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Hello. Are you listening? Listen. Are you listening? I hope so. Can you hear me? Can you read this—read this—as they say in army radio. Read this? Yes? Got it? Reply please. Out.... Are you there? Listen... I don't know if this is working. I can't hear you. So, then I don't know. I don't know if you're aware—that is—listening. Are you getting me? Am I getting through" Listen. Got it? Good. Hope so. I hope so. * * * It's dark. Pretty much everywhere there is darkness. Maybe it's blue-black to the right and then maybe it's blue-black that changes on the left. To what? Blacker blue. Yeah, sure. Blue to blue. Black to black. Oh. There...there is something...ah...a line...a road...Far away...a golden road that turns some crazy turns, getting nearer from far away. Oh oh. Wrong. I was wrong. It's a golden thread. Only a thread that reaches under—Surprise—under me! I'm here, glowing as a diffused light, floating in the darkness, feet kicking, naked body, dangling in the pitch black void, hanging from nothing, touching nothing, floating lightly in the blue-black emptiness. I know, I know, it is vast, but I don't mind. I don't think I'll fall. It is no height, it is not space. The blackness is not dangerous, it is just empty. But what do you want from this semi-dream stuff? What did you call it? Astral travel? Travel! Some travel! From some someplace, reclining on my bed with you sitting nearby, to no noplace, without even being sure you can hear me, pick up on my thoughts, read these transmissions. Are you getting them? Or am I talking to myself? Hello. Testing. Testing. Ha ha! One. Two... But this, even if that works and you read my thoughts while I go travelling—astrally—to nowhere—what did you call it? Travelling connected—it seems—by a golden thread to my life far away—connected through your thoughts catching my thoughts—damn! Is it working? I'm here. But is it real, or sleep—or something more morbid? Am I still on that bed? Hey! Listen! Ayesha! Are you there? I'm calling you! Read me! But also speak—so perchance I'll hear. Perchance. Hmmm. Damn. I don't like your silence. You're the telepath. You sent me here—helped—guided me to nowhere. I thought it was supposed to be everywhere—the world—but not here now. What the hell. You did it. And you're the one who knows. How the hell do I go back? Get back? Ayesha! Maybe I'm just sleeping. Good thought. Ayesha. maybe I can't—I know I can't—get your thoughts. No subtle way. Talk out loud! Speak! My body should hear something even if I'm here. Ayesha! Listen! Attend! Break through. God. I hope you're hearing—reading—these thoughts. But what—what—what—if I'm really here—and I can't hear—and no thoughts go—either way? Black thought. For then, no escape instructions of how to—how to—get back. Ayesha! With blackness like that—the best to hope for is that it is—it is—a nightmare. And I'll merely awake. But that blue-blackness overhead, underfoot—all around in all non-tangible directions—it says—I feel it speak. It says: This is no dream. Ayesha. This is no dream. I want to shout it but am afraid I'll be heard—not by you—but by the darkness. Nothing is there. Out there. Nothing. But...I cannot shout to you. I'll whisper. Ayesha. Can you hear/read me? Surely, there is nothing here to pick up on my thoughts. But why not? If I, such a clumsy fool, can come travelling like this, while my body lies deathlike somewhere else—why not someone or something else? I'm scrutinizing the darkness—every which way—but I see no differences in the blue, in the black. Ayesha. Please speak. I think I see a yellow light. If it is large—it is far away. If it is small, it is very near. It is changing. Ayesha! * * * Listen. I hope that you didn't pick up any bad thoughts. I mean—I was angry there for a moment. Like what the hell had I gotten into. Indeed, why the hell did I let Ayesha do this to me? She's safe back there—in the real world—while here I'm floating naked in some occult blackness. Fine mess! It seemed dangerous for a moment, but that light went away, and now it's all boring. Ayesha! Did you misinform me? Were you lying about your abilities? No, no. I'm here, so I know that part is true. But what about the telepathy? You know—our communications link? So we could stay in control I don't have any control. Do you? Hello? Listen! If you're getting this, don't get mad. I'm just not getting any astral telephone calls, you know. It's dull in this place. Pick up that damn mental phone—no, I remember—you're supposed to talk to my body—since I couldn't pick up your telepathy. Listening is an easier method, even for a supposedly dead body. Do I really seem dead? Strange stuff. Oh! Now don't go leaving the body. Ayesha! Did you leave the room? Don't do that! If someone finds my inert body, that would be a disaster. They might think that I was dead. Hey! They could even bury me! That is a lousy thought! Only a farfetched possibility, right? Ayesha! Dammit! Can you hear me? * * * Ayesha! Good! I can hear you! Was I worried? No. No much. Tell me how things are. My body, I mean my body. Yeah. No burglaries? No Dr. Frankensteins stealing it for experiments? No house-destroying fires? Yeah, I doubt if firemen would rescue an apparent corpse. Yeah. Yeah. Enough of that. When can I return? What do you mean, what's the rush? Yeah, I guess so. I'll look around. Down below? Outside of the darkness? How do I do that? Tell me. Oh, that is simple. I'll try now. * * * Ayesha! Wow! What a huge landscape! And that mountain, it makes me nervous. It is trying to pull me. I've got to go back—I'm going back to the darkness. Whew. * * * Uh. Hum! Uh! Uh! Quivering toes. SHAKING! Uh! "That's superstition," (this was said), "I can't believe it." * * * Zooming along the highway, south to north; a sprinkling of snow on the mountain, ice on the north face of rocks, none on the south. "Ice whiskers," he thought. * * * "Ah. Argh!" the mouth moaned, exhaled. "AH! Ar-rgh!" * * * "Ah. Argh!" the mouth exhaled, the eyes rolled in her head. * * * "Ah Argh!" the mouth exhaled. The eyes rolled into his head. The oxygen jar bubbled, the IV dripped. Dripped. * * * "Ah. Argh!" the mouth exhaled. The eyes rolled in the face. "Ah. Argh!" the great teeth in the grimacing face gnashed together, parted, joined. * * * Susan! Susan! "Why are you calling me?" she asked, catching me off guard. "I need," I said, "I need..." "Why are you," she asked. "Why are you," she asked. "A body!" I said. "I need a body. Where is my body?" * * * Listen, Ayesha. What are you saying? I sent you no message. I don't know what you are saying. What blue man? There has been no man like that here. Why are you saying, what are you saying? Why are you? * * * I am sad and lonesome. What is my body doing? What have you got to say? Is it still there? Will I ever use it again? "Ah. Argh!" the mouth exhaled. * * * Pay attention. Watch! Do not let go. Do not miss anything. Not one thing. Do not miss that! Not that one either. None. None. How is that possible? Watch, watch, watch! I said watch! Don't stop. * * * Pay attention. * * * Ayesha, listen! I don't understand. Tell me something. When is change coming? When is it coming? * * * "Ah. Argh!" the mouth exhaled. Drip. Drip. Hands quivering under the sheet, shaking. Feet quivering under the sheet, shaking. "Ah. Argh!" * * * "Uh Hum!" the mouth moved, eyes almost closed. * * * "Uh! Uh! Hum!" the mouth moved, eyes almost closed, her lips in an angelic smile. * * * "Oh," exhalation. But what was Ayesha talking about? Blue man? Have I forgotten something? She's read my mind and I have forgotten? Perhaps it was a dream. But that is not possible. There is no sleep in the astral realm. * * * Who are you? Sir! Priest! Monk! Hold! Don't go. Oh, I can't keep up with him! Even his golden thread has vanished in the darkness! * * * Listen, Ayesha! Okay! Okay! You read something about a blue man, about love and pain! But I know none of that! It's a blank! Don't torment me! When do I get out of this? Hey! Wait! Don't be so sensitive. Dammit! Silence! She's gone again. * * * "Uh Uh Hum," the mouths said in unison in the darkness. There was the flickering of countless tiny lights. Flames. Flames licking. "Uh uh hum." What were they saying? * * * Ayesha. I think they were some sort of monks. I dunno. * * * "AH! AH! ARGH!" * * * Ayesha. I remember. There was a man flying in the darkness. But he fled when he saw me. He looked like a medieval monk in heavy robes. But he was oriental. Mongolian, perhaps. But he got away. No, I don't understand. * * * In the darkness, something, a blueness. Hey! Is someone there? Hello! Hello! No. No one there, just darkness and my golden thread. * * * Ayesha! Let me describe the world down below. it is vast. It makes me nervous. And the mountain is so strong. It pulls at me! I feel I must be careful. It dominates a range of mountains and is like a pyramid, now halfway down from the top. A huge crack down the middle that is puzzling, like an organic bolt of lightning. Rivers are born there, and go out in all directions, creating major-size rivers. A vast plain to the south is marked by two giant lakes that almost connect. Near these are adobe-like buildings with flags on their rooftops. I don't know. I'm afraid to go closer. Ayesha! Look it up! Maybe a geography book can tell you where I am. Please. * * * "Uh. Uh. Hum!" the mouth exhaled. * * * Listen! Ayesha. What is going on? Why do you refer to things that I've supposedly done, which never happened? What do you mean that they did happen? I'm the one who should know! Those things never happened, those words were never said or thought. Why are you doing this? Don't I have enough problems, being stuck in this strange land and this strange darkness? Ayesha! What do you mean that I am playing with your mind? It is you, you alone. Ayesha! Where have you gone? Dammit. Silence. She is gone. What is the truth of this matter? Dammit. She can't be right. When will she come back? * * * In the distance, in the dark space, there was a figure. A monk. I think. He watches but does not approach. Ah! He is gone. Was it my imagination? * * * The naked blue figure became visible out of its blur, the cloud-like mist. I did not move. It came closer, close enough for me to realize it was a nude man. But what a man! Whiteness upon the palms of his hands. Whiteness underlying his blazing red-rimmed blue eyes. His head had a white fuzz, softer than a crewcut of a marine. His lips were white over redness, which was blood-red when he opened them. But he did not speak in his solemnity, until suddenly he laughed. And with that, he vanished. Was he the blue man that Ayesha said I had thought of before? Perhaps. But I don't remember any of that! But then I did remember something. Unlike the robed monk who appeared, this one was different. He had no golden thread! For some reason, this made me quiver and shudder. My hands shook, my feet quivered. Ah! Ah! But for now, he was gone and my shaking and noises of "Uh! Uh!" stopped suddenly, as if they never had existed. * * * "Beyond being," said the monk, and vanished. Even his thread vanished. I did not know if I had really seen him or imagined it. After all, I had nothing else to do in that darkness. * * * Ayesha! Listen! Get me out of here! Where are you? Are you watching my body? Does it still exist? Where are you? * * * "Uh! Uh! Hum." The hands shook, the feet quivered, the oxygen bubbled, and the IV tube dripped. Dripped. * * * Watch. Watch. Was there anything in the darkness? Outside, the mountain shone in the moonlight. The two lakes were like shining metal. But they were too cold looking. I stayed in the darkness and stared at the empty blackness. Ayesha, where are you? * * * I didn't mean that, Susan. Don't twist my words. * * * The next time that I saw him, he spoke. "EREN-NOON-SHIM-TAL!" The blueness was blacker, almost a gun-metal. He frowned when I did not answer, but then quickly laughed, and shrank into the distance, as if a leaf being blown away in the darkness. My hands and legs quivered. "Who?" I asked. "What is he?" Then I saw, far to the left, the image of the monk watching. But he, too, disappeared. I was alone. Alone. Shaking. * * * Ayesha? What do you mean that you can't locate that mountain? If I can't get back, at least I'd like to know where I am. Look, it's a big mountain, distinctive in shape and coloring. It has this crack. Yes, yes. You forgot the crack? How could you do that? Never mind. There are these two lakes. Yes. Yes. Well, I don't know if I can go closer. I mean, I can go closer, but it makes me nervous. If it will help, I'll try to visit the buildings near the lakes. Okay. Soon, I'll do it soon. * * * I've been to the lakes. Ayesha doesn't know yet. But I've been to the lake and seen the people. I've got to tell Ayesha. Perhaps it will help. It's got to help. * * * Dark blue. He speaks, and then showing his teeth, laughs. He seems more dangerous each time. I don't know what to do. I haven't seen the monk lately. However, the next time the blue one comes back, I've got to pay attention. Attention. That's it. There has to be some clue I can grab. What is this all about? Am I in danger, or not? I've got to pay attention. * * * "Ah. Argh!" exhaled in the darkness. Darkness. * * * At the lakes, in between them, to the north, were the buildings. They were of stone, small with flat rooftops with the appearance of southwestern adobe but not as extensive as a pueblo, even a small one. Heaped upon the rooftops, along the edges, were piles of twigs, branches, as if a barrier or in storage. On the outside, windowless walls were a series of dark circles. They looked like mudpies with a complete handprint in the middle of each. Some had dried and fallen to the base of the wall. I don't know why they were there—a ritual, perhaps. Thinking back, I can't imagine where the wood came from, since there are no trees anywhere on the desolate plain between the houses and the pyramid mountain. I had wondered if any Indians were around, assuming that I was near Navajos or Hopis. But there were none. In fact, there was no one in sight. The only things that moved were the torn bits of cloth flapping ferociously upon the roof. There may have been images on the cloth, but it was so weathered that they were mere smudges. One smudge could have been a horse. But that is silly. Horse flags? What for? I was about to enter through a dilapidated gateway, even though I could have flown over the wall into the courtyard, when the two figures appeared. For a moment, I thought I had found my so-called Indians, but that came from a false first impression. They had high cheekbones and the correct general features. Hairless, their entire heads were a deep tan, shiny with some sort of grease. Their bodies were dressed in great, dirty sheepskin coats, the fleece turned inward. Long sleeves hid their hands. For a moment their eyes widened, and I felt that they had seen me. But that was impossible, since I was invisible to them. Their reaction was from something else. I followed their glances and saw a storm lashing across the lakes, churning up waves. Visibility was fading. When I looked back, the men were gone, seeking shelter. My impulse was to zoom up and fly away into the darkness, as if for safety. I hesitated long enough for the storm to sweep around me, roaring in its fury, dropping great hail stones all around me, whitening the stone soil immediately. But I felt nothing, not the rain, not the wind or ice. They all passed through my insubstantial body. Unnerved by this, I shifted back into the dark realm. I was satisfied that I was there alone. * * * Ayesha. Listen. you're acting like a jealous woman, and there is no call for that. We haven't that sort of relationship. And what can I do about your telepathic eavesdropping? I just thought of, just remembered Susan and—allright, call it whatever you wish. Not eavesdropping. But —you tuned in on my thoughts here. I wasn't aiming them at you—they just came. Hey! Be reasonable. Ayesha! Dammit. She's gone. * * * "Who are you?" I asked the blue man. "Who the hell are you?" "Uh. Uh. Hum," he said, and then vanished. * * * The monk appeared in the darkness and shimmered in mid-darkness, watching me. I stared back intently. Oriental, head shaven. What was he? Intently aware of each other. Intently aware. "Hang on," I said to myself. "Hang on. Don't lose this awareness." "Hang on," I heard a voice. His lips had not moved. Startled, I lost my concentration, and he turned. I did nothing, as I saw him vanish into the distant blackness. "Hang on," came an echo. * * * Susan. I didn't mean to make you cry. Listen. She's just a friend. I didn't sleep with her. You can ask...No. Let me talk. Can I talk? I'm not trying to fool you. Listen, you can ask...I'll give you their number. Listen. Susan? Hello? Don't hang up. * * * "Sue, I've got to get my life together. Hello?" * * * Ayesha! Are you there? You're back? Yes. You're not mad? Good. Any luck with locating the mountain? Oh. Too bad. Maybe you need more information. More clues. I'll try from here. I'm glad you're back. Uh, how is my body? It's there? Heh heh. Joke, you know. Where else can it be? Yeah. yeah. Well, I'm glad it's there and you're watching it. Watching. * * * Watching. I've been watching. Neither the monk nor the blue one has appeared recently. How long have I been here? What am I doing? I guess I'm watching myself watching. What is my body doing? Ah. Nothing, it is doing nothing. * * * Looking across the space between the buildings, I saw the window at the back of the Cape Cod-style house. It was twilight, and the interior upstairs window was brightly lit by a lamp with a tilted shade. A glaring light struck the upper torso of the woman. This first sight startled me, for she looked nude, but I couldn't be sure. Without thinking, unplanned, I stared, trying to see. The more I looked, the less I knew. She was talking on the telephone. I discovered that. At first I thought she was speaking to an unseen person in the room with her. Then I thought that perhaps she was rehearsing some part. Her gestures were full and dramatic. Then I saw the phone as she twisted on the chair. The light was so bright! Was she nude? A tight white T-shirt? She turned to the window as if to stare in my direction. There was a blur. She had risen and gone out of the room. The bright light remained and, outside, twilight turned into darkness. I exhaled. * * * Ayesha. I'm in the building. The people are not here, it is cramped and dusty. Dark and dusty with four carved pillars holding up the planked roof. At one end there is light coming from a window at the roof level. And listen to this, there are sculptures! An alter in the darkness with a row of round bowls, acting as lamps, tiny flames from wicks floating in a yellow fluid. But what they are reflecting upon! An image of a Buddha! I can just make it out, for he is draped in dusty scarves, his head appearing, smiling, watching me. There is another storm outside. * * * Again, he said, "EREN-NOON-SHIM-TAL!" But this time, he laughed immediately. When I did not quiver,. he frowned, and vanished. I saw the monk far to my left, watching. But he too vanished. * * * "Operator, I've been trying to get this telephone number. 747-5622. Yes. it's been busy for over an hour. Could you please check it for me? Thank you." * * * The bright window at twilight with a few shadows of branches crossing in front of it. She was there, gesturing, talking on the phone. She stood up and paced to and fro, talking, unheard by me. The lamp cast her shadow here and there. She was not nude. She wore a tight white shirt. She glanced at the window, but I don't know if she saw me. As darkness came, she stepped towards me and pulled down the shade. I was disappointed. Who was she? Who was she talking to so agitatedly? What was she saying? * * * Every night. It was every night, as if a film. Twilight. Window. Woman—her features not clear. Agitated talking. all unheard by me. Then the closing off of vision by lowering the shade or by leaving the empty bright room. The latter was the worst. I kept waiting for her to come back. I would stop watching for a moment and in glancing back, find a dark rectangle where the light had been. How had she reached the lamp without my seeing her? Was there someone else there whom I had not seen? Had he done it? He? Why should it be a he? Watch. I must watch and pay attention next time. * * * Susan. I rang you up on the telephone, remember. In this darkness, I remember it ringing. The receiver was lifted, but it is "EREN-NOON-SHIM-TAL" which I hear. Furious, shaken out of memory, I glanced around the darkness He was there, a few feet away from me; still with no expression. I screamed and cursed at him. The monk was nowhere in sight. * * * The snow fell, finally obscuring the pyramid mountain. But first, it brought the snow line down to its base, obliterating the horizontal slash separating rock from snow, bottom from top. Then the great lightning crack which pierced its body, which seemed to make up its body, was filled with whiteness. White snow. It was less fearful to me then. * * * Hello! Hello! No one answers. Even in the light, it is dark. * * * The snow fell, finally obscuring the pyramid mountain. But first, it brought the snow line down to its base, obliterating the horizontal slash separating rock from snow, bottom from top. Then the great lightning crack which pierced its body, which seemed to make up its body, was filled with whiteness. White snow. It was less fearful to me then. * * * Hello! Hello! No one answers. Even in the light it is dark. |