Premonition

Time, which so enslaves our lives, is an illusion. Many mystics and religious traditions claim it to be so. Even quantum physics has come to validate this. However in the ordinariness of our lives, we are at its mercy, unable to break its spell. Yet we all know time's relativity intimately when we experience an interminable session in the dentist's chair or feel the fugacity of moments spent in a lover's arms. But still this is well within time's well-known realm. But what of those happenings, which seem to lift time's veil and allow us to peek into a dimension where events do not follow the familiar chronology? Perhaps we dream of something which later comes to pass; or we pick up the phone just as a loved one on the other side of the world is calling us; or everything in us screams that something is wrong, even if we do not let ourselves know consciously the precise shape of the looming tragedy.

I have experienced all of those, as many have, no doubt. I have learned to pay close attention. But still it is difficult to break the silence. Centuries of religious dictatorship and repression and decades of scientific skepticism and intellectual arrogance weigh upon the ordinary person and we effectively teach ourselves and our children to ignore the treasure trove of knowledge which lies at the threshold of our conscious mind. I am no more psychic than the next person, but my life-long curiosity about the nature of reality has yielded much evidence that there exists life beyond death's door, and that a large part of our mind, being an intricate part of a far vaster continuum of Reality, is tuned into unseen realms.

And so when I experienced bouts of anxiety for no obvious reason for several weeks (my life and my writing were going very well), when I could not make vacation plans because they felt wrong and when I became extremely agitated on that Friday afternoon, I knew that something was afoot. By Saturday morning, I had become ill but still fighting the feeling, insisted that we had to get out and do some sightseeing. My unconscious mind knew; my body knew; I had experienced a very similar sequence of events several times in my life prior to a loved one's passing, but my conscious mind effectively refused that knowledge. After walking around in a picturesque town somewhat aimlessly, we came back to horrifying news.

Coincidentally, this is the last entry of a novel that I am in the process of writing on the day before Max's death:

"I dreamt that I was in a great hall made of crystal where many transparent creatures dressed in gossamer silk were singing for you, Mia!" exclaimed Asiboo. "It was a very strange and wonderful dream."

Tears came to Mia's eyes and she shook her head in acknowledgement, unable to speak. Asiboo looked at her in amazement:

"This dream is familiar to you, I see. Can you tell me its meaning?"

"It means: never fear," she struggled, "there is only love. Only love, Asiboo."

He shook his head in agreement, smiled and closed his eyes again. She suddenly felt a great weariness and let the heaviness of her eyelids close upon the world. She heard Eesak and Sicana's crystalline laughter and a cacophony of voices wavering into a beautiful harmony.

"Take my hand, Asiboo," she said. The old man smiled and together they ascended the great crystal staircase.

"Do you hear them?" she asked. He smiled in reply. "Some call them fairies, and some call them angels. Some even call them devils and fear them!" she laughed.

Out of the shimmering air, a form emerged and an old woman appeared in front of them.

"And this one I call sister!" laughed Mia with delight.

"Welcome!" smiled Alscina.

"You may go with her, if you wish, Asiboo."

The old man turned toward Mia and his eyes filled with light.

Mia awoke to a crowd of people surrounding them.

"He is gone!" cried Anrita. "Asiboo has passed away!"

Her eyes met Eesak's eyes and she saw in them the same light which had filled Asiboo's: It was the goddess's own light-- It was love.