
There have been more changes in me and more changes in my life due to that than in all the years before. I refer to the period starting in mid-March (it’s now mid-July) [1974] when the process began. Now I am not the same person. People say I look different. I have lost weight. Also, I have made a lot more money doing the things Jim tells me to do, more money than ever before in a short period, doing things I’ve never done, nor would imagine doing. More strange yet, I now drink beer every day and never any wine. I used to drink wine, never beer. I chugalug the beer. The reason I drink it is that Jim knows that wine is bad for me—the acidity, the sediment. He had me trim my beard, too. For that I had to go up and buy special barber’s scissors. I didn’t know there even was such a thing.
In Pursuit of Valis Page 3