There were worse ways to spend a Sunday than sleeping in. The thin line between fate and time bound the mysteries of why it was Sunday.
Pete Tomson was reading The Red Book by CG Jung, wrapped up in his blankets, late Sunday afternoon. He put down the book and tried to induce a vision by imagining himself walking a long white hallway. He was so close to sleep he could produce a near-dream, a trance wherein he was barely still aware of waking life.
Pete Tomson regularly meditated from a flat back position on awakening, no thoughts, just attempting to obtain wordless awareness of the present. He invested about half an hour a day; it was his only mystical practice previous to the vision.
Pete’s vision made him feel as if he was actually walking down a long white hallway. He decided to experiment.
Pete focused, and the hallway became an abstract art gallery, including the ceiling and floor. Shapes and colors became animated. Pete sank into the floor. He fell into the colors and lines.
Pete focused, and he could fly. He entered a lucid dream state.
He felt like a god.
Pete focused, and he could surround himself with an expansive city that he utilized as the extension of his aura. He filled the city with the fantasies of his waking life.
Pete explored the city, and retained all the information of the entirety of the city at once.
His creative juices then flowed into his penis. He generated hedonistic exploitation of astral sex bots, and he awoke with an uncomfortable wetness in his boxers.
Pete climbed out of bed and began reading The Red Book from an upright sitting posture. After about 45 minutes, he put the book away and cleaned his boxers. He then washed his hands before dressing, and prepared himself a pbj in the kitchen.
That night, well past 2 am when Pete fell back into slumber, he dreamed of the city he had created. Feathery winged serpents with prominent beaks flew to him and chanted in a mysterious language he understood to mean, “Build the city, teach the building of the city, and bring citizens to the city.”
When the birdlike snakes finished chanting, the dream became lucid and Pete experienced himself imagining buildings and roads and social trends. He felt again manic and powerful.
Pete’s research into dream interpretation indicated to him only that the serpents were phallic symbols.
Pete’s waking attention became obsessed with building cities. He visualized them in his surroundings and he became tingly and as emotional as he was in the dreams. He began learning to build detailed psych profiles into characters he put inside his city; they evolved with unique magical and natural abilities.
Pete filled his waking and dreaming city with mystics and esoteric mentors of all stripes. He learned unique perspectives on enlightenment and initiation, and on the trance states.
Pete dreamed he was back in the bright white hallway, that it became abstract art blending together, that he fell through the floor, that he was flying again. A fraction of his mind seemed to merge with the causal stream, allowing him to infer from the info web the location of a dreamer.
Pete dreamed many dreams like this. Each time, he guided the dreamers he found to his city. He taught the dreamers to build their own cities, and to build those cities into his.
One day in Peter’s dream, he was in his city at the strip. A woman was beckoning him. He felt his creative energies converging and his spiritual side emerging with his libido. The woman and his forms assumed the deific descriptions from tantric manuals, explored each other’s fantasies, and generated false memories of lifetimes together. Hours passed, the city was golden-hued and more massive than usual, and there was a white light penetrating the spaces between things...
until soggy boxers forcibly awoke the dream-world Casanova.
That day at school, Pete saw the familiar face of the female from the dream.