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

Translations of Discussions with The WE.
The rhubarb is having its effect. Waves that still shoot through Kewe are leveling due to the sugar. In his near normalcy he watches as Rick scans the room.
Rick and he have been friends a long time. In college, they both belonged to a group that believed in karma and reincarnation, placing leaflets on notice boards.
Rick met his former wife Sue at one of the meetings. Now, Sue and Rick are divorced. Kewe still sees Sue, still talks to her, as does Rick. They all still talk about metaphysics.
Kewe is staring at the assortment of people in the coffee shop. It is the people who come here that attracts Rick and him to this place, not the coffee.
The guy at the table next to them dressed in a cowboy jacket, tan boots, a felt hat, the young woman who is playing footsie with him under the table; the place has atmosphere.
This whole area of town fits with the gay thing they both have been clothed with.
Kewe laughs, thinking about that odd night when Rick told him he was gay. So, so, strange, because Kewe himself has never not been gay — by design as Kewe comes to find out years later, as he is writing his third book, The Game.
Now Rick has a male partner he lives with. Kewe figures the force that brought Rick and he together — unveeringly in its detached way — it knew they were both gay and that at some moment would need each other.
The life f....d that we live here — in Kewe’s depressed moments he chooses to call life that — is stirring of soul, of our spirit, of this is we are. The decisions we make establishing our greatest learning. The computer-in-the-sky — a name he has for the inputs of life — working with our decisions that maneuvers us into the stream that then becomes our life.
People for good or bad brought together, the stew mixing, the karmic dance working.
Just look here at the assortment: the army jackets, the peace gear, the leather, the many variances of Seattle young and not so young.
Kewe is singing again:
The whole of who we are,
the whole that was,
that is!
Could this be more?
Can be this more?

Translations of Discussions with The WE.
“Pleasant.” Rick responds in a sarcastic tone.
Kewe shrugs. “Well, many get to that point. Scientists say gray matter in our head grows a second time in the teens. The thickening is weeded by other white stuff. They also say when the brain’s dead, we’re dead.”
Rick glances at the two giggling at the table next to them. “Thanks for telling me.”
Kewe is shaking his head. “That’s who we are scientists say. Each sadness, each disaster that happens, each piece of happiness is inside this second daub of gray matter.”
He sings quietly:
Me be lookin.
You be lookin.
All God's chil'n
looking for 'd fruit.

Translations of Discussions with The WE.
Turning, he stares at Rick. “I’ve been inside this vortex for God knows how many hours. There’s a precise completeness. We are all in this some other everything. Ain’t it like a car accident, I’m seeing — some happening of this world, a development laid out, a crash that never stops. All hell bent on a conclusion. Do we want it?”
Rick, not laughing, looks curiously at him. “You figuring this in your head? Do you see God? Is God speaking with you yet?”
“Exactly!” Kewe answers. “Intelligence at least. Call it the God sub-part if you want, the computer-in-the-sky I’d lay bets is organic.”
Expecting applause, nothing happens.
In the vacuum Kewe is in, existence make’s sense. It’s where the relevance, the logic of our lives connects as threads. Trillions of threads he has some sense. Threads extending in to our world from where?
Taking by osmosis Kewe his thoughts, Rick asks, “Has soul created this new personality for itself, or for you?”
Kewe looks sour. He leans forward to say that he grew up without any mention of soul.
Rick cannot help laughing. “Kewe, you were an altar boy at seven. You were deep in the Catholic Church.”
Kewe responds that he grew up from all of that, and what has any of this to do with soul creating beings?
. . .
It is not okay churches saying you can be gay but that you can not have sex with someone you love. All that means is that you have to be a eunuch.
No sex for you, guys and gals, then there’s no blasphemy towards God.
Kewe is thinking of when he tried to become a ‘normal’ person, his first year at university.
At university in his early twenties he applied to the medical center for help. Don’t laugh! Given behavioral therapy of an experimental type not tried before at this university, a plan to end with a surrogate, opposite sex partner, Kewe refused to continue at an early stage.
The early teen years, when he first began to admit he was gay, were the strangest. It wasn’t — he kept telling himself — that he asked to be gay, any more than he asked for wheat colored hair. He could well have done without both.
What he has found, when he is old, old, old, is that he did apply to be gay. That story, short but adequate, is in his book The Game.
He could never see why sex, enjoying the moment, was wrong, or even strange. Of age where a person has maturity to decide — force, power being an extreme negative — assenting, humans, all animals with their own, should have privacy for their pleasure.
Priestcraft of past millennia — male priests who write Holy Books once female Deities are expunged — upon bringing God into the sexual equation, homosexuality between consenting male adults becomes a religious taboo.
Few humans have no attraction to their own sex. Attractions very with all. That is being human.
Male priests, perhaps afraid of their own often rare same sex attractions, deciding for all what is to be ’right’ or ’sinful.’
It is interesting to Kewe that males who have such concern regarding same sex activity seem to not at all be concerned with war, with the killing, maiming, and torturing that is done to other humans.
Doctrines of sexual abstinence bring evil — evil to Kewe is a person knowing that which they proclaim, or force, or command, will be harmful. Evil is excising power over another when that person is not doing harm to another.
Sexual abstinence when forced — such as a requirement to become a priest — has its own perversity.
Priestly authority preying upon their youth, religious whippings and other such action for the exercise of sin.
Studies show loving partners, heterosexual and homosexual, exhibit a maturity advanced from the sexuality of adolescence. Humans are human and having a sexual urge for most is part of life’s fulfillment.
Always there are boundaries — respect, not to prey upon someone, and varied limitations as with any activity.
Sexual activity, alone or with a partner, is necessary at times to adjust the sexual chakra.
The shamans of the past — attracted to their own sex, if not so, having characteristics not like the rest — had a gift with the elements, and some with inner worlds.
These might be different to the norm, but old societies allowed a good use of their talents.
Kewe, driving home from work a few days after the Folk Life Festival, is bothered about the difference between him and Jake. He’s at a crossroads. Jake might be here to take over his body.
Remembering an event that took place the day after Jake first appeared, Jake is straight, thinks Kewe. At the retreat center Kewe had found himself excited by a young woman. She was the youngest of the group, and she was reading over Kewe’s shoulder while he was typing online. He knew Jake was present. It was Jake typing the messages. Jake with him, he had felt his body respond to being close to her.
Jake asked the girl later if they could meet when they were flying. Jake’s interest was to take a tour across the world.
The girl told him her problem was she hadn’t control of her flying body. She had no idea when or if she would be able to fly. She said maybe in a few months.
Kewe has to smile. He’s never been any good at intimate relationships. It doesn’t look as if Jake will be any better.
Back home, he stares at the dishes piled high in the sink. Clothes still have not been removed from his suitcase.
Kewe’s test seems to be his willingness to give up any and all relationships. He’s never been encouraged by inner world guidance to be in any sort of union. His ‘karmic resonance’ is for life situations to be where he is alone.
Because of this he spends his time seeking knowledge, of other spheres, other realms.
Yet it seems the elements of life has brought him full circle. Personality has become much more important than he ever thought.
And he doesn’t know how to respond. Has he decided in his mind that he no longer lives here, that he shouldn’t be here, and that Jake should be here in his place?
Because Jake has a template in Kewe’s brain and Jake can take over his life. The thought of not existing makes tears spring to his eyes.
Is Jake better than he is?
Kewe’s hunt for inner knowledge, and the experiences that have come to him, has allowed his personality to grow in this world.
For him now to know he might cease to exist, that he might not continue; well, the dilemma suddenly is, who is he?
Who is he?
He clicks on the television, lies on the floor.
The noise from the TV drowns his thoughts.
He clicks off the sound
He stares at the sitcom playing on the screen.
Ghostly figures strut madly around.
Something slimy is sucking at his soul.
These are screen inventions.
Is he one of them?
He won’t die.
He’ll just switch off.
As the body dies an exigent moment takes place where in crises the body seeks to recover its power. Breathing will change, the heartbeat accelerates, blood sugar rises. Unable to compensate, the body starts to shut down. Glands no longer secrete. Hormones are no longer produced. The brain has less and less chemical sustenance.
He’s read in ancient scripture that in these moments, beyond the brain, the inner mind is balancing. Spirit, not in the physical body, nor the other, is in mid-stream. Death and life pull both ways.
Death is the option of the human body. Life in the new dimension is the opening.
The transition appears as a dream, and in this half-reality, ancient scripture says the spirit person enters a world of foggy light, of strange emotions. Kewe has believed there would be a glimpse of white for him, a shine of an angel by the brightness.
Looking down, he will look over his body; see his physical body with the heart stopped, with oxygen exhausted, with the starving brain depleted of ketone, of glucose. See that it is dead. Then, he will seek the wind, and mist.
Remembering he can fly, in the roaring he will follow the flowing brilliance, travel across the caustic river of Vaitarani, the Acheron.
What he will do then is of great importance, greater than the moment of his birth.
One choice will be to enter through the light.
The other will be to stay.
Him as a piece of consciousness struggling with acceptance, he might for moments waver. He might find that he is afraid.
But, Kewe knows, slipping back and forth, he will make his decision. The rushing around him, through the roar he will travel towards life.
And as he moves into life, into the light, there will be those who wait, those who stand nearby.
Those who have waited for him to decide.
This f—— Jake.
The TV characters stare.
The fear rises.
He calls out for Robert. Anyone who wants to answer, he asks. Anyone! It’s not all going to go blank with me, is it?
Thoughts that he identifies as not his seem extremely detached. Attentive, as if there is some wish to give advice, but painstakingly non-bothered. Wanting to lash out violently, he wants to scream at them. It does matter!
He’s going to be discarded!
You have already chosen Jake!
Searching through his feelings, is it they are saying, ‘ – it will always be your choice?’
He gets up off the floor.
Music is the substance he needs.
Kewe pushes the button, turns on the CD player. The sound of surf washes against a beach. Sea gulls are calling.
A sudden resignation sweeps over him. The CD he’s listening to is the one he uses when he wants to soar. He’ll leave.
‘Why am I hanging around? I’ve done all that I came to do. I’ll go into nothing.’
‘Show me?’ his thoughts ask. ‘Show me!
Show me how to do it?’
A sea gull cries, its wistful cry of freedom.
‘Jake!’ he hails. ‘Jake, it’s time now.’
As he sits, as he drifts into endless rolling surf, waves are breaking against a shore.
Flowing in some dark, infinite space, he sees the light change.
He’s back in his room.
He seems to be looking at himself.
A strange pink glow surrounds his body.
From across the room he sees himself sitting in the chair.
His body has a young man’s face.
The eyes are laughing.
The eyes look like Kewe’s, but the face is Jake’s.
The boy is laughing at Kewe.
It will be many years later that Kewe — when events take place and his eyes will change as he becomes Jake — that he realizes his brain had not allowed him to see the true image.
Jake’s eyes are like Yoada’s.
Jake’s eyes have not the ordinary appearance of a human.
Jake has large eyes that we commonly now accept in the appearance of many off-planet beings.
© Kewe   All rights reserved.