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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.
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