The shock of finding himself out of the body, then the following day observing a new as Kewe thought a better him.
Something else that came that week too, an intangible energy-power quietly making itself present. An energy with a quality at so many levels. Each day moving to the next, it was possible to observe the group becoming ever more receptive to the presence.
Difficult to describe, people would talk on the deck, see the mountains become golden or red as Earth made its turns. They would watch trees and green fields take on lustrous sheens, elegance that each swore they had never seen before. This state, it filled everyone with awe.
It was mystical and elusive, yet at the same time it brought an unbelievable freshness. A whole new way of being, a feeling bond developed between the whole group, not in the sense of wanting to emotionally join, but in a much greater sense of everything being more real. The realness often folding into a way to
reach the intangible in each other, and to reach the joy.
It wasn’t that people were in the same bliss. There were degrees of becoming awake. Each person retained the character he or she brought with them. This included in the new energy.
Eric's personality is clever. His mind quick, alert, always on. Within this heightened state, Eric became even swifter at identifying where a person's thoughts were. But feelings beneath the thoughts, with that he had difficulty.
Kewe recalls an occasion where Eric showed frustration at someone not quite being there, not quite at the peak. It wasn’t much, a tone in his voice, a slight testiness. Between thinking and feeling, and the group knew that.
They responded instantly. No words. They simply distanced themselves from Eric.
Without disturbing any of the closeness, Eric became placed from the center to an outer rim. He immediately knew and better for it soon came back. The quickness in him slowed.
The experience of this property that could be called energy, wrapped itself around each. Inside the bond where brains and feeling
met an exuberant magic existed that was still, and yet not still.
This essence brought people together ways unthinkable at the beginning of the week as it filtered through each of the personalities. For Kewe back in Seattle, he was glad he had those memories as the next few days unfolded.
. . .
On his journey home, his thoughts of Robert are never far away. The photograph on the chair, the eyes he thought..., the ‘dj vu’ sense of him being at the retreat center before, it all remained a mystery.
The contact with Robert was a drama that as far as he knew had been taking place outside of Kewe’s normal time, in some other-world state; he’s thinking knowledge seeped down to his brain. He wonders if interaction with Robert has been perhaps with this other self.
When was the new personality created?
Kewe’s thoughts are that the outer persona within the brain had been created during the time at the retreat center. He hasn’t a grasp of the factors involved so he has to wait until more knowledge develops.
If there is more here, if contact with Robert did exist before the retreat center, it could have been with this other him.
Contact with this other him that the brain only now is aware, the mind behind the brain allowing awareness to enter the brain and so into brain consciousness that Kewe has.
The brain receives more than it dispenses, that he’s sure. It also acts as a censor where it eliminates much. The brain as a computer sends and receives thought transmissions, is in contact with many sources. But for Kewe, that which he receives is filtered. Much comes only as a dream, and with some of the knowledge.
Years added to this time at the retreat, Kewe will come to understand that all his spiritual awakening through the previous years, years of initiations into greater energy that came in this time, did not bring him out of the mental state, he would say now the fog of his mental state. That he had to wait until years later, and the fog, how much of it has not yet lifted, that he does not know even in this future time.
Some of his present fog he now accepts has to do with beings of which he is connected, who neither have bodies, physical nor bodies considered ethereal and astral, and do not have mind as we understand mind. Their state of existence is beyond that which even mind, that is mind outside the brain, can comprehend.
Returning to Kewe’s time of the retreat, in his physical body, Kewe believes he only has to walk down the street, have some thought about a person he’s looking at, and the person will glance at him. When walking behind a person, they will often turn completely around if he thinks about them. They don’t know why, but they have some sense that they are being connected to in some way.
When we test to see if this works, with their secret budgets and dark centers especially for experiments, governments have found that it does.
By early twenty-first century, Kewe is aware, as many people recognize, the knowledge of dark agencies, the skill black budget agencies of government have with regard to mind, and mind control. Thought is around us always. All brains pick up thought. Though is able to be manipulated and inserted, and it is.
Thought works at any distance. The brain, able to receive and transmit signals, requires almost no energy to do so. Thought contact being used by dark agencies of government in their manipulation of one individual or of an extremely large grouping.
The brain taking signals from a vast variety of dimensions or frequencies picks up many beams. Because of the flow of signals, the brain computer has to censor and often change the messages it receives. Such streams, if they fall within our already outer conscious parameter of data, become permissible.
When a stream does not, the brain interprets, provides a reality by tying the stream to other knowledge we have.
The translation may be accurate, or may be extravagantly distorted.
Signals interpreted will also appear not as thought, but as feelings or visions, symbolic forms in dreams.
In some instances the brain allows thought to be heard as words. Kewe recognizes the state he’d been in at the University as an alpha brainwave state.
A disturbed, though enriched, alpha state.
His ability to hear Robert had been due to this. The unconscious areas, a vast realm, how the brain-computer translates from this realm is a province of dark, mind-control agencies, their experiments black budget funded.
For the masses it is art than a science, though stage mentalists have acquired knowledge.
The protective, censorship barrier lowered, as mind-control agencies practice, this brings complete control, to set up a patsy to be part of an assassination as an example, for triggers for committing suicide.
On the journey home on the plane, Kewe is writing down his impressions of the retreat.
He also writes: ‘Any who is capable can send words through the dimensions. Images and
words we receive can and do include trickery.’
. . .
Taking the bus into town, there’s a poster on the window for the annual Folk Life Festival. The festival has zillions of artists. A holiday weekend at the festival, Kewe thinks, will be the perfect way to ease into a new week.
At his apartment Kewe throws his bags on the floor, falls immediately to sleep. When he wakes it’s Saturday morning and he takes off for the festival.
The entertainment just beginning he strolls around. Checking out the many stages set up for the festival, Kewe listens to the flutes, the whistles, guitars, hammer dulcimers, even the deep Tibetan bowls that are always brought and played.
He stops to watch young kids at the center fountain. Getting closer when the jets of the fountain recede, suddenly the water circles up and spews out, drenching everyone as they run screaming away.
Morning becomes noon and the grounds fill with people. Fiddles, bagpipes, horns, all to listen to. For a time he’s with a circle having a fine time dancing and drumming.
He’s been wandering the fair all day with no food. He’s been hearing thoughts often more than thoughts, a voice and he’s not sure who it is. It’s not Robert. It sounds like his own voice talking to him inside his head.
The voice has become unyielding giving him data. Stuff about the planet, thoughts about every political message booth he’s seen at the festival.
Ahead of him, he can see a crowd gathered. A young man is drawing a bow across a very weird, eight-foot contrivance.
The bow creates a quivering, piercing tone and he can see a flowing light as it leaves the bow. Kewe stares at the colors, at the strange vibrational show which he wonders if others can see.
With the music and the light show, the voice feeding him information is getting ever more difficult to absorb.
Kewe, knocking his head against a wall, says to it, “Please no more today. I don’t want any more. Not today.”
“One more thing,” the voice quite abruptly answers back.
‘YOU HAVE TO EAT NOW!’
Kewe thinks this is extremely funny. He sort of doubles over laughing. ‘That’s what you have to tell me?’
Kewe might as well be on the ground, he can’t stop laughing.
People stare at him. Noticing, he backs up against the wall, tries to look normal. Some keep looking in his direction, most staring at the person who is playing this color light-show instrument, at least to Kewe’s eyes. He thinks, ‘Thank God this is the Folk Life. I’d be carried away otherwise.’
At one of the food stalls, he orders a piece of salmon. Laid out on a bun, the cooked salmon has a small Caesar salad at the side. He eats the salmon, doesn’t eat the bread, throws it away that with the empty cup of ice tea into a bin.
He wanted to get rid of some pounds, about a year ago it must have been. Reading about a low carbohydrate diet in a magazine at the gym, the diet stated that lack of carbohydrates produces an enzyme in the body that eats fat.
Since being on the diet he’s noticed another benefit. The low carbohydrate content in his system affects his brain. It seems to help him enter into an altered state. The side effect is an altered state and his normal state merging.
The festival music is taking him higher and higher, and that’s why he doesn’t eat the bread. The carbohydrates he knows will bring him down. He’s stoned already from the vibes at the retreat. He doesn’t want the bread to bring him down in the middle of this new high.
As he wanders around, he is taken up with the beat of African music being played on a large outdoor stage. Remaining at this stage the rest of the night, the music has an effect of bringing a piercing energy-flow into his head.
Next morning, Sunday, Kewe returns. There is an early performance of a Shakuhachi flute in the Asian house. Afterwards, a Japanese Koto show keeps him.
In the afternoon, he’s still around. He waits while the stage becomes set for some Persian music.
One of the musicians gives out an invitation during the Persian music to a Sufi Service. He jots down the information because it’s at the local collage only blocks from him.
He buys another piece of salmon and it does taste great. Again he throws the bun with the dressing away.
Now he’s noticing that thoughts of people around him are increasingly entering his head.
It’s jumbled the thoughts, and he’s not sure of the accuracy. He walks around the festival for hours picking up half portions of the now many different thoughts.
The noise in his head is so overwhelming he tries to clear his mind, tries when that doesn’t work to ignore the thoughts.
Listening to a banjo being played at one of the outdoor stages, than a small piccolo, the music does distract him.
In the country-western room people are line dancing. He stops to watch.
He ends the night at an outdoor, Irish-pub stage, drinking water, singing with the crowd.
Returning to his apartment, the lack of eating is having its effect. He falls into a fitful sleep.
Monday being a holiday, he returns to the festival. Except for the two pieces of salmon, he’s eaten nothing since he came back from the retreat.
The lack of food is unbalancing his mental processes and he knows he’s unbalanced, but with the high he’s on, he has no desire to be evened out.
It’s the long weekend and he figures it’s time to get wacky, to let go. They’ll be plenty of time later to be serious.
He’s been noticing a strange field building at the side of him. He can’t turn as such, to look directly, but there’s a light at the edge of his vision. It’s like an archway with shining rays.
His mind rejects the idea that he’s seeing a vortex. But soon his attention becomes fixed on where the vortex rays are.
If he moves his thoughts through the portal of the vortex, he thinks he should be able to pass through the archway into the light. Once into the light he can reach the inner world. No idea what it might hold.
Working on access for some time, the change that occurs once he enters the portal is quiet striking. Walking amongst the huge crowd, Kewe no longer notices where he’s strolling.
The other state is taking all his focus. He’s in some remarkable energy. A stream of knowledge has a beginning and ending of the knowing, the middle familiarity, the end awareness, all there, all at once.
He returns only briefly to the festival, and when he does, it’s a shock, a reality telling him he’s back in his outer world.
An Indian group doing a show, a musician using a Surbahar one time when he’s back. For an instant he blunders out of the knowledge.
After that, only if he bumps into someone does he realizes he is still at the festival.
Inside the knowledge thoughts stop, these are moments where he stops and returns to the outer reality. Now often he has no idea where he is. The lack of control scares him. He leaves the festival.
More and more he is inside this absolute, and more and more he is losing all sense of identity of himself.
The spread of knowledge is extending him ever further, to the extent where he can connect with so many other being-states, but trying to enter into these extended other worlds, he is becoming stuck.
Someone helps him onto the bus.
Now the vortex has such extreme power that Kewe is having but the briefest contact with the human body. In this other world he is a fragment in this gigantic other.
Millions of thoughts are connecting to him, and he doesn’t know who he is. He is lying on the bed and it’s the oddest moment when he does return.
He has reached a sense of infinity, but it is infinity he cannot contain. A decomposition is taking place.
His personality is becoming lost. Some of his presence is warning him, screaming at him to get up. The thoughts are saying that if he doesn’t get
up, he won’t ever get up.
Kewe, in a moment of lucidity, forces himself off the bed. Keeping his mind on the smallest of details, he guides himself outside the door of his apartment, down the stairs. Outside he starts to count the cracks in the sidewalk. One hundred, two hundred, one thousand, then it’s two thousand, then losing his count he begins again.
It takes all his thinking process, but he walks his head close to the ground until he’s up to five thousand, six hundred and fifty-six cracks in the pavement.
The fog in his outer world begins to shift. That’s when he remembers his cell phone is in his pocket. He can call Rick. His friend lives only two streets away.
Rick is not at home, his phone machine answers. Kewe listens to the beep, leaves a message.
Then his phone rings. Rick’s voice sounds like it’s coming through a long tunnel. “Where are you,” Rick says, “I’ll be right there. Keep on walking. I’ll meet you.”
Soon Rick is making him laugh. Kewe says he should have eaten. He’s in the middle of all this stuff and can’t get out.
“Ah,” Rick responds.
“I could see this other person in the thoughts, Rick. He was there. We were both there. I could see Jake.”
“Jake, that’s the name he wants to be called.
He’s me, this other me.”
Rick, who has no knowledge of any of this, replies, “Okay! Jake!” Kewe hears him asking, “You want some coffee? You think some coffee might help?”
Deliberately maneuvering their walk, Rick has brought them to a coffee shop on one of the main streets. The line is backed up to the door, but they wait on Rick’s insistence. Kewe talks about all that’s been happening.
About Robert, about the retreat, about the new personality, about the personality who is now with a name.
Kewe says, “I’m seeing him in the vortex as another version of me.”
Rick looks at him. “Jake has now become an alternative personality?’
Kewe, who has a fleeting desire to burst out laughing, snorts. “He could be. Aren’t these alternative personalities supposed to be a kind of split-off, part personality? I thought they were created separately by the brain. That’s not Jake. If anything, he’s more than me.”
Rick responds, “You think this other person is somehow you as well?”
Kewe becomes engulfed in waves. That has sent him searching into a wider area. He’s pushing into an ever-increasing surge of the vortex. He knows if he holds on, if he tries to contain the knowledge, it will move him further, take him much further from who he is now. He thinks it will destroy who he is as Kewe.
If he wants to return, if he wants to retain his sanity as Kewe, he has to withdraw.
He looks at Rick. He looks completely lost. ‘You understand it happens so quickly. I can not keep the information I get. I have to let go. When I let go, all I’m left with is some vague sense. Then I have to try to figure that out.”
Rick mumbles something, Kewe asks him to speak louder. Rick asks, “Do you believe that Jake can be separate from you?”
The answer zips through his brain.
Kewe grabs it, and this time he’s sure he has it. He’s working it all ways, trying to decipher all meanings. “Jake has a full template in my brain. The
wind did that. A strange creating wind before Jake appeared. The wind gave a new template for Jake to use. Jake is my personality, my light body in his world. Jake can now emerge as a personality in this world.” He smiles at Rick. “Yeah, that’s it. I’m sure that’s it.”
Kewe lowers his voice. “I’m with him inside my brain. Jake is no longer just my light body. He has become a new manifestation of me.”
Still waiting in line, they fall silent until the group of people in front are served and they’re at last at the counter. Kewe orders coffee.
Rick makes a point of asking for rhubarb pie for both. With the pie and the coffee, they find a table with a couple of empty chairs. As soon as they sit down, Kewe says he wants to sing. A verse has begun to spin through him, he says.