FALLING

Memories were permanently and effectively shoved into an uncomfortable place that humanity has labeled "only your imagination."

-- R'AZEL

 

CHAPTER 39

He had surrendered. That's all he knew. The pain was quick. It felt more like a jolt, like being shoved out of a window. He felt himself falling. He had no sense of wanting to grab anything. He was conscious. He was alive; not sure how or why but he was alive. He was falling. His body felt light; different but he couldn't explain it or fathom it yet. He remembered dropping his shield and being struck by a barrage of psi bolts.

He was falling. He remembered how people say your life passes before you. He saw nothing. There were no tunnels. There were no helper spirits. He didn't see any family or friend. There seemed to be this emptiness, falling through emptiness. He struggled to reach out and grab something. There was nothing to grab. Even a thought could not anchor him.

He kept falling.

"How many times have I journeyed to this cave," said the Sacred Prostitute. "I wonder what is outside this cave. Why do you sit here always? Aren't you curious what exist beyond these walls?"

"You have journeyed far and yet, you are no where," replied Eyes Laughing From Silence, who is a Native American shaman.

"And again, you answer questions with questions. I was thinking about the inner ceremony I experienced as a Hierophant. When I became one with one of the goddesses, it's as if my life got woven into a drama that is still playing out. And to free myself, I must no longer be a vessel for the goddesses or the gods. I don't want to be their dog in the temple. I don't want them to make my body their graveyard; or be dismembered, and resurrected in their names. I don't want to be a vessel for their incantations when they spill their seed in me. It seems that these ancient rituals have seeded something that would cause us to be doorways for these ancient beings not only in that lifetime but lifetimes to come. I realize they have manipulated humans to incarnate into because they cannot ascend and are stuck in their own dramas, and they cannot get out of the game. I'm one of these ancient deities."

"Now you are beginning to understand."

"But now that I am conscious of this life as a sacred prostitute what must I do? My other lives are not awake."

"Maybe you need your own inner ceremony, or ritual to reclaim your sovereignty, your divinity so that you are no longer a playing field for the madness of the gods."

"And where will that leave you when this had occurred?"

"You will know the answer when you know the answer."

"Gee, so forthcoming, aren't you." The gaze in his eyes looked inward. His face faded from one face to another; some human, some non-human. As he settled back into the Sacred Prostitute, he wiped a tear from his face. "So many of my selves have given over their power to others, caught in relationship dramas that are psychically draining; and yet, we play the part we are cast in and we think this is the hand that life has dealt us."

"You must invite all your selves on your journey through light and darkness."

"I have to reach every one of my selves and change their perception, help them to look within and release themselves from the tyranny of others and proclaim their own authority. And eventually, I must awaken the Ancestors, heal the bloodline, and bring forth the apocalypse of the Face and no longer wear the mind of the Adversary."

"As you gather yourselves, the Old Gods will attempt to distract you," said Eyes Laughing From Silence. "They will want you to be external with your wanderings, with your longings. Every being that comes in a blazing light show is not exactly who they say they are. And your Vampire Lover will find you again."

The Sacred Prostitute shivered. He was not ready to think about him.

Eyes Laughing From Silence threw some herbs on the fire. "You must face him."

"He still knows the name to bind me. He still makes me wander outside myself and I have not forgiven myself that I loved a dragon."

"You'll find; you've been with a lot of entities."

"I know. But as long as I remember what I am, I will get through the madness."

As the Sacred Prostitute looked into the flame, he saw the image of a young black man, sitting on the edge of the bed weeping.

"Who is this?"

"He is the nexus for all your realities. He is the Way. He is the perfect feminine consciousness in a male form. If he does not ascend, all that you know, and have ever been will die. He is the Male Mother. His name is Michael. You and Michael are the same person. The Ancient Ones have blinded you to this timeline so you will not realize your potential. They have kept you on a road that they think will not intersect with Michael's and create a new reality."

"Why are you showing me this now?

"The twilight of the gods are coming. A new pantheon will be born. The old gods will wear new mask, speak with different tongues but they are still puppets for something no one remembers."

"What if I cannot do this – free my self from the mindset of the Gods? Where does that leave you? Where does that leave me?"

Eyes Laughing From Silence threw herbs into the fire. "Look deeper."

The Sacred Prostitute looked deeper into the image of Michael and it unfolded and he saw an eagle descending from the sky. "Hmm," he thought aloud. "Soon I must face the gods again as this young man."

"You will face your beliefs and these gods fear the apocalypse of your spirit. It is time to eat your shadows and release theirs from you. Every thing must return to its source to ascend."

Falling.

Michael was sitting at the crossroads between dimensions in the form of The Judas Angel. And old lover of his had been wandering lost in his dream state when he came upon the Judas Angel.

"I don't want to talk to you. I never wanted to see you again. And the fact that you waver in and out of this Judas persona and Michael persona is a bit freaky."

"Everyone is a vessel, a vehicle. Unfortunately, some of these vessels are accessed and are tools of Dark Forces, those who rule the 365 dimensions that the soul has to pass through. So you must wake up within these dimensions and utter the divine word and claim your divine nature to pass through the doors, the gates, break the seals. Once they know you are in your divine nature, these forces have no claim on you anymore," said The Judas Angel.

"That's fine and dandy but I don't understand a word you are saying. First, there are 365 dimensions to pass through. Who in their right mind believes this shit and expect people to buy into it. I think people create this stuff to make themselves important and feel worthy about themselves."

"I'm not recruiting. I'm just explaining sometimes why Michael was not very social able. He was in the world but didn't choose to be of the world."

"I think you and Michael are pushing the weird meter off the chart."

"Didn't you ever question life, question what is presented to you or did you just accept the status quo?"

"Why would I want to rock the boat, I like the way things are?"

‘I guess if you're asleep you don't know you're asleep," said the Judas Angel.

"I am as awake as the next guy. Why do you want to fuck up your mind? It's not like you can go out and get another one."

"I like to know I can think for myself and not feel someone is programming me subconsciously to achieve some diabolical plan."

"Michael was always one of those conspiracy nuts. Guess he thought aliens fathered us, some space people are going to rescue us, that Jesus is an alien and there is some dark alien government running the worlds, and we are being harvested by demons that we call angels. I've heard that line of bullshit so much and can't believe someone who appears to be seemingly intelligent would wallow in that quagmire of bullshit. I think the mud that he was swimming in has blocked his vision. Do you see fucking aliens around you? I admit the world is complex; but I don't think there is anyone in the world that is smart enough to pull off such a plan. And if there are aliens who are so full of love and compassion, why don't they show themselves? Do they have something to hide? And demons, I think man has an evil nature that he is the demon."

"Michael saw people shape shift into a reptilian form. He has seen a man turn into a demon. He has seen ghost haunting places because of the anger they are still harboring. He has seen dark forces masquerading as beings of light. He has witnessed the god that humans pray to is not more powerful than they are, and that they will surpass this machine mind."

"You and Michael have really had your mind stretched by drugs."

‘I don't do drugs," said the Judas Angel. "I don't take of material substance. I don't have the hungers you have."

"Well, Michael spent too much time with strange groups instead of people who loved him and now we get you. There are so many cult groups with brainwashing techniques that they grab your sanity and you don't even know they got it until it's too late. Why do you think they have had those shoot out with cult groups, groups have died thinking Jesus was riding on a comet to take their sorry asses out of here. The media is telling us how demonic these groups are. I think they are serving Satan and Michael played right into the drama."

"He questioned religion. He thought religion was an aphrodisiac to corrupt the soul so it becomes a roadside attraction or become a temple for dark forces to drain life force from."

"Man, do you listen to yourself. And you wonder why you are sitting here alone. Talking shit like this will excommunicate you from most people's lives. I suggested to Michael he should burn those books he was reading, and get out of his head and those meditative practices. He needed to start hanging with his friends and live a real life. Sitting in those weird positions, talking to voices definitely lead him to his death."

"The part of me that is Michael still loves you."

"I wanted a normal life. I couldn't have it with him. My friends didn't accept him. And I wanted to make it okay, so having a black lover who wasn't someone important didn't give me extra points."

"You always liked to play safe."

"There is nothing wrong with my shoebox life. I know where I'm at."

"I'm just saying what if everything around you was like one of those video games and that someone is playing you."

"You know sci-fi movies are sci-fi movies. This is real life. Why didn't Michael participate in it? Was he so frustrated and hating life that he wanted to burn his membership permanently from life? That's what it sounds like to me. He was my friend. I don't want to think about him so I don't have to mourn him. But every time I see a homeless person, I see a part of him; wandering around, talking to himself."

"You sang to him once, ‘I Would Die 4 U."

"You don't see me crying in my beer."

"You're angry at god. You're angry at yourself."

"Don't dissect me, okay. You may be sitting here seeing all but you don't see me. I'm not an open book. So don't think you can see me. Ghosts have a limited view."

"You are looking for answers even though you are afraid of the questions. Why do you think you are walking these dark roads? In your waking life, you think you just had a dream."

"Michael let all that spiritual stuff kill him?"

"He saw a shadow pass over your face and then your face got all contorted. It bothered him. He wanted to keep death away from you."

"Look I didn't believe him and I don't believe you."

"Michael saw astral parasites swimming in your aura."

"I know that you are full of shit. I know that I am wasting my time with you. Michael's quest to know god brought him death. God isn't interested in you or this world. This is hell baby, get use to it. If god so loved the world, do you think folks would be killing each other, societies would not be crumbling, babies would not be sacrificed, people would not be shooting each other and diseases would not be running rampant, and women would not be raped. Yeah, god has passed judgment on man and found us without a soul. Now, we don't have to wait to die to go to hell, we are there. So you live the best you can, evil has just become a ruler. What degree of evil you choose to be to survive in hell is up to you?"

"You have given up."

"God gave up. What the hell am I suppose to do?"

"Do you even hear yourself talking?"

"You're annoying like an insect."

"You have been so busy getting rid of the unwanted selves, what have you brought in to substitute."

"Do you see a help sign above my head? The only danger and denial I'm seeing is you thinking everything that moves has some evil purpose. Sounds like you are in denial of maybe going mad. You might be a different version of Michael but you are dead. He let his madness kill him."

"We haven't stopped loving you."

"I don't need your love."

"Don't be a fanatic for hatred?"

"Man, you can't even get your head out your ass to see the clouds in the sky."

"I see the error you have fallen into, I want to help."

"You're not right in the head. Sex with you was great when you were Michael, but it doesn't give you any privileges with me."

"I cannot leave you in the dark. You are someone I have loved for many lifetimes."

"Don't work your black magic on me."

"I will not abandon you this time."

"I fucked Michael, I didn't love him! He was an experiment in black. The experiment is over."

"You don't mean that."

"You didn't even want to be in your life. You have to be everything else but Michael. You have expectations. Expectations will always make you somebody's bitch."

"You have become a pillar to dark forces and a sentinel on the road to the Dark Ones."

"I think this conversation has ended Michael or Judas Angel. Whatever you want to call yourself, I don't care. Stay out of my life. I don't believe in talking to the dead."

The Judas Angel touched his hand, looked into his eyes and other lives unfolded. They have lived many stories. He knew he needed to alter the pattern, he must find away to help him wake up and become aware of his divine nature. So much he harbored from these other lives and so many tentacles from the Old Ones were reaching out from other dimensions and hooking themselves into Lazarus's aura and feeding off the negative energy he was generating. Could he break the connection?

"I don't like the way you are looking at me."

"Why won't you look at me," Michael whispered.

"I don't want to see you anymore, any shape or form. Do us all a favor and just stay dead. No one wants your light."

The Judas Angel saw in his inner eye Michael standing naked in front of several attendants and he was being rubbed with oil and frankincense and myrrh. This was to raise his body's frequency to meet his Beloved. Then a veil that draped to the floor was placed over him and he walked upstairs, through two tall pillars, than made him think of sentinels, through curtains, that made him feel like he was passing through walls, through a veil, through eyelids into the sacred chamber where a bed was in the middle of the room, but it was also an altar. As he sensed the inner room of this temple, it was like the room of a whore house. Was he to be a god's whore instead of the embrace of his Beloved. Flash. He realized Lazarus had been the priest who had anointed him for this god's pleasure.

"I don't like the way you are looking at me Judas Angel. Are you even listening?"

In that life, The Judas Angel realized he was bred as a sacred prostitute to be the whore for the reptilian gods. Within these sacred chambers, the bridal chambers, or the whore's room as he looked at it now, these gods came through and had their way with him. And even though the Priest prepared him to meet his gods, they had a bond between them but because the temple rituals and laws, they could never touch, because it would affect him so that the gods could not touch him, because then he would be unclean for the god to know. A pain seared through The Judas Angel's head as he came into full awareness of this. How many times has Michael been a god's whore?

As he looked into his eyes, he saw an angel on a column that stood higher than the columns on each side. The angel held a sword and pointed upward to the Heavens, and then the angel looked at him and stepped off the column, touched the ground and no longer had the sword, or the wings.

"I need to be somewhere else. You need to stop sitting here waiting for god. If he wants to be found, he'll be found. I suggest you accept the world as it is. You can't change it. It's bigger than both of us. So, I suggest you leave insanity to the Saints and go out and have yourself a good time." Lazarus continued walking.

Falling.

The etheric shackles lay at Lilith's feet. Seven Archons stood in the shadow. They could not approach her. The light that was vibrating from her had loosened their hold on her. Adam slept deeply at her side.

"You were supposed to be our instrument to control the first man. Yet, you disobey."

"I'm a slave to no man," replied Lilith in a defiant tone.

"We made you part bird, part reptile so you could bring two ancient races together so we could mate through this Adam and engendered a new creation for us to download into. But you have taken it upon yourself to defy our instructions."

"The gods of Heaven have gotten together to bring forth a new goddess not a new creation to be a beast in the field for this creature. Am I not like you? I know the ancient names of the creators. In your efforts to summon me forth through magical incantations and mix it with the excrements of the Earth, you have bond many powers into this mixture of spirit and matter. The simple soul you summoned from the beyond is more than what you bargain for. In your quest for power, you have summoned magical elements that you do not understand their full implications."

"Our incantations were to diminish you."

"No veil can hide my countenance!"

"We will make you a shadow, a black moon in the night sky that no man will ever witness. Your face will always look the opposite way from man, so he will never divine his true nature. Your voice shall be that of a night creature, the owl screeching through the night."

"Then let that voice be the sound of wisdom, the screech shall rise about the chatter of man's mischievous inclinations and that of the gods and goddess who treat him like a puppet."

"How dare you to think you can counter act our curse upon your head? We will cast you into the nether regions of man's mind, when he hears your voice, it will be the face of a demon he will see, his fears will clothe you and he will exile you from his heart, from his bed. No man will touch you as a woman. You will be a Thing. You will be exiled forever from a man's heart."

He was falling.

He could not see. It was dark. He saw pinpoint flashes of light. But these were nothing he could anchor on to.

Falling, drifting.

And then he felt something moving around him. He was not sure of its form or body.

He felt himself being strangled. There was a sharp pain. He felt something cut into him.

He began to struggle. He was having trouble breathing. It felt like he was drowning as he was thrashing about. Something was grabbing his arms. Something was grabbing his leg. He felt something wrap around his neck.

A part of him felt like it was suffocating; another part felt like he didn't need air to breathe.

He was being encased by tentacles. He struggled as they gripped tighter. Fear echoed through him but anger took over. He had to fight back. Whatever this creature was, it would kill him.

The falling feeling was gone now. He was very conscious of having a body again. And this creature was pulling him further into a dark abyss. His screams were dry. With a thought, a psi bolt struck one of the tentacles.

He heard this creature cry out and loosen his grip. He released another psi bolt and tentacles backed away.

He attempted to swim upward. He wasn't sure what he was in. First it seemed he had been just having this peaceful free fall. Now, he was swimming in what he thought was water. As he gained more focus he realized it was a thick mixture. He saw pieces of body parts floating about. Things like fingers, hands, legs, toes, half ripped chest, necks, crushed skulls, skeletons, penises, faces without eyes, and other things that became more disgusting to him.

He couldn't mouth anything but he was shouting loud in his head. What kind of creature is this? What madness have I died into?

Before he could even respond as a mental dialogue, tentacles grabbed at him like a creeping vine. He reacted without thinking. He found himself in a force field. The tentacles lashed out and struck the shield. He felt like he was in the middle of a church bell being rung. The sound was not melodic. The shield was cracking like glass. He didn't feel enough strength to maintain the force field.

He already had died. He was about to die again. And from the looks of things who ever owned these tentacles planned to make him a meal. Being chewed to death; feeling the bones being crushed and the thought of being in some creature's mouth gave him added incentive to keep fighting.

The force field fell. The creature grabbed out at him. He could feel the tentacles pulling him apart. Is this the first step to Hell? Is this Hell? Is this life after death?

He then saw more tentacles coming from below. He still could not see the owner. As he attempt to strike out with more psi bolts, he had nothing. He was empty of energy. He was empty of fight. But he wanted to fight. The pain was excruciating. The tentacles grabbed his legs, his arms, his neck and they were pulling him different direction.

He could not hold himself together. He was going to die again and maybe this time he wouldn't be waking up.

A thought rose up within him; call a new name, a new name creates a new reality. The tentacles snapped his body into sixteen parts. He screamed in horror as some part of him witness his body dismemberment. A tentacle grabbed his phallic and absorbed it through one of its suction cups that covered the tentacle.

Each tentacle was absorbing a body part when in his mind he screamed out a name and each part held by a tentacle burst into a flame of light and vanished.

He is falling.

Michael felt himself falling into a hole that was twisting and turning and deposited him in a living room. There was only a chair and stereo system. A black woman dressed in sixties bell bottoms was smoking a joint and watching the stereo. There was a grayish coloring to the surrounding.

She saw him, made no special effort to give verbal salutation. Her attention was fixed on the stereo cassette system. A Prince song "I Would Die for U" was playing.

She showed Michael his album cover and a record label. A band was rehearsing in the shadow.

He felt the music calling to him. As he approached the stereo he saw piles and piles of cassettes being excreted from it.

"You have got to stop the mindlessness. It is taking over."

A videotape that was lying on top of the cassette player began to melt.

Michael noticed it was a double-sided cassette player that was an off brand label. On the left side, the cassette was a videotape.

What does this mean he thought?

A man was being brought in by two shadows that fluctuate between human appearance and a shadow. The man being brought in was him. He was led into a room that appeared in front of him. Michael still hadn't moved from the spot where he came into knowledge of this place.

"What's wrong with him," Michael asked.

The woman sitting in the chair turned her expression outward reflecting nothing from within. Hands reached through the floor and began pulling the chair through. The woman smoked contently on a cigarette.

"Fight the mindlessness. Fight them."

"Who?"

"Mindset," the voice whispered.

Michael shook his head. Mindset. It seemed familiar. But why? Why can't he remember?

The wall of separation became transparent. That part of him he recognized was lying on a table. All of sudden he sat up screaming. His face was gone. He had a computerized panel. A long snake like tongue came from his mouth and various size computer chips hung from it.

"Run," screamed one of the shadowy figures. The nearest one stood frozen in fear. The tongue from the computer human enveloped one of the shadowy figures and changed him into circuitry and drained his life force.

This metallic reptilian looked at them. The shadowy man lost his shadow. A light gave him colors. He was a helper spirit, a dream warrior.

"Run, you must get out of here."

Michael ran from the living room into the kitchen with the dream warrior behind him. A door opened.

"Close it behind you."

Before Michael could react, a thought pushed him through the door and closed it behind him.

He was falling.

Street in the astral plane in black and white. Michael dressed as the Statute of Liberty is watching a middle-aged homeless man staring up at the sky.

"What are you looking at?"

"I'm looking for angels."

"God has taken this place off the map."

"You don't see. You've never seen."

Michael. "I see crazy. I see a world going to hell in a hand basket."

"And I see you standing here like a broken down version of the Statute of Liberty."

"Surveillance reports indicated that god passed this way. One could surmise angels will follow," Michael retorted. Michael walks away. "Looking into folk's eyes is like an invitation to snap."

"I'm not the one looking for a hero's birth."

He was falling.

"Lazarus called," a voice said interrupting him.

Michael was standing in front of a grocery store sweeping.

"What," he exclaimed. He ran into the grocery store. It was very crowded. He jumped over displays and over carts trying to get through. He ran down an aisle of dog food and he found himself sitting in a Mindset Office.

"You're late again," Rachel said. "I don't know who you think you are but I am not going to do your work. So just get off your high horse and do your own damn work."

"I don't need your grief or your attitude. I was on my allotted break so get off your high horse. Now, where is the phone call?"

"There," Rachel pointed.

The call was still on hold. He didn't touch it but stared at it.

Lazarus spoke. "I'm not sure if I should do this. But I heard you telepathically and thought I should respond."

"I'm glad. I miss you as much as I miss you. Doesn't make sense but with you, I always seem to walk in a cloud of confusion."

"How are you?"

"Still recovering. I'm almost back together. I still have parts of me scattered about. But, I have no regrets. It's been a long journey but I am coming back in all my glory this time. I decided to accept it all and not be in denial. So I have to play with shadows for awhile. Oh well, no one is going to do this dance for me."

"It's too confusing. I still see the image of you...."

"You have to let it go. You can't continue that image. It is no longer me. I thought for a moment I might have been crazy but I knew in my heart something great had transpired though I couldn't fit it together. I wanted you to realize I am happy about what has happened. I'm just trying to figure out where to go from here. I'm afraid I still have some yearnings of fitting in and also...I think of you often."

"I don't like to think of you. I want to forget you but it's hard. Already I feel like I'm going crazy because of you. I don't want to be crazy but my head is filled with voices. I can't handle it."

"Let me help you."

"No," Lazarus screamed. "Let me go."

He hung up and cried.

He was falling.

It seemed unusual, impossible a thought that an Archon was having coffee with Michael.

"You're confusing things with your wanderings. Why don't you stay put, accept a few gifts, and relieve the pain in your legs."

"You lied about death."

"It was a business decision. Look at it this way; someone is working toward our greater good. Trust in the system to meet the supply and demand."

"You've made death a religion, a recycled nightmare and not the vehicle of salvation it was suppose to be. You lied to humans, to yourself. You perpetuate this lie because you are afraid of non-existence."

"Do you really expect the world to believe your ramblings when they cannot stand to see themselves in the mirror? Lies are a comforter to humans. They fear death and they keep coming back for more."

"Death was supposed to assist those lost in the First Creations as a means to be fully conscious. But you contaminated those realms with your doctrines, defacing truth and hiding your face in the illusions of projections that are a comfort. Death was supposed to be vessels to take the lost to the realms of light not recycle back into the madness."

"One must feed how one must feed as you have been such a tasty morsel up to know. You're leaving a bad taste, corrupting everything you touch or think."

"What do you want?"

"Since you're powering up, we feel that you would make a wonderful addition to our ranks. Of course, this includes title, realms, demons, and angels. You will have a field day playing good guy, bad guy."

"And if I refuse?"

"You may not be a main course but you'll definitely become an after dinner snack."

"Death is supposed to burn away the mundane desires. It was suppose to relieve one of the physical shells. It was suppose to move the lost from coming back but you imposed time."

"No one said life was fair. You've created a realm of the dead that is affecting all that we have brought into creation."

"And you expect me to give you the key and lay the riches at your feet."

"Phoenix will never fly."

"I have sky again. I have sky!"

He was falling.

Michael took a piece of glass, cut the sky and watched it bleed as his consciousness moved into a place that was a park, he found myself standing near a park bench. She didn't see him at first. He could feel her pain that was raging in her body. She looked despondent. The plants and trees had no life to them; their color was dark, eerie; shadowy if you stared too long. He could smell pesticides in the air, the foulness of factory refuse hanging like clouds in the orange sky. Gaia was still in her pain as he was.

 

Gaia sat on the bench staring outward watching a private movie in her head. The hat she wore was covered with buttons with various sayings. The hat shielded her eyes from the rays of an orange sun. Dead pigeons laid about her like bread crumbs. Did she notice? She didn't. Blank eyes were like doorways for insects that were crawling over her.

People walked quickly by her holding their noses.

She said nothing. Her mouth didn't move. Sounds were heard moving about in her. One man walking by remarked, "She sounds like a wild wounded animal that needs to be taken out of its misery."

A woman pushing a baby carriage, walked quickly by Gaia, rolled her eyes while remarking, "You'd think they would keep people like that in institutions."

Buildings growing from the ground cast ominous shadows. People lingered in its shadows. These people were dressed normal but he felt like there was a panic in their movements. They seem to always want to be somewhere else. This was not in what was being said but the energy that they held.

Michael walked slowly toward her with a comforting smile. Her tears were ringing in his ears. She did not respond to his approach.

"Gaia, do you remember me."

She said nothing.

"I have some money. Here. Not much but you can get a cup of coffee."

She said nothing or made an effort to accept his offering.

A foul breeze passed over Michael like icy fingers.

"Took my place he did," she said.

"What?"

"He didn't like that I wouldn't be receptive. Shut me down. Then he pushed me out of my home. No one remembers me."

"Gaia, it's me Michael. Remember how you helped me in New York. Remember you gave me the crown of the Amazons. Remember how your nature spirits brought me the spells to protect nature. Remember how you told me I must become a mother goddess so that we could all form the circle to lift the worlds of darkness back into the light. Gaia, my ancient mother, what madness has consumed you? I thought you were far away in another dimension awaiting the return of the Great Mother and her son."

Before she could speak, Michael had an inner vision and witnessed an earthquake leveling a city. Acid rains destroying crops. Lightning struck a man standing on his patio. He saw men and women being put into a furnace. Fog rolled across a highway taking away a driver's vision causing an accident. An island country was sunk by earthquakes. A teenager walked into his school and killed forty-five people. Babies were being sacrificed in cults. A fire ate the hillside destroying over fifty homes. He shook off the vision.

"Forgive me mother."

"You've never known me." She mumbled as she walked away, "Why wouldn't you look at me?"

The dead pigeons raised their heads and yelled at him, "Why didn't you bring the dead the light they need?"

He was falling.

The Dreamseller addressed the reptilian gods and goddesses in the arena as the Soul stands naked before the assembly.

"What is your opening bid? Do not be afraid of opening your pockets. Don't be shy about your desires. With this Soul, every sexual whim can be fulfilled. Who is ready to descend into the darkest region of their mind?"

A bidding war ensued among the gods. A gavel was struck. The voice of the Dreamseller echoed over the celestial gathering.

"Sold!"

The Soul found itself descending into material consciousness.

The hotel room had the stench of human waste. Alcohol fumes filled the stale air. Large holes were in the plastered walls, exposing the decaying ribs of the building, the floor was covered with dust and human feces. Roaches moved across the floor in the formation of a rug. The window was boarded up leaving no space for fresh air to stretch itself. Seven black candles placed around the room provided light. Michael sat on the edge of the bed, pants down around his ankle, and he was massaging his thigh as a needle laid next to him. Maybe this time, he thought he would anchor into one of the myriad of voices winging through its mind. He flashed on images of gods and goddesses stirring in their seats, showing their restlessness watching this moment. Am I fucking actor stuck in a never ending play he wondered.

"Why won't you look at me? Haven't I been your friend…your ace boon coon…don't I keep your head above the clouds so you don't have to see the madness of humans. You don't have to remember your third world in a white world. See, I ain't like the rest of them, I will help you handle your business."

"You're my friend, Mr. Needle Man."

"So look at me," he heard the Needle speak.

"Last time I looked in your eyes, felt like I was falling down the stairs, broke into all these little pieces. There was no king with his men and horses to put me together again."

"Mr. Needle Man is always there for you."

"I'm not hooked. I'm not hooked. I'm just experiencing life for the first time." Michael squinted attempting to clear his vision. He could not make out the man in the chair. Picking up the needle, he said, "Dreamt I saw an X mark across the forehead of my people. Malcolm had died. King had gone onto the promise land. Black kids at school taunted me because I wasn't black enough. They called me ‘white niggah.' I joined a black student organization to show solidarity. Whites have asked me why my skin wasn't dark. Was it some new cream? I joined a white organization. I wanted to know the enemy."

"Only when you sing and dance will the gods and goddesses take notice," Mr. Needle Man said.

"Martin Luther King was shot. We were visiting my grandmother who was telling us stories about the South. The ringing of the phone had this eerie chill. I remember staring at the direction of the phone."

"You have no voice," the Dreamseller said in his head.

"Martin Luther King is dead," my mother cried out.

We hurried home. I guess if it was going to be the end of the Negroes, it's best to meet your maker in your own home. The phone was silent. The television was demonizing the events on all stations. The end of Negro folks was near. Would they assassinate me as I passed through white hands…

…these reptilian gods and goddess for validation?"

"I blessed you in my name. Didn't I let you come through my son to come through me? I mean back door. Front door was for whites only," the Dreamseller said. His voice was attempting to take on a melodic tone but it had a scratchy quality to it.

"Do that jig dance you do. Love when you sing about food," remarked the Dreamseller.

"King is dead. Malcolm is dead. Prisons are full. There is no Second Coming because the first one was a staged costume drama. Guess who is behind door number two. You guys multiply like rabbits."

The drugs from Mr. Needle Man kept Michael drifting as he continues talking to the voices that were coming from the walls.

"Streets are bleeding with our young. My arm looks like a railroad track. My eyes are searching for that next drink. How black I am? How black I am not? What did a white man see in me to share his seed? Now, watch it bleed."

The Dreamseller screamed at Michael from inside his head attempting to rise above the thousands of voices vying for dominance. "Didn't I provide you with a name? You are still looking for that forty acres and a mule. Told that bitch he is not mine! I gave you back your women. You will always be a downtown low moan when my dick is hungry. There's no uptown living for you. You will always be a niggah no matter how much you are dressed up, you will sing and dance for the pleasure of my dick. That's all you will ever be, a late night pick-up. Your blood is on my deposit slip."

The needle fell out of his arm; the voices from the wall took on the form of an audience sitting in an arena where he was a slave being sold, faded into silence.

"I ran out of myself one day when my brother said I wasn't man enough to be his brother. He paid some girl to fuck me. She said I didn't fuck her properly."

"Why won't you look at me," said the voice floating through the room.

"The smell was erupting from my body and I kept trying to inhale it. Death. Death was ready to recycle. In like a seed. Come out hatched. It's death in its different sizes, shapes, and textures. Death is painted many colors and is exalted beyond all of them because it is fear that keeps snatching a snap of breathe from me. I am tired of being recycled into Death and then Death shits me out back into this life. I want life. I want back what I forgot. She keeps pushing me to enter her, to enter Death. So I ran. She forgot what she was. She forgot she was a goddess. She forgot she was my mother wandering through the wilderness.

There's another one. Another one flying. Some of us remember."

Falling.

The trick dressed as he had his back to him. "Didn't I baptize you with my skin moisturizer? Am I not the only god who let you move in the neighborhood? You get a little taste of what I have than you want what I am. I don't think so. You got the juice, just like your mother. Still thirsty. You are nothing without me. Running barefoot through the jungle is one thing. But here you need shoes for the concrete and believe me, you still can't walk straight, that's why you people lean to one side, thinking to hard weigh you down. That's why you must lean on me. I am a jealous god. There is no other god but me. Get the picture."

Michael jabbed another fresh needle into his arm.

"So when you look in the mirror think about how many times you let someone sit upon you and rule your world, how many times someone has entered you and set up squatting rights and started tearing down the walls to recreate you in their image. You are homeless as long as you live in the material world. How do you feel walking through a world that sees color as evil, a dark passion, an unbridled sexual energy? What is feared the most is truth? When you peel away the illusions, we are all light."

Dreamseller. "Do not be shy my gods and goddesses. Come close and examine this Soul for yourselves and see what delights, what fantasizes you may partake of it. Is this Soul not for the taking, for the fulfillment of the senses? Stand up straight. Profile. Show them your assets!"

"Not of this house shall I ever be."

"I will sell you over and over again. You'll be their instrument of sexual delights. There will be nothing sacred about you when I am finish."

"None of your creations will hold my name in their mouths. I will become a man so you will know your own darkness," said the Soul.

"Your wings are clipped. Come close everyone, examine it. Free samples are available. Who makes the first bid? Want to seed a new universe? The Soul is a perfect vehicle for birthing?"

"Sold!"

The Soul found itself kneeling under the swinging body of its husband hanging from a tree who had been lynched by angry mob of white men when he was found guilty of coming to the defense of his wife. She had been pleading for the body of her husband so she could give him a decent burial. He had been hanging from the tree for three days.

"Dey lookin' at me like I'm cattle. Herdin' me about, pricin' me like I'm an animal for breedin'. Animals eat better than me. But no sir, I'se ain't breakin'. Dis here youngin' in my stomach is gonna be free. Run agin and agin. Back ne'er scratched up so and dey lookin' like vines prayin' for water. Look at ‘em eyein' me like some ole devil workin' his root. Wonderin' who gonna lay me down. Dey think I enjoys it. Say dey gonna do me till I ain't as black as night. Dey think dey breakin' me. But my mind is still mine. I speak dey tongue as I can but I'se members my way. It sleepin' in me but it's dere waitin' till the time of harvesting.

My husband swingin' from a tree but he be full of de Motherland. My eyes talkin' to the sun not layin' on the ground. Mastah hit me. Said I was to slow. My husband tried to help me. Dey let him hang for three days as a minder. Wouldn't let me bury him in de old way. Dey strip our flesh with dem whips, beat us with sticks, let dere dogs have dere way but ain't stop me from lovin'. Now I'se carryin' his anger, his rage, his passion, his love. All wrapped up in dis here youngin'.

Touch the ground like dis, prayin' for the Mother to take back her child and hide him till judgment day. Eye me devils cause I ain't breakin'. Dis baby will be a free youngin'. And dis here youngin' will remember dere true name. One day his chilluns will take us home. We may be memries then but we gonna go home. I ain't mind dyin'. My husband waitin' for me. He promised he'd be back. He'll come for me cause I birthin' him soon. And we'll keep birthin' each other till we free.

Never cried in front ole mastah. Wouldn't give him my tears. Dem tears is a part of dis here baby. Dis rage will some day bring all dis down cause it will ‘member we proud people, my kin were kings, queens, warriors, not maids suckling strangers' babies and raped by men with dem devil eyes. Such a devil in dem when dey on top like dey remember some anger from some time past and dey want me to bare dere troubles. Dis baby will know how our spirits fled into the wilderness; dere we hide. We hide with de Mother.

Look at ‘em wonderin how much I'se worth. Who'll have dey way with me. Dey don't know we are chilluns of the Mother. Dey slave dis body. Our spirit is in the wilderness with de great Mother. Buried our hearts at home when we were takin' away. De gatekeepers taught us to go apart from de body. Dey only got de body. Dis the way of the Mother's chilluns. One day we be back as one. Eye me devil man. Eye me. Eye my salvation. I will give birth to my salvation."

"Sold to the highest bidder."

These are famous last sayings at bars:

"I can buy my own drink."

"Not interested in someone homesteading on my property."

"A drink is all I'm interested in."

"I just want to fuck not have a conversation."

"I don't like to be tickled."

"Evidently, your partner in crime is looking to make a bust."

"You look like the type who could make a man a fugitive from his wife."

"I'm looking for a big black dick to fuck the white guilt out of me."

"I see that look in your eye," he said. And I said, "Since you put it there, you can take it out."

"Put it where you want just don't leave it here."

"The stranger said, ‘I'm looking for someone to fuck my brains out. Not to offend you but you look like the type that's more bottom than top."

"Listen honey, I don't mean to arrest your feelings but to get what I got, with what you have; you'll be doing time for small crimes."

Later that evening not only did he scream for joy but he passed out. Bars are like battlegrounds. You have to plan defense and offense. I'm working defense tonight. I'm sitting here on my barstool pretending I am on a train like one of them countless sperms in some oblong object, waiting to be shot off into a beginning of life or splattered against a piss stained wall of a four corner confessional booth called a toilet. My imaginary freedom train is like an elongated penis penetrating some dark doorway to life. The key penetrates the doorway, turns and for a moment, I hear a moan but it is only the mumbling of roaches sitting in corners taking notes on my journey. Thousands enter but only a few have made it to the light. I, too, have laid on the wayside drying until nature's sweat wakes me up.

"Sold to highest bidder."

Falling.

The Dreamseller laments. "Mother, why have you forsaken me!"

Falling.

"I was one of the first that began them as in Earth so in Heaven. It was not love that touched me. It was a hatred that came through my mate into me like those solid tears of the Sky Father when he lies weeping upon the land weeping from the separation from the Mother. His despair lays like a white blanket and nature folds her wings around herself and sleep. So it is how he came to me, how I felt as his body moved against me.

"Kaleem-al my beloved, why does your spirit cry vengeance? What demon seizes your mind?"

 

His eyes burned with a fire that was so cold, my flesh felt like it became stone and cracked. He said his mind was with fever. It was a fever that journeyed through many men that time of the Sky Father's mourning and as summer gave up her brilliance to autumn's drowsiness, we brought forth babies in our tribe not like ourselves. Their blackness had been bleed from their skin and they were colorless things screaming as if it was the end of things.

 

The Gatekeeper of the village whispered of the Fall of the Heavens had now descended to our world and we must destroy these abominations. But I, with the heart of the Great Mother From Beyond, gathered these ten babies and carried them off to a distant land so that they could live.

 

My husband, my people live only in my dreams and my ten white babies grew and from them more babies grew and they claimed my life as they remembered their birth, their abandonment, their banishment from the Light Beyond the Heavens.

My spirit moved across my ten white babies and into their bloodline like a cloud and I rained upon their spirit and left a dew drop, a way home when they found forgiveness and redemption.

 

"Heaven, Heaven, fallen angels have now birth itself on this world and I mourn deep within whites, lamenting too take my ten babies home.' Al-Shair-el, daughter of the house of Akeem-al-Ewah.

 

Falling.

 

The Soul is standing on a auction block. The Dreamseller leans in and whispers into her ear, "Mother, why won't you look at me."

 

He was falling.

Eyes Laughing From Silence, "You have walked this narrow bridge between reality many times, what is your fear."

"I'm met someone."

"Don't get attached. This journey is not only for healing yourself but to acquire your power that was lost."

"I know. But…"

"You have looked too much to the right side of the road."

"He's beautiful."

"You will fall again, if you stray from the path. A roadside attraction could lead to many lives of wasteful pursuits."

"We have had this conversation before."

"When you crossed this narrow bridge between dimensions, it is like a dance, even in your fears; you used it as an instrument of power. Now, what distracts you? You cannot walk the bridge if your attention is scattered."

"Will I always be alone? Not have a companion. Will this just be one journey after another? I understand the purpose but my heart…there is still an emptiness."

He was falling.

All his life Daniel had been about black and white spaces in his head. Logic. Being rational. Not rocking the boat. A team player. But now he imagined himself walking across this checkerboard, with a paint mop in hand, making the floor white, not the white of the skin but the white, of light that he saw in his mind sometimes when he sat at his desk daydreaming.

Daniel was frustrated.

He heard the knocking. He went and sat on his couch. He wouldn't answer. He never answers. He knew if he did, it would be the end of his life. Sometimes you have to trust your intuition, the coincidences and realize something inside you is telling you something. He was going to die. It was not his time to die. Death would come for him. But if he could stall Death for at least three days, he would be able to go on with his life. He would live until old age. Yet, someone was stacking the cards against him. But he had this gut feeling, he could avoid Death. Staying home, sitting on his couch reading, not answering the door, unplugging the phone, disconnecting from friends and the world, he would cheat Death.

All of his attempts to lead an open life had attracted Death's attention.

Attempt to be friendly with boss. Now treated like mud on the soles of his boss's feet.

Attempted to be a good husband to his wife. She is now sleeping with his best friend.

Attempted to work out and have a good body. Pulled muscles, broke a wrist.

Attempted to feel good about people in general. He finds himself imagining he is twisting a knife into someone, or running them over with his car when he's angry.

No matter, the model person he wants to be, there is a flaw in the design. That flaw has called Death. But this is one time the world will not get the upper hand, and leave him hanging out to dry.

Daniel felt the jaw of society closing down around him. But sitting in his comfortable chair, this moment he would be his own boss.

Yet, the three that sat across from him thought otherwise.

There was the Politician, there was the Corporate Boss, and there was the Reverend.

"Conformity is necessary for the continuation of our society. Your attempts to change corporate structure, rules and regulations have made you an outcast among your peers. Your ideals are too radical and don't conform to the status quo. You must understand Daniel that people like things the way they are and it is our job to remind them that the way things are, is for the best. People do not want to be their own authority. People want comfort at someone else's expense and it is our duty to provide that."

"I think paper trails are suffocating us. We have to do reports for reports." Michael's voice spoke in Daniel's head. "These are anaesthetizing energies that attempt to hold you in a dense vibration."

"You can't even maintain a focus when I'm talking to you," said the Corporate Boss. "Your work is shoddy; you have the attention span of a baby. You expect to do great things but you do nothing to contribute to the system."

"I am Michael. I am here to merge with you. Together we will become one and no longer will you be a clog in this machine mentality.

He was falling.

He was standing alone on a bare stage with a broom in his hand. "No, matter how much I do this; I can't seem to sweep my life, my sex under a rug. Even this broom is like a phallic god to me. He examines the broom.

 

Not that I'm a size queen. It's a little thin for my taste.

Brooms can have many purposes. Knocking down the cobwebs from the ceilings of one's mind or chasing some boyfriend who smells like your best friend.

 

Witches, and I mean male and female understood about 'riding the broom.' Riding the broom was being on top of a man riding both of you into glory. While you are riding the broom, you are assuming a tantric position that opens to ride your conscious into other realities. Where you go, depends on your intent and when your body becomes as one all seeing eye the Image rises through the Image and you resurrect from time.

 

Oh well, I was too busy enjoying a low dive in a swimming hole so my broom riding days created a lot of realities and now I feel like a derelict hotel with rooms for rent."

 

He was falling.

It was a graveyard full of statutes, some incomplete, some with broken limbs, heads missing, chips out of the torso, all were in a state of decay. Michael shuddered. This was Heaven. This was the graveyard of the Gods. He could still feel the intensity of their presence. When man thought he had abandoned the gods, their images had descended into this dark realm. They no longer had the blood sacrifices. Humans were now being baptized by Spirit and Fire. Even those gods who attempted to thwart the baptism to their own selfish intent did not succeed totally. The new birth through spirit instead of blood was destroying the Old Gods. They sought refuge here in this nether world, still hoping to influence the human mind, use them in other forms to nourish them. Until such a time, they could not walk no longer physically among them but only in their dreams, so they entered their long sleeps and dreamed the dreams that would keep humans trapped in their reality and maintain them as a food supply. They would baptize human with a dark spirit, with an unholy fire. And as human became like zombies in their day to day activities, they would be a breeding ground for the old gods resurrections.

 

From here, they still cast their influence. From here, is where he found himself again. He looked around and realized; he was one of these stones weeping. The thought placed an ugly expression on his face. His mind was rambling. This wasn't true. He could not be one of these dead gods. He heard stones weeping, some moaning, madness echoed from many. He started running through this forest of stone statutes until he came to a clearing. There was a tombstone throne. Cain was sitting there waiting for him.

 

He was falling.

He was sitting in a bar watching a wall of monitors broadcasting a story about someone named Michael who was on a journey through light and darkness to become a male mother.

Once again, he thought, not much on TV as he sipped his glass of wine.