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I’m some way up a mountain with lots of other people. It
is high altitude, yet warm. There is epic greenness mixed with
cloud below us; yelps of excitement from some of the other people.
The sky is a patchwork of vast tessellating snowflake shapes.
The scene is unimaginably beautiful. Folk start base-jumping off
a ledge. ‘Jump! Jump!’ shouts someone. Blue flares
attached to ankles begin to disappear into the cloud below, exhilarated
shrieks turn to silence. I melt into some form of non-existence
and reappear on the mountain alone.
I find my way to the town at the bottom of the mountain in a state
of confusion. There are people around but no-one I know. There’s
a card in my pocket, it’s black with white circular symbols
on it. My phone rings. It’s someone I knew a long time ago.
‘Where have you been? We’ve had 159 calls saying you’re
missing, which is a bad sign.’ I can’t answer this.
The white circular symbols on black keep reoccurring, on lamp
posts, shop doors; so does the number 159 and the word/theme of
SOUTH.
It becomes obvious to me that Everything Is Different. People
are talking about the Shift. Someone gives me a battered paperback
copy of Lovelock’s Gaia Hypothesis, except it’s full
of poetry. I start getting flashbacks of rock, of floods, and
walking under the water, looking up and disturbing the surface
of the water with my fingers and watching the world above it diffract.
There are other themes which I can’t tie in, some sinister
and violent, others to do with differing Time and seeing myself
aged.
Most perplexing is that everyone there perceives the Shift to
be a brief anomalous event, something which passed through like
a storm. They think everything is back to normal and seem oblivious
to the fact that Everything is Different. I sit talking with folk
on the side of the street; everyone appears quietly content. Some
kind of horn is blown and everyone around seems to telepathically
link up, something like the ‘sign of the peace’ during
a mass. You can feel the link-up stretching into vastness. I wonder
if I’m the only person who remembers that it didn’t
always used to be like this.
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| Following the terrorist attacks of 9/11 in the United States, a group of international dreamers gathered around the idea of dreaming the world toward peace.
Everyone dreams. In many cultures it is believed that the world is a creation of our dreams. These dreams are a bridge across which we can reach toward one another. |
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