Dream for a Sleepless Night

An Alchemical Fairy Tale

Thom F. Cavalli, Ph.D.

Copyright2004 by Thom F. Cavalli, Ph.D. All rights reserved. This book and CD, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in

any form without permission.

Table of Contents
Introduction: 4 7

One Dream

The Dream Story: 8 - 81

Dream for a Sleepless Night

Conclusion:

Sweet Dreams

Afterward:

Recalling Dreams

One Dream
This book is a gift to those who suffer insomnia. For my entire adult life I, along with an estimated 40 million others, have been plagued by this terrible problem. I know the pain of being pulled out of sleep in the middle of the night. Sleeping pills, meditation, prayer, herbs and analysis have done little to ease my pain. Despite having followed orders given by well meaning doctors and therapists, undergoing sleep studies and trying alternative methods, still my restless mind had found no peace. Even though insomnia brings with it fatigue and a certain dulling of consciousness, making the following day painful, the worst part of insomnia is the interruption and loss of dreams. I value my inner life and dreaming seems to be the most direct way of accessing my unconscious. Without my dreams I feel like a tree severed from its roots. The unconscious is the ground on which I stand and without this terra firma beneath my feet, I lose my balance and become disoriented. My feelings lack conviction, my body aches and my thoughts ring hollow. I have logged, interpreted and studied my dreams for over three decades without having found a definitive cause for this insomnia, much less a cure. Then,

one night out of the blue my head touched the pillow and I didnt wake till morning. This in itself was exceptional but the dream I had that night was extraordinary. It was a Big Dream. I offer this dream without any interpretation. Sometimes, despite our best intentions to derive meaning from dreams, the interpretations only get in the way of a potential healing experience offered by the unconscious. I will only say that the dream I had is part of an even bigger dream that I believe each of us accesses every night. The ancient alchemists believed that the real gold meant experiencing the One Thing. This One Thing can appear in many forms. For example, when two lovers merge they cease to be separate beings. Even on our currency we find this One Thing expressed in the alchemical motto, e pluribus unum, Out of Many, the One. The beautiful story, Stone Soup, tells of a poor woman who had nothing to eat. Using her wit and imagination, she placed a small stone in a pot with some water and began to stir. When people passed by and inquired about her soup she told them that she was preparing a feast. They suggested adding ingredients to improve her soup and gladly, she

accepted their offering. Each in turn, a baker, farmer, butcher, contributed something until there really was a tasty soup. Out of the Many, One delicious soup was created from loving contributions given to this shrewd, old alchemist. They offered to pay for a bowl but she would hear nothing of the kind. She traveled from one town to the next, mixing up her magical brew and in this way, bellies were filled with loving bowls of soup. Perhaps the reason most efforts to cure insomnia fail is due to the fact that the problem and its solution are rooted in the unconscious. An old homeopathic principle, Like cures like, suggests that only a dream can cure someone who doesnt dream. I recognize the circularity of this thinking, for how can we have a healing dream if we dont dream? In my case, the problem had apparently reached a crisis and the unconscious simply broke through whatever conscious resistance was interfering with sleep and blessed me with a dream that clearly addressed this problem. Instead of wandering the house aimlessly when you find yourself unable to sleep, or getting angry with yourself, you may want to read this dream. While I had this dream, I cannot solely claim it as my own. A big dream belongs to all of us and especially one that offers healing, should be shared.

The dream is one way that my healing unconscious is speaking to your problem. There are certain things in life that define being human. Along with eating, drinking, sleeping and dying, dreaming is one of the biologically mandated habits we all have. You may want to personalize the dream later, but I suggest you allow some time to simply enjoy the dreams story without analyzing or interpreting it. You may find yourself having big dreams of your own, bringing medicines that transform your worst nightmare into a wonderful gift. Isnt that the way things happen in dreams?

Awakening from Insomnia

A Big Dream

Insomnia is a cancer on the sleeping soul. Cancer is life run amok, cells dividing uncontrollably. These are baby cells whose parent is fast asleep.

Here in the wooded mountains of Thailand, just outside Chang Mai, my eyes popped open in the middle of the night just as they regularly do eight thousands miles away in my home in California. My wife lies peacefully asleep undisturbed by my chronic problem, while I stare at the mosquito netting cocooning our bed. In my fantasy I wish for a metamorphosis to free me from this demon that refuses to

let me drift into the calm of the night.

Long ago I submitted to this nighttime intruder and now in desperation, I reach for the medicine bottle without hesitation. Still, some hours go by before the tranquilizer takes effect and I shut down.

Foreign scents and unfamiliar sounds invade my awakening mind. My head swirls with the barking of birds. My fingers reach across the bed but come up empty. Cynthia is long gone, probably looking for a good place to have breakfast. I roll out of bed and like a good soldier ready myself to face the adventure awaiting me in this strange land.

I am right. A note leads me to a small shop where I find Cynthia sipping tea. Her smile brightens when she sees me. Refreshed upon seeing her, I ask what looks good on the menu. We have only just arrived in this area a few days ago and still feel like strangers in this new land. There is some adjustment required to being in a country where people treat

animals like neighbors and even the sun seems to have a slightly different hue. No sooner had we finished our breakfast when the sound of loud clanging cymbals gathered a small crowd of people in front of a nearby temple.

In Chang Mai there are temples on every corner, but this particular one caught my eye when we first arrived. Unlike most temples in Thailand that are covered in gold, this one appeared rather plain and lifeless. Colorful banners waved from the middle of the crowd, each one inscribed with words and symbols I did not recognize. Flashes of black, red and white rippled in the wind. Unabashedly we rushed to the scene and dove into the crowd like herons seizing fish from the sea.

Sometimes being different helps. As we snaked our way through the crowd, the locals drew back as if we were lepers. Within minutes we were at the very heart of the circle, face to face with a man who seemed like a character straight out of a movie. At about 6 feet in height very unusual for this

part of the world- stood an old man, wearing garments that appeared to be a cross between the animal skins of Native Americans and the multicolored robes of Tibetan Buddhists. His hair and beard were silver white. Judging by the deep furrows that lined his eyes, nose and mouth Id guess he must have been at least 80 years old. He rocked in perfect rhythm to the cymbals. Lifting either foot with each beat he looked as if he were climbing an invisible ladder.

The ringing cymbals stopped abruptly. The man stood perfectly upright and opened his eyes for the first time.

We were standing directly in front of him. His eyes were the color of the sky and his gaze penetrated my body. Though tired I suddenly became energized as if an alien light was glowing in my stomach and shooting straight up to my solar plexus. The crowd grew quiet as he spoke a few words in his native tongue. It felt odd to hear not one sound among so many people. He kept repeating the same words and with each repetition it became increasingly obvious that he was

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expecting a response from me.

I do not know any Thai but it was clear that this mans words held power. He was a shaman from the high mountain country and I intuitively knew that this encounter could not be put off to chance. I also knew that shamans communicate telepathically but being a dense human being from the West I wasnt able to understand what this man was trying to tell me. Fortunately a young boy in the crowd grasped what was happening and stepped forward to help. He translated that the priest wanted to know what I value most but understood least. The riddle stumped me and I felt awkward and selfconscious. The silence of the crowd made me even more uncomfortable but at the same time seemed to suck an answer right out of me.

My soul, my soul, I said after several minutes. The boy translated and the old man responded after taking several deep breaths. He then asked, What is in need of healing? Without pausing this time I told him that I have great

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difficulty with sleep. Translated, this came back as my not being about to let go of the light. He then told me that he had a cure for this problem but that it would require putting my soul in his care for a while. This unnerved me and I could sense Cynthia taking a step back. She whispered out of the corner of her mouth that this might be a good time to get out of here. But I was torn.

Thoughts bounced back and forth in my mind until it felt as if there were two of me engaged in a debate. I struggled between running like the devil and holding onto my soul. This seemed like magic - how could I trust this old man? Yet on the other hand, the whole thing seemed like nonsense so what harm was there in going along with the game? Im not a religious man but I do live a spiritual life. My soul is as important to me as my arms and legs. Putting my soul in this old mans care filled me with mixed emotions: fear, intrigue and hope. I decided to take the matter very seriously. Here was an offer that might cure me of my dreadful insomnia. I was sorely tempted to trust the old man.

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My rational voice chimed in and reasoned that this old man didnt appear to be Mephistopheles after all and what he offered was to care for my soul, not take it.

Time became elastic. What was probably five minutes felt like an hour. As an intuitive person I struggled to use reason but in the end rationality retreated and intuition decided the matter. Had I known that the one word I was about to utter would send me on the journey I was about to take, Im not sure the answer would have been the same.

Okay. I said in an uncertain voice.

Having given my response this time without the help of my translator - the cymbals recommenced but now the old man began to turn in circles with his arms outstretched. He dipped his wings like a bird twice with each revolution. As if an analgesic were taking hold of me I lost a bit of consciousness every time I saw the old mans face. His eyes were closed and before I could count to ten so were mine. I

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am told that I then slumped to the ground and while my wife froze in panic the old man placed a white sheet over my still form.

Magicians use sheets to make things disappear, but in this case I was still there when the sheet was removed moments later. What was missing was my being awake. Id lost consciousness. My eyes were closed and I was breathing. I was not dead.

The crowd gasped as soon as they saw me lying there. The shaman had indeed worked his magic and there I was fast asleep on the ground in a strange city at the foot of an ancient temple. To the people the show was over but for me it was just beginning. The crowd unraveled like a colorful ball of yarn and when the last of them was gone, so was the old man.

Cynthia was beside herself. After several failed attempts to rouse me, she ran for help.

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In the hospital my head and chest were covered with electrodes. Needles jumped and eerie blue lightening bolts sketched out the status of my brain activity across luminous screens. The doctors examined me and concluded there wasnt anything wrong with me, other than that I was apparently in a very deep sleep. They stopped short of calling my condition a coma and assured Cynthia that I was not in any medical danger. I was simply fast asleep and clearly, by all indications, actively dreaming.

The dream is a little hidden door in the innermost secret recesses of the soul. C. G. Jung

In ancient Greece it is believed that the gods, bent on punishing people, decided to do so by answering their prayers. I had asked for sleep and sleep is what I got. Like the male version of sleeping beauty I lay fast asleep
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dreaming within a dream that only good would come of this while my soul nestled itself in the palm of an old mans wrinkled hand.

The smell of dark green infused my nostrils and all about me I felt a bed of leaves envelop me like a warm, cozy nest. I could not tell whether my eyes were open or closed, but either way all I could see was black. I shuttled back and forth between fear and a deep sense of surrender to this overwhelming sleep Id fallen into. At last I was asleep. I had long yearned for this moment. I didnt want it to stop. I could not say how long Id been lying in that forest. I could not see my watch. My mind wandered and I thought of a conversation Cynthia and I once had about dreaming. She is an amazing dreamer, one of those people who remember every detail of their dreams. Added to her boundless memory was the ability to travel in her dreams, change shape and even awaken in her dreams something known as lucid dreaming. I could perform none of these extraordinary feats. At best, I was lucky to even get to sleep

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and stay down the night through.

After a while the thought hit me and I could no longer avoid the reality that I was indeed asleep but simultaneously aware of my condition. I must have been having one of those lucid dreams. Still I could see nothing. Only when sounds of whispering buzzed all round me did I jump to my feet. I grabbed my glasses and put them on. Like night goggles they cut beams of eerie green light every which way I looked. I was in a wooded forest surrounded by tall trees, giant ferns and purple grasses. Again I heard the whispers coming out of the woods but could not make any sense of such random sounds. This continued long enough for me to realize that each whisper was part of a sound, incomplete in itself, but when joined with other sounds they collected into a sentence. They were emanating from the tiny mouth of a very small man.

I shone my green light directly on him. He could not have been more than four feet high even including the tall conical

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hat he wore on his head. The shock sobered me instantly as I realized I was looking at a gnome. One by one other heads popped out of the woods. Eerily little people began to encircled me. But the whispers all collected and came to focus on the first of these small men. Out of his mouth I distinctly these words:

We know your problem and what you have to do. You need to go through Sleepy Hollow.

I responded by asking who he was. The whispers gathered again and the chief gnome introduced himself, I am Sir Bastian, ruler of Ebony Wood.

Bewildered I began to ask questions in hopes of orienting myself. Where was I? Was I asleep? Was I dead or alive?

Why should we help you? You have come here uninvited and now you ask these many questions?

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I pleaded with Sir Bastian at first with reason, then by begging for courtesy, then simply by begging. There was a growing fear in me that if these gnomes should leave me I would never find my way out of this place.

What have you to give us to make our time worthwhile?

It was an oddly worded question. Another riddle, I thought. Here, take my watch.

While this seemed to please Sir Bastian, my apparent ability to match wits with him pleased him far more.

So I asked: What is Sleepy Hollow? Is it the way out of here?

It is the first way out, or if you please, the first way in. Do you want out or in?

Now I was completely confused. Clearly time and space had

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little meaning in these woods. Thinking myself rather clever I responded by saying I wanted to be inside out. This absolutely delighted Sir Bastian. In fact the whole of his colony began to laugh.

Very well then its off to Sleepy Hollow we go. However wide awake they may have been before they entered that sleepy region, they are sure, in a little time, to inhale the witching influence of the air, and begin to grow imaginative, to dream dreams and see apparitions. From The Legend of Sleepy Hollow

The path wound through a canopy of ferns and bamboo trees. Sir Bastian leading the way in front of me with a long line of gnomes following close behind. I had the eerie feeling that I wasnt actually going anywhere but rather simply peddling my legs as I tossed and turned in my bed. Suddenly, our journey came to a halt and Sir Bastian pointed to a huge tree with a trunk that had two enormous legs split apart. In the center was a pit of darkness, imperious even to

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my green light.

There is where you must go to get in and to get out. This is where you will be turned inside out.

This seemed ominous. I wondered to myself whether I could trust these little tricksters.

Will you be going with me? I asked.

I, said Sir Bastian, will meet you on the other side. How can I trust that what you are saying is true?

If this is as you believe a dream, then I and everything around you is part of your dream. The question then is: Do you trust yourself?

He had a point there. This certainly could not be anything other than a dream and that being the case, even this Sleepy Hollow was part of my dream. This reasoning offered

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just enough reassurance for me to approach the mighty oak.

I came as close as I could to the hollow without actually entering it. It appeared to be solid but its bark resembled an oil slick or the surface of molten tar. Cautiously I reached out to touch it with my finger. Instantly I was pulled into in a thick morass, as if Id fallen into the deepest regions of

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space. I tumbled head over heels until I had neither head nor heels. Strange words seemed to resound from above. I could barely make out Sir Bastians voice repeating over and over again: solve et coagula, solve et coagula. A lot of good that was doing me! I had no idea what he meant and worse began to feel like I was disintegrating. The cells of my body loosened and I seemed to be coming apart. Chaos was all I could think of. I am in chaos. The thought reverberated in the emptiness for I had no head to contain it or anything else.

Chaos is the massa confusa, the prima materia out of which form first emerges. The nigredo is the initial stage of the alchemical work. It means blackening - in it one discovers the shadows of the unconscious.

Out of the darkness dropped a speck of light, rocking back and forth through space like a metallic snowflake. It seemed to crystallize as it fell, its silvery arms laced in an intricate
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pattern, shimmering like a diamond point of light. Suddenly my perspective shifted and I became one of many sparkling points of light falling gently onto a river down below. Upon making contact with the water, the river immediately came alive around me. I felt its rushing currents course through the black slick that was all that remained of my body. Although consciousness had reconnected with my body I had absolutely no control.

Suddenly I recalled that in dreams it is possible to shift ones attention from one place to another. Though I no longer seemed to have a physical body, nor eyes, I could see the fast moving river and the tall line of trees speeding past me. Instantly my consciousness shot up to the treetops above and gazed back down upon the black slick Id become, while the river continued to carry me downstream. Up ahead the river became completely black. I thought I had reached the end of the world.

In desperation I pleaded with the river currents appearing

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as ghostly spirits mermaid creatures darting in and out of the cold, icy water. Steer me right I cried. Steer me away!

My prayers were answered but not before my body hit the solid black mass that lay along the rivers edge. I bounced off the mass and smashed into the rocks by the shore. Miraculously I didnt die, but I became certain that death could take me at any moment. I was going to die and without a watch I had no way of knowing when that would happen. Still in black ooze form, I moved through the rocks along the shore. Like a river snake, I slithered through crevices until I found myself contained in a pool shaped by boulders in the form of a human. Here in this mold of rock and stone, my sense of humor returned and I mused to myself, I am the shadow of the man I used to be.

I wondered how I could possibly regain my body? As I lay formless and still, a black liquid being, I began to remember what I once looked like. And then I realized that that was it;

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remembering was the secret!

Solve and Coagula is the primary recipe of alchemy. We must first break up the ego mass through a process or operation known as solutio, then by re-membering that we are more than mere flesh return to the spiritual form of an earlier existence.

Carefully I remembered my body from head to toe remembered my body from head to toe - and eventually I was able to gradually emerge from the pool intact. I lay down on the rocky shore, feeling like a shadow, and once again began to hear the words of the little man.

As promised, said Sir Bastian. Here I am.

Yes indeed there you are. And here I am, having barely escaped that terrible river with my life. But, you did. Youve passed the first trial.

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The first?! I yelled. How many more trials are there before I can get out of this awful place?

You are an odd creature, replied Sir Bastian calmly. First, you long for sleep. Then finally getting it, you want to wake up.

Well, if this is sleep then indeed I do want to wake up. How do I do that? I demanded.

You must cross the Bridge of Day Light.

And where, I pray, might that be?

Before I received a response, I was suddenly overcome by hunger. I felt so ravenous that I immediately and blindly began stuffing everything I could into my mouth. Berries, bark, leaves, grass and even dirt I swallowed whole. Like a devouring monster I gobbled a stand of mushrooms and chased them down with water from the river. Immediately,

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my head began to spin and my stomach began to churn in rhythm with my racing heart.

It must have been the mushrooms that brought on the avalanche of hallucinations. Like a cracked mirror, reality shattered into a thousand shards of glass. Reflected in each were strange images of dinosaurs, stars, musical instruments, bones and creatures I could not identify. Most disconcerting was an effect of light and darkness in rapid alternation. Day and night were flickering like a strobe light, completely disorienting me.

I am dying. I cried out at the top of my lungs. Through the haze of my bleary vision I saw Sir Bastian. Lying flat on my back looking up at him he appeared as tall as a giant. I am dying. I cried out again. Please help me!

No sooner have you passed your first trial and already you are rushing into the second task. What is your hurry?

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Please help me, was all I could manage to say.

You lost your body and now youre losing your mind. What a mess you are!

I detected a bit of glee in his voice but I failed to see the humor. I was slipping away quickly. Without showing the least concern for my dreadful state, Sir Bastian demanded, Tell me everything you know.

What do you mean, everything I know? That will take forever.

Thats not a problem, and he pointed to the watch. We have no problem with that; we can just wind this watch every time it runs down.

Desperately I agreed. Struggling to put words together I began by telling him my name, where I was born, who my parents are, where I went to school, which foods I liked and

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which I hated This went on for what seemed an interminable time and every so often I could see Sir Bastian rewinding my watch.

Thats it, I said at last, I have told you everything. There is no more to tell.

Not true. Insisted Sir Bastian defiantly. You have not told me your last thought, for if you had, you would cease to be.

I had to agree. At the very least his statement forced me to collect my thoughts and the hallucinations began to dissipate. This was another one of his riddles. I would surely be dead if I were to tell him my last thought. When your heart takes its last beat, I thought, your blood stops circulating and you die. So it seemed to follow that once your brain had its last thought, you were through with this life. But, something in this logic wasnt quite right. My brain was a more complicated matter, or so I thought at the time. My brain also has a mind of its own, which is something quite

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different than my heart. Now I was getting somewhere. The two are not equivalent. Since my brain isnt the same thing as my mind then death comes only when the former quits. My mind, on the other hand, can stop without the brain having to die.

As if he were reading my thoughts Sir Bastian echoed my words, Now we are getting somewhere. But, he added whimsically, Where can you go when you tell me your last thought?

Oddly enough, I began to understand. The more I concentrated on this riddle the more my mind drew together. By now the nausea had begun to ease and the hallucinations had ceased entirely. My mind was utterly clear and I could think of nothing more to say.

At the end of my long recitation I had not a single thought left to tell and I certainly did not die. On the contrary, I felt more alive than ever. My mind seemed to be set free from

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my head. I was in a thoughtless space, free to wander in many and all directions simultaneously. My body served to anchor me in the sylvan wood as my consciousness traversed the universe unfettered. My meditation was abruptly cut short when I heard Sir Bastian say, Youve learned one of many more operations youll need to guide you safely across the Bridge of Day Light. Now we must go.

This time I didnt even ask where we were headed. For such a little man he certainly could walk at a quick pace. Of course, being short gave him the advantage of not having to duck under branches or push aside tree limbs. He walked with a decided step, but I noticed how silently he moved through the woods. We walked for what must have been many hours. Since he still had my watch I had only the dim glow of early light to give me some sense of time. Although it was still quite dark I no longer depended on my night goggles to see. Wed reached an open glen covered with high grasses when he finally stopped to give me further directions.

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You are ready for the next trial. In order to reach the Bridge of Day Light you must go to the White Queen.

How do I get there? Will you not show me the way?

I cannot enter the glen but it is here that you will meet a guide who will take you to the Castle of the Moon. I will see you on the other side. And with these words he vanished.

For the first time I was alone. The glen spread out before me like a magic carpet. I had no idea what to expect or whom this guide might be or how long it would take before he would come. I settled down on a mound of grass that overlooked a lovely clearing; not far behind me were the woods, dark and impenetrably dense. The predawn light in the sky made everything just barely visible. I shuddered as I remembered that I was in fact asleep and this was all a dream. And where, I wondered, was this body of mine lying in waking reality? Was I still in the midst of that crowd, or

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had Cynthia taken me back to the inn? And what about my soul? Was the shaman keeping it safe or was he up to no good?

Thoughts pulled me in two directions. I couldnt possibly enjoy this sleep if it meant Id never awaken again. I wasnt finished with my life but neither was I finished with this strange realm. For better or worse, the choice was not mine. I had to submit to whatever fate this place had in store for me. I favored this conclusion to other, more dreadful possibilities. Whenever I began thinking of escape fear rose up in my heart like hissing snake.

I reassured myself that this was all a dream. Despite the fact that I was quite alert and even pinched myself from time to time I knew most assuredly that I was dreaming. While pondering these thoughts, I heard the trees rustling in the nearby forest. Odd, I thought, since there was no wind. I stood and strained my eyes to see what was stirring. Might this be my guide?

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I could discern tree trunks jutting straight up in a long line bordering the glen. But from time to time a white line seemed to dart between them. Each time I moved toward the trees the rustling stopped and it was no longer possible to see what the white line might be. I resumed my position on the ground and regained the state of mind I had been enjoying before the rustling began. Restraint paid off. The head of pure white horse appeared not twenty yards away. Excitement welled up within me but I knew intuitively that the shy creature would only run if I tried to advance.

I even avoided making eye contact. Instead I observed obliquely from the corner of my eye until I was rewarded with a sight I would not soon forget. Standing among the tall grass, draped by dark woods behind and a misty gray sky overhead, I saw a unicorn. Where doubt did from time to time cause me to question whether this was a dream or not, it now made not a difference in the world. It was love at first sight.

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Love is the only emotion I can use to describe the vision that my tired eyes beheld. I was entranced by this lovely white creature whose mane was the color of clouds and whose body gleamed like marble. We were two aliens meeting for the first time. Such a meeting is profound and we each needed time to adjust.

There was no way of knowing how much time had passed. We stood in suspended animation like two figures in a painting, each of us gazing at the other among tall yellow grasses; rocks in the foreground and the dark wooded forest behind.

The reverie was broken by a gentle wave of her head. The gesture indicated that I was to follow her. Not until this moment did I realize that my guide was not another gnome or fairy, but this sublime creature. Never before did I really believe that such animals existed. But here I was gazing at this beautiful unicorn knowing she would take me to the

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castle of the White Queen.

She turned and galloped into the woods. I followed. Whenever I thought Id lost sight of her she would patiently reappear and give a gentle wave of her head. We traveled up a steep path that wound its way around a mountain, a full days journey. I was tired and hungry; sweat beaded my brow and trickled into salty rivulets that streamed down my face.

As our ascent continued, trees became sparse and patches of earth opened up to expose large sheets of granite. Fatigue drew my gaze downward and my breath became labored; the path grew steadily steeper. My guide began nudging me deftly, being careful to keep from skewering me with the sharp tip of her horn.

Suddenly the words Its about time rang out from nowhere. I didnt have to raise my head to know the crooked mouth out of which these words flowed. There stood Sir Bastian on

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a huge boulder, peering down at me. The unicorn was nowhere in sight.

Where has she gone? was my only reply.

She has joined her coven, said Sir Bastian. Can you not see them?

I climbed up onto the boulder where Sir Bastian had planted himself and searched the crest of the mountain, but could only see a panorama of gray skies hanging over a multitude of rocks.

How thoughtless of me, Sir Bastian mused. She has thought of everything. Thats why shes a queen and I am but a mere squire.

Without explanation, Sir Bastian ordered me to shut my eyes. I did as I was told. Then he told me to open them slowly, blink several times and then cautioned me to prepare

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myself for what I was about to behold.

He took the curved handle of his cane and pointing it upward to a cloud began to pull on it. At first this struck me as rather funny and I laughed out loud when at one point he was literally hanging, cane in hand, from the cloud. Somehow he found his gravity again and with a steadfast tug drew what appeared to be stage curtains across my line of vision. In the blink of an eye the entire scene shifted and I was privy to one of the most amazing sights Id ever seen.

Where before only rocks appeared scattered about, now stood a pure white castle with spires piercing the sky from hundreds of turrets. Above the two spires hung a crescent moon. It was the first light I had seen since entering this realm. I was momentarily blinded. When I regained my vision the glare or fog or mist or whatever it was began to dissipate and in further amazement I once again spied my guide. She stood shoulder to shoulder with thousands of other unicorns surrounding the castle.

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As I approached, every unicorn lowered its head in an ominous gesture: Stay back!

What is happening? I asked. I must see the Queen.

You fool, answered Sir Bastian, look at yourself. Do you really think her majesty will entertain a dirty, butt naked cod such as yourself?

Besides, he continued, you have neither an invitation or even a gift that might curry favor with her lady. But these last words were lost on me as sudden shame overcame me and I went running for cover. How could I not have realized that I was wandering naked since emerging from the awful river Styx? Not only had I just been caught in this dreadful condition by a herd of angelic beauties, I had just spent a full days journey with the most fair of them all my guide.

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Can you help me, Sir Bastian? I pleaded.

Once again you ask and once again I ask why? came his diffident response.

Because service is the greatest passion. I replied, surprised to hear these words coming from my lips. I turned around to see if there might be someone else whod spoken these words (but there was not). Very well, then, lets be on our way, was all he said.

Sir Bastian led me to a beautiful meadow where a small pool lay nestled within a crowd of birch trees. Steam swirled just above its surface as dragonflies darted about in search of a tasty meal. I plunged into the natural spring. The dirt that had coated my entire body instantly melted away. I submerged myself several times and felt deep contentment. Sir Bastian sat on a large toadstool smoking his pipe. The aroma seemed to be a mix of cherry bark and mustard seed. As my eyes closed half way, a white osprey alighted directly

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atop my head. Sir Bastian put down his pipe and whispered under his breath, a blessing from the skies.

Having a large bird perched itself atop your head is an eerie feeling. As awkward as it seemed, I did indeed feel blessed and in some mysterious way confirmed. I felt clean inside and out. Still, I was as naked as a blue jay. Without any thought as to how I might dry off, Sir Bastian ordered me to leave. I obeyed and emerged from the spring feeling renewed.

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We returned to the nearby wood and followed a stream that sparkled with tiny fairies. The stream led into a dark cave where the sound of running water chortling over rocks emanated from within.

This, my friend is where you will get yourself clothes fit for a king, or should I say Queen, said Sir Bastian pointing with his cane.

You must be kidding, I protested. Im not going in there.

Suit yourself then, said he, obviously amused with the pun.

How will I get a new suit in that devils hole?

Do you have an aversion to spiders? responded the gnome.

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Not particularly, I replied. In fact, I found spiders rather interesting.

Spiders are known to spin out the web of Life. They can be tricksters, but ones whose tricks serve to have us do negative things that eventually put us on the right track.

Well these spiders are masters of the loom. Theyve clothed just about every creature that roams this forest. Bear hides, bird feathers, snake skinsall crafted by these fine tailors.

How about the clothes you wear? Did they dress you?

Sir Bastian laughed. Had they I would have no use for a wife. This caught me off guard. It never occurred to me that Sir Bastian was married.

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Married indeed. I have 27 children, and yes, all by my sweet Ann-Marie.

Do you not miss her? You have been with me for some time now.

We will get to that in due time, but right now lets get you dressed.

I drew courage from his words. Ever so carefully, I slowly crept into the dark cave. Hearing Sir Bastians words echo off the walls I was soon able to lift myself upright and precede into the darkness. Now do be careful, stick to the stream and walk straight ahead. The water falls to either side of the stream. His words bounced off the walls leaving in their trail a din of resonating reassurance. Keep your eyes open, stay vigilant.

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I kept my balance by keeping my hands pressed to the low ceiling. As I proceeded I first felt moss that then seemed to degrade into some kind of disgusting sticky substance. Determinedly I marched forward. Dozens of tiny legs began stitching a web around my wrists and arms. I could feel the spiders working quickly to weave a soft fabric around my entire body. Within minutes it was finished. Propelled by horror and delight, I rushed toward the entrance, anxious to see their handiwork.

Very well done indeed, said Sir Bastian seeing my new garments. It was in fact a job well done: shirt and tights, cape and cap as green as the trees and as snug fitting as

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bark. Embroidery tastefully accented each piece with signs and insignias that gave a noble appearance. Unfortunately I had no idea what any of the symbols meant.

We have only one thing left to do before you can present yourself to her Royal Highness.

Before I could asked what this might be, Sir Bastian explained that since I didnt have a formal invitation I might gain entry by winning her favor with a gift. She loves roses.

If the Queen is as beautiful as you say she is, then I would think she has many suitors who must regularly bring her roses.

Right you are, my noble friend. Sir Bastian responded. So that is why you must bring her the most unique rose in the entire Queendom.

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So off we were once more, this time to find the garden of the hundred-petalled white rose. Cleaned and dressed up, my confidence reached new heights. My step had an extra spring and I felt excited as we drew near the only place where the special rose could be found. We arrived at a clearing in the wood. Before us was a very large labyrinth surrounded by a gate. I could clearly see the white rose bobbing just above the labyrinthine hedges. The fence was taller than I and the gate was securely bolted with a huge iron lock.

A labyrinth is a unicursal (single path) magical tool. It is magical in that through the conscious use of the labyrinth answers to questions come, spiritual awareness can be enhanced, the path ahead, in the confusion of the labyrinths convoluted path, can somehow become clear. Seg Lonegney

How do I gain entry? I asked Sir Bastian.

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Again you ask and again I say, what have you to give me for my service? was his by now familiar reply.

Havent we been over this already? I sighed to myself.

But this time Sir Bastian knew well what was to be exchanged. Around my neck you see a key. It is the instrument that will admit you through the gate but at the cost of losing me.

I was stunned. Why?! I asked, repeating the question over and over again, Why must I lose you to obtain this flower?

Without the flower you have no power. The rose unlocks the Queens heart and it is her heart that you must win if ever you hope to awaken from this dream.

Realizing once again that this was indeed a dream did little to console me. Despite his riddles Sir Bastian had been a trustworthy friend and without him I was already feeling very

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sad. He was right, but that didnt stop the tears from welling up in my eyes.

So now we have a deal. With these words Sir Bastian drew out of his pocket a small silver flask. He brought it to my cheek whereupon a tear slipped into the vial. He deftly corked the vial with a stopper to preserve the tear, and said that the salt would always remind him of our friendship.

Will I never see you again? I cried, wiping tears from my eyes in an uncharacteristic, emotional display.

On the contrary. You will see me every time you sit down on the green grass or wander through the woods. I will be hiding in every plant and flower, every burrow, hill and mountain. I am in the meadows and the brooks, the caves and the underbrush. This place is my home and I know it well. It is my wisdom and now it is yours.

Gnomes are the elemental of the earth. As their name

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implies they hold the gnosis, the wisdom of nature.

I didnt really understand his words. Feelings were clouding the possibility of thinking clearly. Then, he placed the key in my hand. This time he didnt disappear but rather simply turned and walked away. At one point in the distance I thought I saw him raise his left hand to say goodbye, but he never looked back.

The key fit easily into the old lock. I turned it slowly and the lock dropped like an anvil. The gate swung open and the path was clearly visible, guarded by tall hedges on either side. Directly in front of me stood a sign with the words, The Rose gives Honey to the Bee. Another riddle! Unable to determine which might be the best route to take I began wandering aimlessly. Then as I regained my senses I contemplated the maze, stopping every now and then to decide which way to go. Isnt this like life? I thought to myself. Should I go left or right or keep to the straight path? In an ordinary situation the shortest distance between two

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points would be a straight line, but this place was clearly not ordinary and neither for that matter, has much of my life been so simple! Id often followed meandering paths to find that although it took longer to reach my goal my life was much richer as a result. Could this explain the meaning of that strange sign?

This situation was not so different. In fact, I had a decided advantage that I made me feel sure I could find the best path leading to the center. Although the hedges were tall I could either jump up a bit or stand on my tiptoes and see the white rose gleaming in the light of the moon. By bobbing up

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and down I knew I would find my way to her without too much difficulty.

Making my way through the maze I found myself driven by an overwhelming desire to behold the rose and in turn to meet her mistress. It was truly a love attraction that compelled me to put one foot in front of the other. One wrong turn and sadness arose in my heart; two wrong turns and I became dreadfully downtrodden. What had to be done was clear: allow myself to surrender to the attraction that was leading me straight to my hearts desire.

Finally, one sharp right turn delivered me to the prize. I beheld four narrow paths in the form of a cross that led through a garden of black roses. There at the very center was the rose of a hundred petals. I was the bee and she the honey.

I felt utter love gazing at this magnificent white rose. Unable to move I dropped to the ground. I suddenly did not even

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have the energy to determine which path led to my beloved. As strange as this may sound, given my condition, I must have fallen asleep. And in this sleep I had a dream within a dream: in it the white rose turned into a fair damsel with the hundred-petalled blossom crowning her veiled head. She descended from her throne and walked directly toward me. I felt as if a missing part of my self was rejoining my body and I became whole again.

When I opened my eyes the dream had become a reality. Only it wasnt a beautiful lady sitting beside me but the white rose. As I stood up, so did she. Her petalled head reached to my chest and her lower branches served ably as feet. She placed her leafy-hand in mine and I followed her out of the labyrinth.

What if you slept? And what if, in your sleep, you dreamed? And what if in your dream You went to heaven and there plucked

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A strange and beautiful flower? And what if, when you awoke, You had the flower in your hand? Ah! What then? Coleridge

The absurdity of walking while holding a branched hand did not escape me but it was a lovely absurdity that pleased me very much.

We soon found ourselves facing the herd of unicorns that surrounded the Castle of the Moon. By this time there was more light, and I turned my gaze upwards. What had been a crescent had now blossomed into a perfectly round full moon. Clean and dressed up in my green garment, armed with a precious gift, the white steeds stepped aside and each in turn dropped to one knee in a graceful, welcoming curtsey.

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As I entered the main chamber my empty stomach churned and again hunger pangs shot through my body. Ridiculous! I was finally about to meet the White Queen and all I could think about was food. It seemed that every pore in my body screamed out to be fed. I tightened my grasp on the delicate branched hand, being careful not to squeeze too hard.

So I see youve brought my sister. The words echoed off the vaulted ceiling. At the end of the great hall, standing on a raised patio, was a petite woman with long pins sticking out from her black hair. Her back was to me, but I was sure the words came from her.

I took a step back when in a sudden ballet-like pirouette she turned and faced me. This could not be the queen, I thought. This is a geisha.

Who are you? I demanded.

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My eardrums were instantly inundated with voices ricocheting off the leaden windows, huge wooded thrusts, stone galleys and gilded birdcage.

Cleopatra. Maria. Cybele. Isis. Kwan Yin. Aphrodite.

I fell to the ground and the rose bowed before the whiterobed geisha.

I have many names but you may call me Chang Mai.

A memory flashed through my head and my mind drifted momentarily to a far away place. Gathering my senses once again I managed to ask, Are you the White Queen?

What is a queen without a king? I await the day when I am indeed once again a true Queen.

I dont understand. I confessed, but she was busy now placing her sister in a crystal vase.

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You are hungry. She stated plainly. Let us retire to the dining hall. And with that she stepped gracefully into an adjoining room. The table was set with tall silver candelabras, two shiny silver plates and matching silverware. Before she took her seat I had the chance to study her. She was stunningly beautiful. Her robe was made of white silk embroidered with swans and bamboo. She wore tall wooden slippers that held feet no bigger than my hands. Her face looked like a Kabuki mask: pure white with slashes of black and red to accentuate her eyes. As she sat down her eyes met mine and I saw two silver orbs set perfectly in white opal. She caught herself quickly and broke her unintended gaze.

She sat quietly for a few moments. Then, with her head slightly bowed she began to sing a song. Her voice reminded me of a nightingale.

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With this prayer we bless this food that will help make us more gentle in our ways. With these words she removed the silver lids from three large serving bowls. Before me lay a bounty so grand it immediately brought to mind the best Thanksgiving meals Id ever had. Mushrooms garnished in garlic, mashed potatoes, four different salads, breads twisted into the forms of butterflies, giant corncobs and sweet potatoes; all quite tempting but I nevertheless noticed the conspicuous absence of meat. My hunger had not the patience to inquire about this obvious oversight. Instead, on receiving her signal to commence I unleashed my appetite. So famished was I, not a word was exchanged between us the entire meal.

After what seemed an hour, she opened one last small silver tray and offered its contents to me. To my surprise it was a fortune cookie with four leaves folded inward like a flower. For some odd reason I felt amused. I smiled and quietly took the cookie in hand, cracking it open. The message inside read: Sow your seed on white foliated earth.

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I hadnt the slightest idea what this riddle was trying to say, but I knew there must be a hidden meaning.

Before you leave, said the Queen, you will leave a part of yourself and when you go you will take a part of me with you. She then gathered herself up and for the first time smiled. She poured two small timbales of sake. We tapped our glasses and I offered a toast in response to her mysterious words, May our exchange bless this day. She

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sipped, I chugged and that is all I remember until I found myself lying in a sea of white satin sheetsquite alone.

I lay still for a long time going over the whole affair in my mind my entrance through a parade of unicorns, the shock at discovering that the Queen was a geisha, the magnificent dinner laid out with sterling silver plates and goblets and of course, the very curious voices that introduced their lady. As I pondered the name she gave I recalled the city where I had fallen into this slumber. Then, it occurred to me clearly that Chang Mai wasnt a place named after the queen; rather the queen was in fact a place. Not a place in the geographic sense but a place as in a state of mind, after all, I was asleep and this was indeed a dream. The realization was dizzying. I might have even woken up at this point if I werent still in the clutches of the shamans spell.

As I lay looking up at the curtained ceiling above my bed my thoughts were interrupted by shadows dancing across the canap. Amidst the shadows tiny sparks twinkled like stars

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and slowly spinning planets. I could make out certain constellations and even a few planets but to my horror I realized that my perception was not from good old planet earth. I kept checking and rechecking but I slowly grew certain that I must be on another planet. The shock catapulted me out of bed. I craned my head out the window and gazed upward but still I could not see the full moon that had greeted me on my arrival. I turned to peer down the side of the tall tower and in every direction the ground was as silver-white as the moons surface. I shivered in fear and jumped back into bed. Having rectified my perspective it appeared that I was looking at the heavens from the surface of the moon.

Was this the white earth that the queen had spoken of earlier?

My mind grew weary, my eyes closed and soon my thoughts sank like ships slipping over the horizon.

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I awakened with no thoughts of the night. So this must be what Cynthia had described as dreamless sleep. It was as if the editor had simply removed a portion of the film and spliced it back together, leaving out whatever might have occurred between sleeping and waking. In fact, this well described my experience since arriving in the palace. I seemed to jump from one scene to the next without experiencing the usual continuity that gives life its flow. One minute I was in bed, I found myself suddenly strolling with the geisha queen in her garden with no transition in between. Mystically, the moon appeared again, above the castle towers.

Did you sleep well? inquired the queen, looking as lovely as ever.

I cant really say, but I did come to realize that you are the place, or should I say a state of mind that can only come in a dream.

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You are more right than you know. Let me explain.

We were sitting by a well, which may be the reason Chang Mais voice took on a strange resonance. She spoke with a depth Id not heard before; it didnt quite fit the small frame of this demure woman.

Dreams are not the sole province of human beings. They are the place where the past recedes to the time, for whatever reason, we no longer have use for the present. Now, for the first time I felt that I was in the presence of a royal figure. Chang Mai spoke with authority and I was rapt with attention to hear what she had to say.

We all, gods and humans, descended from the Great Mother. She begot mountains, stars and fishes. The whole universe is her progeny. True, it was through their holy embrace that Spirit and Soul spawned all that we see, hear, touch, smell and imagine, but only through the grace of the Mother did the world became manifest. It is their embrace

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that all things imitate in hopes of adding to her bounty. There was a time when the Great Mother was honored and the cloak of her majesty was respected throughout the earth and the heavens. Although she asked for no more than love, what she received in return was envy. This was inevitable since humans are prone to forget their maker when they themselves taste the sweet ambrosia of creation. To bring a child out of chaos and into life is a miracle. It blinds both parents to the darkness out of which creation first arises. The great darkness that resides behind every act of creation passes into the land of dreams. So tight is the grip that holds onto the miracle of birth that a greater miracle is lost and forgotten. This has been the fate of both Mother Soul and Father Spirit. Their holy embrace has been reduced to meaningless sensations, sex has replaced lovemaking, and sentimentality mimics true feelings.

You cant sleep because as it is well known, you live in an age of anxiety. The sacred art of healing has also drifted into dreamland and medicines that are anti-nature have been

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substituted for remedies that once recalled the healing powers of Soul and Spirit. This has all become necessary to achieve a single purpose: human beings can and will become gods. The Soul may be locked within the dreams of man and Spirit within the woman, but through the fourfold interaction of each element the world will be made whole again. The anxiety that keeps you awake at night is not a sickness but rather a calling to the great new age that is coming. You are here to advance the evolution of conscious wholeness. You are the catalyst the Mercury- that will bring dream into manifest reality. By order of the Queen you will not awaken until this deed is done.

I was unnerved by her pronouncement and frightened by her command. Feebly, I summoned the courage to ask, Those voices I heard when we first met I stumbled with the next words but she completed my thought.

are my many voices. Yes, I am the Great Mother.

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My mind took off in ten different directions at once, but my body anchored me too well. I could not move. Then, another splice and it was back between the sheets again. I was numb. I kept repeating to myself out loud, Is she really the Great Mother? Why had she chosen me to bring her back from the darkness of the past? I am just a mortal human being and she is a goddess. Why on earth does she need me to do this deed? Can I?

This time there was no cosmos staring down upon me. Beneath the white satin sheets I was as naked as a newborn baby. I wanted to enter the dreamless sleep and forget this burden that had been laid upon my shoulders. But my eyes were wide open and the Queens words spun around in my head like bees looking for the rose. A silhouette appeared from behind the linen curtains and I knew without having to think that the Great Mother had come for me.

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Naked she stood in the moonlight like a shining alabaster goddess of Venus. The white make-up was gone and her flesh glistened with the freshness of morning dew.

There is, I now know, a point beyond sex and even lovemaking that brings two beings together, regardless of whether they are human or divine, into a dimension that is perfectly harmonized with every atom in the universe. Were consciousness not retained the two would merely disappear and the whole enterprise would be meaningless. But, when two beings can hold the awareness of such a meeting, nothing less than a miracle occurs.

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We sat face-to-face, arms around each others shoulders; the silver eyes of her eyes as she peered into mine, made my eyes feel like gold. Our breathing became naturally synchronized and with each breath we sank into the others skin. The circulation of our blood became one system; our bodies lost their individual distinction and we were one big, lovely animal having four arms and four legs. I was blessed with the thoughts of a goddess and she discovered what humans think. My seed impregnated her soul; Spirit and Soul conjoined in holy matrimony. For one split instant of a second the earth stood still, the planets stopped in their orbits and for the first time the sun finally broke through the night.

I awakened to brilliant sunshine and in an instant found myself standing before the White Queen in the Great Hall. The unicorns formed a huge ring around us. It appeared that a formal wedding was about to begin. Light streamed through every window forming crosses on the stonewalls and wooden floor. The Queen spread her arms wide as if she

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were about to take flight. My green vestments had been replaced with white silk garments. The ceremony was about to begin when the sunbeams that only a moments before were shafts of golden white light, suddenly sharpened into arrows that struck randomly about the room.

Pandemonium broke out as the horses reared up and bolted aimlessly around the room. Some of them were killed instantly when struck by the suns sharp rays. I could barely see through the dust that had been raised, nor could I hear over the din of furniture being crushed and overturned.

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Despite the uproar the Queen held her countenance and spoke to me, saying that I should leave immediately but not forget my charge. Save me from this dream, bring me back to my mother Earth! With this she descended the steps of her throne. She tore the veil from her face and cupped it into my right hand. Then she took hold of the unicorn that had been my guide. She whispered something into her ear and the unicorn bowed her front two legs to the ground. Alight upon this noble beast. She will take you as far as she can go. Then you must release her.

I hurriedly jumped on the horses back and we hastened quickly out of the castle. I turned one last time to see the queen. By now the sun bolts were threatening to bring down the entire castle. The queen seemed unfazed by the impending collapse. Her last words to me were, The sun is rising. Go and defeat the Devil that stands between you and the Light.

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Immediately upon exiting the castle I very nearly fell off my horse. My eyes, having grown accustomed to the dim moonlight, were not prepared for the full blast of the suns rays. The trees that had previously appeared dark and mysterious were now transformed into leafless twigs. What was left of the forest now became an endless open expanse of sand a wilderness. We rode without stopping until at last I could not see any remnants of the Castle of the Moon nor anything in any other direction.

This was a desert like none other Id ever experienced. There were no dunes, palm trees or any vegetation at all. In fact, the desert floor was absolutely flat and devoid of all life.

My horse rode valiantly, but I could feel her pace slowing down. The sun blazed relentlessly overhead. I took the Queens veil and placed it over my face. The scent of the moon was woven into the silk and it sustained me long after the unicorn could go no further. Her thick hide had become like the texture of clay and I feared that she would soon

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melt; an image I could not bear. I dismounted. Her eyes were downcast. I thanked her and sent her on her way. Go home, go to your Lady and be well.

My white vestments were soaked with sweat. I turned round and round looking in every direction for some sign of life. There was none. The white sand made no sound as I plodded haplessly not knowing in what direction I was heading. It all seemed to be a hallucination. Heat shimmered upwards in waves, distorting the horizon. Words randomly flew about in my mind as I held onto memories. Without them I would disappear. They provided me the compass I lacked: I knew not where I was going but at least I knew where Id been. I tried attaching bits of memory to my present state of misfortune. And that gave rise to the image of the fortune cookie and its cryptic message: Sow your golden seeds in white foliated earth.

Certainly this sand must be the white earth, but what was I to make of the word foliated. It wasnt a word in my

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vocabulary. I toyed with it awhile and through association recalled that women undergo foliation in their beauty treatments. Images came to mind of flesh being stretched and pulled, smoothing out wrinkles and crows feet. Then it occurred to me that contrary to the weight I should be feeling from fatigue, quite the opposite was happening. I was feeling lighter, brighter and whiter. A wind began to blow from behind. At first it came in waves as if to nudge me along. With each gust I felt as if gravity was being drained from my body. I was being foliated; being made elastic, growing thinner and thinner. I was losing my weight. My clothes flapped in the wind like flags lashed to a pole. Once the wind had become constant and I knew what to do - I let go.

If there is any one experience that makes you feel like a god it is flying. And here I was sailing along, arms outstretched, feeling like Icarus. Unlike him however, I had no wings and no desire to fly close to the broiling sun. In fact, the wind carried me along parallel to the sand below not more than

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twenty to thirty feet above the ground. I felt as light as a feather as I flew off into the unknown. It was an exhilarating sensation that seemed to last for an eternity.

My bliss was abruptly cut short when I suddenly crashed head on into a huge, red tent. I literally bounced off its angular roof and flew backwards to the ground. I could feel some of the gravity returning to my body, sufficient enough to allow me to walk without flying off again. I sat there pondering this strange and massive tent out of which arose plumes of smoke and the smell of rotten eggs.

The winds died down and the presence of sound returned. I heard the flutter of the tents canvas walls billowing like sails on a boat. Summoning up my courage I made my way to the entrance. Deftly I opened the front panel and found myself nose to nose with a brown-skinned, turbaned man. The point of his sharp dagger was beneath my chin, causing my head to tilt back slightly. Despite my fright I stared directly into his eyes as if this would keep me safe.

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Its about time, he said at last. He studied my face as if it were a map of a familiar place. As he lowered his dagger, air rushed back into my lungs and my heart starting beating again.

How did you know it was me? I managed to ask.

Have you looked around? There is no one else here but you, so whom else might I have expected?

Confused and a bit delirious I dropped into one of the many cushions spread about the tent.

Even in your condition you must be hungry. Have you a stomach to hold this soup Ive made?

It was actually a good question and I had to put my hand to my abdomen to make certain that I could indeed hold something down.

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Yes, I replied, I am hungry.

He took out two bowls and with a metal ladle poured the soup. I removed the Queens kerchief noticing a small bloody red tear in it. The soup tasted awful. I couldnt imagine what it was made of. But its effect on me was welcome. It consolidated my body, adding greater weight that pressed me deeper into the pillow. My light-headedness was also diminishing and I was thinking more clearly. Still I hadnt regained my normal weight and from time to time I would slip off into the air. It was a bit embarrassing.

We ate without saying a word; in between bites we looked at each other. This time, it was he who looked familiar to me. He realized this and said straight out, I told you I would care for your soul.

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I was dumbfounded. It was the shaman! My emotions twisted and turned like two birds mating in mid air, oblivious to the earth that was fast approaching.

Its you! I shouted accusingly. You got me into this nightmare and then disappeared.

You asked for my help. You asked for sleep and so here you are, fast asleep. He responded casually.

Well thats just fine, but how the hell do I get myself out of here?! I couldnt get too angry because I knew now more than ever that I needed his help.

I said I would care for your soul and so I have. You met her and nearly married her but obviously there is still work to be done.

You are talking about the Queen. She is my soul?

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Of course, how could you not have known that? Why pray tell would she come to you and even be willing to marry?

She said she was the Great Mother.

Indeed she is, as all souls are.

I was still stunned by my realization that this was the shaman. But even greater than my curiosity about his arrival or the Queens identity was my desire to get out of this crazy dream.

You got me into this sleep, now how do you propose to get me out? I want to wake up, I said, half-demanding, half pleading with him.

Your wish is my command. He said in such a way that I could not tell whether he was joking or not.

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Yes, I will help you again. He continued. This time it will be your Spirit that I will care for. It is the Soul that brings sleep and the Spirit that takes you back to the light of day.

He abruptly jumped to his feet and told me to stay put and that he would return with an elixir that would cure me of my sickness. As he turned I noticed for the first time an unusual door at the far end of the tent. He repeated the order, this time more emphatically, You are to stay where you are. I must go into my laboratory to concoct a potion that will deliver you from this sleep. You must not disturb me, your mind is not in harmony with the work and were you to accompany me into the laboratory your condition would only ruin things. Stay put.

Staying put was not easy. I was still struggling to keep my body down; and kept hovering off the pillow. It took concentrated effort to weigh myself down and without conversation I became distracted and found myself floating around the room. Awkwardly I landed right in front of the

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laboratory door. It was made of lead and had a strange picture engraved into it. There were the images of two people, a man and a woman in a very unusual position: the woman was bent over on the left and the man was in a sitting position on the right; their buttocks nearly touched and both their left arms were extended behind them. There were four birds, each seated on their heads and feet. Below them was a circle containing three hearts with snakes emanating out of each.

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The picture unnerved me. At the same time my curiosity grew to a pitch. I held it in check sufficiently so that I kept myself from entering the laboratory. Again, losing my concentration I found myself floating off to the other side of the room. In a clever move I thought I might sneak around to the back of the tent and satisfy my curiosity with a quick peek. I stole my way to the rear of the tent and as quietly as possible lifted the canvas just high enough to look in. Astonished by what I saw I dropped the canvas quickly and ran back to the entrance. I took my seat pretending that Id not moved an inch.

Fortunately the door was still shut, giving me enough time to regain my composure. How could it be that there was no laboratory? All I saw was the inside of this very same room. I had no time to digest this thought for at that moment the shaman returned carrying a large, heavy goblet.

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Your spirit is restless. This will settle you down and prepare you for your next lesson.

Although I wasnt exactly sure what my first lesson was, I took the goblet and poured its contents down in one gulp. It felt as if Id swallowed an anchor.

Grimacing and choking I managed to ask, What was that? Gold.

Silence is Golden

Knowing I could no longer speak, the alchemist said bluntly, One of the first rules of good sleep is not to be chattering away when your body is trying to rest. Talking in your sleep shows that you have not properly shifted from daytime talking to the other faculties that reign during sleep. For example, seeing and listening are the skills that will help you get the most out of sleep. Nature paralyzes your body for

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this reason: so that when you are dreaming you will pay attention. But, like the saying goes you can lead a horse to water but you cant make him drink. You have much to learn about putting your mind in harmony with the work. Now that you are unable to talk perhaps you will listen. But, I enlist your cooperation. Listening with your inner mind is more than just hearing sounds. Thus far you have managed to learn many of the operations of the Art. For the most part you have been lucky. Mercurius has looked down on you with favor. But remember miracles favor a prepared mind. Your journey through Sleepy Hollow taught you the essence of alchemy. We must dissolve not just our problems in order to arrive at solutions but in the Work we dissolve our entire being in order to be born anew.

This was your initiation and you did well to re-assemble yourself using imaginatio or what you call remembering.

Mercurius blessed you again when you were allowed into the labyrinth of the Self and there found the hundred-petalled

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rose. This gave you access to your Soul, the White Queen. She gave you a taste of what her wisdom feels like, but you were not sufficiently ready to have her take permanent residence in your body. For this you needed to be purified. The kindly spirits of the winds blew most of those gross particles out of you: bad habits, negative thoughts, and disbelief in the world beyond the physical one. You have learned something of Natures power: the water or solutio, earth or coagulatio, air and its operation of sublimatio and now you face your final lesson: the trial by fire, calcinatio.

I froze at the thought of what this trial by fire might involve.

Come with me. He said in a more gentle voice. He led me outside the tent and into the flat desert. The sun was near the horizon and the full moon was rising in the opposite direction. We waited in silence until the sky was mixed with an equal share of day and night. The shaman alchemist walked twenty paces away from me and with eyes closed he stretched out his arms and his delicate long hands. He

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became a silhouette against the purple sky. At first my eyes focused on the black cross formed by his figure, but then my eyes lit up as I saw two celestial globes in either hand. I could not tell the difference. Was he holding the sun in the right hand and the moon in his left? Rationally, I knew how much larger the sun was but at this very moment the two were perfectly equal in size.

Although I could not see his face I heard him say, The Sun and the Shadow complete the work. The recipe was not especially spoken to me, but rather he was speaking it for the world to hear. But, his next words were clearly meant for my ears. You must create the inner space where all things great and small have room to exist. Both Queen and King must be made to feel at home in your mind. Night is not the enemy to day. Day is not the enemy of night. They are two sides to the same coin as is everything in life. Your task is to create the condition where they are held together. Then possibly all opposites might integrate and become the One.

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Then, he switched again to addressing the world, As Above, So Below for the Making of the One Thing.

In order to find equanimity you must be at one with the movements of the earth, its mother, the moon and its father, the sun. With this I watched as he went through a set of yoga-like movements. First, he spread his feet and arms far apart, making the silhouette of his body appear like a star. He then drew his feet together and stretched out his arms forming the image of a black cross. He held each position for a several minutes. Next, he brought both arms down to his sides and moved his feet apart. This time the silhouette looked like an arrow. And finally, he brought both feet back together and raised his arms above his head joining his hands as if to pray. He stood in this way, perfectly straight. The shadow dance continued through these motions in complete silence: star, cross, arrow, line.

After a hundred or so repetitions I began to feel their effect. As I stood speechless I felt movement under my feet. The

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more I concentrated on it the more it increased, until at last I feared losing my balance. I realized that I was feeling the movement the earth. Yes, this was earth again. It was familiar but shocking. I literally felt the earth revolving on its axis. The alchemist then changed to his arrow position and my attention was directed to the full moon. This time I felt no movement, but rather an affinity between the earth and the moon. I reflected on the fact that the moon does not rotate on her axis. She is always looking at us like a dreaming soul mirroring the suns distant light.

The alchemist moved again into his star position and again I felt the movement palpably in my body. Both moon and earth this time were rotating in orbit around the sun. This movement was much subtler and I had to concentrate more deeply to feel the effect. By this time, my body instinctively mimicked the alchemists movements and with each repetition the internal effect became more pronounced. In time I felt the whole orchestration of movements, even that of the sun speeding through space. It was a calculus of

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celestial movement that I could bear for only an instant before I collapsed dizzied and in awe.

You have done well, my young initiate. He lifted me by the hand until I was able to stand and my head stopped spinning. Still I could not speak but even if I could there were no words to describe what I was feeling after such an exalted experience. He took me back into the tent and led me to an altar. He told me to shut my eyes. I did as I was told. He rubbed something cool on my forehead as if anointing me with holy oil.

This recipe will bring you to the Bridge of Day Light.

Anticipating my very next thought, he added, You will read it by using your third eye. He took me to the door of the laboratory. I was frightened and visibly shaken. You are ready for the final lesson. Remember what you have learned and use it well. The salamander is your friend.

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I was completely confused. How could I read the recipe? Could I really use what I remembered from the various tests Id been through? And, what was this salamander he mentioned? All I thought about since he told me about a trial by fire were images of hell, a fiery inferno and the Devil.

Shaking from head to toe I entered the room with my eyes tightly closed. I heard the lead door lock behind me. I was surprised that flames didnt consume me the moment I stepped across the threshold. In fact, I felt no heat at all. Suppressing fear I opened my eyes to half-mast. Although the light was dim I could distinctly see a room. Pressed up against the far end of the room was a large four-poster bed with a canopy above it. I could barely discern a figure a man- lying on the left side of the bed. There were two windows allowing streams of red light to shine in and an Oriental rug covered the entire floor. The design in the rug caught my attention. It was an intricate pattern of peacock feathers. What startled me was the eye in each of the feathers; eyes that contained tiny clusters of stars slowly

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swirling in the void of space. I was reminded of the queens bed and how I lain down staring up into the canopy of stars. These feathers held little universes like precious, delicate gems. I dared not step on them for fear that they might break or I might fall into the starry abyss.

Ever so carefully I walked through this maze, making sure to step between the peacocks eyes. As there was ample space to steer myself safely through, the real problem was not one of balance but one of restraint. The little galaxies were awesomely beautiful and inviting. Each had its own distinctive array of stars, moons, planets and suns, all twinkling and pulsating with a hypnotic attraction. Making my way across the room with my head down kept me from seeing what manner of person occupied the bed.

Alas, I arrived at a safe distance to steady myself. I slowly raised my head. At the far end of the bed, under a pile of blankets lay an old man with a gold crown on his head. His eyes were closed and were it not for the gentle rising of the

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blankets around his chest I would have sworn he was dead. His gray beard had long since lost its silver. He looked gravely ill and had my voice been working, I would have greeted him with some consoling words. This proved unnecessary for suddenly his eyes fluttered opened and he spoke.

I am dying. Will you help me?

I stood there speechless. Again, he called out for assistance and again I could not respond. When he uttered the same

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words a third time I thought they would be his last. I could do no more at this point than move toward him. I touched his shoulder to give him reassurance that in fact I had heard him and would give him whatever help I might have to offer.

Lie down with me. Death is so lonely. Will you keep me company awhile? I silently complied with his request. There were no stars in the canopy, only a blank screen onto which I might cast my thoughts. The King lay motionless, as did I. He was in his nightgown and I was still wearing the white clothes given to me by the Queen.

He kept repeating, I have no mystery anymore. I have lost my mystery.

Beads of sweat formed on the Kings brow. There is no way of knowing how long we lay there. But, for however long it was, his fever had now found its way into my body. I began burning up as my temperature rose in escalating waves of

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heat. I became delirious and could see lizards scurrying across the canopy curtains. A gasp put a quick end to this hallucination and I turned to see that the King had died, or at least that is what I surmised by his disappearance. Only his golden crown remained on the pillow that still held the impression of his massive head.

The fire inside me continued to rage and I thought that soon I too would be gone. The fever brought back the lizards, only this time they darted down the bedposts and gathered round the golden crown. So these are the salamanders! With this thought I recalled the alchemist telling me that these elementals were friends to the flame and that I should trust them. Indeed I had little choice in the matter. The fever was raging in my bones and I could no longer move.

Seven of these little creatures managed to lift the heavy crown and with their spongy fingers place it on my head. As I was being crowned I thought I saw writing on the crowns inner rim. But no, the words similar similus curatur were

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actually being reflected from the inner rim of the gold crown and instead were written across my forehead. Frightfully I caught a glimpse of them quickly just before the crown was installed on my head.

I did not know Latin but it wasnt long before I figured out what the recipe meant. Like cures like. Unfortunately, the recipe seemed to arrive too late to save the King. My fever reached its pitch and I felt as though Id fallen into one of the black holes in the maze-like rug.

What remained of me then was no more than an empty crown and pile of ash. I no longer existed. Id lost my soul, spirit and now my body was gone. The only thing left was consciousness and I somehow salvaged the awareness of my dying. Efforts to remember what I looked like did not work this time. The King was right: death is lonely. I longed to be alive again. I wasnt ready to die. There were no eyes from which tears could fall, no arms to reach out for help, no legs

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to run from this place. I could do not more than to submit to my fate.

They say that death does not come immediately, that after the body dies, the soul goes through intermediate states before reaching its final destination. Perhaps the same can be said of life. I couldnt distinguish life from death, day from night, light from dark. I was in a netherworld between the categories of normal existence. There is no telling how long I was held suspended in this state. Minutes, hours - perhaps even days had passed. My reverie was broken when, without warning a vial of water was thrown upon the pile of ash, and I plunged out of that no-mans-land and sprang back into full corporeal existence.

Above me the moon shone with delight. When I wiped the tears from my eyes I saw Cynthias smiling face. She stood by the bed obviously happy to see me revived.

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Around her neck I noticed a familiar locket out of which poured the last droplet of water.

Where did you get this? I asked as I struggled to raise my arm to touch it.

From a friend I met while in a dream. He did not tell me his name.

I drew her to my face and clutched my arms around her neck. You are back. Its been an eternity. I was so lonely and now we are together again.

Cynthias response surprised me. Well, we are not exactly back, as you say. And neither have you been as alone as you supposed you were. I have lain by your side for a full day and nearly all night. The doctors told me you were in no physical danger, but that you were dreaming. Since they could do nothing to help you I brought you back to our hotel

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room. If they couldnt revive you I was intent on finding you myself.

I recalled the amazing powers of dreaming Cynthia possessed. Never had I imagined they would be used to save my life.

What do you mean that we are not back yet?

My instructions were clear. There are five things we must do before we can seal the deal, I was told, before everything will return to normal. I have done the first and here you are, very much alive. Now we must complete the other four tasks told to me by your friend. Having said as much she grabbed my arm and helped me up from the bed. I will tell you one of these tasks as we go because time is of the essence.

Standing up I surveyed the room and noticed that I was no longer in the alchemists laboratory. We were back in the hotel room. We rushed out the door and descended a small

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staircase, without bothering to change out of our white night clothes. We rushed through the dark streets like two ghosts searching for their bodies. We ran for some distance and I was getting winded. Without breaking her stride Cynthia shouted, When the time is ready you must find the Salamander King.

I nearly stopped dead in my tracks but Cynthias tight grip on my arm kept us running at full sprint. Were nearly there. Dont stop or all will come to ruin.

As the night sky receded and the faintest shades of magenta, purple and green were barely becoming visible, I could just make out our destination ahead. Twenty yards in front of us was a red bridge. All the events of the night dissolved in my mind at this sight and all I could manage to say out loud was Its the Bridge of Day Light.

It arched across an inky black river. As we climbed over I chanced to look over the wooden railing. This wasnt a river.

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It was a crack that separated two worlds. I forced Cynthia to stop and gaze into the depths. We must have seemed, as we stood there, like a scene from a movie, frozen in time: two lovers clad in their white night garments leaning over the red bridge and gazing into the blackness that separates light from dark, day from night, life from death.

I was exhilarated and nervous. Sensing my mixed emotions Cynthia handed me an envelope. This is the fourth instruction. I fumbled with the envelope as my hands struggled to open it. There was a small card inside and with trembling hands I held it and read the few words written on it:

Dont worry. Ill keep the watch. Sweet dreams, S.B.

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A tear fell from my eyes as I recalled my friend and knew the hidden meaning in his message. From this moment forward my life was changed. I knew clearly what I had to do to serve my Queen and serve as King. I would in time find the Salamander King for he, I realized, was in fact me.

We gently descended the steps of the bridge and sat down on its first step or was it the last?- with our arms wrapped tightly around each other. The predawn sun had broken the plane of the horizon and a new day was about to begin.

You said there were five instructions. What is the last?

Cynthia smiled. Looking deeply into my eyes, she whispered in my ear, Youre going to be a father.

This was enough to wake me up!

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When a child first opens its eyes to the world it sees a swirl of colors and a chaotic pattern of ill-formed objects. Initially it is all a blur because the child is not yet fully separated from the dark matter of space. But just as the star it is made of the child carries a spiritual light. This light is delivered to earth cloaked in secrecy. The child will spend the rest of his or her life discovering this great secret.

In the beginning the childs eyes cannot make out boundaries that separate things from each other. Mother and father are one being. The trees and flowers are one thing. God is not separate but rather like a circle whose center is no where and whose circumference is everywhere.

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Every birth changes the entire planet ever so slightly. Perhaps even earths course through space is altered a little bit.

Hopefully each new change leads us in a better direction. We will sleep easier knowing that the love we give a child contributes to a future filled with pleasant dreams.

Dr. Thom F. Cavalli is a practicing psychologist, lecturer and author of Alchemical Psychology, Old Recipes for Living in a New World (Putnam 2002) and Embodying Osiris, The Secrets of Alchemical Transformation (Quest Books, November 2010).

Thom F. Cavalli, Ph.D. illavac@hotmail.com Cavallibooks.com AlchemicalPsychology.com 714972-0056 2030 East Fourth Street

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Suite 134 Santa Ana CA 92705

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