The Dreamer Dreamed - New Age novel about What Dreams Mean

The Dreamer Dreamed

A funny thing happened on my way to enlightenment...

by Robert C. Worstell

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The Dreamer Dreamed

Copyright 2010 Robert C. Worstell. All Rights Reserved.

All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the publisher of this book.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners. ISBN: 978-0-557-89894-7



Robert C. Worstell

Hold fast to dreamsFor if dreams die

Life is a broken-winged birdThat cannot fly.

Hold fast to dreamsFor when dreams goLife is a barren fieldFrozen with snow.

~Langston Hughes

“Be careful what you water your dreams with. Water them with worry and fear and you will produce

weeds that choke the life from your dream. Water them with optimism and solutions and you will

cultivate success. Always be on the lookout for ways to turn a problem into an opportunity for success. Always be on the lookout for ways to nurture your

dream.” ~Lao Tse

“Don't lose the dreams inside your head, they'll only be there til you're dead, dream”

~Dave Mathew Band

"The longer the night lasts, the more our dreams will be."

~Chinese Proverb



The Dreamer Dreamed

1

It all began in mid-air.

A beautiful blue day, fluffy clouds with a hint of high wispy cirrus horse-tails above them. If it weren't for the fact that I was falling through the air it would have been a nice day to be alive.

Just laying on my back, relaxed and falling to my certain end. Enjoying the ride, as it were. Wind buffeting all around as my body fell as fast as the air permitted it to move. Odd to see what my "last thoughts" would be. Always wondered about this particular ending. It's been a long time since I dreamed this way.

Turning slightly, I saw my bed coming up - a small dot in the distance. So I wrestled my hand to pick out my small handbook and the other tightly grasped my pen. Writing carefully on a new blank page: "It all began in mid-air..."

Then the bed hit.

I sat up, in a cold sweat. The room was just as normal, no hole in the roof or anything. It was night, as usual - or early morning, the clock corrected me.



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Since the sheets were damp, I had no choice but to also change my drenched t-shirt. In the dark, I moved around, so that I could get back to sleep more easily. Sliding back in, I was comfortable enough for now.



The Dreamer Dreamed

2

The hospital was busy, but sounded more or less empty. More modern than some I had visited, so this was a new one, a different one than I had seen before.

Nurses came, went, always checking on something, leaving with a smile. Pretty enough, but very official.

Nothing in my arms or legs, and nothing broken. So far, so good.

As usual, dressed in one of those stupid put-it-on-backward gowns with dumb narrow pastel stripes. The room too cold and the blankets too light. The light was coming in a window as it peaked over a wing of the building. Must be a south window, I thought. Means it will heat up here shortly.

I got up and went over to the window ledge, pushing one of those rolling bedside tables out of the way. It was painted shut. But I adjusted the parallel blinds to filter the direct sunlight a bit.

"Feeling better already?" A blonde nurse walked in, carrying a tray of something which was set over on a table near the door, next to the visitor chair. "We were hoping you'd come out of it soon, but a person



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never knows..."

I smiled and nodded. Not a conversation I wanted to have. Just seeing someone else was enough for now. I let her leave and watched her form disappear into the hallway. Pleasant enough and not overweight like some of these career dames I'd met before, especially at the desks.

But to get a clue what I was doing here, who I was, and what was going on - that was next.

Knowing who I am is usually no difficulty. The trick is in figuring out if I'm still being called the same thing as before, and what is the plot this time. Most of these dreams are similar in some aspect, you are always looking for what is bizarre and what the challenges are. Or that's the way I look at them these days.



The Dreamer Dreamed

3

"He's still thinking he's in a dream. What gives?"

Clicking her pen against her thin-framed glasses, Factor 2 commented, "Perhaps we are changing these too quickly. Give him some time to adjust."

Factor 1 turned and looked at her directly, "It's more difficult when he figures them out and doesn't take them seriously. It's busting our budget to keep creating new situations to put him in when he just sees through them. Let's hope the hospital scenario sticks this time."

"It should be interesting enough to keep him wanting to stay there."

"We'll see. Betcha he moves on and goes back to waking up again. I'm getting the next scenario ready, but I need some time."

Factor 2 paused over the control screen, clicking the keyboard. "Here, I can put an old friend in there - that should slow it down. Usually does. Keeps them occupied."

The other glanced over, furiously typing in his own work to build the next scenario. "Better. Otherwise,



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we have to drop him back into his own 'reality' for awhile. Prefect won't be happy."

"Ole' Fuddy-dud? He's just busting our chops because he's got his star progenies working on one of his toughest cases. If we can solve it, he writes another paper and gets all the credit while we get a little by-line and a passing grade. Screw him."

At this, Factor 2 stopped and looked up at her. He grunted, glanced at the clock, and resumed his tackety-tack rhythm at the keyboard.



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4

"Hello Joe. How are they treating you?"

"Hey Jack, what are you doing here?"

Jack settled into the single vinyl-covered easy chair, draped in an intern's jacket over a plaid shirt and slacks. His lanky legs crossed and seeming at ease in the hospital chair provided. "Well, your name came up on a list, so I thought to drop by as soon as I got a break."

"Working you hard here?"

"No more than usual. I'll finish up in a couple of weeks and then I'm going back to the books for awhile before they let me out again. I'll appreciate some regular sleep then."

"Ooh, that's spooky - so you guys running on fumes are making all the decisions around here."

"Yep, that's the way it runs, apparently. But you're in good hands otherwise..." His beeper interrupted him. "Darn, that again. Have to go. See you."

One swift wave and a motion, then he was gone. Leaving me to wonder why he was here at all. My

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Robert C. Worstell

history with him said he was last in a corporate set-up, trying to rise through the ranks. This dream was a weird one.

Looking around, I found the thin robe and slippers we were allowed. Shrugging this on and tying it with the single sash included, I kicked into the slippers and started toward the door. A mirror on the wall showed me to be in my 30's with no gut and a few days of stubble. Hair tousled, but not overly long. A full head of hair with no gray. Nice. Of course, all those curls wouldn't stay flat unless I wet them down - but I was curious about this new world I'd been sent to.

I entered the hall, pausing to look both ways and take in the scene.

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The Dreamer Dreamed

5

Of course, I'm being unfair.

Who am I?

I could be coy here and say, "Call me Ishmael." As we certainly are going into the belly of the beast on this one.

But no, I am you - as my metaphysician tells me. We are all connected and part of Being - and yes, that's still hard for me to swallow, even though I've reached satori, been enlightened, "seen the light" and all that.

It's really not that hard. But other people have a hard time with it, seemingly. Or they just don't care to look up as they open a door to see whether there's a bucket of water poised up there. Splash! And then it's kismet, fate, karma, etc. Also known as needing a change of clothes.

Once I opened that door to see that things are caused - all of them - by our own thoughts, then it took some major brain-creaking to get past the hurdles I set up for myself so long ago.

What do I look like? Well, it depends what dream


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I'm in. Generally, it's a body about 6 ft tall (190 cm. plus-or-minus) auburn hair which blondes in the summer, green eyes which change according to weather and season - not out of shape, but not ready to run any marathon. Don't get sick much. But that's a lot of other reasons.

I dress just like you. Casual when I can get away with it - which is most of the time these days. But again, it's what I'm dreaming that counts.

This dream stuff. Keeps coming up.

Enter stage left, Hawaiian shaman - kahuna kapua. No ceremonial robes, just jeans, sandals, sweatshirt with cut off sleeves. Something out of a Gidget movie.

"Hey, howsit?"

"You want to tell them about this dream stuff?"

"What would you like me to say?"

"Well, maybe explain how it is that life is a dream."

"You just did. Anything else?"

"Well, how about what it all means?"

"That's whatever you think it is."


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"Oh come on, let's be fair to these people."

"OK, but life isn't necessarily fair - or is it?"

(Sigh.) "Now you can all see what I've been up against. Thanks, Doc."

Exit stage left, smiling, shaman-kapua.

This is where the funny thing happened. But you wouldn't think of it that way at the time.


Robert C. Worstell

6

"What's the progress, my prize-winning students?" The Precept entered the small programming studio through the portal behind our two factors without announcement, making both of these grad-students jump.

Factor 2 broke the sudden silence. "Well, he hasn't done other than nibbled at the bait. If we throw too much at him, he then just backs up as it's all unreal and figures it's just another dream."

"A real tough nut," Factor 1 chimed in, "getting him back to taking this all seriously is eating serious holes in our resources."

The academic studied their screens over the shoulders of the two Factors. "Well, it's a good thing I've reallocated some of my research budget to you. That should carry this study through if you use them well."

As the figures changed on the screen, Factor 1 relaxed. "That gives us a bit more breathing space, but we aren't out of the woods by any means."

"The deal is that he's got a hold of some oddball code and swallowed it wholesale - and this is just playing


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Hobbes with our regular algorithms," Factor 2 explained. "We're having to code on the fly just to keep ahead of him."

"And I can see you are doing a great job with this. No kidding, it's a tough assignment. But that's why you two are on it. I don't have time with all my lectures and interviews to hand-code the loops we need for this. And it's all good practice for you two. Some day you'll run into another like this. You'll already have the code snippets you need to solve them. Carry on, fine job so far."

With that the Precept glided out of the room, the portal swishing shut and leaving the room again silent, except for the low-pitched humming of various drives and electronics, plus the breathing and heartbeats of the two grad students as they began to relax again.

"I really hate it when he just shows up like that." Factor 1 complained.

"And then crowds it on by leaning over our desks right on top of us. I liked it better to just watch him across the room as he lectured. A bit more privacy," added Factor 2.

"Well, Sue, it looks like he's stabilized now. At least he's interested in this hospital scene. Time for some new characters."


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"OK, Rog. We're going to have to increase the familiarity a bit to keep him going."

"But we don't have much other choice. Too many new characters and he'll jump again."


The Dreamer Dreamed

7

Down the hall, there were rooms right and left, as any hospital. This one was light and airy, and perhaps fewer patients than it would normally take to fund a building like this. From the window views, we were probably on at least the fourth floor if not higher - and there was another wing across, but the area morning fog kept more than shadows showing up as far as nearby buildings.

We could be in a campus, and this a research center - that might cover it.

Some other patients were also starting to travel the hall ways, some with I.V. drips wheeling along. Others just shuffling to whatever destination they'd be about on days like this. No one I knew, which was pretty appropriate.

Jack showing up made this a bit odd. How he started into medical training after what we'd been through was nearly incredible. I'd seen more odd things, and it had been about a decade or more since we had last talked. But it was good to see his face.

Just then, a younger nurse showed up, a brunette with nearly black hair in the fluorescent lighting. Also curvy underneath her tailored smock.


Robert C. Worstell

"And how are we doing today?" she smiled as she asked.

Returning her smile, "Not too bad. Not sore anyway. What's on the schedule today?"

"Well, you're up for a lot of rest. Sometime this afternoon, your physical therapist will be by to check things out. After what you've been through, it's surprising that you aren't sore. But it's good to see you around and moving about on your own. There's a garden area off the foyer you might want to visit. Plant oxygen is good for your condition."

I was about to ask more, but someone else caught her eye. She nodded back to me and then moved off with a silky gait. Watching her walk was just as good for me as any other exercise. But I could only hope that all the nurses were as attractive as the first two I'd met.

Making my way down the hallway was uneventful. More patients, various ages, but none particularly in bad shape or bandaged up. Most in the apparent daze from waking up or whatever meds they were on. They all looked well-cared for.

In the foyer, I saw some middle-aged matrons at the desk. Chunky, but not disgracefully. Trim. And I started to wonder why I was looking at their shapes and why mostly females - until I nearly was hit by a


The Dreamer Dreamed

glass door suddenly opening toward me.

"Oh, I'm sorry. Didn't see you coming." Another patient, matching my own frumpy attire, only with softer pastels in very feminine colors. Shorter hair, another brunette, but with streaks of highlighting. No make up, but she didn't really need any, since her natural coloring was more than adequate.

"No, excuse me. I should have been watching for this very door. I was looking for the garden." And the sweet smells of fresh grass and nut trees fragrantly wafted through the open door. Somewhere, flowers bloomed within.

"Well, here it is. Glad to meet you. Hope to see you around later." With that, the nameless patient walked off into the hall, a different direction from where I came.

The door started to close automatically and I held it to avoid being hit, distracted as I was by her graceful motion.

Looking into the Garden showed a well-manicured garden-like arboretum, with high ceilings for the well-pruned trees. It was hard to tell their age, as they seemed more like overgrown bonsai - just tall enough to provide shade, yet never actually interfere with the tall roof structure. Mostly deciduous - oaks, hickories, and it smelled like a walnut or two, plus some pine.


Robert C. Worstell

What caught my attention was the blooming flowers which bordered the walks. More plants native to where I grew up. Amazing that they were able to cultivate wildflowers here. Black-eyed Susan's, Chicory, and Coneflower by the paths, with violets and Dutchman's Breeches in the shade, along with others I barely could identify.

The paths were smooth, but a composite with tiny expansion joints as if they were fitted by expert masons - or more probably poured in place, one by one. Too tightly fitting to allow someone to trip or a small wheel to catch. Smooth as if the joints were more decorative than functional. Yet forward a bit showed a taped-off area where you could see they had pulled some up to repair something below - or trim offending roots.

Everything was neat, tidy. People were enjoying the sunshine, sitting on the low walls on the path sides, or using the benches which were placed in small, shady cul-de-sacs, built for some slight privacy. I saw only smiling faces, where groups of two or three were together. Occasionally, my wandering took me by the solitary individual deep in concentration over a book. And I saw a pair in concentration over a chess board, near oblivious to the scents and beauty around them.

Occasionally, I heard a bird treble in the trees above. While I didn't see any, it didn't seem too odd that


The Dreamer Dreamed

this great arboretum could have some. For health reasons, I suspected they were recordings. But a small breeze wafted from time to time as well - perhaps for the mutual benefit of the plants as much as the patients.

The paths continued to twist and turn and intersect one with another. However, they all returned to an exit finally. No matter how one turned, you would find another glass door and the organized hospital world waiting from this brief sojourn in Nature.


Robert C. Worstell

8

Dog and Cat sittin' 'n watchin' 'nother sunset over the pastures and woods of the Farm at the end of the Day.

Sez Dog to Cat: "Should be along shortly."

Sez Cat to Dog: "'Spect so."

Dog: "They'll get tired of messin' with 'im and send em on down 'ere."

Cat: "Yup, that's the way they goes."

Dog: "Think they knows yet?"

Cat: "Dunno, might 'spect somethin' mebbe."

Dog: "Mebbe."

Cat: "Prob'ly wouldn't show up here otherwise."

Dog: "Nope, deed not."

Sunset just keep sinkin' and looking purty. Like always.


The Dreamer Dreamed

9

Joe walked up to the next nurse's station, lost in all the uniformity of the hospital.

"Excuse me, ma'am, but I seem to have forgotten my way to my room. These halls all look alike to me. I'm Joe Deeds."

"Hi there, Joe. Hope you liked your walk in the Gardens. Most people get a bit turned around in there."

"I'm Rosie and that's Charlene."

"Thanks, Rosie, that is indeed a nice Garden. Amazing, actually, to find it in the middle of a hospital."

"Well, we do have some longer-term residents here and it makes their stay more enjoyable so they heal faster. You might want to check out the info sheet in your room when you get back. We also have a nice library and a rec room, as well as an exercise center. Everything to help you with your healing. I'll make a note here for the hostess to come up and go over your options."

"Thank you, that would be quite nice. Did you find


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where my room was?"

"Oh yes, it's just in that hall straight ahead, fifth door on your left."

"I can see it, I think. Thanks again." Joe left down the hallway, leaving two nurses to themselves.

"Charlene."

"Yeah."

"Would be downright cute if he weren't so serious. Who's got shift tonight?"

"You bucking for night duty? Thought it was wearing you out."

"You're right. But wouldn't mind spelling someone if they needed a break. Bet he's an angel when he's sleeping."

"Never know. But he's certainly got the manners to suspect he is. File says he's single."

Rosie moved to look over her shoulder at her screen, then took a long look down the hall Joe is walking. "Wouldn't you know it. Well, well."

Charlene looks after him also and sighed, "Plenty of time left yet. He's going nowhere soon."


The Dreamer Dreamed

10

"Find anything yet Roger?" Factor 2 was monitoring Jack's progress while Factor 1 was busy looking up online manuals as well as a short pile of texts.

"Nope, Sue, got nothing. Real weird." Factor 1 closed the heavy volume he was thumbing through and put it in the second pile, hefting the next from the first. "Good you spotted that anomaly. That might be the clue to this whole scene of his."

"Sure seemed odd to have it sticking in that place. He's been plugging that one piece in here and there repetitively, trying to get it to fit in. But never back where he got it from."

"Definitely some sort of incomplete loop. And a self-imposed restrictor so he won't put it back again. Real curious. We'll have to chase that down. Someone gave him that piece out of sequence. Wonder where he found it?"

"Why don't you give it a break and watch these screens for awhile, my eyes need a rest."

"OK Sue. I'm getting brain-numb anyway. Carpal-tunnel just from the weight of these." Roger put the last book back on the first stack after dog-earing the


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page he was looking at. Then swiveled to give his full attention to the screen. "Looks like he's just heading back and will settle down now."

"That was a night touch with the young nurses. That should keep him distracted for awhile."

"Yea, but I didn't want to overdo it. He'd start suspecting again. Just make it pleasant. Same with adding more scents in the garden."

Sue quits rubbing her eyes and purposely relaxes, stretching her arms over her head. Joe glances over and frowns. "I wish you'd quit doing that."

"What?"

"You know. Stretching."

"What Roger, too stimulating for you?"

"Too distracting. I need to concentrate."

"Maybe I should get you a set of blinders."

"Very funny. Save it for off-shift."

"What do we have - 2, 3 hours left?"

"More like 5. Hope they relieve us on schedule."

"Hey, I'm going over for a snack, want something?"


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"Maybe a fruit bar. Just to tide me over."

"OK, see you in a bit." Sue bounced out of the room, carefully staying out of Roger's peripheral vision as she did.

Gawd, I wish he'd lighten up a little bit, she mused. Zipping down her tunic so it was more comfortable, she ambled down the hall easily, like a leopard or hunting cat. When she yawned and tossed her mane of hair, she could sometimes look just like a lioness, or so some friends said. Too bad Roger didn't appreciate more of the side-benefits of his assigned duties, she thought.

But then again, the Precept could walk in at any time. He had an uncanny habit of doing just that. Almost always just after you mentioned his name. And she remembered some undergrads who were caught in an interesting position one night. Mid-term transfers didn't help your grade average. She sighed.

The short hallway ended in a small break room. A few steps to the fridge, which almost opened as she got there. Her face was bathed in a warm yellow light as she perused her prospects, one hand on the door, the other slowly following her tunic's long, zippered opening.


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11

"Do you often think about sex?" The advertisement blared from the page. Joe turned over the cover to find the volume tab. Sure wish the ads weren't so loud, he thought. Especially in these supposedly serious scientific journals. But if you mute them, the animations become more rapid and the colors wilder, more garish.

The image was a voluptuous younger woman in a doctor's frock - or something like that. And it was an ad for some version of suppressant that would keep you focused on whatever you were actually supposed to be doing.

I don't think she could actually close that frock if she wanted to, Joe mused. He turned the page and found another over-scintillating ad and finally closed the magazine, watching the colors fade from the inner pages as the back cover animations started up. Sighing, he put his robe over it so the room would go back to the quiet pastel green and quit moving in beat to that magazine.

"You can just put them back in the holder and they'll quit. That lets them recharge as well." The middle-aged woman in the doorway smiled wryly. "Takes some getting used to. But it's like the old phrase, 'a


The Dreamer Dreamed

place for everything and everything in its place.'"

Noting his surprise, she stepped into the room and extended her hand, "Hi, I'm Pamela, and I'm the Wing Hostess. I'm here to make sure you find everything you need." With that, she walked over to his bedside, pulled the robe and magazine off the bedside table. Magazine went into the holder, robe on to its nearby hook.

Joe shook her hand politely and found himself relieved to find someone who dressed conservatively. She did manage to exude a bit of professional confidence, just enough color in her blouse to be attractive, yet not stand out more than she needed. Probably calculated to be easy to find among the nurses and doctors here, he thought.

"I hope you've found the briefing sheet, but I'm here to go over it so you understand all you can do. The point is to make this stay as pleasant as we can to make your stay enjoyable. Our point is healing, and everything is aligned to the holistic betterment of all known and unknown discomforts," Pamela said in a well-practiced, even tone.

"Sounds almost more like a luxury hotel than a hospital," Joe remarked.

"Some enjoy it that way. But they heal faster if they are surrounded by a pleasant, supportive environment. There's more to healing than just pills


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and bandages, you know."

Pamela came closer to Joe's bedside and leaned against it while she fished the laminated sheet out of the magazine holder. As she did, it flashed to life with colors and motion. Joe noted the warmth coming through her jacket as she leaned against him, the pleasant fresh-soap smell coming from her clothes and hair.

"Our job is to make your stay here as homey as we can," Pamela continued, pointing to sheet in Joe's hand. "Here, for instance is the entertainment center, where you can watch your regular TV shows, whether you prefer to do this privately or with a group. Lot's of people think sports games are better experienced with a crowd than alone. Others find that when watching a docu-drama, they can get distracted from the plot and action if too many others are present. And some simply prefer to shift past the commercials or keep track of several programs at once - which others could find annoying."

Joe nodded, understanding her as if she were reading his mind. Too often TV was just slow and tedious for all practical purposes. Games could be noisome affairs, especially if you were rooting for the losing side. Ads were best used to shift over to another show and pick up what was happening and then shift back. But Joe knew others didn't share his cursory approach and would rather completely


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involve themselves with the story - as if they were living it in that instance.

"And to keep you fit, here's how you get to the Exercise Center, where you can also join in any group activities like aerobics or simply work out, either under a trainer's supervision, or on your own." Pamela then turned the card over. "Now, here is a map of the building and how to get to where you want to go. This," she unclasped a small card," is a locator, which will act like a personal GPS. Just program in your destination and then clip it to your gown or robe. It will beep if you take a wrong turn. Glance at it and you'll see an arrow pointing to where you wanted to wind up."

"Well, that's quite something. Always thought we'd have it some day." Joe was honestly surprised.

"And if you need help for any reason, you can just press and hold it and someone will come to help you. Of course that's mostly for our residents with more extreme physical conditions. Those three smaller areas at the bottom can be pressed for special needs: red will get a nurse to call you through the nearest intercom, yellow gets the nearest aide, and blue will get me - or one of my assistants if I'm off duty." Pamela ended her talk by looking right at me and quickly stood up and away a polite distance, a slight flush on her cheek.

"I hope you find everything satisfactorily and I do


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hope to help you some time in the future." At that, her beeper went off. While she looked at the display, "But I'll be back again this evening after dinner to check on you and how you're doing. Got to run, sorry." She smiled at this, which was right on cue as she left the room.

Joe found himself still admiring her smile seconds later, much as the Cheshire Cat left that grin behind.

Shaking his head, he looked down at the pulsing briefing sheet in his hand and then replaced it in the magazine holder.

That's certainly enough for this morning, he thought. Suddenly tired, he shrugged down deeper into his soft bed and pulled the covers over him, soon drifting off to sleep.


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12

Wishing I had brought more than a machete and a backpack of food and that small first aid kit. You don't travel in this country other than light, however, unless you want to pay porters. And I knew they wouldn't want to go where I was wanting to. Sure, there's that GPS beeper if I get in trouble, but that shouldn't be a problem.

No, the greater deal was that I was working on an ancient description of where this thing was and the paths it described were all overgrown. It was easier to follow game trails, which did more or less follow those old worn paths. These roads had been used for hundreds of years before the civilization seemed to just vanish. And the growth was bad. Often, you could only work out the trail by looking up - and seeing where the trees parted on both sides, being thin in the middle.

Still, the vines were tough and over grown, sometimes thicker than my forearm. I only cut the ones I needed to. Those old movies of people hacking their way through the forest don't also show them taking breaks every 15 or 20 minutes to recuperate. I quickly found out the fastest way was finding a way around instead of going through.


Robert C. Worstell

Steep bluffs were the most troublesome. 30-40 foot drop-offs forced me to go up or downstream to find a tributary or gorge which would afford me access. And then I had to do the same thing on the other side. That river meanwhile was a twisting, curling mess, as it would double back on itself within a quarter mile. Of course, it wasn't during the rainy season, so it was mostly a shallow, gravelly mess on the bottom, covered with regular dead-falls of old trees and bunched-up brush with nasty traps set from rotten water-soaked wood if you tried to cross broadside.

And mosquitoes were everywhere. Sweat rolled off in mini-rivulets, but I had to preserve the water in my canteen for the miles ahead.

Finally the path broke free of jungle growth and I was moving away from the river again. Here, the game had found that the old roads were more easily traveled and left a path. It looked like the ground was too tightly packed for much growth, but that packing had also left the road lower than the surrounding forest on each side. So there were many soft spots to walk around. Still not easy going.

What was I doing this for? I had to remind myself of the cache of hidden knowledge which legend says was stored in that old temple so long ago. Sure it said riches, but I knew the other meaning. And if there were valuable data there, it would be on the walls, whatever were still standing.


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A clearing broke ahead, odd for this part of country. As I move forward, the growth parted and I felt more solid under-footing, as if the original stone road was under there somewhere. The road was straight now, and the misty sunlight was hiding whatever was still in front of me to discover. While my heart began beating quicker, I worked to still it and stay calm. Just because I had been traveling for weeks to get to this spot, and more than half a day away from the Jeep I left on the jungle's closest navigable trail, I still needed to get back that same way.

My hopes nearly got dashed with what I saw next.

The road broadened out to a clearing was empty, except for saplings which had started growing there. No temple of rock rising out of the forest floor. No huge monolith inscribed with ancient writings. Just an empty clearing filling with what new growth could penetrate that underlying rock floor, which showed through where old slabs had been uplifted here and there by the tree roots and weather.

Still picking my way forward, I reached into my pack to extract my camera and recorder. Just then, I stumbled.

Fell, more like it. And kept falling.


Robert C. Worstell

Because there wasn't anything to grab hold of on my way down or anything to stop my fall with outstretched arms.

I could see the opening dwindling above me which had been hidden by vines drop away above me, but my concern was not busting my head or ribs or something else when I eventually landed. Odd that I could think clearly during all this. Events seemed to slow as my mind apparently sped up. But the worst I was getting was some massive scrapes and bruises as I the vines and roots I ran into kept slowing my downward progression and I was finally able to grab several in order to halt in some awkward position an unknown distance from wherever "down" finished.

I hung there, suspended, until I could figure things out.

Light wasn't clear here, the bulk of it was streaming through that small hole I had punched in the grass and vines above. Meanwhile, my fall had taken me past more of these, which tended to snap back and fill that space I had come down through. And no, it wasn't easy to get to some sort of flashlight, since these were in my backpack, which was now twisted behind me in a painful contortion as the straps cut into my shoulder - but at least it was still there. Again, this wasn’t like the movies.

So in that dim view, I carefully found thicker branches and vines to move to and got myself


The Dreamer Dreamed

upright again. Sorting out the backpack with a free hand did allow me to fish out a light - which I quickly clipped by it's lanyard to my waist so I wouldn't lose it. It dangled below me by a foot or so as I took my free hand to get more secure and more comfortable, my breath still ragged and I worked to calm the body down after that excitement.


Robert C. Worstell

13

"And how do you think you think?" asked the shaman-kapua.

Dressed in his typical duck-cloth shorts, short sleeve open shirt, and sandals, the old man was smiling as if he had just set the joke for a coming punch line.

We were sitting near the beach, in the shade of the trees nearby. The waves were keeping their irregular pattern on the shore, and birds cried above as they hunted for food. The world seemed at peace, his question almost an interruption to this quiet scene.

I answered, "I don't know, never thought that far out."

"Look it over, let me know." The old man was still smiling, and turned to look out to sea.

"Well, there's how it happens. Looking at things objectively."

"True. How else do you think?"

Pausing, I said, "And then there are people who think with their feelings - how it affects them, how they react to whatever happened."


The Dreamer Dreamed

"Again true. How else do you think?"

A longer pause. More looking out to sea. "There are things which stand for other things. Symbols. What things mean."

"Yes and right again. Is there another way you think?"

Now the pause stretched a long time. One could almost see the shadows move from the sun’s passage before I finally concluded, "There's how things work together, like wind, sea, sun, birds. The holistic view of things. Natural systems and interaction."

"Ah, that is so. Very good."

And with that, my friend the shaman-kapua rose and walked down the beach in the direction toward his hut.

I stayed and sat to digest what he had just made me figure out for myself.

The sea continued its irregular beat against and with the shore. Trees overhead whispered the songs of the breeze, while flying and dipping birds gave their own odd riffs and accent to this unwritten, but eternal melodic tune.


Robert C. Worstell

14

"About time you got back. He's gone and done it again."

Sue zipped up her tunic to its top and put the fruit-bar on the desk. Roger's hands were furiously typing as he stared at the characters moving on the screen. His sweaty forehead made the whole small control room seem warmer.

"He's flipped out of the scenario we set up and started his own." Roger was frustrated, working frantically to rebuild the world that Joe was supposed to be staying within.

Sue quickly sat and started in on her own keyboard, "OK, it's time for her visit. A little early, but this will knock him back into the loop he's supposed to be in."


The Dreamer Dreamed

15

Joe stirred suddenly in his sleep. It was the hospital room again. He didn't move, knowing that he needed to find out what just happened which woke him up. The room was darkened, the hall barely lit beyond it. Night was official at the hospital. His room door was open and someone was standing there.

As he looked on, the figure reached up to turn off the glowing badge, then shrugged out of a smock which was draped over the visitor chair by the door. That movement showed in the dim light she had started moving toward his bed. He could hear other articles of clothing quietly slither to the floor as she moved.

A hand on his shoulder was warm as she moved him onto to his side away from her. Quickly she undid the ties to his hospital gown and proceeded to massage his shoulder and back. He responded by rolling over on his stomach, where she smoothly continued to rub his back, finding areas where unknown tightness still remained. Knots loosened under her practiced hands, until the world was a soft, relaxed world of comfort.

Her hands moved slowly lower on his back and then progressed to his thighs and calves. His feet were last and became completely relaxed without tickling.


Robert C. Worstell

Joe felt her hands quickly continue back up across his back to the shoulders, where a sudden quick movement had him turned completely over and facing the ceiling again.

And then the light from the hall was blotted out as she moved to straddle his legs with her own, the weight moving Joe's bed down, but with no noise or bounce as the mattress adjusted to the weight.

Suddenly, her lips met his and hair cascaded down the sides of his face. Light kisses then proceeded down his neck and chest as her hands worked over his arms, pecs, and abdomen.

Joe knew better to interrupt at this point. Simply laying back to enjoy this new development would be the best approach...


About the AuthorDr. Robert C. Worstell

Rev. Dr. Robert C. Worstell, M.Msc, MBA, PhD is an independent researcher and the author of several self-help and self-improvement books, Thinking at Internet Speed, How Self-Help Authors Write Bestsellers, Go Thunk YourselfTM, Go Thunk Yourself, Again!, Go Thunk Yourself, S'more!, and Go Thunk Yourself, Revisited. Worstell lives on a working farm in rural Missouri and is continually involved in research to improve the quality of life. He has spent over 35 years researching the human condition through personal studies of counseling, education, and self-improvement.“Freedom Is (period.)” is his last self-help book, following over a decade of writing, editing, and publishing in this genre. He has mentioned, however, that spiritual training articles are still in the offing. Upcoming plans are to venture into a line of illustrated children's books, as well as publishing numerous cartoons and caricatures.

Dr. Worstell may be contacted through his blogs for lecture requests and interviews:

http://robertworstell.com – A Midwest Journalhttp://midwestjournalpress.com – Midwest Journal Press http://gothunkyourself.com – Go Thunk Yourself Bookstore

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The Dreamer Dreamed - New Age novel about What Dreams Mean