Chapter 3
Leaving the zone of silence into a roaring inferno of noise, comparable to the full volume roar of a football game when something had dramatic had happened, only sustained and louder, was almost as shocking to the personality as jumping naked through a hole in the ice into freezing waters. There were likely a dozen bodies in a ten kilometer radius of Timothy where the host personality had stepped outside, unable to tolerate the perceived physical sensations. They weren’t technically physical attacks, but a mind can translate emotional and mental energies into physical, or somatic symptoms. They ended up nearly on the other side of the world. The host had not been fully disconnected, until Jon arrived, landing in, overlapping, and then the body sucked him until he was in like a hand in a glove. Arriving in the new vehicle was like falling from a height, and had the body not been prone, it might have fallen over or backwards. The impact separated the host personality completely, and she rolled away, curling up into a ball.
Some of the attack followed her, because the attackers were targeting her mental aspect, but the rest remained focused on her body. Jon, having experience with this sort of abuse, knew instinctively what was happening. He didn’t panic. He didn’t retaliate by sending waves of hate or anger, nor did he hit. His first instinct would have been to go remote, separate from the body, but he pushed a new skill that he had learned at Safe Haven. He made a mudra for his protective sphere and extended a shield, large enough to encompass him, the host, and Loxy.
Loxy fell to the host, comforting her. Jon stood up, holding his mudra firmly, surveying the results. If he focused, he could identify individual thoughts, but without focus, the amount of information was incoherent. The comparison he had was standing next to a Niagara Falls, or maybe under the fall itself, and water was rolling around his shield. He could focus and discern a single drop, watch it sparking in the light, rolling down the outside of the sphere in slow motion, or he could see all the water bubbling and intense.
The host’s name was Svea Åberg. Jon actually recognized her image reflected back at him in the inside of the sphere, which was an odd color from what he was used to, probably because of ongoing attack. He cringed, wondering if this was what Samuel Becket, Quantum Leap’s main character, felt like when he came to in another body; more so a female body. The world outside the sphere was Svea’s bedroom. It was fairly spacious bedroom, with a platform bed, and interesting ‘props’ conveniently placed for her main trade. She was a ‘youtube’ star.
Svea, the psychic medium, who frequently uploaded ‘sexy’ videos to draw in more viewers. She was one of the new stars, not direct porn, or hosting a private porn channel, but using the mainstream platform and the availability of commercial compensation to make a living through subtle titillation. And she did well. She made enough money in commercial revenue to make this her full time job. Most of her videos were made in her original tongue, but she held a world audience because of her look, and the way she teased without necessarily ‘intentionally’ being a tease, which made her more of a tease than a regular tease.
Her room was full of men. A few women, too. They were all pushing up against his shield like zombies in a movie. Jon would imagine that these folks probably had more important matters to focus on, considering the end of the world and all, but maybe that simply spoke to the number of lonely people in the world, and so they came to where they were they needed to come in order to feel safe and or wanted, even if it was a fake sense of acceptance. As Jon observed the ‘people’ pushing up against the sphere, trying to get at Svea, he noticed something odd. They seemed like characters. It wasn’t until the ‘zombie’ face pushed his face against the shield that Jon realized what was going on. It was not a walking dead zombie, but a ‘horny’ zombie. Horny zombies were just as hungry as a regular zombie, the difference being one would eat you for nourishment, and the other would just eat you. He backed up. There were other characters, as hosts were projecting their preferred avatars. There were a lot of dicks in the room, bumping into the shield.
Loxy stood, put her hand on Jon’s shoulder. “We’re safe.”
“You call this safe?” Jon asked.
A giant sperm flew into the room and began butting its head against the shield. More sperm arrived.
“Okay, well, we’re safe for now,” Loxy said.
Jon began to switch mudra to get flight, wanting to escape. Loxy stopped him. “You can’t,” Loxy said.
“What do you mean I can’t? The whole point of jumping vessels was so we could escape,” Jon said.
“Yes, but Earth is quarantined. And you’re a magician. Given the level of telepathic communication, if you use magic, everyone will know how to do magic, and you can’t show them how to leave the planet. They’re not ready,” Loxy said.
“I just a pushed a shield,” Jon pointed out.
“Everyone does shields, all the time,” Loxy pointed out. She pointed at all the ‘intruders.’ “All these people, they’re here all the time. People think they are alone in their homes and apartments, but we’re never alone, Jon. There is always the presence of others. We think we’re isolated because of conditioning, which is shielding, and when that conditioning breaks and we start to perceive the others, society call us mentally ill. Most of these people in this room, they were likely invited here. There is an open door policy on all youtube channels. We don’t get to select who see us. But even in your own home, even if you don’t have an open door policy, people move through your world as easily as air molecules. That’s just a fact of life.”
Jon tried reinforcing the shield. “I am not particularly fond of sperm attacking me,” Jon said. “Much less being mauled by a multitude of… What, servitors? Tulpas? Projections? Astral projections? Avatars?”
Loxy meditated over the crowd. “To your scattered bodies go,” she sang. More than half of the mental ‘avatars’ disappeared.
“Okay, educate me,” Jon said.
“Most folks using astral bodies are amateur flyers,” Loxy explained. “You say body, and the default back to their body, either out of concern for the body, or out of a lack of disciplined. Advance Astral Projectors rarely stay Earthbound. What’s left, as you have already surmised, are simple thought-forms running independent of the host that created them. There are billions of these things. We all create them all the time. As you progress in your magic training, you will eventually have to attend to the ones you created accidentally, and you will have to create intentional ones. You, yourself, have a lot of defensive ones. What amazes me about you, given what I know of your past, you have very few offensive ones. So many people who are hurt or abused imagine hurting the ones that hurt them, or others, and the offensive servitors circle and prowl to keep the host safe.”
“But we’re never safe? This stuff is out here all the time and our new level of telepathy has made it visible?” Jon asked.
“We are never safe, and always safe,” Loxy agreed, partially. “Because we are never in harm’s way. Jon, all interaction patterns are agreed upon. That’s why it so hard to heal people. Most of them have accepted their reality. And it’s why the first thing we are taught as healers is to get permission, on multiple levels, not just from the conscious mind.”
Even though half the room was cleared by Loxy’s directive, folks were returning or new ones were moving. People overlapped and passed through each other as easy as characters arriving at a gaming portal.
“Which was your most favorite video of Svea’s?” Loxy asked.
Jon gave her a look that was like, really, we need to discuss this now. She was not perturbed by the apparent crisis. Jon reconsidered his urgency and responded with a better response than the defensive one that nearly came out.
“The one where she simulated being raped by a ghost,” Jon said. Just thinking of it, aroused him, but because he was in her body, ‘arousal’ felt differently. He could remember the covers slowly being drawn off her, slowly. And if she moved, the covers stopped, waited, then proceeded until she was fully exposed. In the video she was wearing underwear and a tank-top that gave ample view of her side boobs, and hints of her nipples. Her body was subtly manipulated, her straightened legs separating, and her thighs turning up and out. Her bare stomach showed the very subtle breathing pattern, but when the raping occurred, her stomach sank in then pushed out in suggestive waves. Very simple video, no nudity, but it aroused Jon to know end and he would think, I want to be that ghost.
Just recreating this in his mind drew in lots of people wanting to watch him recreate. He became aware of the fact he was touching himself, touch herself, and ghost Svea was responding on the floor to his thoughts, giving way to Jon’s magical thoughts. Though they were memories of the times he watched the video, there was a real time component, and he couldn’t help but mentally explore the body he was holding.
Loxy took his/her hand and kissed him. His attention turned from recreating the video while in her body to Loxy, which brought a new urgency. He wanted to explore being female with a female. He wanted to know if he used a strap on, did the user also derive benefit, or did they need a double ended dildo to both get off simultaneously. Loxy touched his lips, suggesting now was not a good time to follow those thoughts, and then pointed to the audience that was drooling, begging them to get it on.
“Why did you remind me?!” Jon asked.
“I wanted you to understand, some of this is her doing. We’re all magicians all the time, and we create our realities. This is an attachment and she invited this,” Loxy said. “I am not saying it as accusatory or punitive, but you also participated in this, and consequently, given the
world situation, this needed resolution. We’re not here by accident. Even if it’s not you and her, this is going to happen, with one of them or all of them, and you will witness or participate just out of habit until that thing in you is satisfied and you can escape.”
“I would be gone already if you hadn’t stopped me,” Jon said.
“You would not be gone from the situation. You would have simply removed yourself and Svea and carried this on elsewhere,” Loxy said. “That, and you would have taught them how to leave, and they would have followed. So, let’s draw a line here. Deal with this here. Now is always the best time to deal, remember? No matter what the circumstance, whether today is addiction recovery day, making healthier choice day, or practicing discernment, now is always the best time. Down the road has potentially more addiction issues, more health issues requiring attention, or greater willpower to exercise discernment.”
“But if I get down the road, that would be now,” Jon said.
“And, when you get down the road, my equation will still be true, now is always the best time to start attending,” Loxy said.
“Okay, so what do I need to do now? I can’t hold this sphere forever,” Jon said. He could feel the pressure of the people pushing on the sphere, and it seemed noticeably smaller, as if the air pressure outside a balloon had increased. The wall even felt like a used, deflated balloon.
Svea was falling into her automatic role playing assignment that came with her ideas of possession, reaching up to touch her body, but stimulating Jon’s ghost appendage. Apparently, she was accepting this as part of a dream, part of something she created, and a part of her liked Jon, since at least he was being gentle and resisting the demands of the crowd, and the fact that he was resisting had drawn her out wanting to keep him close, compared to the others that had been so forceful as to cause her to flee. There was an attachment here, a dance going on. As she gave into the impulse, her body responded, to sensation, which only further distracted Jon, simultaneously giving her more incentive to do what she was doing. And, the signal was telegraphed through the shield, a sexual light and beat, that drew in more ‘viewers.’
“Command decision,” Jon said. “I want you to return to your wonderland. Take Svea.
Help heal her and restore her.”
“But what about you?” Loxy asked. “I have a plan,” Jon assured her. “Tell me,” Loxy said.
“No. I don’t often pull the host command card, but I am giving you direct order. Take Svea and return to your wonderland, and do not come back for me. When it is safe I will call, or come to you,” Jon said.
Slipping back to her own wonderland would not be a breach in protocols, as it was something everyone did every day. And when people realized Jon was in Svea’s body, and she was gone, it would change the feel of the room, bringing in additional, but differently oriented clientele. If he were to leave Loxy in the body, that, too, would bring other clientele. Ever since pushing his book on Origin, Loxy had grown in popularity, and this was surprisingly adding to her solidity and increasing her strength and abilities. Add he accidentally created a new world Tulpa, one that might get the message of love and harmony through, where the Gaia tulpa, the embodiment of all Earth life had failed, simply due to outdated paradigms that didn’t get updated when the world went materialistic. At least the Romans accepted the Greek Gods in spirit, but what had modernity kept in disguise. He was still not completely convinced Loxy was a Tulpa or Soulbound, because of the memories he had for the way they met, and he didn’t feel the urgency to understand the truth of it, because he had his truth: he loved Loxy and wanted her in his life.
He also loved Gaia and would do anything to save her, but he had no clue how to do that without the cooperation of others, but there were just too many hungry people, and until that need was met, there was simply no going forward. Anyone that thinks people should just suspend their wants or needs simply aren’t paying attention, because who ever said is at a comfort level where there are six billion other people under them that just want to be at their level.
It was clear to Jon, in the now, that some of these new comers recognized him of the author of Safe Haven. They assumed he was even the creator of that University and that even though he was only now a freshman, he would probably be the greatest protagonist ever, and so, like a rock star, these newcomers wanted to touch him. If Harry Potter was real, how many girls wanted to touch him? Jon had his answer when he considered Emma. Knowing how his reality presently mirrored her did not diminish his wanting of Emma, and here in was his new lesson.
These people wanted what he had, security, love, and access to something deeper. Some of them saw getting to know him was simply an expedient back door to get to Loxy, and there were more people wanting Loxy than wanting him. Interesting, there would even be people wanting Fribourg and Lester. Fortunately, he wasn’t dealing with those types now, because his present handful was sufficient. Being raised by the crowd and put on a pedestal had advantages and disadvantages, and given the present level of energy, the biggest disadvantage was being distracted by his ego that wanted desperately to be appreciated, even if that meant being mauled by a thousand horny zombies, which, also, had an appeal to him due to his past trauma because that pushed his pleasure/pain threshold higher than the norm.
Like sensing that urgency building behind an orgasm, Jon realized he needed to get Loxy and Svea out of here before reaching that threshold of no return. Jon helped Loxy get Svea on her feet. Svea responded to the touch as if being manipulated by lovers, after taking LSD. Loxy took her full weight, turned slightly, and was gone. Jon was left in Svea’s body, the sphere growing smaller as the amount of attention continued to add pressure. He wondered what it would be like to just let the balloon shield surround him, like the Japanese that wore those white suits and pretended to be ghost and fucked people at random, like reporters, and in that world no one saw the ghosts, but in Jon’s world, he saw the ghost and was turned on. Perhaps it was just in that world, but it seem liked women would more willingly give into a ghost than give into him.
He canceled that thought, reminding himself he had no shortage of partners or offers since becoming a Safe Haven student. Jon made an opening in the shield, allowing one of the sperm servitors egress. The sperm broke free leaving its tail in the hole and slammed hard against Svea’s body, knocking Jon out of it.
“Have fun,” Jon said, and dropping the shield.
As the crowd fell on the body, the host that had sent the sperm servitor found himself suddenly the focus of unwanted attention. Jon slipped through the crowd, mostly unnoticed, as he was simply another level of avatar, just a miscellaneous thought form, an innocuous thought form without a body. One girl, followed, grabbed his arms, but Jon slipped away before she could lock onto him, as if he was slick with massage oil. It probably didn’t help her cause that Jon started singing “I am just a little Shackleford rain cloud,” from Winnie the Pool, as he snuck away from the ‘honey pot.’ He was amused by how invisible he was, he had not seen the girl, or how diligently she pursued, but did wonder if it was part of his abilities gained at Safe Haven, or due to his general lack of connections to these folks. They did seem to be going for what they knew, and they knew Svea. When people die, do they just go where they know? Did that mean Jon would arrive on the Enterprise when he died? He paused, feeling suddenly very alone, still unaware of the lonely girl wanting to catch him. He wondered if it was his loneliness, or someone projecting lonely on him. Was loneliness his shield?
Without further ado, Jon returned to where he had started. Back to Timothy. The hologram found himself outside Timothy’s body. “Yes! I have learned to Astral Project…” But as he leaned in closer to study Timothy he realized Jon was in there. “Oh. You released me?”
“I did,” Jon said.
“I don’t understand. Why have you returned?” the hologram asked.
“Multiple reasons, the most important one is not wanting to be afraid,” Jon said.
“That’s insane! Fear is functional in promoting strategies that might help you avoid harm.
That, and you’re the host,” the hologram said.
“Am I the host?” Jon asked, seriously attending. “Isn’t, in this instance, Timothy the host? I was born into a world already made. On discovering tulpas, sentient thought-forms, I have learned that the brain could care less what program it runs, and different programs get different physiological responses from the body. Further, I have discovered there is a higher power. Maybe it’s not god in the traditional sense of the word, as I certainly hope Timothy isn’t God, but the unconscious clearly knows more than I, has a myriad of programs running, and so it’s governing or in charge. The Unconscious could be god, but I am betting there is something bigger than it in charge, which isn’t necessarily evidence for supreme beings, but definitely delineates a hierarchy. Am I sovereign? Well, maybe on a really good day, when I am super focused and aware, but even on those days, I am actually doing less and observing more, and simply aware of flow.”
The hologram puzzled through it. “As a medical professional, I can recognize the importance of faith and or belief in terms of affecting somatic outcomes, however I cannot ethically allow you to sacrifice yourself. I am definitely a program. I believe you are more than a program.”
“Well, as a program, you recognize my authority as Captain to give you a directive to return to where you came from,” Jon said.
“As a medical hologram, I can override your authority if I suspect your judgment is impaired. By definition, sacrificing yourself to save a program is evidence of impairment,” the hologram said.
It took effort to fill Timothy’s lungs with enough air to make an audible sigh, but he managed. “It’s not a sacrifice.”
“How is it not a sacrifice?” the hologram asked.
“Would you accept a metaphor?” Jon asked. “Perhaps,” the hologram said.
“Assume for a moment there is a god, that fits the general definition of a god, and that god is omnipotent and every other ‘omni’ you can’t think of that doesn’t contradict any of the previous ‘omni’ options. God, this is ineffable, but by this definition God would be immortal and eternal. Even if this God chose to incarnate in order to communicate more directly with its creations, it would still be immortal and eternal, and so if those creations got freaked out and decided to kill God’s host body, God would still continue. In fact, the creation couldn’t kill God without God’s willing participation in the event. Further, God’s participation would be to demonstrate there is no death, that even if the body died, something continues on, and since there is no way to harm God, there can be no offense, and therefore no sacrifice.”
“I don’t understand where you’re going with this,” the hologram said.
“Timothy’s body may die, but I will not. Therefore, I am not sacrificing myself to save you. I will either return to my physical body, or go where ever thought forms go, but I will not perish,” Jon said.
“This is a belief. You have no proof,” the hologram said.
“You’re right. I am basing this on my personal experience of spiritual and magical transcendence,” Jon said.
“As afraid as I was while locked into Timothy’s body, I find I am more determined to not allow this to happen,” the hologram said.
“You felt fear because it is functional, which also suggest sentience. Loxy and I created you because we thought we had a need. We can’t un-create you, but I can relieve you of the ability to suffer this decision. I command you to return to your place, with my full love and gratitude. Computer, end emergency holographic doctor program.”
“Now, wait just a damn…” the holographic doctor disappeared.
Jon found himself alone in a body supported by a chair. He lacked the ability to even turn the chair, so his view was fixed. A curtain pulled tight over the window to prevent light from penetrating was his main artifact to behold. The sides of the curtain revealed an aura of sunlight against fake, wood paneled walls. Was he in a trailer? A mote of dust sparked and was gone. The zone of telepathic silence around him was palpable, the same way the tongue probes the space where a tooth used to be. If the outside world knew he was in here instead of Timothy, would they reach in? Perhaps not presently, given how the entire world was in fight or flight response.
If Jon focused really hard, he could discern the background noise. Something sensed him in this pocket of isolation and probed without making itself visible. A voice spoke to him. “Worship me and I will free you.”
“Umm, no,” Jon said.
“I will destroy you,” whatever it was said.
“Umm, you’re negotiating for me to worship you?” Jon asked. That’s weird. “Who are you?”
There was no answer.
Jon pushed a shield, even without making the mudra. He filled it with golden light.
Whatever it was that was interested in molesting him decided it was not worth the trouble given the available prey. It interested him that he wasn’t afraid, as if he had been through this before and knew how to stand up for himself. He was not prey. He was not a victim. Were there some dark things out there in the Universe? Sure. Within in humanity? Absolutely, and probably more uglies contained within humanity than outside of it, the same was there was more watemolecules in a cup of water than there were cups of water inside the ocean.
Jon made a decision. He physically couldn’t do anything, but he could still think. “I don’t know who to address this to, so I allow this correspondence to go where it needs to go, I give it permission to self-direct and flow towards anyone greater than humanit, with the following caveat: you must be an agent for the light, holding positive regard for humanity’s ultimate good as well as my own, and a general sense of benevolence towards lesser beings. So, unconscious, higher self, personal guides, guardians, my invisible counselor, my team of experts, or, direct to God if that channel is open, even if it’s through a chain of command or archangels, I would like you to consider this mad rambling a prayer. First, foremost, thank you for my life. Thank you for my insight, my loves, my adversities, thank you for everything that helped make me who I am.
Thank you for my family of Origin and please find a way to love and heal them, and forgive me for failing to do so. Forgive me where I have failed in anything, even if I don’t recognize the failure due to my own level of bias. I extend forgiveness to all the players who I have interacted with, for actual or perceived offenses, and release all debts, perceived or actual. I find myself in a peculiar situation. I am in a body I don’t want and suspect it will end soon. I don’t know if I will exist when this body dies, and if I do, I don’t know where I will go. What I am saying is, I am afraid. However, I don’t want to squander this moment dwelling on my fears. This body belongs to someone I don’t like. I can relate to not liking this body the same way I can relate to having not liked my own body, much less my own personality, my own life, but I want to learn love. I ask, if it is permissible through all the parties involved, including Timothy’s own higher self and guides, and the people that influenced him and their guides, if they can help me understand. I want sufficient understanding that even I could love Timothy, even though the physical surface of him is detestable, and the surface personality that I have perceived is abhorrent. I want access to truth, at all its layers. And if it’s possible, through this greater understanding and love give the potentiality for Timothy to change or evolve. Or just allow the pathway for him to travel to exist, and allow him to see the way out. Not because I am special or wanting to be a hero, but because I find myself here and I am thinking, why not use this moment to activate change, and, because I see myself in him and maybe through helping him I help myself. Yeah, it always comes back to me and this a self-serving request, but I am open to not being part of the equation. You can remove me. Okay, that’s it. You got the gist of it. I turn it over to you. Make it so.”
And then Jon shut up. He experienced quiet for a moment and then his own mind chatter slowly revved back up, at which point, he quieted it by insisting that the chatter wait a bit longer. Not having apparent, immediate responses always sucked. He wanted burning bushes and lightning flashes. Unfortunately, the Universe rarely works so directly. It’s subtle. Except when nuclear bombs go off. That’s less subtle. But surprisingly liberating. As Jon transitioned, he revisited “How to Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb,” otherwise known as “Doctor Strangelove.”
Transported by light, Jon found himself in front of Summer, his reptilian master and guide, and Alectrona, a Greek Goddess of healing and light that he had met the last time he had been with Summer. Funny, it had felt like a dream, but now was just as ‘real’ as the last time he was here and Timothy had become the dream.
“If you’re ready, we will conduct a life review,” Alectrona said. “I am not Timothy,” Jon said.
“We know,” Summer said. “Proceed anyway.”
Jon touched the pedestal and all of it came at him all at once, and it was easier to process if he accepted the highlights. He found himself in the body of a 14 year old girl. Her father was a minister, very strict. Mother was less strict but emotionally absent and deferred to father’s regime. Kim was a popular high school cheerleader and was invited to a party that she was not going to get permission to attend because of her father’s disposition and her age. So, she skipped the trial of asking and simply snuck out to attend a party, where the senior football team applied lots of alcohol, and then gang raped her in one of the back bedrooms. It felt like a bad dream, as she would fade in and out of consciousness, each time a new person was on her. She would cry and ask them to stop, see the other faces around, laughing, holding her naked body down, more drinking in the back ground. Some took a second turn. There was a light, too. A floating light that didn’t make sense to her. When it was done, she was permitted to get up and get dress. By then the effect of the alcohol was gone, as well as the tears. She was in a new place, numb. She had thought she had known things, but now, she wasn’t sure what she knew or thought. There was a guy passed out on the floor as she departed the room. His face decorated with ink and spilt sperm; it didn’t occur to her he was also abused in his drunken stupor. There were others passed out in the living room, too. There were some awake, in groups, talking, laughing. Did they see her? Were they laughing at her? Did they even know?
She made it home and into her room without anyone seeing her. She had kind of been hoping her parents were waiting up for her. She wanted to be in trouble. She wanted to tell them everything. The burden of keeping the secret had been decided by her decision to sneak out, so she ate it. For about three weeks, when it became apparent that there was something wrong. She was pregnant. She didn’t tell them about the party, about being ganged raped. She simply said she was pregnant. Her father was furious and hit her. Mother intervened. Talk of abortion ensued.
“I am not getting an abortion,” Kim said.
“The hell you’re not,” her father said. “Do you realize how embarrassing this is going to be?”
“I am sorry, but how does my sin reflect on you?” Kim asked. “I mean, if you’re going to take responsibility because I messed up, why preach about sin at all. Give it all back to God, because if he was a better parent, then there wouldn’t have been snake in the garden