Adventures and Missions During Astral Projection: 35 Blogs

© 2025 Steve Fleming

While the blogs are based on actual events, certain characters, incidents and timelines have been fictionalized for dramatic purposes.

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Blog #1: The Beginning

They began when I was in my late 20s. I lay on my left side at the very edge of my bed. I can’t sleep on my back, so I often switch between my right and left sides, seeking comfort. It started with a subtle tingling in my toes. Gradually, this sensation intensified into waves of energy that rippled through my body, originating from my feet and cascading upward. These waves brought with them a delightful sensation, a fleeting euphoria that enveloped me for less than thirty seconds before gently subsiding, leaving me in my usual state once more. These occurrences highlighted my nights approximately every three to four weeks, though on rare occasions, they visited as frequently as every two weeks.

After approximately a year, a surge of energy waves pulsating through my body made me feel as though I was teetering on the edge of the bed, ready to fall. During the third or fourth of these intense episodes, I did indeed roll off the bed and landed with a thud on the hard floor. I attempted to rise and steady myself, but my limbs refused to cooperate, leaving me helpless. Then, in an instant, I found myself back in the comfort of my bed and I had never physically left the mattress.

Over the following years, these events slowly developed. After feeling the energy waves and frequently ending up on the floor, I mustered the strength to stand and survey my surroundings. After a few minutes, I found myself back in bed.

The third time this peculiar event occurred, I found myself in a bedroom that wasn’t my own. The windows were different, varying in both size and placement, casting strange patterns of light across the room. The entry door, unlike the one at home, was positioned on an entirely different wall and the absence of a closet added to the disorientation. Each subsequent occurrence presented a new bedroom, each with its own distinct layout and character.

Tentatively, I attempted to walk, managing a few hesitant steps. Soon, however, I discovered a newfound ability—to propel myself effortlessly through the air. I soared, ricocheting from wall to wall, gliding from the floor to the ceiling with an exhilarating sense of freedom. As I grew more adept at these out-of-body experiences, the process became increasingly seamless. It always began with a surge of energy waves pulsating through me as I lay in bed, but gradually, these waves became a catalyst for an immediate and effortless flight around the room. No longer did I need to roll to the floor and struggle to rise; instead, I would instantly find myself zipping through the air.

After a few episodes of this, I grew restless and attempted turning the handle of the closed bedroom door, but it stubbornly refused to budge. In my frustration, I even tried to will myself to float through the door and out of a sealed window, but each attempt met with the same fruitless result. With every failure, my exasperation at being confined within the four walls of the room mounted.

Eventually, I devised a daring escape through the ceiling, and to my surprise, I found a glimmer of success. The drywall above offered little resistance as I passed through it effortlessly. However, the real challenge lay in the thick layer of insulation that loomed above. Despite my determined efforts, clawing and straining to pull myself upward, the insulation proved to be an insurmountable barrier. Each time I reached up, grasping and tugging to propel myself through the fibrous material, I was met with an intense downward force that seemed to hold me in place. Though the insulation was only about a foot and a half thick, it demanded every ounce of my strength to advance even a mere inch.

This cycle of struggle continued for approximately six attempts over the span of four to five months. I longed for the OBE (out-of-body experience) to occur nightly, partly due to the pleasant tingling sensation it brought. But from my encounters, I learned that such phenomena cannot be coerced, no matter the intensity of my desire. It was beyond human control and would only manifest when the moment was right.

The first time I finally broke through the ceiling, I was overwhelmed by the breathtaking sight of shimmering planets and twinkling stars. The universe stretched out before me, an endless tapestry of celestial wonders. In the distance, I could see two ghostly figures, human-like but with an otherworldly aura. As I inched closer, their translucent outlines shimmering softly against the dark canvas of space. Their eyes seemed to hold a spark of curiosity, silently questioning who or what I might be.

The OBEs were occurring at a rapid pace after I managed to pass through the ceiling, though I couldn’t replicate that success during the following three attempts. Several months later, after another unsuccessful effort, I resolved to try flying through the closed window once more. Suddenly, an exasperated voice murmured, “Open the window,” and naturally, once I did, I soared effortlessly outside. The sensation was exhilarating as I glided around my yard for a few minutes before returning to my room.

I was back in bed.

During my subsequent OBE, I drifted through the open window with ease. My body tingled with a delightful sensation as I soared over the patchwork of neighborhoods below, each dotted with tiny, glowing streetlights. Eventually, I descended onto a quiet street, approached a house and stepped inside. Unlike the struggle I had faced with my own bedroom door, here I moved freely, unencumbered by any barriers. I felt liberated, as though I could venture anywhere. I wandered through the house and entered a dimly lit bedroom, where a couple lay asleep in their bed. Observing them slumber, without the concern of disturbing them, was an eerie experience.

I exited and flew toward the looming skyscrapers of the downtown area. I had assumed I was in my hometown, but this city was unfamiliar. Everything felt different. I was no longer at home. Disorientation and profound confusion overwhelmed me, leaving me adrift in a realm that was both thrilling and terrifying.

I was back in bed.

Blog #2: Alien Encounter, Part 1

About mid- September 1977, my two friends and I left Billings, MT in the early evening hours for our destination in NW Montana. Missoula was about 350 miles away and typically takes about 5-6 hours. 

Later that evening as we were driving we were a bit tired and not visiting. Dawn was driving, Steve was in the passenger seat and I rode in the back as we passed through the small rural town of Deer Lodge. It was approximately halfway between Deer Lodge and the next small town of Drummond when I heard Steve say something like “Wow, what was that? There’s a star or light moving across the sky.”

He pointed to the light in the sky and I watched intently. Shortly thereafter, I saw a couple of bright flashes very high up and the light split into two lights, with one going up higher and the other going downward. In what I recall as being less than a few minutes, I saw low flying lights coming up the road in front of us. As it approached, I could see a distinct triangular set of pulsating lights which appeared to be a dull red, green, and blue. 

Either one or both of us yelled for Dawn to pull over and stop the car, which she quickly did. I should point out that traffic in this part of rural Montana at night in the 70’s was either light or in our case non-existent. Steve immediately got out of the car and stood beside the open passenger door. I jumped over into the front seat to sit right beside Dawn.

As Dawn and I peered out the windshield, we could see an object move up the road toward us and stop right above the car. There was absolutely no noise. As we watched, the object appeared to tip or change positions. At that point we saw an odd iridescent white light surrounding a perfect saucer like shape. 

Dawn and I gasped at the same time and screamed for Steve to get back in the car. I looked over at Steve standing outside the car. From this point on my memory gets a bit sketchy, like I just woke up from a dream. I remember seeing a dull white light drift off to the East over the hills. Next, I remember Dawn was driving, Steve was back in the passenger seat, and I was in the back seat again. I looked at my watch and was a bit surprised at how late it was.

At last, we arrived at our friend’s house in Missoula and told them we had seen a UFO. I couldn’t sleep well that night and the events kept replaying in my mind. Needless to say, the sighting left a huge impact on me and I’m convinced we saw something not of this world. 

Leslie M.

My memory of the encounter deviates from Leslie’s and Dawn’s version. I saw a traveling light in the sky and said something like, “Wow, what was that? There’s a star or light moving across the sky.” The “star” split into two lights and I told Dawn to pullover to the side of the road. As I got out of the car, I watched one of the lights travel to just above the hill and stop. I looked at it for a few seconds, then got back in the car. I said something like, “Wow, was that a UFO?” I was referring to the light I saw above the hill.

When I was outside the car, there was no possible way I could have missed what Les and Dawn saw. And my recollection is that I was only out of the car for maybe five seconds, not the fifteen minutes or so of time that had actually passed.

When we got to Missoula, the first thing my friends said was we were nearly a half hour late and they were beginning to get worried that maybe we had gotten into a wreck or something. I ignored their concerns because I was really excited about telling everyone that I saw a UFO! I asked Dawn to tell the story. She refused, but I wouldn’t take no for an answer. She finally agreed. You can imagine my shock when I thought she’d say she saw a bright light above the hill, but instead she went on about the UFO she and Les saw right above the car.

I laughed and said nothing like that happened. I was outside the car, how could I have not seen a large, saucer shaped object with flashing lights stopped over the car? It would have been right next to me.

We never talked about it again, and she eventually became my wife.

Blog #3: Learning and Training, Part 1

Each time I experience an OBE, I am vividly aware that I am venturing into an entirely separate realm. I fully recognize that my “real” life continues to exist, just waiting for me, and I can deliberately pull myself back at any moment. Yet, there are times when, even after returning to bed, I remain awake for a few unnerving moments, only to get pulled back repeatedly into that mysterious astral voyage until it meets its natural end.

For me, these otherworldly excursions typically last about one hour in real time. They tend to occur between two and three in the morning, during the REM stage of the fourth cycle of sleep—a phase where the mind unlocks hidden corridors of consciousness. Most of us drift through approximately four cycles of sleep each night, with every cycle composed of three progressively deep non-REM stages followed by a single, vivid REM stage that opens the door to our dreams.

Many of us have encountered that uncanny sensation of a dark, seemingly malevolent presence hovering around the room, sometimes merely lingering nearby and other times, actually enveloping our body. This spectral spirit might utter chilling, menacing words that trigger a surge of panic and fear, emotions upon which it seems to feed. The greater the terror it incites, the more empowered and fulfilled it becomes. There are even instances when the energy of this encounter drifts into a murky territory of sexual emotions.

Whenever such an encounter has occurred, and it has happened countless times for me, I have learned to remain impeccably calm and relaxed. I refuse to let any of this supernatural interference disturb or frighten me. Instead, I simply lie in bed, watching as the eerie presence loses its interest and eventually fades away. It’s essential to remember that these beings crave our emotions. If we withhold the nourishment they seek, they will simply wander off in search of another source. Most importantly, they possess no power to inflict true harm; there is nothing for us to fear.

It is crucial not to mistake these OBEs for terrifying hypnagogic hallucinations (THH), which occur at the threshold of sleep. I vividly recall my very first brush with THH: I was lying in bed, teetering on the edge of sleep, when I suddenly heard a sound echo from the hallway. In that moment, an overwhelming terror gripped me like never before. Two ghostly figures glided silently into my room and approached the very edge of my bed. In a state of pure panic, I repeatedly cried out in my sleep, “Get away from me! Leave me alone!” until my screams reached a fever pitch, finally causing the specters to vanish.

Although I have witnessed similar incidences—ghostly figures appearing in rooms that resemble my own, yet with subtle, eerie differences—this marked the first true encounter with THH during the lightness of stage one, right at the advent of my sleep cycle. Since that experience of about five years ago, I have endured seven or eight additional THH episodes, each as bone-chilling as the first.

I remember one particularly harrowing occurrence from just six months past. I had only recently settled into bed and slipped quickly into that vulnerable light sleep cycle when two spectral women suddenly emerged in my bedroom. Their presence filled me with immediate dread and I demanded, “Leave now!” in a desperate, quivering tone. When they refused to vanish, I summoned every last ounce of strength to lift my arms from the bed, an arduously difficult task in that state, and swung them with all the force I could muster, striking the nearest ghostly woman twice.

In that split second, I could almost feel her irritation simmering into anger before she flickered out of existence. I quickly rolled my body to the other side of the bed and was shocked to see her cold eyes fixed on me. Her mouth opened ominously, revealing a set of large, jagged teeth, and before I could react, she bit into my arm with a ferocity that sent a shock of pain through my very being. I felt her teeth sink deep into my flesh and bone with an agony that was both physical and soul deep. After several more agonizing moments, I jerked myself awake. And I learned a stark lesson that evening. Don’t strike an apparition; they don’t like that.

Blog #4: Learning and Training, Part 2

During my early OBEs, I discovered two distinct routes to escape the confines of my room. One option required me to climb through the ceiling, a challenging endeavor that, when successful, whisked me away into the boundless expanse of space in roughly eighty percent of my experiences. It was here that missions of profound spiritual importance were undertaken, often involving journeys across diverse worlds and eras completed via astral projection. During these travels, I would adopt the form of a small, body-like essence that I called The Color Red. In the remaining twenty percent of my excursions via the ceiling, I assumed a distinctly human form, allowing me to participate in lively meetings and engage in warm conversation with visiting spiritual beings.

Alternatively, if I ventured out through a window I had opened, I found myself immersed in a more terrestrial realm—a lower, more tangible in-between world, where the line between the living and the spiritual softly blurred. Inhabitants of this realm, traversing via OBEs, sometimes crossed into our physical world, much like the ghostly apparitions we’ve all heard about. Many of the eerie, sometimes shocking accounts of ghosts or spirits manipulating physical objects or even conversing directly with individuals or groups could very well be explained by visits from someone on a similar low-traveling OBE journey from this in-between world.

Throughout my OBEs, I journeyed to bustling cities, some with distinctly European charm, others imbued with the mystique of Asia, and a few that even unfolded into landscapes that felt strikingly otherworldly. I wandered through quaint rural towns as well, some nestled in majestic, soaring mountains and rolling hillsides, others beside crystal-clear lakes and gently flowing rivers.

Austrian Alps, Salzkammergut region, Hallstatt, Austria

Lake Hallstatt in Austria’s Salzkammergut region

Mijas of the Southern Spain area, Andalucia

Lijiang River in Guilin, China

Santorini, Greece

Gorme. Cappadocia, Turkey

Tangier, Morocco

Wat Ratchanatdaram Temple in Bangkok Thailand

Lisbon, Portugal

Vancouver, British Columbia, Canada 

Lugano, Switzerland

Timisoara, Romania

In some instances, I was acutely aware that I had stepped into a different era, a past or even a future time period, and my appearance would effortlessly adapt to match that of local inhabitants. On occasion, I caught a glimpse of my reflection in a mirror and a smile would light my face at the visage that greeted me.

I delighted in exploring local pubs, striking up conversations with the residents, albeit often finding myself awkwardly out of step with their customs. I vividly remember numerous evenings perched on a bar stool, casually resting my arms on the counter, taking in the atmosphere and marveling at the diverse array of patrons.

Once I found myself seated next to an extraordinarily attractive woman whose otherworldly features made it abundantly clear that she was not from Earth. She ordered me a drink, yet I hesitated for a full ten seconds before finally taking a sip. Almost immediately, a dizzying wooziness overtook me, I could barely focus on her face or the bartender’s hearty laugh as I toppled off the stool. Amid the commotion, I distinctly heard someone quip, “Ha, I knew he couldn’t handle it.”

I was back in bed.

Blog #5: Learning and Training, Part 3

A few months later, during a vivid OBE, I received a profound mental message; it was time to begin formal training for missions. I truly had no inkling of the dangerous and mysterious journey that lay ahead. The first stage of this uncharted training required me to enter the bodies of people at the very brink of death. I suspect the purpose was to allow those doomed souls to escape their vessel at the precise moment I arrived, thereby sparing them impending agony and suffering before the finality of death. That remains solely my theory, yet these eerie incursions seemed unmistakably to be preparatory exercises for more significant missions in the future.

On one particularly harrowing occasion, I manifested in a modest home and witnessed a woman seated gracefully in a plush lounge chair in her cozy living room. Moments later, a silent intruder clad in a slick black leather jacket crept into the house with menacing intent. He stepped into the room where the unsuspecting woman resided, but before the man could inflict any harm, I activated the home’s alarm system. In an electrifying series of events, the blaring alarm summoned the family’s loyal German Shepherd, whose fierce presence restrained the intruder long enough for the woman to retrieve her handgun and defend herself.

In another unsettling instance, I found myself in the midst of a clinical scene. A woman was reclined in a dental chair, nervously awaiting an injection meant to dull the pain of a dental procedure. Unbeknownst to her, this very injection was designed to plunge her into an immediate, induced unconsciousness. Behind the veneer of routine, the dentist harbored sinister intentions of sexual abuse, and sadly, she was not his first victim. But with my assistance, the needle “accidentally” entered the vein of the dentist, abruptly foiling his sinister plans.

Throughout those shadowed years, a recurring theme in my ceiling OBEs ventures was the chance to mingle with spiritual entities. These encounters unfolded in majestic settings, such as a theater, a concert hall, or even an expansive outdoor arena alive with the glow of evening entertainment. Some of these spectral beings greeted me warmly, addressing me by my first name, while others drifted away without a backward glance. For reasons I could not decipher, roughly half of the entities I encountered exuded friendliness, whereas the others exuded an unmistakable air of indifference or mild disdain. Yet, whenever a “high-ranking” entity made its presence known, there was always a moment of acknowledgment; a graceful nod, a subtle gesture of approval, or a softly spoken word of encouragement.

I would take my seat among sometimes hundreds of others, eagerly awaiting a compelling speaker or the onset of a musical concert. Although the words of the speeches faded from my memory, the melodies lingered with an elusive charm. The songs were entirely unfamiliar to me and I vowed to commit their tunes to memory upon waking. Of course, I never did. It seems that perhaps only a legend like Paul McCartney could capture a melody in a dream so perfectly; after all, he once recalled that the song “Yesterday” came to him in slumber: “I just fell out of bed, discovered the key I had dreamt it in . . . and I played it.”

Blog #6: The Missions, Part 1

The familiar, pulsing energy waves began one night and I found myself propelled toward the ceiling. I tore through the insulation with ease and I emerged into a hidden passage that led me into a dark, grimy tunnel. Rough, timeworn support posts loomed against the damp, crumbling walls and crude ceiling joists jutted through a thick, choking haze that clung to my every breath. The floor was nothing more than compacted earth, and an eerie intuition whispered that I was not alone, that unseen others were following.

Without warning, I experienced a sudden blackout, a fleeting moment of oblivion, and when my awareness snapped back into focus, I discovered that I now resided inside a gigantic, powerfully built male body. I was experiencing everything through his eyes, acutely aware of the pounding of his boots and the mechanical jerk of his head as we lumbered resolutely down the tunnel.

Our consciousness had merged, his resolute determination and relentless tenacity intertwining with my own, along with an almost primordial anger, a furnace of fury and raw Rage. He was a stranger to this body, clearly distraught and unwilling to accept the mantle of being the living embodiment of Rage. Two handlers trailed behind us, their nervous energy radiating unease and even fear as we advanced into the unknown.

At last, we emerged from the subterranean tunnel and were greeted by the radiant glow of a magnificent city. I found myself inhabiting The Color Red body and this perspective afforded me a breathtaking view from high above. The city’s architecture was futuristic. Towering megastructures soared skyward, while smaller, graceful domed edifices radiated around them, creating an urban landscape that stretched endlessly in every direction.

Our arrival attracted the attention of two imposing cybernetically enhanced guards. They advanced with the precision of military efficiency, clad in high-tech combat attire and armed with sophisticated weaponry. They escorted us to the heart of a grand courtyard, where three of the handler’s comrades awaited us. Rage kept his heavy head tilted ever so slightly downward, his muscular frame exuding an aura of simmering, unspoken menace, and I, observing as an unsettled spectator, felt an inexplicable foreboding.

One of the handler’s comrades broke the tense silence with a sardonic smirk. “This must be your latest creation we’ve heard so much about,” he said as he scrutinized Rage. “He looks tough, but I bet he’s all brawn and no brain. And brains are what keep you alive around here.”

A handler’s voice snapped sharply, “Watch it! You push things, you’ll regret it.”

The two friends accompanying the smirking comrade exchanged shakes of the head. One of them chuckled darkly, adding, “Ha, don’t push things and get him mad. He’s a lot bigger than you.” The tension escalated as a large crowd quickly gathered, their rumblings a backdrop to the unfolding drama.

In a swift, vicious motion, the sneering comrade shoved Rage, igniting something primal inside him. Suddenly, I was thrust fully into Rage’s consciousness, perceiving the world through eyes that burned with incandescent fury. I could feel the mounting swell of his anger as his massive hand materialized on the head of his assailant. A flash of energy emanated from the palm of Rage’s hand, causing such crushing pressure that it sent shockwaves through the body until it exploded into oblivion. The two remaining comrades quickly vanished into the surrounding crowd.

A handler, his voice devoid of emotion, muttered in a low tone, “I warned him.”

I was back in bed and mentally received this message: “Ergokinesis is what Rage possesses, a rare power of the in-between world that allows him to harness and manipulate psychic energy as a weapon. With this ability, he can channel the invisible forces of the mind, shaping them into potent and devastating attacks. His control over this energy is both precise and overwhelming, enabling him to unleash torrents of psychic force with the flick of his wrist, through the palm of his hand or the narrowing of his gaze.”

Blog #7: The Missions, Part 2

*Note – From now on, I will refer to my The Color Red entity as Red-1 and the other The Color Red entity as Red-2.

My OBEs transformed dramatically after my encounter with Rage. No longer did I need to drift out through my room’s ceiling or slide out the window. When the familiar, pulsating waves of energy surged through me, I found myself instantly transported to another place, as if I had ascended to a higher level of existence.

After several months of uneventful astral projections, the familiar waves hit early one morning and suddenly, I was enveloped within Rage, perceiving the world through his eyes. He was inhabiting the body of a soldier in a crisp uniform, standing resolutely on the wooden porch of a military barracks. The air was tense, charged with the anticipation of conflict as Rage scanned the distant hills for any signs of advancing troops. He was acutely aware that a battle was on the horizon.

The silence shattered as soldiers surged down the hills, initiating the attack. Rage remained motionless on the porch, observing as heavily armed fighters poured out of the barracks to confront their adversaries. The ground shook with the ferocity of the bloody battle that erupted. Rage stood sentinel on the porch, waiting patiently as the last soldier exited the barracks. Finally, the commanding officer of the unit emerged, his presence demanding attention.

“What are you doing?” the commander roared, his voice cutting through the chaos. “Get in the battle, soldier!”

Rage moved toward the commander with deliberate slowness, each step a testament to his resolve.

“Follow orders or you’ll be hung tomorrow at sunrise!” the commander threatened, his words hanging in the air like a death sentence.

Now face to face, Rage drew an F-S Fighting Knife from its sheath, which was securely strapped to his belt. With a swift, precise motion, he slit the commander’s throat, blood spilling like a dark ribbon.

Abruptly, I was back in my bed, the familiar surroundings grounding me in reality. An instinctive understanding washed over me, revealing that completing these assignments served as a form of cleansing and purging Earth of those who would inflict extreme harm. Yet, it was puzzling. We operated within the in-between world, where ending a life did not cease their existence in the living world. So, what was the true purpose behind these missions?

✶ ✶ ✶ ✶

In the dead of night, precisely 2:25 am, I lay in bed when an unexpected surge of energy carried me deep into the mind of Rage. We were barreling down an interstate highway, the neon blur around us punctuating our imminent exit onto a route leading to a weathered truck stop located in a gang-dominated quarter of town. This marked our fourth “termination” in a short span of six months, a dark tally that filled the air with grim inevitability.

I parked the car at the fuel pumps furthest from the flickering convenience store lights. As Rage stepped out, his powerful presence commanding the space, he strode over and seized the gas pump with deliberate intent. Almost immediately, three gang members took notice, their eyes glinting with malice as they casually approached him.

“You stopped at the wrong gas station, big guy,” sneered one of the gang members, his tone dripping with menace and raw aggression that echoed in the silent night.

With unwavering focus, Rage continued filling the car, his gaze distant and unaffected by their intrusion. The moment was thick with tension until the first gang member pressed on, his voice rising: “No one pumps here without paying the living tax. As in, a yard will keep you alive.” His words were laced with a burgeoning fury, a prelude to violence.

Almost immediately, another gang member stepped forward, imposing and ruthless. “Ignoring us, huh? Instead of a hundred bucks, give me your wallet and your keys. I’m the enforcer and I’m about to enforce my twelve-inch knife up your ass.” With those chilling words, the enforcer lunged, seizing Rage by the shoulders and attempting to twist him around violently.

In that split second, I sent a silent, piercing thought through the psychic bond connecting us: “That’s him.” Rage responded instantly and decisively, crushing the enforcer with the same ruthless efficiency that had marked his previous encounters.

I was back in bed. The stark return to my room left me reeling with shock. Sleep had fled, replaced by a burning need for explanation. As if on cue, a mental message flowed into my mind: our mission was clear, to eliminate the evil festering in people, whether it lingered in their past, their present or their uncertain future. Rage was the embodiment of this lethal purpose, yet he relied on me, anchoring him to the realm of the living. I had been chosen and trained for this grim responsibility.

“So, I kill bad people?” I muttered softly into the darkness, almost questioning the morality of the mission.

“You kill the evil in bad people,” came the measured reply.

Slowly, the truth dawned on me: by terminating these individuals in the in-between world, Rage and I were not ending lives, we were purging the malignant essence that dwelled within them; the very evil that spurred their harmful actions in the living world. With each “termination,” the souls would find themselves stripped of the desire to commit further atrocities, their futures either reshaped by a traumatic turning point—a religious awakening, the discovery of profound love, or the abrupt cessation of a morbid urge—or forced into the irrevocable act of suicide.

Make no mistake: that person’s probable, dark future was being irrevocably altered, or perhaps, they were being denied any future at all in the living realm. The elimination of that inner evil was our true objective.

Blog #8: The Missions, Part 3

During many of my OBEs, I wandered through a city shrouded in the black velvet of night. Nightlife, with its seductive lure and inherent perils, was an irresistible force. Sometimes I’d drift into dimly lit bars, losing myself over the clatter of slot machines or the tension of a high-stakes poker game. Eventually, I’d abandon the revelry and amble through the shadowed streets, where local toughs invariably sought out a target. Whenever I sensed the impending threat, a foretaste of a brutal beating or the glint of a knife, I would close my eyes, concentrate, and with a subtle mental shift, return safely to my bed.

After several months and another chilling “termination,” the allure of midnight adventure called to me once more during an OBE. I indulged in a few beers, tried my luck at the slot machines, and strolled into the biting, cold night air. It wasn’t long before a circle of hostile gang members enclosed me; the harsh glare of streetlights illuminated their sneering faces, and there, roughly six feet above, hovered Red-2. He smiled down at the unfolding chaos, his expression a mix of sardonic amusement and cold cruelty. I was stunned, my belief that I was the sole Red entity in my in-between realm shattered in that moment.

Before I could react, a brutal beating commenced. The pain was fierce and unyielding, and no matter how desperately I tried to escape back to bed, I found myself trapped in that grim reality. All the while, Red-2 hovered above, his twisted smile growing wider and more sinister with every agonizing moment, feeding on the raw, palpable pain I exuded. His laughter, louder and more derisive with each blow, seemed to fuel his grotesque expansion into a colossal figure absorbing every ounce of my suffering.

Then, in the midst of that torment, a fierce surge of inner power burst forth. My body swelled, multiplying in size as if summoned by an unstoppable force. “Enough,” roared Rage, his voice booming like thunder, as he unleashed a relentless barrage against every gang member in sight. Amid the chaos, Red-2 consumed the hatred, anger and excruciating pain that spilled across the psychic realms like toxic energy.

I was back in my bed. The stark parallels between my inner Rage and that of characters from fiction were undeniable, though such a notion was entirely unfounded. It might have seemed like a mere transference of memories to some, but this nightmarish sequence happened precisely as it was written.

✶ ✶ ✶ ✶

Three weeks later, the energy waves transported me to a dusty, winding road nestled within what seemed to be a rustic farming community. The sun blazed high in the sky, casting a relentless heat as I trudged along the road, my footsteps kicking up small clouds of dust. Eventually, my path led me to a vivid red farmhouse, its paint slightly faded by time and weather.

With a mix of trepidation and curiosity, I began to walk slowly up the dirt driveway that stretched towards the front porch. The air was alive with the sounds of rural life; the clucking of chickens emanated from a nearby coop, and the sharp, protective bark of a large dog echoed from its kennel as I drew nearer. My heart pounded with each step, but suddenly, I was no longer in control of my own senses. I was seeing inside the farmhouse through the eyes of Rage.

The living room unfolded as a ghastly scene etched with the darkness that lingered in the air. But before the full horror could take hold, I was jolted back into my own body, standing outside the house on the dirt path.

Rage emerged from the front door, his presence a silent testament to what lay within. Through our connection, he conveyed that inside was the grim setting of a serial killer’s inaugural act. He had shielded me from the worst of it, deeming that I had witnessed enough.

“Did you—” I began, the question hanging in the hot, heavy air.

“Yes, I did,” Rage confirmed, his voice steady. “With his evil now extinguished, his future as a serial killer has been cut short. One life lost, rather than the seven souls previously destined for a horrifying fate at his hands.”

I was back in bed, but the reality of what had happened lingered like a shadow in my mind.

Blog #9 – The Final Battle, Part 1

I couldn’t shake the memory of the fight I, as Rage, had with the street gang three weeks earlier. The vivid recollection replayed in my mind like a thrilling movie. I craved to experience it again. The OBE tingling sensation, coupled with the exhilarating feeling of being inside Rage during a physical confrontation, was intoxicating.

During subsequent OBEs, I deliberately sought out fights just to revel in the sheer power Rage wielded over others. In one such encounter, I strolled from the bustling downtown area of a city to the fairgrounds, where the vibrant annual summer carnival was in full swing. I arrived in the late afternoon, the golden sunlight casting long shadows over the colorful attractions. I indulged in a few rides, the thrilling rush of wind and laughter harmonizing with the scent of popcorn and cotton candy, then lingered until the crowd had dispersed, leaving the grounds eerily quiet.

After the last visitors trickled out, the carnies began to hurl insults my way for being there after closing. I chuckled, defiant, refusing to budge. Their patience waned and they attempted to forcibly remove me from the premises. My heart raced with anticipation, knowing the thrill of embodying Rage was imminent. I wasn’t disappointed when he manifested just as I had anticipated.

We all know what unfolded next and naturally, Red-2 was there, absorbing the dense fog of misery surrounding us. This time, he darted around Rage’s head, his laughter echoing like a sinister melody, prompting Rage to swat at him repeatedly. I even found a touch of humor in the scene. But then, realization struck like a lightning bolt. Red-2 was cunningly trying to seize control over me, intending to ensnare me under his influence by feeding my burgeoning addiction to the heightened emotions experienced during an OBE.

That’s what Red-2 had done to those Rage and I had assisted over the years. He preyed on individuals who were easily swayed, those predisposed towards inflict pain and suffering due to mental illness, genetic makeup, upbringing or societal pressures by making their actions pleasurable. While “the devil made me do it” is no legitimate excuse, it was unsettlingly close to the truth.

We could extinguish the evil festering within those he manipulated, but we couldn’t eradicate the source of that power, Red-2 himself. I was convinced he remained oblivious to the fact that I was also a Red, as our interactions were confined to the shadowy depths of the in-between world.

A storm was brewing, and I felt it deep within my core.

Blog #10: The Final Battle, Part 2

About six months later, I experienced my next profound OBE. I found myself meandering down the center of a bleak, crumbling street in the run-down quarter of a forlorn town. Beside me walked another figure, a silent companion whose identity I couldn’t grasp. From shuttered windows of the dilapidated houses lining the street, eyes burned with harsh disdain, the inhabitants glaring in unspoken fury from behind their battered frames.

As I observed these disapproving faces to my left, the sound of measured footsteps caught my ear. I quickly turned my head and watched my mysterious companion vanish into the mouth of a building that appeared to be a neglected store, leaving me standing alone in a hostile, almost menacing environment. With only my instinct to guide me, I continued forward.

Out of nowhere, the door to the most well-kept house on the block swung wide with a resonating creak. From its welcoming porch emerged a man and a woman, both dressed in old garments that, despite their age, were impeccably maintained. They stepped out into the soft light, their expressions unreadable for long moments until the man beckoned me with a deliberate, measured gesture. Frozen in the middle of the street, I hesitated, uncertain of their true intentions.

“Come over here, Steve,” the man bellowed, his voice echoing off the surrounding walls. “My friend, we’ve been expecting you.”

Despite a rising tide of apprehension and the unnerving sensation that these people were anything but friendly, I found myself lured toward their home. Stepping over the threshold, I discovered an interior that defied my grim expectations; a modest, almost inviting space, surprisingly warm given the squalor of its surrounding neighborhood. Within the room, I was quickly encircled by a family: the parents, a couple of lively children, and a brooding teenager.

“I like this guy, Mom,” the teenager remarked. The other two children eagerly nodded in agreement, while the parents’ gazes fixed on me, as if studying me through layers of mystery and expectation.

The woman then signaled for the man and children to retreat into a bedroom, effectively silencing their chatter and isolating me once more. In a hushed tone, she asked, “Are you sure he’s okay with this, Joe?”

“Yeah, he wants this done,” Joe replied firmly, his words edged with a commanding authority.

Her eyes narrowed as she peered at me. “Look at him. Does he seem like someone who needs to be put through this ordeal?” The trio of children nodded in solemn assent as they rejoined the conversation in the living room. “My instinct tells me he’s better—”

Before she could finish her sentence, Joe cut her off sharply: “Shut up, Martha. I know what I’m doing!” With that, he roughly grabbed my arm. Taller by a solid six inches, he dominated the moment physically, and I found myself unable to resist as he forcefully dragged me out the back door, away from the deceptive calm of the house.

As he led me toward a shadowed workshop, an intense agitation clawed at my insides. “Why are you dragging me to that building? What’s going on?” I shouted, my voice a blend of confusion and terror. Joe offered no answer as I struggled with every ounce of strength, fighting desperately against his grip. All I could muster was the trembling query, “Are you going to hurt me?”

“Yeah, beyond your imagination. But don’t worry, dead or alive, you’ll remember nothing when it’s over,” he sneered.

In a desperate bid for escape, I forced myself to awaken from the nightmare. Yet, as soon as my eyes popped open in the dim light of my bed, they would close immediately, and I was plunged back into the relentless nightmare of being dragged toward that ominous shop. Each time I tried to break free, I awoke only to be swallowed by the same harrowing sequence. Finally, we arrived at the workshop; the door was thrust open with a bang and, with no mercy, I was pushed inside as he snapped the door shut behind him.

I was suddenly being led back to the house by Joe. It was as though the moments in that workshop had evaporated into a void, as I remembered nothing of what transpired there.

“I see you’re awake,” Joe said in a surprisingly pleasant tone. “I know you remember nothing, just as I promised.”

The question “What will happen to me now?” spun relentlessly in my mind as nausea churned in my stomach, nearly bringing me to the brink of vomiting. We stepped into the house once again, and Martha’s shrill exultation cut through the heavy air: “He’s alive!” She enveloped me in a tight hug while the three children burst into joyous smiles and laughter.

“I knew he could make it through!” one of the younger kids cheered.

“Ha! You said he was a f-ing goner,” another retorted with a mischievous grin.

“I was just f-ing with you.”

Then, as if summoned from deep within, a familiar, commanding voice boomed internally, “Go! Now!” Without hesitation, I bolted for the back door. My frantic dash paused only when I neared the workshop and realized that no one was in pursuit. Bewildered and disoriented by the surreal events, my eyes caught sight of a barely perceptible cable dangling directly in front of me. I looked upward, tracing its origin to a circular object suspended twenty to twenty-five feet overhead. “Is that a drone or a small UFO?” I whispered under my breath, the question nearly lost in the surreal murmur of the moment.

Before I could gather my scattered thoughts, the back screen door swung open forcefully, snapping me out of my daze. Joe and Martha stepped out, their faces etched with concern and confusion as they stared up at the hovering craft.

Realizing that I had no choice but to escape the entrapment of that cursed place, I seized the dangling cable and began an impetuous climb toward the unknown above.

Observing my frantic ascent, Joe turned toward Martha. “I sure hope we’re in the clear. We did everything he wanted, but Steve survived anyway.”

Martha’s reply carried a hint of resignation, “Yeah, and looks like he’s just gonna do it himself.”

“Climbing right up to his death,” Joe added with a slight, knowing smirk. “He’s so mentally and physically exhausted from what I did to him that he stands no chance.”

As I ascended the cable with desperate urgency, my mind suddenly merged with Rage. He was back and he was angrier than I’d ever experienced. With a surge of brute strength, he put all he had into one enormous, forceful jerk of the cable, causing the UFO, manned by Red-2, to careen wildly and crash through the roof of the house. The impact was catastrophic.

I was back in bed.

Blog #11: The Final Battle, Part 3

After his latest attempt to destroy me, Red-2 set in motion a relentless campaign of harassment. He was aware that Rage lived within me, yet he remained oblivious to the fact that I was, like him, a Red.

Aware that he thrived on anger and violence, I painstakingly honed my ability to suppress those OBEs that once summoned his attention. Although I managed to control these episodes to a significant degree, his presence began invading my regular dreams, a realm where resistance simply was not possible.

Night after night, in the corridors of sleep, Red-2 and his henchmen materialized, inflicting waves of excruciating pain and despair. Those dreams became a crucible of suffering from which I could not escape, as Red-2 delighted in every ounce of my torment. Although Rage existed in my in-between world, on rare occasions, he appeared in my dream world to repel them, but that burst of violence only served to bolster Red-2’s power further. Each night, as the darkness approached, dread gripped me, for sleep had become synonymous with inescapable agony.

Driven by desperation, I eventually decided enough was enough. I hatched a daring plan to fight back, realizing that Red-2, like myself, had a separate form in the in-between world. Unbeknownst to him that I too was a Red, I resolved during an OBE to torment him directly at his mansion during his lavish parties, manifesting as Rage and boldly declaring my intention to end him.

Red-2’s agility was a spectacle to behold, his movements fluid and precise as he expertly evaded Rage’s relentless attacks. Like a dancer weaving through shadows, he glided effortlessly, each motion a testament to his skill. Yet, for nearly a year, I doggedly persisted in this unrelenting campaign, confronting him as Rage during every OBE.

Slowly, like creeping vines, boredom began to take root in him; each time Rage emerged from the shadows, Red-2 would merely laugh, a testament to his growing complacency. As if to flaunt his indifference, he would even engage in lighthearted conversation with his party guests, all while casually deflecting Rage’s attacks with the ease of swatting away a pesky fly. In that fleeting moment, a revelation dawned upon me—I had finally uncovered the vulnerability I had been seeking.

Around two weeks later, another OBE engulfed me. This time, embodying Red-1, I was thrust into the heart of a lavish, sprawling party at the mansion. The air was electric with excitement as guests mingled and music pulsed through the grand halls. As I oscillated between my identities as Red-1 and Rage, I found myself at the heart of the unfolding drama. True to form, Rage attacked Red-2, but, as had happened dozens of times before, was deflected with ease.

“This is getting irritating, my big friend,” Red-2 remarked, his voice a curious mix of amusement and exasperation. Meanwhile, I, as Red-1, descended from above with a wild, raucous laugh that echoed through the grand room. “What! How can this be? You’re not a Red!” he bellowed, his voice thick with disbelief and a sudden surge of anger that cut through the jubilant atmosphere.

In that brief, wavering moment of hesitation, Red-2’s focus on Rage shattered like fragile glass. Rage’s eyes, once simmering with quiet intensity, now blazed with a ferocious, unyielding power. It was in that critical and electrifying instant that I fused seamlessly with Rage. Together, we launched a beam of psychic energy, a luminous and unrelenting weapon of pure force. This final, explosive blow erupted with the might of a storm, reverberating through the grand halls of the mansion. The walls trembled, before succumbing to the impact and crumbling with a resounding crash. The air was charged and crackled with the energy of our combined power. It was the culmination of our mission, a symphony of destruction and triumph echoing through the halls.

In that brief, wavering moment of hesitation, Red-2’s focus on Rage shattered like fragile glass. Rage’s eyes, once simmering with quiet intensity, now blazed with a ferocious, unyielding power. It was in that critical and electrifying instant that I fused seamlessly with Rage. Together, we launched a beam of psychic energy, a luminous and unrelenting weapon of pure force. This final, explosive blow erupted with the might of a storm, reverberating through the grand halls of the mansion. The walls trembled, before succumbing to the impact and crumbling with a resounding crash. The air was charged and crackled with the energy of our combined power. It was the culmination of our mission, a symphony of destruction and triumph echoing through the halls.

I was back in bed.

In the quiet aftermath, the frequency of my OBEs diminished to about one every one and a half to two months. A series of nondescript episodes followed, until one short, final vision delivered the closure I had long sought.

I found myself as Red-1 standing outside the charred remains of Red-2’s once imposing mansion. The landscape was desolate, void of any signs of life and an eerie silence enveloping the ruins. Just as I braced for my inevitable disappearance from this realm, another entity materialized. He bore a striking resemblance to Red-2, yet his form was completely devoid of color, as if stripped of all vitality. “What happened?” I blurted inappropriately, without thinking.

“You know what happened. You killed him. Now we have nothing.”

I was back in bed.

Blog #12: Adventures, Part 1

I will relate three of the most extraordinary OBEs I’ve ever had. During the first one, I found myself traversing a road beneath an alien sky, my gaze captured by the sight of a massive planet looming on the horizon. Its sheer magnificence was so overwhelming that I couldn’t tear my eyes away from it. Clearly, I wasn’t on Earth.

Elements of this image are furnished by NASA

After a moment of regaining my bearings, I resumed my walk. Soon, I became aware of four figures approaching from behind me. Two rode tall, graceful horses, their riders commanding and statuesque, while the other two walked alongside, their steps purposeful and brisk. They quickly caught up to me, and we all halted, facing each other in a moment of silent scrutiny that stretched on uncomfortably.

The two mounted riders were strikingly tall and athletically built, their frames lean yet powerful. In stark contrast, the other two were short and stout, exuding an air of servitude. Yet, there was an undeniable dignity and honor in their bearing, suggesting they were respected within their society.

“Well, who have we here?” one of the tall travelers inquired, his voice kind and curious.

I felt a surge of nerves, acutely aware that I was experiencing an astral projection on this strange planet. “I’m from Earth,” I declared boldly, with a sense of pride swelling in my chest.

The travelers erupted into a brief bout of laughter, a sound that echoed around us. “He’s from Earth,” one of the tall men remarked, “and he’s even admitting it.” Their amusement was short-lived, however, as their expressions quickly sobered.

“From Earth, huh?” the other tall traveler said, his face clouded with a hint of perplexity. The two riders exchanged a long, meaningful glance, as if communicating silently. He then continued, his voice carrying a solemn weight. “The people of Earth killed Him. Your people killed Him.”

“We don’t know what time period of Earth he projected from,” the other tall traveler cautioned his companion, his voice turning darker, more menacing. “He may be infected.”

One of the servants, his face twisted with disdain and his lips curled into a sneer that seared itself into my memory, shouted at me with a commanding voice, “Leave NOW!”

I was back in bed.

✶ ✶ ✶ ✶ 

My second extraordinary OBE unfolded while I was navigating a jeep along a precariously narrow mountain road. The winding path was edged by steep cliffs and jagged rocks, a testament to the rugged terrain. My focus wavered momentarily as I was distracted by two kids in the back seat, their heated argument rising in volume. In that split second of inattention, the jeep struck a large, unyielding rock and veered off the side of the mountain.

Hohe Tauern National Park, Austria

I caught a glimpse of sheer terror etched on one of the boy’s faces, and then, in an instant, I found myself seated in a hilly meadow, the air filled with the scent of earth and grass. As I gazed around, I was taken aback by the breathtaking beauty of my surroundings. The gentle hills of the meadow gave way to the edge of a dense forest, its trees tall and majestic, and beyond that, a magnificent mountain range loomed against the horizon. The sun was dipping low in the sky, casting a warm golden glow over the landscape, while a gentle breeze caressed my skin with its refreshing coolness.

Unexpectedly, I noticed a man sitting right beside me, as if he had materialized out of thin air just moments ago. As I surveyed the meadow, I realized it was populated with a dozen pairs of people, each absorbed in quiet conversation. Some pairs were composed of men like us, others were a mix of men and women, or women together, each sharing their own private worlds.

I have no clear memory of the man’s physical appearance or the details of his attire, but his kind smile left a lasting impression. “Am I—” I began, the words faltering on my lips, too heavy to voice fully.

“Yes, you are,” he replied gently. “And you have no memory of your death or the pain that came with it. Because what you did for others so many times during your early training has now been done for you.”

We engaged in a lengthy conversation, and all I can remember is nodding from time to time, signaling my comprehension and acceptance of the situation. As for what lay ahead, I distinctly remember him mentioning that my new existence, like that of most others, would begin at the bottom.

In an instant, I found myself inside an office building. The space was lined with a series of doors along the wall to my right. My memory fails to capture what lay to my left. A middle-aged gentleman, his demeanor stern and businesslike, emerged from one of the doors and handed me a broom. “These floors must be cleaned daily,” he instructed, his voice devoid of warmth, never meeting my gaze.

So, I began to sweep. The task wasn’t unpleasant; in fact, within me was a sense of contentment and vitality. I felt neither hunger nor thirst, and I was free of worries or burdens. I embraced the task, driven by an aspiration to sweep better than anyone had ever done before.

I was back in bed.

✶ ✶ ✶ ✶ 

My third extraordinary OBE began while I was driving on a narrow, timeworn paved road, with my friend John seated beside me in the worn interior of a small SUV. Though the surroundings bore the familiar markings of Earth, an almost instinctive feeling suggested we were on an Earth-like planet, a place encased in a subtle, uncanny glow.

“Are you sure you know where you’re going, Steve?” John asked, his tone edged with concern. “It’s really important I’m not late.”

I almost retorted that he should take the wheel if he doubted my sense of direction, but instead, I offered only a quiet nod and replied, “Yeah.” John’s features softened as he admitted, “Sorry, I’m just nervous about the talk I’m giving today. I appreciate you driving me here. I have no idea where this place is.”

With a firm tone laced with conviction, I responded, “That’s my job and I take it very seriously. All I know is, at the start of this OBE, I was instructed to take you to an old courthouse in some desolate desert town in the middle of nowhere and then drive you back when you’re done. I’m not to ask any questions.”

The rest of the drive passed in a contemplative silence. Before long, we entered the outskirts of a small town that, in reality, was even smaller than I’d anticipated. The landscape around us was utterly barren, with not a tree nor a blade of grass to break the monotony of the desolate soil. Trusting an unerring instinct, I navigated a series of precise turns and eventually pulled into the empty, dusty parking lot of the timeworn courthouse.

John stepped out of the SUV and peered at me through the open window for several heavy seconds before saying, “Wait for me here. I don’t know how long I’ll be inside, but under no circumstances are you to leave the vehicle or enter the building on your own, got it?” I nodded, and without further word, John strode toward the massive double doors of the courthouse and disappeared inside.

After an indeterminate span of time, an overwhelming impulse pushed me to leave the vehicle and explore the building’s interior. Inside, to my right, a trio of imposing doors beckoned—seemingly opening into meeting halls. I advanced a few feet past a sturdy brick wall on my left when I suddenly came to an abrupt halt in sheer shock. There, behind a vast see-through barrier that stretched to the ceiling, a cluster of alien creatures was confined. They gathered immediately, their eyes locking onto mine in silent unison. One creature stepped directly up to the barrier, closing the gap so that I was less than a foot away from its unearthly face.

Startled, I turned and quickly made my way to the side of the broad hallway where the sound of John’s voice reached me. Laughter from within the meeting hall mingled with his robust, clear-timed speech, evidencing that his conversation was well received. I eased the large door open a crack and stepped inside, only to be greeted by a chorus of loud gasps and shouts: “What is Steve doing here?” and “Get him out of here now!” John immediately seized my arm, pulling me forcefully back into the hallway and shutting the door with resolute finality.

“I told you not to come in here, Steve,” John hissed, his voice rising with barely contained anger.

Frustrated and bewildered, I bellowed, “What are aliens doing caged up inside this building? What in the hell is going on?” as John briskly led me toward the front double doors. “None of your business,” he snapped, shoving me out the doors with decisiveness. “Go back to the vehicle and wait. I had no choice; you’re the only one I know who can get me in and out of places like this.”

Sullenly, I trudged back to the SUV and sat silently until John returned. He climbed into the back seat, and, without us exchanging a word, I drove away into the unknown.

I was back in bed.

Blog #13: Advanced Missions, Part 1

About a year later, my OBEs twisted yet again, this time catching me completely off guard. The familiar prelude remained unchanged: I was lying in bed when, around 2:30 to 3:00 AM, powerful energy waves rippled through my body and whisked me away to another realm. However, in this episode, I discovered I was inhabiting someone else’s body, a stark contrast to past experiences where the vessel was unmistakably my own. I looked the part of a native to the time and place I found myself in. I was able to move, observe and converse anonymously, but this time I had no idea who I was or where I was.

After gathering my wits, I looked around and noticed I was on the second floor of a modern office building. Against the far wall lined four uncluttered desks, each equipped with a chair, a computer monitor glowing softly, and a minimalistic file cabinet. One of the desks was already in use. The open walkway at this level provided a panoramic view of the floor below, where four individuals lounged in luxurious swivel chairs at their expansive executive desks. They smoked leisurely and chatted incessantly as if each word held the weight of authority, certainly far grander than our modest second-floor domain.

Confounded and motionless, I stood rooted in place until, after several agonizing minutes of uncertainty, a firm hand gripped my shoulder. I jumped, startled, as a voice barked, “What are you doing just standing there, staring at the front entry? We’ve got to be one hundred percent prepared for the Victory Day celebrations tomorrow!” The four individuals below paused their conversation, their eyes flicking to me briefly before they resumed their duties with determined focus.

“Take a seat at your desk. You know exactly what must be done and if you can’t perform your tasks, we’ll find someone who can!” the voice commanded. I hesitated, knowing there was only a one in three chance of choosing the correct desk.

“Why are you sitting at Alexei’s desk, Leonid? What’s wrong with you? Are you high again?” came the sharp admonishment. Avoiding eye contact, I slowly made my way to my assigned workspace. The accuser glared, muttered a string of expletives, and stomped down the stairs to the first level.

Reluctantly, I took a seat and, almost on autopilot, opened the file cabinet. I extracted a folder and placed it on the desk, feeling as though an invisible hand was guiding me, whispering instructions about what files to retrieve and which actions to perform next. Within moments, I had perused over a dozen pages of documents. Then, as if summoned by fate, I heard a voice and glanced upward to see a woman speaking briskly into a telephone.

“Captain Kuznetsov wants to see you in his office, Leonid,” she announced with a sneer that cut through the silence.

I descended the stairs slowly and stood in the center of the spacious room. From within his office, Captain Kuznetsov’s voice boomed, “Enter now, Leonid.”

“Don’t bother sitting,” he continued forcefully. “I warned you, one more mishap and you’d be out of here. Something’s clearly wrong with you, Leonid. You must be on Crocodil again, so you’re done. Now leave and do it slowly so everyone can see and feel your disgrace.”

Stepping out of the doorless front entryway, I paused on the cool sidewalk, dumbfounded and lost, unaware of what to do next.

Vladimir Putin’s office located in the Senate Palace in the Kremlin, Moscow, Russia

I was back in bed.

✶ ✶ ✶ ✶

This perplexing phenomenon of inhabiting another’s body—seeing through their eyes yet entirely ignorant of my new identity or environment—occurred four additional times over the next year during subsequent OBEs. In one episode, I discovered I was aboard a spacecraft, seated in a chair with my arms resting casually on a sleek, long black counter. Before me stretched a panoramic window, beginning about two feet above the counter and extending without interruption to the right, left and upward to the ceiling. Positioned at the center and devoid of any apparent keyboard, I assumed, albeit with uncertainty, that I was the person in charge.

To my right were three humanoid beings and to my left, another three of similar stature. The three on my left were mirror images of one another: slender figures with graceful, feminine forms; short, golden hair and strikingly attractive faces. They sat poised in their chairs, their fingers dancing over keyboards with an inhuman flurry of speed as data cascaded across their monitors in radiant bursts.

As I gazed upward into infinite space, the sun majestically rose over the horizon. I stood from my chair, and my attention shifted in tandem to the trio on my left. One by one, I absorbed the rapid-fire torrents of flashing information from each monitor. For about twenty intense minutes, I mentally collected every

piece of data, all while grappling with the perplexing reality of my own identity and purpose. All the humanoids maintained their focus except for one moment: after I absorbed the data from the final monitor, the humanoid seated at the far left paused her rapid typing, slowly turned toward me and locked eyes with an expression I would never forget.

I was back in bed.

✶ ✶ ✶ ✶

In each of the next two OBEs, I found myself in different high-tech, futuristic offices. It was unmistakably early; the rooms lay deserted, their silence only accentuated by the hum of hidden machinery. I moved through these spaces like a ghost, invisible to the advanced security measures; no silent alarms activated, no sensors tripped as I navigated with practiced precision.

I meticulously started up each computer, the screens flickering to life under my fingers, which flew across the keys with practiced ease. As I accessed vast digital archives, it felt as though I was mentally coaxing the machines into revealing their secrets, guided by an unseen companion whose presence I could sense but not see. By now, it was evident that every detail I saw during these episodes was being recorded through my eyes, each moment captured with clarity. I was a spy, navigating this high-tech thievery with a mixture of trepidation and thrill.

Blog #14: Four-One 

During my next OBE, I found myself meandering along an ancient cobble road beneath the oppressive heat of an early spring heatwave. Soon enough, to my right, I noticed a quaint, weathered tavern. As always, I had no inkling whose body I now inhabited or my true whereabouts, but the relentless sun ignited an intense craving for a cold beer, compelling me to step inside.

The tavern’s interior was dimly lit and sparsely occupied, only three patrons were present. In one shadowed corner, two men huddled over a card game, while a stout woman busied herself at the back, her figure silhouetted against the clattering of dishes. With a friendly tone, I queried as I took a few tentative steps in, “Get a beer in a place like this?”

Almost instantly, the stout woman spun around. Her eyes burned with scorn and disgust, and in a moment of uncontrolled fury, she bellowed, “What the hell are you doing back here?” Snatching a heavy, soapy mug from the sink with a swift motion, she hurled it directly at my head.

I barely dodged the flying mug as its shattering impact rang out, triggering my survival instincts. I bolted for the door, only to be yanked back as a massive hand gripped me and slammed me down onto the card table.

“You ain’t runnin’ away again, you slimy cockroach!” one of the card players growled, his face contorting into a frightening scowl. In the ensuing chaos, the bar owner unleashed a torrent of curse words I had never heard before. “Got memory loss from drinkin’ too much, shit for brains? Out of here for life means out of here for life.” With merciless precision, she kicked me twice with her weathered, pointed cowboy boots, each blow a testament to raw anger as I struggled to rise from beneath the shattered table.

Village in Greece

“You know what’s comin’ next, don’t you?” one of the larger men sneered as they hoisted my arms and dragged me forcefully outside. “The barrel roll! We were gonna do it last night, but you ran too fast.” Despite my futile struggles, they shoved me headfirst into a huge, rusted barrel parked near the entrance. Luckily, a two-foot layer of rotting garbage at the bottom cushioned my head from a catastrophic impact.

They then proceeded to push the barrel over and before they could deliver a final kick to send it hurtling down the hill, the owner intervened, shoving them aside and taking charge of the grim proceedings herself. When the barrel finally came to a stop at the bottom of the hill, I staggered out from amidst the filth, my battered and bruised body echoing the humiliation I felt. Their raucous laughter reverberated through the town as I mustered the strength to stand, every bruise and every limb a testament to a night gone disastrously wrong.

Limping away, I silently wondered, “What in the world did I do last night to deserve this?”

And then, as suddenly as it had all begun, I was back in bed. In a fleeting moment, I saw smiling faces peering at me, struggling to suppress their laughter—and then it hit me. Today was April Fool’s Day.

“I sure love your twisted sense of humor,” I said sarcastically. “Very funny.

I was back in bed.

Blog #15: Advanced Missions, Part 2

About a month later, my next OBE transported me to a distant, alien planet. I found myself traversing a corridor that appeared to be crafted from luminous, glass-like walls and a ceiling that scattered a kaleidoscope of prismatic reflections in every conceivable direction. I felt as if I were hypnotized, my steps slow and deliberate, like each movement was carefully choreographed as l slowly followed a young cyborg toward the exterior doorway.

Her presence was both mechanical and human, an intricate blend that fascinated me. “The file transfers have been completed. You will have mental access to them momentarily,” she projected into my mind with a voice as smooth and clear as a stream.

We stepped onto a covered deck, a structure that provided a panoramic view of the surroundings. Around us, about a dozen cyborg men and women were engaged in animated conversations, their voices a symphony of metallic and organic tones. They seemed oblivious to my presence, leading me to assume that I must appear as one of them.

I continued to follow my companion across the deck, but the moment I cleared the deck’s cover, I was struck by awe and came to an abrupt halt. Before me lay one of the most breathtaking sights I had ever witnessed. Two colossal, perfectly spherical celestial bodies hung side by side in the sky, glowing with the same warm orangish hue as the hallway’s walls. They appeared so close and vivid, it seemed as if I could simply reach out and touch them.

My companion took a few more steps before realizing I had stopped. She turned to face me, her gaze penetrating and quizzical. “What’s wrong with you? You’re acting like you’ve never seen our twin moons,” she remarked as she stared directly into my eyes. I had the distinct impression she was scanning me to see if I was malfunctioning.

I was back in bed.

As a side note, nearly all of my current OBE’s take on this nature. I find myself embodying someone else, completely unaware of their life yet capable of engaging in intelligent conversations and interactions with others. Very often, these experiences occur for reasons beyond my understanding, but at times they happen solely for the sheer pleasure of socializing in these otherworldly realms.

Blog #16: Alien Encounter, Part 2

Waves of unease washed over me as I sat inside a bus crammed with passengers. The vehicle remained stationary, yet a peculiar calmness pervaded the air. Silence reigned; no one spoke, no heads turned, only eyes fixed steadfastly ahead, as if enthralled by some invisible force leading their gaze.

Curiosity compelled me to shift my focus, peering through the narrow confines of the small bus window. What I glimpsed sent a jolt through my body. A creature, unlike anything I had ever seen, stood just outside, mere feet away. Its presence was both mesmerizing and unsettling.

The being approached with deliberate steps until it was mere inches from the glass, locking its gaze with mine. Its eyes, probing and knowing, seemed to recognize something within me that set me apart from the rest of the passengers. After a moment that felt suspended in time, it turned silently and returned to its original station, as if satisfied by our brief connection.

My mind immediately leapt to thoughts of invasion, my imagination conjuring scenarios of these creatures rounding up humans for some unknown purpose. Yet, there was a notable absence of aggression. The passengers around me showed no signs of fear; their tranquility was unnerving. Were I to encounter extraterrestrial beings out of the blue and find myself deposited into a bus, panic would surely be my companion. So, perhaps this wasn’t an invasion after all?

I was back in bed.

Blog #17: Alien Encounter, Part 3

OBE energy waves surged through me, and suddenly I found myself navigating a narrow alleyway flanked by two towering buildings. As I emerged from the shadowed passage, a sprawling park unfurled before me, a vast green expanse dotted with trees and benches. In the distance, I noticed two long, serpentine lines of people, each slowly inching forward toward a single destination. As I walked briskly past them, not a single person obstructed my path or uttered a word in my direction.

To my astonishment, the lines converged at a colossal, oval-shaped UFO, its immense size rivaling that of a sports stadium. Nearby, nearly a hundred buses were neatly parked, their presence a testament to the sheer number of people gathered. Those in the lines advanced with calm determination, ascending ramps that led into the UFO’s many entrances situated around its perimeter. I approached the front of one of the lines and to my surprise, I was graciously permitted entry. I ascended the ramp, stepping into the unknown.

Inside, the space was vast and open, reminiscent of a gigantic auditorium. Thousands upon thousands of mattresses were meticulously arranged in orderly rows, with about half of them already occupied. Each individual appeared instinctively aware of which mattress was theirs, kneeling upon it with a sense of purpose. Except for the occasional small backpack, they carried nothing else with them.

In a blink, I found myself back in my own bed, but within just ten seconds, I was once again inside the UFO. Now, every mattress was claimed and I sensed the massive vessel begin its ascent. The movement was eerily silent, devoid of any mechanical hum or whir. In perfect synchronization, all the occupants bowed their heads toward their laps and wrapped their arms around their knees.

Under watchful eyes, their journey had begun.

I was back in bed.

Blog #18: Advanced Missions, Part 3

A few weeks later, the next OBE experience unfolded in a way unlike any I had encountered before. I found myself wandering through a courtyard, the stone walls echoing my uncertain footsteps as I moved toward a throng of curious onlookers. Surrounding me were individuals who seemed more like vigilant bodyguards than mere bystanders, yet, as with previous episodes, I was cloaked in confusion—unsure of my identity, my location, or the purpose behind my presence. However, this time was distinct in its dread; unlike before when I retained a core sense of self while inhabiting another’s body, now I was engulfed by complete memory loss. Every shred of what defined me had vanished, leaving only an overwhelming terror that gripped me from within.

Desperation took over as I spun around to confront the swirling crowd, my voice rising in a panicked shout, “I don’t know who I am! I don’t know where I am! And I have no idea who you people are!” The intensity of my emotions sent ripples through the gathering, and in that moment, I realized that I must be someone of great significance. Grasped firmly by unknown, yet caring, hands, I was swept away into an awaiting limousine. Their eyes and hurried actions spoke volumes: they were deeply concerned for my well-being and mental stability.

I was back in bed.

A soft, disembodied voice spoke in the recesses of my mind, “This individual was on a life path that had to be altered. After you left his body, his old memories did not instantaneously return. It took months for him to recover from total memory loss. This was the desired outcome, as a catastrophic future event no longer occurred because this individual’s probable future had been changed.”

Over the following years, seven more episodes of complete memory loss swept over me. Each time, I would slip into another’s life, shattering their memory in an instant. The scenes varied wildly—one moment I was in a rustic cabin perched in a rugged mountain landscape, shouting furiously at my friends; another instance found me at an upscale restaurant, causing a ruckus that sent shockwaves through the elegant dining room. There was a time when I wandered alone in the ornate courtyard of a European hotel, my vigorous screams mingling with confused glances from passersby as I pulled desperately at my hair in frustration. On another occasion, while driving a car along an unfamiliar road, I was forced to pull over abruptly. I had no idea where I was driving to.

Each moment of complete memory loss struck with unparalleled terror. I reached a breaking point, crying out in anguish, begging for the torment to cease. Yet, even now, the episodes persist. In most instances, I manage to restrain my reactions, quietly observing or unwittingly spying and recording. But there are moments when uncontrollable fits of fear, frustration and sheer bewilderment overwhelm me, shattering any attempt at subtlety. This relentless cycle, in its unpredictable chaos, must at times derail the intended outcomes of the missions I am involved in. Ultimately, the true origin, underlying purpose and ultimate goals of the missions are, as the old saying goes, way above my pay grade.

Maya wants to play with Spike.

Blog #19: The Infestation, Part 1

During my most impactful OBE to date, I found myself as Red-1 within the vast expanse of an enormous shopping complex set on a future version of Earth. The towering figure of a formidable spiritual entity stood beside me, radiating an aura of immense power and wisdom. He handed me a container brimming with small, luminescent bug-like creatures that seemed to pulse and shimmer with an otherworldly glow. “Once exposed to Earth’s air or water, these creatures will multiply uncontrollably. Nothing will halt their spread,” he declared, his voice resonating with an unsettling certainty.

“I understand,” I replied, my voice steady and resolute. “And I know what to do.” As soon as the words left my lips, the spiritual entity vanished, leaving me alone with the ominous task at hand.

I approached the bustling emporium’s open doorway, the air thick with the clamor of shoppers oblivious to the impending chaos. Carefully, I pried the container open just enough for a few handfuls of the glowing bugs to escape. As they mingled with Earth’s air, they multiplied at an astonishing rate, their numbers swelling from hundreds to thousands in mere minutes.

Drawn irresistibly to human flesh, the bugs attached themselves to the exposed skin of nearly everyone in the complex. The air erupted with endless screams of agony as these creatures burrowed through the skin, embedding themselves into human muscle with ruthless efficiency.

I sprinted out of the complex, my heart pounding, toward a sprawling river nearby. My unwavering focus on the task shattered with the deafening roar of a massive explosion. Turning in the direction of the sound, I was met with the terrifying sight of a nuclear mushroom cloud rising ominously into the sky.

In a frantic rush, I emptied the remaining contents of the container into the river. Instantly, the entire waterway began to glow, marking the beginning of the infestation’s journey toward the Mississippi River and beyond.

A profound sense of guilt welled up from within me, gnawing at my conscience. What if I had been deceived? What if I were the unwitting catalyst for a catastrophic plague? The realization that, within days or possibly a week, the entire country could be overrun by these creatures filled me with dread. I had no understanding of what they truly were or the full extent of what I had done.

I was back in my bed. A week later, for the first time ever, I found myself reliving the exact same OBE, the vivid details replaying with unnerving clarity.

Blog #20: The Indoor City, Part 1

I should mention that my OBEs don’t follow a linear timeline; one experience might be set hundreds of years into the future while the next takes me to my present day, or even my past.

During an OBE a month later, I found myself strolling through a sprawling mall-like complex that felt more like an entire mini-city. This vast structure housed an entertainment arena, a state-of-the-art gym and exercise center, a glittering bowling alley, bustling tennis courts, a variety of restaurants, vibrant bars and lounges, chic clothing boutiques, high-tech electronic stores, a fully stocked hardware emporium, and countless other establishments. I sensed immediately that this marvel was erected on the very grounds of the original shopping center, yet it had been completely transformed into a twenty-story tower. Within its walls were elevators that defied convention, moving people not just vertically, but horizontally as well. It felt like an entire urban world built inside a colossal structure and I instinctively knew that roughly two centuries had swept by since my initial visit.

I spent the entire day wandering this gigantic indoor metropolis, and myriad peculiar details caught my attention. Every location I entered teemed with people, yet the crowds were perfectly balanced, never overcrowded, while the atmosphere radiated a friendly, buoyant energy. Strangers not only exchanged warm greetings with one another, but many even smiled and addressed me by name, adding a personal, almost intimate quality to my journey. What intrigued me further was the curious absence of commerce: despite the dazzling array of shops and the relentless flow of consumers, no one carried bags filled with purchased items. Clearly, these people were not there to shop; they gathered purely to socialize and revel in being entertained.

But as I brushed against these mysteries in my mind, questions began to arise: Who were these people? Where did they come from? If the mall contained most of their social life, was there an entire city beyond its walls, and if so, why was every vibrant social activity so concentrated within this single colossal hub?

I have always struggled to recall the intricate details of previous OBEs when I find myself in a new one, my mind is so fully tethered to the immediacy of the present experience that revisiting earlier fragments seems nearly impossible. Yet, this time felt different, as if I’d been mentally briefed about this enigmatic indoor city before I even set foot inside.

Then, in a sudden, lightning-quick burst of memory, the past invaded my thoughts: the infestation! I recalled, with chilling clarity, that these very people might have been infected during the catastrophe at the original mall. The thought sent shivers down my spine. How could these individuals, if they were indeed the survivors of that dark event, still be alive two centuries later? I also had a hazy recollection of an explosion, a monumental blast that had unleashed a vast mushroom cloud into the sky. My mind swirled with frantic questions, but no answers came.

As evening fell, the shops gradually closed their doors and the crowd began converging on the multidirectional elevators. I found myself on the building’s ground floor, compelled to keep moving until I reached the very edge of the structure. “What lies beyond?” I silently wondered. In the next instant, I found myself outside.

A surge of absolute terror gripped me. In the distance, roiling, crackling clouds of lightning illuminated a terrifying swarm of zombie-like creatures, hunched and ragged, clustered just outside the city structure. They were everywhere, their eyes, or what seemed like eyes, fixated on me.

At that intense moment, the words “Nuclear holocaust” exploded in my mind, enveloping me in a chilling realization of an unthinkable future.

I was back in bed.

Blog #21: The Infestation, Part 2

In my subsequent OBE, I found myself once again at the location and moment of the initial outbreak. Although I retained no memory of my previous OBE from several months earlier, I possessed an intimate understanding of the chaos I had unwittingly set in motion.

Before me was the original shopping complex, its exterior shrouded in an eerie stillness while screams echoed from every direction. A sense of dread washed over me. Had I been deceived into triggering a pandemic? Could this be the catalyst for the end of life on Earth as we knew it?

Suddenly, the tumultuous screams from within the complex ceased as if silenced by an unseen force. Had everyone perished? With trepidation, I entered through a side door, and to my amazement, I was greeted by an unexpected scene: people were smiling, their faces alight with laughter and tears of joy. “I feel wonderful!” they exclaimed in unison, their voices a chorus of newfound elation. Jubilant cries of, “I have no pain!”, “My body is tingling and glowing!”, and “Waves of energy are sweeping over me!” reverberated through the crowd like a joyous anthem.

What’s happening? I wondered, my mind racing with questions. The answer arrived with startling immediacy.

“What’s been done here has been replicated on hundreds of thousands of planets within this universe alone,” a familiar voice resonated within me, its tone both authoritative and comforting. “The ‘bugs’ that embedded themselves within human hosts have unleashed the life-extension force of the universe into their once-mortal bodies. The life circuits have now activated the next phase in the evolutionary journey: an existence free from mortality, disease, and pain. This, along with all other aspects of this advanced level of life, has been mentally transmitted to all involved. However, the likelihood of an event causing mass devastation on Earth has increased significantly. We have secured intergalactic assistance and are hopeful that this will significantly aid in the continued survival of life on Earth.”

I was back in bed.

Blog #22: The Indoor City, Part 2

During another OBE a few months later, I found myself once again inside the vast, glowing indoor city shopping mall. The space was alive with the joyful chatter and radiant smiles of countless people, their happiness almost tangible in the warm, ambient light that bathed every surface.

Amidst this cheerful throng, a stranger approached me with a firm, friendly handshake and a luminous smile. “It’s so great to see you,” he said, his words ringing out with genuine warmth.

Startled by a sense of unfamiliarity, I replied politely, “Do I know you?”

He let out a soft, amused chuckle. “You don’t, but I know about you. I’m here to show you around, and you can call me Three Twenty One.”

Curious and intrigued, I agreed with a cautious, “Okay,” and followed him to an elevator adorned with intricate designs and gentle, pulsing lights. As we ascended several floors, the elevator’s glass walls offered fleeting views of softly lit corridors filled with motion and subtle mystery. We eventually stepped out into a long hallway lined with streamlined capsule sleeping pods, their surfaces glistening under the soft glow of neon accents. Unsurprisingly, we stopped before a door marked room number 321.

We paused in the open doorway since the room itself was only large enough for a single occupant. “Welcome to my home,” Three Twenty One declared, his voice carrying a serene authority as he gestured toward the minimalist space. “Special panels can be activated to enclose the room for privacy, but here we spend our time only to sleep. After all, sleep is all that matters.”

I tilted my head slightly and asked, “Because of astral projection?” Even as the question floated from my lips, I was aware that my presence here was itself an astral projection.

He nodded. “We retire each night in our small rooms at 2000 hours. The instant our heads meet our pillows, our astral projections begin. Each of us is assigned far-reaching missions across the universe. Our nightly journeys come to an end at 0400 hours, but being human means our bodies require a two-hour sleep cycle. By 0600 hours, we awaken in our indoor city to a new day.”

Acknowledging his explanation with a thoughtful nod, I pressed on, “Please, tell me more.”

His voice softened as he continued, “Thanks to the life circuits woven into our very beings, our astral projections are a hundred times more potent than those of ordinary travelers, those not so attuned. Our nightly missions venture into realms that stretch far beyond everyday comprehension.”

I began to understand. “So you needed something to occupy your waking hours?” I suggested. “And since venturing outside wasn’t an option anymore, these indoor cities were built to keep you engaged until it was time to return to work.”

A knowing smile flickered across his face as he replied, “Our system works perfectly. Half of the community attends to maintenance and service, while the rest of us do as we please. The indoor city sprawls over twenty levels that hold everything necessary for a pleasurable existence. We remain unconcerned with the intricacies of how the city functions, for it is crucial that we find time to relax and recuperate from our complex, mentally exhausting nightly missions. The survival of our species depends on it.”

I absorbed his words, though pressing questions surged forth. “How long has it been, in Earth time, since the ‘bugs’ implanted themselves and released the life-extension force into you and everyone else living here?” I asked, my voice heavy with curiosity.

He replied with a measured calm, “It’s been two hundred and twenty-five years since that monumental change. I even remember you as The Color Red. The conversion was painful at first, but here we are—still immortal.”

Intrigued further, I asked, “How many of these indoor cities are there on Earth? And how many people live in them, altogether?”

“Thirty cities,” he explained, his eyes reflecting both pride and solemnity, “and a total of one and a quarter million souls now carry the life circuits in their immortal bodies. We have become the permanent residents of Earth.”

His tone grew grave. “Eighty percent of Earth is now uninhabitable because of The War. This planet will never again host mortal beings, it is set for eternity in its current state.”

A wave of despair washed over me, and I shook my head slowly. Yet even in that moment, memories of the mysterious, human-like creatures I had once seen outside the mall stirred in my mind. “Who or what were those creatures I saw outside the city mall?” I asked softly.

“They come from a part of your life you have yet to experience,” he replied enigmatically. “I must leave it at that.”

I nodded, absorbing his cryptic response.

As he prepared to leave for the day’s activities, he added, “Remember, all futures are only probable futures. The War does not have to occur in your waking reality. But if it does . . .”

I was back in bed, but with a deeply disturbing vision etched permanently in my mind.

Blog #23: The Indoor City, Part 3

A few months later, during another one of my out-of-body experiences, I arrived outside the doorway of Three Twenty One’s room in the indoor city. The privacy door slid open with a whisper, and out stepped a calm yet purposeful Three Twenty One.

“Sorry to bother you,” I said meekly, my voice laced with the urgency of unanswered questions. “I really need some answers, if you have the time.”

With a light-hearted tone and a hint of mischief, he replied, “Well, I do have a tennis lesson scheduled, but since you’ve come all this way . . .” He chuckled, the sound blending with the soft hum of the corridor. Firmly shaking my hand, he continued, “Great to see you again! Let’s head down to a cozy café on level one and talk.”

We entered an elevator with polished, reflective surfaces and soft, ambient lighting that teased out the architectural beauty of the indoor city. Within minutes, we were seated at a small, intimate table in the café, its decor a blend of modern chic and warm vintage comfort. I remarked, “Did you notice how everyone we passed greeted us by name? This place is truly wonderful, and its remarkable racial diversity makes it even more vibrant.”

“Every race on Earth is represented in the thirty cities around the world,” Three Twenty One informed me with quiet pride. “Preserving Earth’s unique cultures is paramount. I, myself, am a native of Mauritius in Africa.”

Le Morne beach Mauritius

My next question bubbled up as an instinctive recollection. “I wasn’t the only one to empty a canister of bugs into a river on that fateful day, was I?”

He shook his head slowly. “No. The canisters of ‘bugs’, as you call them, were dispersed into rivers all around the world simultaneously. Nothing happens by chance. When the probability of The War reached 100 percent, the Most High put their grand plan into motion.”

“I saw what seemed like one of the first nuclear blasts when I was at the river,” I recalled solemnly. Then, gathering my courage, I pressed further, “What exactly caused The War, if I may ask?”

He paused, his eyes momentarily distant as if revisiting painful memories. “I never speak of events unless I am absolutely certain of their truth,” he said carefully. After a brief silence, he added, “However, I have been given permission to share parts of what I know.”

“Thank you,” I said, my voice soft with gratitude.

“The War, at its core, was born from the attempt to govern a planet so beautifully diverse under a single government, a system that forced uniformity at the cost of individuality. The seeds of conflict were planted long before the first attack occurred.”

“The attack?” I echoed in astonishment. “I’ve never heard of an attack. Was it from another planet?”

“The initial attack was the first use of chemical warfare, a heinous act launched against a planet within The Alliance,” he declared, his tone bold yet laden with suppressed anger. “That devastating assault ultimately set The War in motion.”

Embarrassed by the abrupt turn in conversation, I quickly apologized. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have brought that up now.” I then steered the dialogue back, saying as I savored the most exquisite tea I had ever tasted, “What I really want to understand are the OBEs I’ve had, especially those that revolve around UFOs.”

“Yes, the UFOs,” he said, regaining his composure. “It’s essential that you grasp how and why these phenomena occur.”

I noticed a growing crowd beginning to form around us, their presence adding an ambient murmur to the café. After a few moments of reflective silence, Three Twenty One resumed his account. “First, at the request of the Most Highs, an advanced species agreed to help Earth. They hail from a planet that is far more advanced than ours. Along with many other similar beings, they piloted UFOs of various shapes and sizes, having observed Earth for centuries.

“However, not every advanced species was willing to help, or even acknowledge the right of other species to exist. In some, evil took root, manifesting in forms that are best left undisturbed.”

Even though I had a cascade of deeper questions swirling in my mind, I wisely chose to hold them back.

“The occupants of the buses you saw were taken aboard a specially designed UFO for mass transport, just as you witnessed firsthand. This operation was executed across the entire planet. As The War loomed, it became imperative that the one and a quarter million individuals with the life circuits be removed from Earth to secure our survival. We are immortal, immune to disease and pain. Although we enjoy sumptuous food and fine drink, we require no sustenance for survival, and our bodies heal astonishingly quickly from injury. Yet no living creature, mortal or otherwise, can stand up to the complete disintegration wrought by a nuclear blast.”

I nodded slowly, trying to process the extraordinary account. “Where were you and the others taken? With millions of planets scattered across the universe, why couldn’t another ‘Earth’ be found for you to inhabit?”

He sighed softly. “It’s not so simple. Each planet in this vast universe, one that is or will be habitable, already has its future mapped out. Permanently resettling millions of souls on a planet designed for another species is simply not feasible. Earth is our only option.”

He hesitated before adding, “As for where we were taken during the construction of these indoor cities—that is something I cannot discuss.”

“This conversation has been incredibly enlightening and confirms much of what I suspected,” I said with a warm smile as the assembled onlookers began to disperse.

Before I left, Three Twenty One’s voice softened to a sincere whisper. “Always remember: the future you’re witnessing is only one probable outcome. We subconsciously shape it with our impulsive thoughts, words, and deeds. As a species, we should never have allowed ourselves to slip so far into error. The consequences of those errors may lead to the extinction of mortal man on Earth in this probable reality.

“You must forge your own path, create a future free from the shadows of war.”

I was back in bed.

Blog #24: Premonition, Part 1

I hadn’t experienced a truly meaningful OBE journey in years. But that all changed recently when, during one such journey, I found myself materializing within a small, dilapidated ranch-style house that exuded an eerie air of neglect. The front room, grimy and barren of any furniture, felt suffused with decay, and before I could settle my racing thoughts, I was suddenly encircled by five dogs. Their eyes glowed hungrily in the dim light, and one massive pit bull, its muscles rippling beneath a patchy coat, dominated the group.

The atmosphere erupted into frenzied barking and frantic leaps as the animals circled me. My heart pounded in synchrony with the chaos, and despite the odd mixture of curiosity and terror, I managed to usher the smaller dogs down into the gloomy basement. Yet the pit bull, relentless and single-minded, fixated on me.

Fortune intervened when I spotted a bone lying on the grimy floor; I hurled it through the ajar door of an adjacent bedroom. The beast, with a primal hunger blazing in its eyes, lunged after the bone and soon found itself imprisoned behind the door. Seconds later, I heard a deep, guttural growl emanate from the other side of the door. Peering through a viciously chewed-out hole in the wood, I glimpsed his muzzle, straining in a desperate attempt to break free.

Shaken, I moved cautiously down the narrow, creaking hallway to another bedroom and stepped inside. The room was barren save for a modest bed, and beneath the faded covers, the unmistakable outline of a small figure lay curled up. Gently, I tugged the blanket aside, revealing a pale young girl whose eyes fluttered open with barely a spark of recognition. My throat tightened in horror when, beside her tiny form, I saw the lifeless body of an infant—a dead baby laying in grim silence.

Shock gripping me, I darted out of the room with a surge of panic, reaching for the creaking front door knob. I twisted and pulled with desperate force, but the door remained stubbornly shut. The foreboding sound of the pit bull straining against the bedroom door grew louder and closer, urging swift action. I moved toward the open sliding windows of the front room, forcefully ripping through the tattered screen and propelling myself out into the uncertain night.

Hovering above the street, I inhaled deeply. Below lay a collection of dilapidated houses and abandoned hovels, their broken windows and sagging roofs whispering of neglect. No soul stirred in the unkempt yards, no cars, no distant hum of traffic, only a suffocating silence that spoke of long-forgotten lives. My astral form drifted onward until I encountered a sprawling neighborhood of upscale homes, their manicured lawns and pristine facades betraying no sign of the families that should have occupied them.

Suddenly, my attention was captured by an enormous, ominous black cloud dominating nearly the entire horizon. From this swirling mass, massive bolts of electrical energy, wider and more violent than any typical lightning strike, raced erratically through the stormy sky. In that instant, an unsettling realization dawned upon me: these were electromagnetic pulses, likely signaling the detonation of a nuclear explosion.

My alarm peaked when I noticed, as if in a dreadful vision, two terrified figures on a backyard deck, their anguished screams piercing the heavy air. I began to retreat from the ominous neighborhood, but before I could escape, a sudden, violent EMP struck me. I felt a searing surge of electricity course through my astral body, paralyzing me momentarily. In that frozen split-second, I could see my own form illuminated by a surreal, yellow energy, a spectral glow that rendered me a living, pulsing image suspended in both time and space.

In a startling jolt, I awoke in my own bed, only to find myself hurled back into another astral projection. This time, I soared above a sprawling open market, gazing down upon an interminable line of people who appeared unmistakably South Asian by their features and expressions. The human chain stretched into oblivion, with each person wearing an unmistakable look of despair and resignation.

I descended into the market’s midst, wandering through empty shops whose canvas canopies flapped listlessly in the wind, only to discover that every person had congregated into that interminable line. Eventually, I arrived at a makeshift clinic sheltered under a shabby cover. Inside, the scene was heart-wrenching: victims suffered from gruesome sunburns marked by dark, ominous patches on their skin, and others endured blistering wounds that wept clear, stinging fluid. Their tear-streaked faces and agonized cries bore testament to unbearable pain and searing fear. As someone with prior medical training, and having just witnessed the harrowing effects of a nuclear explosion, I was utterly convinced these people were suffering the aftermath of a catastrophic blast.

I found myself back in the comforting confines of my bed for a few fleeting seconds, only to be swept away again into the pandemonium of what seemed to be a congested airline terminal. The atmosphere was thick with frantic chatter, shrill shouts, and overall hysteria, a chaotic microcosm of a world teetering on the edge of annihilation in the wake of nuclear war. Consumed by an obsessive need to know the present year amid the chaos, I attempted to inquire, but the overwhelming hysteria caused everyone to ignore my desperate queries.

Determined, I approached a weathered newspaper stand in a futile attempt to learn the current date. The prospect of reading printed text while on an OBE was one I had struggled with before. I fumbled through various papers until I found an English edition. Focusing every fiber of my being, I attempted to decipher the lines of print; however, as soon as the letters and numbers solidified into meaning, they began to morph and shuffle before my eyes. The printed characters jittered and interchanged positions, rendering any coherent reading utterly impossible. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t determine if I was in a particular day, year, decade, or even century.

Suddenly, a phone rang, a vintage model suspended on the wall. I answered with a trembling voice and asked, “What’s today’s date?”

A soft, almost ethereal female voice replied, “Today is September 24th, Steve.”

My urgency surged as I pressed, “What year is this?” but in answer, the line abruptly disconnected, leaving me suspended in an unbearable silence.

I was back in bed.    

The War

Blog #25: The Attack, Part 1

Over the next six months, most of my OBEs were largely indistinguishable from one another—until one extraordinary encounter changed everything. I found myself inhabiting the body of a mid-ranking officer within the One World Government of a future Earth. This particular experience was strikingly unique because I retained fragments of the host’s memories. I suspect this was a consequence of human evolution; Earth had advanced to a point where individuals could share consciousness and engage in limited psychic communication.

In that future, global conflicts had been set aside in favor of military and governmental unity, though subtle fissures were beginning to emerge under this artificial calm. Despite being a valued, albeit low-esteem, partner in an expansive multi-galactic alliance, Earth’s relatively primitive evolution meant that its adversaries from other worlds were well known and the lack of any intergalactic battles involving Earth was more about political convenience than actual peace.

I was assigned to a colossal spacecraft, an engineering marvel designed to host high-level meetings and provide temporary accommodations for the world’s most influential leaders. Its design was both majestic and intimidating, with layers of advanced fortifications that made it seem virtually impenetrable—or so we believed.

Urgency gripped me as I hurried along the sleek, metallic corridor, alert to a psychic intrusion warning broadcast directly to selected officers. This was undeniably the worst possible moment for such an alert, as every Head of State had been summoned to a critical meeting to address escalating unrest and actual uprisings in key regions of Earth.

I soon joined a group of officers, their expressions grim as we made our way toward the primary meeting hall, our commanding officer leading the procession. Rounding the final curve, we were met with the imposing sight of a full-length glass wall that dominated the entrance. In that moment, General Nielson’s resonant, authoritative voice cut through the tension: “We’ve been attacked.”

Before us, ten of the ship’s IDS (Infectious Disease Specialists) had formed a human barricade. Each specialist was clad in anti-exposure hooded work suits, standing in formation about four feet in front of the glass entry to the hall. As we drew near, concealed weapons materialized, enforcing the unspoken command: none were to enter.

My curiosity overcame my caution, and I edged closer to the transparent barrier to witness what lay inside. I was stunned to see that the meeting room was not as one might expect. Instead of dignified leaders seated in their customary places, six of the fourteen world leaders were on the floor, behaving with a disconcerting childlike abandon reminiscent of playful toddlers. The remaining leaders had positioned themselves at extreme distances from one another. Before I could absorb the full implications of the scene, a firm hand seized my shoulder and jerked me away as a commanding voice bellowed, “We’re getting out of here, now!”

In less than five minutes, eight of us, including two IDS specialists, were gathered inside the austere confines of the general’s office. The atmosphere was charged until General Nielson cleared his throat in a loud, decisive manner, instantly quelling the nervous murmur of voices. “I have been psychically brought up to speed through six simultaneous mental interactions with The Alliance,” he announced. With a sharp snap of his fingers, the solid front wall transformed into a large video screen, a split display showing half of the meeting room and half of the empty space just outside the spacecraft.

“The Alliance has meticulously reviewed our security recordings from both inside the meeting hall and the ship’s exterior over the last twenty-four hours,” he explained, his tone growing ever more intense. “Initially, there were only routine discussions and normal interactions within the hall, and nothing unusual was recorded outside, until exactly fifteen thirty-two hours.”

As he spoke, anger flared on his face with every word, his features tightening with a mixture of frustration and disbelief. After a brief pause to steady himself, he continued, “At that precise moment, one of our fourteen leaders changed; she regressed to a child in every manner of expression and behavior.”

The video replayed the critical moment in excruciating detail. The screen showed her rising abruptly from her seat, clutching her chest in a pained grip, only to collapse onto the floor. Other world leaders rushed to her side, and to our collective amazement, the woman began to crawl desperately, her attempts to stand failing miserably.

“She was physically touched by three of the world leaders,” the general explained gravely, “before being swiftly escorted by the IDS to the ship’s infirmary, where she was immediately quarantined. This catastrophe began just two hours ago.”

My voice, trembling with a mix of shock and apprehension, managed to break the charged silence. “Sir, may I speak?” I offered timidly.

His response was curt and final: “No, you may not.”

I was back in bed.

Blog 26: The Attack, Part 2

More and more lately when I wake up from a dream, I return to the same dream when I fall back asleep. But this was the first time I returned to an OBE exactly where I left off.

“Officer, are you with us?” the general barked, his tone laced with unmistakable irritation as he fixed his steely gaze upon me.

“Yes, sir,” I replied swiftly, nodding with a firm, brisk precision that spoke of discipline and urgency.

The general’s voice grew more deliberate as he continued, “The Head of State involved in what we’ll call ‘the incident’ was in perfect health just a week ago. That was when all the world’s leaders underwent extensive physical exams before departing Earth for our annual conference. Now, the Alliance is deeply concerned that an external force may be maneuvering behind the scenes.”

He paused several long moments, as if absorbing new, urgent information that flickered across his mind. “There is now reason to believe that a newly developed cloaking device may have allowed a warship to infiltrate our airspace. Our video recordings are being fed through an advanced sensor scan—technology that can detect anomalies even when masked by that very device.”

In that instant, the wall video blinked into darkness before flickering back to life. Almost imperceptibly at first, then unmistakably, an alien warship materialized on the screen. The entire room fell into a heavy silence, each of us grappling with the magnitude of this unforeseen alien presence.

Abruptly, the inside video appeared. Though faint, the outline of a tall, slender figure could be discerned as it moved with eerie precision to inject a female Head of State with an unknown substance. In an instant as disconcerting as the injection, the figure vanished and with it, the alien warship dissolved into nothingness. Without a word, the general exited his office, leaving a heavy, unspoken tension lingering in the air.

In an attempt to regain some semblance of calm and candid conversation, the other officers and I gathered in the ship’s recreation center, a space that felt more relaxed and inviting compared to the austere corridors of command. As we settled around a table with comforting ease, Tanaka Isamu, our head of intelligence, found us and sat down with purposeful deliberation.

“Word just reached that the thirteen remaining Heads of State aren’t leaving the meeting room anytime soon,” Tanaka Isamu announced in a low, measured tone. His eyes flickered with the weight of the news. “The Alliance has classified this as CW—Chemical Warfare—a type of armament that’s been galactically banned for over a century.”

A rumbling of disbelief rippled through our group. One officer leaned forward, voice edged with concern. “What was the chemical that was injected into Head of State Aggarwal? And why deploy a substance designed not to kill, but merely to incapacitate?”

“I’ll know more soon enough,” Tanaka Isamu replied, his tone with both urgency and caution. “They want to be absolutely certain before making any further disclosures.”

No sooner had his words settled when nearly fifty of us received an urgent mental summons, an unspoken command to instantly converge in the military assembly room. The corridors filled with silent, hurried steps as we all made our way to the designated area, the air thick with apprehension. Upon our arrival, the general was already at the podium. Normally robust and commanding, he now bore a frail, almost haunted look—as if the specter of death himself followed in his footsteps.

“Rumors are spreading about the situation we find ourselves in,” the general began, his voice resonating with both authority and a subdued melancholy. “I will be transparent with you and take as much time as necessary to explain everything I know, step by step. My speech may intermittently pause as I receive updates. However, let there be no questions, no interruptions, and certainly no emotional outbursts. This session might be long, but I promise to tell you every detail and no one will be allowed to leave until the briefing is complete. Is that clear?”

A resounding chorus of “Yes, sir!” echoed throughout the room, a unified response born of duty and the gravity of the moment.

Blog #27: The Attack, Part 3

“We’ve determined the planet responsible for the attack through an in-depth analysis of their warship. They had assumed that anonymity would allow them to strike and vanish without a trace. Let me be clear, the planet in question is not a member of The Alliance. It is inhabited by one of the most technologically advanced species we’ve ever encountered. Their ultimate aim was immortality and given their near-complete dismissal of any spiritual afterlife, they viewed death as the final, unacceptable end.

“For two long centuries, they toiled in research until finally proclaiming that they had discovered a cure for aging and death. News of immortality rippled around the globe. Their test subjects became beings who could not suffer a mortal demise; wounds healed in a flash and diseases vanished as if by magic. In this relatively small world of fifty million inhabitants, five hundred thousand fortunate souls received what they branded the ‘cure.’

Elements of this image are furnished by NASA.

“However, after about a year of blissful existence, an unforeseen transformation occurred. The drug instigated a dramatic shift in metabolism, encouraging the growth of a parasitic organism within the brain, a mutated form of cysticercosis that led to severe, relentless brain deterioration. However, because of immortality, the deterioration wasn’t fatal.

“What ensued was a tragedy: each affected subject regressed to the mental faculties of an infant, an immortal infant whose physical form remained that of the day they were infected. The resulting chaos was swift and all-consuming. Half a million individuals found themselves stripped of any semblance of normal life. They required endless care and support, a burden that, in theory, might persist forever.

“Bad went to catastrophic for this planet, as the disease evolved into a contagious malady that began to spread through mere physical contact. Any new injections immediately resulted in immortality and severe brain deterioration. Any touch to an infected person’s uncovered skin also resulted in immortality and severe brain deterioration, but the symptoms didn’t appear for about two hours. Despite having no signs of the disease, though, the newly infected were contagious from the moment they were infected.

“In their desperation, a radical political party rose to power on the promise of eliminating the ‘mutants.’ With ruthless efficiency, they seized control of the military. Within a year, they had subjugated the entire planet. The Alliance, though deeply concerned, was bound by limited authority when it came to interfering in non-aligned planets’ internal affairs, as long as such actions didn’t violate the rights of any other world within our fold.

“Not long after these events unfolded, a small cadre of outraged military and scientific personnel, including one of the very scientists responsible for the drug injections, commandeered a warship. They harbored an intense disdain for Earth, dismissing it as weak, pathetically tethered to archaic religious customs and belief systems. In a furious, vengeful frenzy, they resolved to infect us with a disease they knew would devastate our world.

“They were a species of staggering intellect, fully aware that their actions would soon render their planet devoid of life. Yet the alternative, an existence shackled by the consequences of their drug, was far more abhorrent to them. Their atheist beliefs scoffed at notions of heaven, hell, or any afterlife; in their rational minds, such ideas were mere fables for the masses.

“As you are all aware, earlier today Head of State Aggarwal fell victim to a terror attack,” continued General Nielson, his tone heavy with the weight of duty and existential dread. “We rapidly traced the source of the attack. Although I am constrained by security protocols from divulging further sensitive details, I can confirm that as of one hour ago, our universe has lost one habitable planet.”

For a fleeting moment, a few claps and exclamations of grim jubilation echoed through the room before silence reclaimed the space. “I’ve just received an urgent message regarding a top-level meeting I must attend,” the general announced abruptly. “The head of Military Counterintelligence, Tanaka Isamu, has been fully briefed and will carry on the proceedings in my stead. Thank you.”

The general took a step, then turned around. “This might very well be the last time I see all of you. You may recall that the Population Control Measure, approved nearly eighty years ago when Earth’s life expectancy was edging toward one hundred and ten years, involved the implantation of chips in all newborns, capping their lifespan at exactly seventy-five years. The so-called ‘death chip’ was introduced as a desperate measure to ensure our species’ survival amid rampant overpopulation. When you’re twenty-five years old, it sounds like a visionary solution; but when you’re seventy-four years, eleven and a half months old, it loses its appeal dramatically.”

Not a single dry eye was seen as the entire assembly of fifty officers rose in unison to salute their venerable general one last time. Then, it was Tanaka Isamu’s turn to step to the stage. Drawing a deep, steadying breath, he prepared to address us once more.

Before Tanaka Isamu could begin, a voice from the crowd called out in a mix of desperation and hope, “There must be a vaccine or cure!”

Shaking his head, Tanaka Isamu replied in a tone of urgent finality, “I don’t have much time, as the situation has escalated far beyond anyone’s initial estimates. The cure for mortality creates immortality and the infection. With immortality comes immunity, immunity to all diseases not caused by the cure itself. And immunity to any vaccine, as the body cannot tell the difference between a disease and a cure. They’re both blocked.”

Skepticism rippled through the crowd. “So, you’re saying we’re destined to have undying, fully mature infants roaming the streets? Like some sort of ancient zombie movie?”

Frustration flashing in his eyes, Tanaka Isamu’s voice cut through the chatter. “I don’t have time for this!” he snapped before storming off the stage, leaving us all to grapple with the enormity of his words and the uncertain fate awaiting us.

I was back in bed.

Blog #28: The Indoor City, Part 4

Nearly a month had passed before I experienced another OBE, yet I couldn’t shake the vivid memory of the previous one. The thought of a disease so virulent and incurable haunted my mind, its relentless potential to spread gnawing at every moment. I kept wondering: what fate had befallen my colleagues?

That fateful night, as the veil between worlds thinned once more, I found myself standing at the welcoming entrance of a cozy café nestled within the indoor city. The ambiance was as inviting as ever; friends and familiar faces greeted me by name, their warm smiles and gentle nods infusing the space with comfort and trust. At a table illuminated by the ambient glow of soft overhead lights, sat Three Twenty One. His presence was commanding yet reassuring; he greeted me with a strong, resolute handshake and a hearty, “Welcome back.”

“Thanks,” I replied, a mixture of relief and longing shaping my tone. “I really miss this place. It feels like home to me.” Moments later, two cups of tea, their steam swirling into the air and carrying a delicate herbal fragrance, were set before me. I lifted one, savoring its warmth and the promise of familiarity.

Three Twenty One’s expression turned solemn as he broke the uncomfortable silence. “I know why you’re here,” he said, his voice calm and devoid of unnecessary emotion. “I know what you’ve endured. You crave answers.”

“I do,” I admitted softly.

He drew in a deep, steadying breath before continuing. “I’ll reveal what I can, but be warned, the truths I share aren’t gentle on the soul. Listen without interruption, please.”

I nodded, bracing myself for what was to come.

“When Ms. Aggarwal was attacked,” he began in a measured tone, “it wasn’t only the three Heads of State who fell victim by coming into contact with her. In the chaos that ensued, after Ms. Aggarwal toppled from her chair, three corporals happened upon the scene. They witnessed her struggle and rushed to offer assistance. Tragically, as they reached out to help, two of them became infected.

“As more was discovered about the virus, those in power chose to erase the incident from surveillance footage. They couldn’t risk anyone learning that even their staunch protectors, designated as soldiers with the highest discipline, could inadvertently become carriers of a contagion so extreme.”

A heavy silence fell over our conversation as he continued. “As you might imagine, the disease spread like wildfire, mirroring the ruthless pace of the outbreak on the originally infected planet. A vast portion of Earth’s population, gripped by fear and desperation, demanded the extermination of what they dubbed the ‘never dyers.’ For them, the only salvation lay in obliterating the infected completely. According to the new military regime ruling Earth, swift action was needed before the entire planet succumbed.

“They devised a plan that involved the use of newly engineered neutron bombs, designed to annihilate large clusters of ‘never dyers’ while sparing structures from ruin. Meanwhile, one uninfected continent served as a sanctuary where the super-rich and influential retreated, secure in their wealth and power, to live out the remainder of their days in comfort.”

His tone deepened as he shifted the narrative. “But not everyone shared that cold calculus. A deeply spiritual faction believed, without a shred of doubt, that the Most Highs had orchestrated a rescue plan for Earth in the wake of the CW attack. In their eyes, a grand design was in place: a plan for the inhabitants of Earth to ascend to a higher level of existence by becoming attuned to the life circuits.

“In a desperate bid to control the outbreak of ‘never dyers,’ a great summit was convened, one that brought together military brass and esteemed religious and spiritual leaders. Yet, the military officers, mostly unversed in the ethereal mysteries of faith, found the notion of entrusting their fate to an unseen deity and an expansive, seven-universe spiritual hierarchy utterly foreign and incomprehensible to them.

“In many other probable Earths at a similar stage of development, a revered high-ranking spiritual leader emerged, someone whose wisdom and influence could negotiate a balance that allowed the mysterious ‘bug’ solution to reach its intended potential: the spiritual evolution of all humanity. Regrettably, in our probable future, an ill-fated incident, one I cannot speak of, prevented this enlightened leader from manifesting his potential. The summit collapsed into failure, paving the way for a mass bombing campaign. This disastrous attempt to eliminate the ‘never dyers’ eventually escalated into The War, nearly wiping out the human race, sparing only the thirty indoor cities and roving packs of ‘never dyers.’

“In the beginning,” he said quietly, “humanity was granted the gift of free will. With that freedom, however, came the profound obligation to choose between the ways of God and those of evil. Sadly, in this probable future, Earth made a choice that led to ruin, a fate that relegated the planet to little more than a temporary staging ground.”

He leaned back, his eyes reflecting a deep sorrow intermingled with resolve. “Through your OBEs and astral projections, you have subconsciously ventured into this dark future. It is only by experiencing and confronting evil that you can truly understand it and, by extension, yourself. Those who embrace this difficult journey might just increase their chances of living on an Earth spared from war, a planet poised for the next level of immortal existence, where the life circuits pulse vibrantly through your veins.”

Wat Rat Prakhong Tham temple in Nonthaburi, Thailand

He concluded with a tone that resonated like an ancient proverb, “Remember this ageless wisdom: ‘If you know the enemy and know yourself, you need not fear the result of a hundred battles. If you know yourself but not the enemy, every victory will be shadowed by a defeat. And if you know neither, you will falter in every battle.’”

“Evil is the enemy,” Three Twenty One said, his final words imbued with a weight that lingered in the air.

Before the silence could settle further, I managed one last, trembling question. “Please, one last thing. About those creatures I saw outside the city mall. Were they . . .”

His reply was curt, laden with a finality that chilled me, “Yes, they’re from your time with the general and Tanaka Isamu.”

Stunned into speechlessness, I felt the awful truth dawning upon me, a truth I had known deep down, though I had desperately wished to deny it. “Over time, their injured brains have mended somewhat,” he explained slowly, “but they still possess the mental capacity of a child no older than five years of age.”

And with that, the revelations settled around me like a heavy, inescapable shroud.

I was back in bed.

Blog #29: The Decision, Part 1

Two spiritual beings met in the command center of a spacecraft orbiting Earth. The first was a tall, slender gentleman whose regal bearing was accentuated by his formal black military uniform, its gold trim glinting like molten metal. His piercing, gunmetal-gray eyes burned with unwavering intensity, strikingly contrasting with his albino complexion, giving him an otherworldly presence.

Also adorned in impeccable formal attire, Caligastia radiated confidence that verged on arrogance. His voice, smooth yet decisive, filled the space as he declared, “I am being considered for the post of Planetary Prince of Earth, a position for which I am eminently well qualified. This is my sixth attempt to receive approval from the Celestial Fathers, a testament to my persistence and capability.”

A heavy silence descended in response to his proclamation. Caligastia, an imposing figure standing seven feet tall with a muscular, sculpted physique and a bronzed visage that spoke of celestial might, slowly strode toward a transparent crystalline window. Gazing past the darkness of space, he marveled at the beauty of a continent blanketed by Earth’s fifth glacial advance.

With a confident smile curling on his lips, Caligastia turned towards his superior and took a deliberate step closer. After a few moments of uncomfortable silence, he resumed his fervent declaration: “No one has richer preparatory experience or brighter prospects for success than I.” His tone blended determination with an almost imperious certainty.

With a gradual and scornful shake of his head, the Sovereign finally acknowledged Caligastia, directing a look of disdain at him. “Your petition for the post of Planetary Prince has been disapproved on several previous occasions,” he said, his voice resonating with quiet authority, “yet you persist in your ambition.”

Taken aback by the cold reception, Caligastia bowed his head slightly, his pride momentarily faltering. “I am fully capable of handling every task required of a Planetary Prince,” he insisted, drawing a deep, steadying breath as if to banish the chill of rejection.

The Sovereign made his way to the sleek monitor on his desk. With a smooth flick of his wrist, the screen came alive with a flurry of flashing data. Turning back toward Caligastia, his form subtly expanded as he advanced, his presence now radiated an intimidating authority. “I have inspected the credentials of ninety-nine of your staff,” he spoke with a poisonous look, “and one is conspicuously absent.”

Turning back toward Caligastia, his form subtly expanded as he advanced, his presence now radiating an intimidating authority. “I have inspected the credentials of ninety-nine of your staff,” he intoned with venom in his gaze, “and one is conspicuously absent.”

Caligastia met the piercing stare without a hint of trepidation. “I have yet to decide upon my third in command,” he admitted, his voice calm, yet laced with underlying tension. The unyielding look between these two powerful beings charged the air with anticipation.

A wry chuckle escaped the Sovereign as his physique gradually returned to its customary form. “Why are you having difficulty, Caligastia?” his tone laced with both curiosity and disbelief. “Tens of millions possess the proper ascension training and the leadership qualities necessary to serve as your third in command.”

Caligastia’s expression hardened, “That is precisely the problem, sir. I desire someone who is lacking in ascension training.” His words were measured yet provocative.

Eyebrows were raised.

Caligastia, sensing that he’d hit upon a sensitive subject, escalated his argument. “I feel far too much time and energy are expended on training ascending mortals.”

“As do I,” said the Sovereign, intrigued. A moment of contemplation transpired. “Continue. Who will head your staff on Earth?”

Caligastia, beads of sweat forming at his temples, strolled to the refreshment table. Now I’m in control, he thought, pouring himself a drink. “My second in command will be Hammone of the Lanonandek order. My chief of staff and third in command will come from an early ascension training school.” Caligastia stood with his back to the Sovereign. “I believe that a personality with a lack of credentials will be easy to control and manipulate if support of the staff is needed in the future.”

In an instant, the Sovereign’s demeanor shifted to one of unbridled fury. The very spacecraft trembled with his inner rage as he bellowed, “Just what, Caligastia, do you anticipate happening that will require the manipulation of your staff?” His entire body visibly expanded with a forceful, inner rage. “Your staff will unwaveringly support you and follow your lead without the need for any such manipulation!”

At that precise moment, a deafening boom echoed as a dazzling flash of energy erupted just outside the craft. Caligastia’s glass shattered on the floor.

“Should you harbor any doubts about the unwavering loyalty of any member of your staff,” the Sovereign commanded, “remove them immediately! Is that understood?”

Caligastia spun around. “Yes, sir,” he said. Priority number one, staff loyalty, he thought, his mind reeling.

The Sovereign then fixed him with a final, imperious gaze. “Do you have anything further to add before these proceedings are formally enacted?” His voice resonated with absolute command.

“No, my lord,” Caligastia replied, blood drained from his face.

The spiritual being’s tone was deep and ominous. “I, Lucifer, System Sovereign of Radania, absolute ruler of 608 inhabited worlds located in over five hundred different physical solar systems, now officially proclaim you, Caligastia, Planetary Prince of Earth.”

Lucifer vanished.

Blog #30: The Decision, Part 2

Elements of this image are furnished by NASA.

The classroom’s front wall was transformed into a vast cosmic canvas, an immense screen alive with swirling crab nebulae, luminous colored gases, and billions of flickering stars. The display, pulsing with the very soul of the universe, vibrated and radiated an intense, ethereal glow that seemed to breathe life into the training of these young, eager minds.

“A part of our local universe, Nebadon,” whispered the schoolteacher, her voice soft and resonant. The modest, unadorned interior of the small classroom boasted rugged planked hardwood floors, freshly whitewashed walls that gleamed in the morning light, towering double-hung windows, and a lofty nine-foot ceiling. She paused a moment, allowing her gaze to wander over her class, and a gentle smile warmed her face as she caught sight of Lisa and Mendal sitting in the front row, their youthful expressions brimming with anticipation and wonder.

Mendal exuded a serious, contemplative air. His short, neatly cropped brown hair framed his blue eyes, a look of innocent earnestness reminiscent of a country boy untouched by the complexities of city life. Beside him, Lisa, with her impeccably braided ash blond hair cascading down her back, offered a playful, coquettish smile as she tenderly squeezed Mendal’s hand, conveying an unspoken promise of support.

Elements of this image are furnished by NASA.

At that moment, an image of a distant galaxy in the Ursa Major constellation unfurled on the screen. “Behold, the Pinwheel Galaxy Messier,” she declared, extending her arm with a graceful flourish as if conducting a silent symphony of the stars.

Taking a few measured moments to collect her thoughts, the teacher seated herself on the edge of her polished mahogany desk. Suddenly, her head jerked upward as though summoned by a sudden, invisible force, a mental broadcast that crackled through her consciousness.

“I’ve just been informed that this will be Mendal’s last class,” she announced softly, glancing meaningfully at him. The pause that followed was heavy with expectancy before she reiterated the message in a measured tone: “Mendal will now undergo his final testing. If he passes, he will immediately embark upon his ascension career.”

The room erupted into a flurry of hushed chatter and excited gossip. Lisa’s startled gasp punctuated the commotion, for none of the students had anticipated that Mendal might be ready to graduate so suddenly.

Again, the teacher’s head snapped upward, triggered by another sudden mental transmission. With an assured nod, she quieted the room. “Lisa will accompany Mendal, and Radania will serve as the launch point for their ascension,” she explained. “They will commence at the very bottom of the evolutionary cycle, specifically with the human level of development.”

A stunned Tyler couldn’t help but interject, his voice filled with incredulity: “You mean Mendal is ready to begin his ascension career? And at the human level? Isn’t that regarded as the most challenging in all physical reality?”

The teacher hesitated, uncertainty flickering across her features, as she tilted her head upward. After a moment of reflective silence, she slowly offered a tentative nod, confirming the reality of the situation.

In a heartbeat, the children swarmed around Lisa and Mendal. One close friend leaned in and whispered, “Everyone has always assumed you’d be the one ready for graduation, but how could Mendal possibly be?”

Another friend, with empathetic eyes, placed a comforting hand on Lisa’s shoulder, softly asking, “Will you become a Life Carrier, Lisa?”

Lisa’s voice wavered as she stammered, “I hope so,” revealing her inner conflict and uncertainty about the abrupt twist her life had just taken.

Not to be outdone by his companion, Mendal added with a quavering tone of vulnerability, “I want to be a Life Carrier, too.” The two then rose from their seats and embraced each other warmly, a silent pact of mutual support in the face of destiny.

Tyler, unable to resist a final jab, sneered playfully, “Yeah, we all know you just want to follow your girlfriend—what Lisa wants, Mendal wants,” prompting several of the other students to nod in earnest agreement.

With the session drawing to a close, the teacher shut off the radiant wall screen and quietly exited the room, leaving behind an air filled with both wonder and trepidation.

As the discussion lingered, one classmate’s voice broke through the crowd with genuine concern: “We don’t have to live actual physical lives to advance. Do you realize what you’re getting into?”

Mendal, however, flashed a fearless smile as he strode confidently out of the classroom. “If I’m going to take a ride through life, I want it to be the wildest ride possible!” he declared, his words ringing clear with the promise of an audacious and extraordinary future.

Blog 31: The Decision, Part 3

Stepping into the principal’s office, Mendal settled into the solitary chair available, a faint creak breaking the silence as he did so. The air was thick with anticipation.

“Mendal, the results from your finals are in and you have passed,” the principal announced with a warm smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes. Rising from his imposing mahogany desk, the principal gestured for Mendal to join him by the expansive wall screen. The screen flickered to life, unveiling Mendal’s new assignment.

Elements of this image are furnished by NASA.

The image shifted, revealing the young planet Earth, its surface partially veiled by swirling masses of cloud. Its oceans and continents bathed in a celestial light that was both captivating and humbling. “This sphere is relatively insignificant,” the principal continued, “yet it would be an honorable start for a young, inexperienced personality such as yourself.”

The principal typed a series of commands on the keyboard. The monitor displayed a message, which he read aloud with solemnity. “Life does not spontaneously appear in the universes; the Life Carriers must initiate it on the barren planets. After planting life on new worlds, they remain for long periods to nurture, support and develop this fragile existence.”

A surge of exhilaration coursed through Mendal, and he whooped with joy, his exuberant voice reverberating down the hallways. The principal’s expression shifted into a frown, a silent admonishment for the outburst. Mendal, overtaken by a brief wave of embarrassment, quickly regained his composure, nodded respectfully and exited the office, his footsteps echoing softly behind him.

Blog #32: The Decision, Part 4

Mendal and his two associates arrived at their designated meeting point on Earth, nestled within the vast Eurasian-African life implantation region. Before them unfolded a breathtaking panorama: a lush forest draped in vibrant greenery, interspersed with cascading waterfalls under the warm caress of the summer sun. Their campsite lay gently against a babbling stream whose waters wound their way toward a distant, shimmering ocean bay.

At the edge of the campsite, the tall, ivory-skinned female Life Carrier took a moment to unwind in the soft, muted glow of her tent as she readied herself for the new day. She stretched her long limbs, feeling the tautness in her muscles, then moved with an effortless, measured grace toward the babbling stream nearby, an intricately designed instrument pack slung over her shoulder. Upon reaching the water’s edge, Lisa knelt with care, her movements deliberate and fluid. She submerged the instrument into the shimmering water, testing it for traces of sodium chloride. Each of her actions was precise, her fingers moving with a practiced ease.

After finishing her morning work, Lisa ascended the steep, earthen embankment, her footsteps stirring particles of dust in the golden light. She made her way toward the expansive research facility that was fully equipped with an array of high-tech equipment, each piece meticulously designed to support their scientific endeavors.

There, standing quietly with a demeanor carved from experience, Senior Life Carrier Don awaited her arrival. His jet-black hair and sharply chiseled Asian features lent him an air of quiet authority as he greeted her. “Lisa, how’s the testing going today? Any increase in the sodium chloride content?” he asked, his voice calm yet resonant with genuine concern.

“Miniscule,” Lisa replied softly. “However, every little increase draws us nearer to our goal.” A subtle smile brightened her face before a wistful sigh escaped her lips. “To be completely honest, Don, I wish I could work here forever. This serene, earthbound existence is utterly addictive. I could live on Earth for an eternity.”

Don’s lips curled in a light, knowing chuckle as he reminded her, “Remember, we only have half a million years to go.”

Lisa rolled her eyes as they entered the building. Lisa’s eyes wandered until they spotted Mendal, hunched over a computer terminal tucked away in a dim corner, completely absorbed in his work with the single-minded focus of a man who lived solely for his project. Mendal’s lanky figure towered yet seemed almost fragile; his hair clung untidily to his head and his rounded shoulders betrayed the long hours spent slouched over technology. His long, slender face remained unshaven, a rugged testament to his dedication, his eyes never wavering from the flickering screen.

Breaking the silence, Lisa remarked with an involuntary smile, “I’m glad you appointed him as our computer expert instead of me.”

“So am I, Lisa,” Don replied warmly, a teasing edge in his voice. “Computers might never be your forté, but I promise you, one of these days, you’ll get some training.”

At that moment, Mendal finally registered their presence. Rising, he stretched his arms as if discarding the weight of the world and moved toward his colleagues. But before he could reach them, all three abruptly jerked their heads upward as an urgent, shrieking computer warning echoed through the room. In perfect synchrony, Lisa and Mendal raced to the nearest terminals, their hearts quickening as they deciphered the rapidly cascading data on their screens.

“Code BR433, Don,” Lisa announced calmly, her voice steady even as her eyes flicked to Mendal, seeking confirmation.

“Yes, confirmed,” Mendal replied without hesitation. “This is a level one emergency, Don. Can you specify the parameters?”

From behind his terminal, Don’s tone grew grave as he interpreted the incoming data. “A series of corrupted drives have disrupted the computer-controlled life-purification system.”

Lisa’s fingers hovered over her keyboard in a poised command. “You’ll have to restore their memory, Don. Just how serious is this contamination?”

Don’s eyes widened in alarm as he quickly calculated the threat. “There isn’t enough time to manually mend each drive. It might even result in the complete corruption of Earth’s entire biological life pattern supply!”

In a fit of urgency, Mendal sprang up and dashed to a storage compartment. He retrieved a sleek mental-linkage device. “I’m going to network directly with the computer,” he declared, his voice resonating with determination. “We’ve invested far too much time and effort to lose everything now.”

Lisa hurried to Mendal’s side, her eyes pleading for guidance, while Don continued frantically recalculating the risk. “Contamination will commence within minutes,” he warned, the gravity of his words sinking in with each passing moment.

“Lisa, hook me up to the computer terminal immediately!” Mendal shouted. With practiced efficiency, she connected a slender wire from Mendal’s left temple to the waiting terminal. A sudden surge of electrical current seized his neck muscles, causing his eyes to roll back briefly as he spoke through clenched teeth, “Don’t disconnect me, Lisa. I’m delving into the files.”

Several heart-pounding minutes passed with the tension mounting. Finally, Don broke the tense silence: “Nothing’s changed. We’ve got only thirty seconds left, Mendal.”

Undeterred by the faltering psychic-aided method, Mendal bolted to the door of an adjoining chamber. “I’m going to spirit-activate the link,” he announced with a mix of desperation and resolve, “to halt the contamination.”

“No, Mendal!” Don cried out in a frantic plea. “That will cost you your mortal life. Lisa, stop him immediately!”

Lisa’s gaze was locked on Mendal, her eyes wide with both admiration and sorrow, yet she remained silent.

“Remember, I’m in command here, Mendal,” Don insisted, his voice rising as he dashed over from his desk. “There must be another solution.” Grabbing Mendal’s arm in a desperate bid for control, he tried to pull him back from the brink.

In that fleeting moment, a storm of conflicting impulses swirled within Mendal. He hesitated just for a second. I can’t let this disaster happen, he thought resolutely. Earth won’t get another second chance.

With a determined pull, he jerked free from Don’s grasp, opened the chamber door and slipped inside. Within moments, a brilliant flash of blue energy enveloped him as his spirit merged with the computer and his physical form crumbled to the floor, utterly lifeless.

Don and Lisa rushed into the chamber, their faces etched with shock and grief. Without wasting another second, Don smashed open an Emergency RRK with the decisive swing of his hand and retrieved a Myocardial Jet Injector. He moved to Mendal’s inert body, quickly tearing open his shirt to expose his chest. Methodically, he positioned the instrument exactly over Mendal’s heart and adjusted the setting with a sense of urgent precision. Taking a deep, steadying breath, he pushed the injection button and bellowed, “Live, Mendal!”

Yet, after ten agonizing minutes of desperate resuscitation efforts, both Don and Lisa were forced to concede defeat. Mendal was gone. In a hushed, reverent tone, Lisa whispered upward as if addressing an unseen benefactor, “Mendal’s unwavering loyalty to us and to our experiment in life-pattern initiation will ensure that our mission endures. He was truly a devoted Life Carrier.”

✶ ✶ ✶ ✶

In the dim, otherworldly light of a distant command center within his home planet, Lucifer allowed himself a knowing smile as he watched the entire harrowing episode unfold on one of fifty pulsating monitors. “He’s the one, isn’t he?” sneered Satan.

“Yes,” Lucifer replied, “Yes, he is.”

Blog #33: The Decision, Part 5

“Where am I?” Mendal muttered, his voice barely audible as he stepped instinctively through the doorway into an office that resonated with a disquieting sense of familiarity. His eyes darted around the room as his pulse quickened; every detail, the sterile, angular furniture and the faint hum of distant machinery, recalled memories of a place he’d visited before. This was the very room where he had received his Life Carrier assignment and in that moment, the pieces of his memory fell back into place. A nagging question pierced his thoughts: Did I stop the contamination?

A stately figure emerged from behind an impeccably organized desk. The principal’s presence carried both authority and warmth. “Yes, you did,” he asserted softly, his tone resolute yet kind. “But your existence as a Life Carrier on Earth is now complete. You have returned to the Academy.” His words dripped with the weight of destiny, reassurances wrapped in formal decree.

Mendal, his body now reflecting the maturity of twenty-eight years, was visibly overwhelmed by confusion and disorientation. Every fiber of his being seemed to wrestle with the revelation, as if time itself shifted under his feet.

“Mendal, it is good to have you back,” the principal said, his eyes sparkling with an earnest, cheerful intensity. “It is rare indeed for a student to return for reassignment.” The sincerity in his voice mingled with a hint of excitement, a promise that something extraordinary was about to unfold.

With an encouraging smile, the principal drew his arm around Mendal’s shoulders, the gesture both protective and intimate. “Normally, only one life is permitted on Earth,” he explained while leading him down a narrow corridor into an adjacent room. “However, because of your steadfast loyalty to your mission, the Most Highs have conveyed that you may be granted another.” His words resonated with a reverent gravity, as if the cosmic balance had shifted in Mendal’s favor.

The room into which they stepped was meticulously arranged with a cushion sofa and a small glass table. “It appears that someone of significant importance has taken a keen interest in you, Mendal, and there’s even a visitor awaiting,” the principal remarked, his tone laced with both mystery and anticipation before departing.

Left alone, Mendal stood amid the room’s quiet austerity. A new thought flickered in his mind, perhaps a quantum probability computer was hidden somewhere within these walls. Driven by equal parts curiosity and duty, he began to scrutinize the room, his eyes searching every surface for concealed technology.

His attention was captivated by large panels with paintings on the wall behind the sofa, which seemed to beckon with an air of mystery. One of the panels seemed a little worn on the edges, so, with a deliberate tug, the panel, hinged with precision, swung downward to reveal its hidden secret.

Behind it lay a spacious built-in compartment, housing a quantum probability computer. The computer’s complex circuitry and intricate components hinting at untold computational power and potential.

I guess it won’t hurt to take a quick look, Mendal reasoned internally, a blend of daring and apprehension welling in his chest. I want to see where Earth’s headed.

A hesitation crept over him as he considered the strict boundaries of his authority. “It’s against the rules,” he thought, stepping back toward his chair, when suddenly an overwhelming command echoed in his mind: Do it, Mendal. He froze, the room suddenly thick with a powerful, unseen presence.

Do it! the silent command intensified, sending a shiver down his spine. With his heart pounding against his ribcage, Mendal turned back to the device. His fingers struck the keyboard, albeit hesitantly. The screen greeted him with a cascade of enigmatic symbols and commands. In his perplexity, he mused, I don’t know the access code. Then, almost reflexively, his fingers struck the keys in a pattern not governed by his conscious thought: “Access granted. Earth probabilities,” declared a disembodied voice. A mix of relief and unease surged within him.

That was too easy, he thought with a tinge of guilt. As he studied the screen, his eyes widened and his body tensed at the screen’s revelations. In a desperate bid to understand, he hit the replay button, only to be met with the same startling revelation. This can’t be true, he thought, petrified by the emerging reality.

The sudden sound of footsteps broke his concentration. Mendal quickly returned the computer to its hidden position.

He turned to see Lisa entering the room, her presence a welcome anchor amid the storm of his emotions. “Lisa!” he exclaimed, drawing in a deep, steadying breath before striding towards her.

Her smile was gentle and radiant, her embrace warm and enveloping. “I didn’t think I would ever see you again,” she whispered, her tone a blend of relief and wistfulness as she held him tightly.

“I disturbed you. What were you working on?” Lisa asked.

“It’s nothing.”

“I’ve heard you’ll be given another physical life on Earth,” Lisa said softly.

“Nothing’s official yet,” said Mendal, “but it’s in the works.” Soon, he hoped. He was anxious to get back to work.

“Do you know what your assignment will be?” she asked. “I’d be honored to have you return to work with Don and I.”

“They haven’t said yet,” Mendal replied, “but since my life will be on Earth, I imagine I’ll be back with you two.”

Lisa smiled. “Don and I put in a reinstatement request. That should help your cause.”

“Thanks, Lisa.” Mendal put his arm around her and gently squeezed. He couldn’t help but think of all the good times they had as kids back in school, and as Life Carriers. It seemed to him as though they’d always been together. “How’s Don?” he asked.

“Don’s great, as usual. You can’t break that spirit of his,” Lisa said. “Earth has been designated a prototype decimal evolutionary planet. Word is if man doesn’t appear as projected, heads will roll.”

At that precise moment, the principal re-entered the room, his expression serious. “Lisa, Don needs you back on Earth,” he stated, his voice tight with understated urgency.

Lisa, clearly annoyed by the interruption yet maintaining her composure, rolled her eyes and glanced briefly at the principal. With a tender gesture, she pressed a light kiss to Mendal’s forehead and whispered, “It’s been wonderful seeing you, Mendal. I’m so glad I came, though I wish we had more time.”

The principal then addressed Mendal firmly, “Mendal, my assistant is ready to brief you on your assignment.”

Mendal stood and pressed a gentle yet passionate kiss to Lisa’s lips, his gaze smoldering with longing and resolve. “Goodbye, Lisa,” he whispered, his eyes reflecting the intensity of emotions he couldn’t quite conceal.

“Time is crucial,” the principal stressed, his voice a blend of urgency and awe. “I had no idea you would receive this appointment.”

The charged silence that followed spoke volumes about the mysterious path that lay ahead, weaving together duty, desire and the inescapable pull of fate.

Blog #34: The Decision, Part 6

Lisa and Don walked into the brightly lit surgical room at the Planetary Center of Art and Science where one hundred Andonite tribespeople, the best strains of that unique race, lay unconscious in wall-to-wall hospital-like beds, transfusion devices attached to their arms and chests. Circular, transparent spheres levitated above their heads and crackled with electrical current. 

Lisa and Don were checking the status of the Andonites, when a high-pitched noise signaled the arrival of visitors to Earth. “The commission from Gallon,” Lisa said with a sigh of relief. “Finally we can begin the transfusion and implantation process. I’m anxious to get this over with.” 

Don and Lisa quickly walked toward a metallic door at the far end of the room. “I’m curious about how this technique works,” said Don. “We’ve read about it in class but having the chance to view an actual life circuit implantation, along with a life plasm extraction, is a rare opportunity.” 

Don and Lisa waited at the transportation module to greet their guests. A deep zooming sound, followed by a soft thud, gently shook the building, indicating the arrival of the shuttle. “Well, you would think that, Don,” said Lisa with a forced smile. She pressed the button to open the shuttle door. “I’m a little squeamish about the whole thing. The thought of messing with human brains does not excite me.” 

Eight beings stepped out of the module and, without hesitation, proceeded in pairs toward the beds to inspect their patients. They were all about five feet tall. The surgeons wore gowns while the assistants were without exterior clothing to cover their sexless bodies. As they worked, the beings seemed to be receiving mental messages and moved smoothly from bed to bed without apparent need for help; they took no notice of Don or Lisa. Lisa dared not interfere, though she was a bit taken back by these surgeons from space. 

When one of the Gallon doctors began the implantation procedure, the electrical charge generating from the levitating spheres into the minds of the unconscious Andonites greatly increased. Another doctor extracted human plasm, with the help of transfusion machines, and placed the fluid in sealed containers. The process took just a few minutes and seemed to have no noticeable effect on the comatose tribespeople. 

Don pulled out a pad and pencil from his backpack and began taking notes. Remembering the latest news, he turned to Lisa. “I just received notification of Caligastia’s staff assignments. Guess who’s on it.” 

“I can’t imagine we’d know anybody on that list,” she said, hoping Don was referring to himself. “It’s a very prestigious honor just to be considered for a position on his staff.” 

Don put his arm around Lisa’s shoulder and whispered in her ear. “Our friend Mendal.” 

Lisa pulled away and looked at Don. “What!” She looked around making sure her outburst hadn’t disturbed the surgeons. “He wasn’t even ready for his assignment with us.” 

Don, barely able to control the humor he found in his secret, continued with sadistic delight. “Not only that, but he’s also third in command, directly below Hammone!” 

Lisa frowned. “This is very serious,” she muttered, almost to herself. “Something is wrong . . . very wrong. Mendal can’t handle an assignment like that, Don, he’s too inexperienced. Even I would make a better third in command.” 

Don motioned Lisa to quiet down so he could concentrate on the delicate procedures being performed by the Gallon surgeons. I’m going to look into this further, Lisa thought. 

✶ ✶ ✶ ✶ 

Caligastia entered the recovery room of the Planetary Health and Life Center. Fifty male and fifty female flawless, perfectly proportioned, constructed superhumans occupied the very large hospital-like beds. As a nurse read the individual patient charts of these members of the Prince’s staff, Caligastia walked up and spoke to him. “How did the surgical procedures go?” 

“Perfectly,” answered the nurse, handing him a briefcase. “The staff, including your third in command, are now rematerialized in their constructed bodies, attuned to the life circuits of the system and have the life plasm of the tribespeople flowing through their veins. They will soon awaken and have full use of their superbodies.” 

“And the one hundred Andonite tribespeople, where are they?” asked Caligastia. 

“They have fully recovered from last week’s operation,” the nurse replied. “To awaken and have access to the life circuits was a shock, but they have been handled with great care and compassion. They are touring Dalamatia as we speak.” 

Caligastia scanned the room, as if looking for someone. “Has Hammone, my second in command, arrived?” Caligastia called out to the nurse. “He’s late. I wanted him here to personally inspect the staff before they become conscious. But it’s too late for that now.” 

“Yes, sir, he just arrived,” the nurse replied as he walked out of the room. 

✶ ✶ ✶ ✶ 

Gazing out his office window, Hammone twitched when the door opened. Caligastia and three subordinates entered. Hammone spoke nervously, his frail build and shorter stature a stark contrast to the physique of the four men standing in front of him. “I have been wanting to talk with you, Caligastia.” He looked at the others and hesitated. “In private.” 

“Anything you need to say to me, you can say in front of my aides,” Caligastia replied, with a hint of anger. 

“I have been going over the staff assignments and I have a problem with one,” Hammone said, fidgeting. He removed his hat and revealed a shaved head. “A big problem.” 

“And what, may I ask, could that ‘big problem’ be?” Caligastia asked. His aides took a step back at his harsh tone. 

“I have an objection with the appointment of Mendal as third in command,” Hammone said. “He has no experience, training or-”

“You, Hammone, worry about your assignments and responsibilities!” Caligastia yelled. “You arrived late and then didn’t immediately report to your supervisor! That is me, Hammone, in case you’ve forgotten! I run this operation, and I will not be told what to do by anyone but Lucifer! Is that understood?”

“Yes . . . yes, sir. I . . . I just haven’t met with Mendal yet and I was concerned that he wouldn’t be ready for his duties,” Hammone stammered. “When I meet him, I’ll check him out and report to you, sir.” 

“I’ve already checked him out,” Caligastia said, regaining control of his anger. “He arrived early.” Caligastia glanced toward Mendal and motioned him forward. “Mendal, step up and meet your supervisor.” 

Mendal did as instructed. Hammone, with a startled and embarrassed look, reached out his hand in apology, but Mendal refused to shake it. He looked Hammone square in the eyes, but his face betrayed no emotion. 

“Mendal, give Hammone a comprehensive overview of our progress,” Caligastia said, obviously irritated. “Leave out no details.”

“Yes, sir,” Mendal took a deep breath and tilted his head upward slightly. “Outside Dalamatia dwell the inferior and primitive human tribes, tribes of all sizes and colors. The first students of our schools will be one hundred selected survivors of the first humans of Earth. They represent the best strains of that unique race and have been given life circuit implants by the surgeons of Gallon.  

“During that process, samples of their life plasm were extracted,” Mendal continued. “They will become staff assistants and will be trained to eventually become teachers and leaders of their people. They, as well as I, are now attuned to the life circuits of the system and have the life plasm of the tribespeople flowing through our veins.”

Mendal took a deep breath. “After my staff’s one hundred Andonite assistants have graduated from our schools, they will be sent back to their tribes. Another one hundred will be selected, given the life circuit implants and put through our schooling. This process will be repeated indefinitely.” 

“Thank you, Mendal,” Caligastia said, vigorously slapping him on the back. “Now that you have access to the life circuits and are on the same level as Hammone, let’s just see how long it takes for you to replace him.” The four chuckled and left the room. Hammone lowered his head, sighed and went back to looking out the window.  

Blog #35: The Decision, Part 7

Lisa blinked away the lingering remnants of sleep as she forced herself out of bed, feeling as though every step pulled her further from the warmth of her covers. Her groggy eyes glanced toward the glowing digital clock on her nightstand. The harsh blue glow announced 8:00 a.m. Frustration tightened her features as she shook her head and trudged toward the bathroom for a revitalizing morning shower.

Just then, a sharp, insistent rap sounded at the front door, echoing through the quiet early-morning stillness and sending a jolt of alarm through her. She spun around and glanced once more at the clock before raising her voice, “Who is it?”

“Your chauffeur, ma’am,” came a firm and measured reply from beyond the door, the tone laced with unyielding authority. “I was informed you’d be expecting my arrival.”

“At eight in the morning?” Lisa replied, her annoyance mingling with confusion.

“Yes, ma’am,” the voice repeated calmly. “I’m here to accompany you to Lucifer’s private transport. You are scheduled to discuss the correspondence.”

“The correspondence?” she echoed, her mind racing.

“You dispatched a personal communication to Lucifer at precisely 18:02 hours yesterday, ma’am,” explained the voice methodically. “He wishes to discuss its contents with you in person.”

A chill of anxiety crept over Lisa. How could he have received it so swiftly? The question ricocheted through her mind as she hesitated, frozen for a moment in uncertainty about her next move.

“Now, ma’am,” prompted the now-impatient voice from outside.

Her mounting anxiety transformed abruptly into unadulterated fear. Clutching a sense of urgency, Lisa left the comforting confines of her bathroom and hurried toward the front door. “You’ll have to wait just a few minutes outside while I prepare,” she blurted, her tone flustered as she attempted to compose herself. “This is all a complete surprise.”

“Yes, ma’am,” the voice replied without a trace of warmth.

A scant fifteen minutes later, now fully dressed in a meticulously chosen ensemble befitting an audience with the System Sovereign, Lisa reached for the life circuit communicator perched on her desk. Drawing in a silent breath and summoning her innate psychic energy, she projected her thoughts to Don.

“Don, pick up,” she implored.

“Lisa, what is it?” came Don’s measured voice after a brief pause.

“I’m sorry for calling so early,” she whispered, her tone barely audible as she shielded her trembling hand over the communicator. “I—I sent a personal communication to Lucifer regarding my concerns about Mendal’s promotion. I conveyed that someone is making a grave error, Mendal is not equipped for that level of responsibility.”

“There’s good news in that, Lisa. You should expect to hear back from his staff within a week or so,” Don replied, his voice calm and reassuring.

“Don, I sent that message only ten hours ago,” she said with a tremor of mounting fear, her voice cracking. “Now his chauffeur is at my door,” she whispered urgently. “Lucifer has requested a personal meeting. That never happens, Don.”

There was a pause, heavy with unspoken worries. “No, it doesn’t,” Don agreed after a moment. “What else did you include in the letter, Lisa?”

A hesitant whisper escaped her lips. “I knew I shouldn’t have…”

“What did you say?” he pressed.

“I was angry,” she admitted in a low, anguished tone. “I declared that I am more qualified than Mendal.”

“Lisa, what exactly did you tell him?”

Her confession tumbled out in a startled rush, “I told him I was sending a copy of the correspondence to Michael of Nebadon, but I didn’t really mean it, Don. I only wanted to prove how earnest I was.”

Before Don could respond, the voice outside sharpened to a venomous directive: “Ma’am, if you do not come out now, I am coming in!”

“Yes, yes, just one more minute,” she shouted desperately through the door. Then, quieter and more fearful, she urged, “Don, I’m — Don, are you there?” But the line was dead. Lisa’s hands began to tremble uncontrollably as she walked the short distance to the door and cautiously opened it.

Standing before her was an imposing figure, a seven-foot-tall human form fully encased in a glistening metallic shell that reflected the scant light in eerie patterns. “Who, or what, are you?” she demanded, her voice a mix of wonder and trepidation as her eyes widened in disbelief.

“I act only under Lucifer’s direct orders,” the machine-like voice intoned. “We must depart immediately.” They disappeared in a beam of energy.

✶ ✶ ✶ ✶

In what felt like a disjointed dream, Lisa fidgeted with a delicate button on her blouse. However, a sudden sound, defying location as if emerging from nowhere, drew her attention, prompting her to straighten abruptly. With a resigned sigh, she retrieved a compact mirror and a hairbrush from her handbag and began combing her hair for what must have been the third time in the past half hour. How long had she been here? Three hours? Four? The passing of time had lost all meaning.

The room she now occupied was sparse and unfurnished, save for a sleek black leather couch upon which she was seated. The walls, painted in a dull grayish brown, were completely bare, and not a single adornment hung from the barren ceiling. Though the space was suffused with a steady, almost otherworldly light, Lisa could not determine its source, it seemed as if the very walls themselves emitted a soft glow.

Determined to reclaim control, she stood and declared resolutely, “I’m leaving.” Perhaps her meeting had been canceled, an unannounced change that rendered her wait futile. She took three tentative steps forward but then halted abruptly, her eyes scanning the room in sheer astonishment.

Where the door through which she had entered once stood, there was no sign of it! The sole remaining door bore the carved inscription “System Sovereign” in elegant mahogany, evoking an impression of untouchable authority. A realization gripped her: no one ever entered that room uninvited. Her eyes widened, haunted by the feeling of being observed.

An unsettling sensation crept over her, as if she were detached from her body, giving the environment an eerie, surreal vibe. As she pivoted to return to the desolate couch, her head began to spin wildly and in a dizzying instant, she perceived herself hurtling through an endless tunnel. A terrifying sensation of free fall overwhelmed her, as if the very fabric of the planet’s atmosphere were collapsing around her. She plummeted toward a hard, unforgiving ground, feeling the crushing force of rock and clay as she descended deep into the earth.

The further she sank, the more intense the heat and pressure became, until at last she crashed down from the heights of an expansive underground cavern onto a bed of jagged red rock. The pain was excruciatingly real, a searing agony that left her breathless. What’s happening to me? she thought in abject horror, recoiling from the overwhelming sensations.

Then suddenly, a piercing thought invaded her consciousness: “So, Lisa, I’m making a big mistake by promoting Mendal,” Lucifer’s voice resonated directly in her mind, cold and accusatory.

“No! That’s none of my business,” she protested internally, her thoughts wracked with disbelief and indignation.

“You seem to believe it is,” the voice countered, its tone dripping with derision.

In that torturous moment, grotesque visions of anguished, tormented souls exploded before her eyes, manifesting all around her.

“And you sent a correspondence to Michael of Nebadon?” the voice continued, relentless.

“No, I didn’t!” Lisa cried out silently within her mind.

“And I’ll make sure you never do,” Lucifer declared ominously.

Desperate, Lisa tried to scream, but no sound emerged.