HIGH STRANGNESS IN HIGH PLACES
Although ET 101 was now finished and I had moved back to town to prepare it for press, it wasn’t exactly like going back to business as usual. High Strangeness seemed to await me around every corner. I’ll start with the strangest first.
Without warning, I was once again summoned to Dragon’s Ridge. However, I felt extremely nervous about it this time. Something big was up and I wasn’t sure I wanted to find out what awaited me there.
I guess the difference between the everyday strangeness I put up with from my extraterrestrial writing buddies who, to make matters worse, had dubbed themselves “Mission Control”, was that they were playful, albeit weird, but most of the time very funny. At Dragon’s Ridge, however, another energy prevailed. This was the energy that I came to know as The Intergalactic Council.
To stand in front of this Council was to risk overdosing on magnificence while shaking in your boots. Their royalty was beyond dispute, their presence spiritually dazzling, and their demeanor far exceeded both the words “elegant” and “stately.” They were for many reasons not a joking matter. To be summoned by them was potentially like being called into the principle’s office, possibly for being on Santa Clause’s shit list, or for some other egregious and unacknowledged crime.
I was offered some encouragement from my alleged friends, which amounted to something that went a little like this: “Stand up, Buckaroo, you’re being called on the carpet. Suck it in. Bite the bullet. Face the Dragon. We will pick up your ashes.”
With this consoling guidance, I set out for Dragon’s Ridge. My dog declined to come – a very bad omen.
When I arrived I apprehensively climbed the Dragon’s Ridge and stood upon its highest summit looking down on a vast expanse of land that stretched for many, many miles. A herd of antelope would pass by in the distance measuring not more than half an inch in the scope of my vision. This view was well beyond vast and panoramic. It was also mystical and staggering. As I stared at this magnificent display of natural wonder, I started to see the land shudder. Out of its earthy skin, I saw Mayan glyphs emerging, one after the other, too fast to say which glyph was what, but pulsing out of the earth like landing lights at an airport, welcoming and guiding in its interdimensional traffic.
Can this be true? Am I staring at the inner workings of an interdimensional portal perched on what previously appeared to be a barren surface in the dimension I had just walked out of? I don’t know another way to explain it except to say that while I was discovering my own interdimensional nature, nature itself was also disclosing its own to me. I was mesmerized in awe for what felt like forever.
“Oh, my God,” was all I could say as I finally turned around to recover from what I just witnessed and was instantly faced with something else which was possibly even more staggering. A Supreme Being, an Intergalactic Council Member? Although I couldn’t see it, I could feel its overwhelming presence and it took my breath away. Its voice was resounding as this celestial force said, “You are vested with the Mantle of the Dragon. You are among a specialized group of beings who have been authorized to speak for the truth.“
I was stunned by this statement. Here I thought I was just a wandering child who was being called on the carpet for corrective procedures. Apparently not.
I went through a series of, “Golly, Gosh, Gee Whiz,” kind of responses as I was trying to humbly accept the bestowing of this great honor at this unexpected initiation. At that point, a stern and slightly annoyed voice said at a boombox level, “This is NOT a promotion. We don’t hire the handicapped. This is who you are.”
Well, that shut me up. It still does. But all of us will have to face this at one point or another. Who we are and what we are is far grander than we are able to say, or willing to know, or even capable of holding onto, but sooner or later we all must do so.
After this unnerving show down, I left O’Hare* Interdimensional Airport like I had just been hit by a big old 18-wheeler semi truck. This stuff was just getting weirder and weirder. I headed home for another three days of being down for the count. As I drove away, I passed through the town with the sign that had the words CAUTION – CONGESTED AREA and I saw the face of a cow staring at me in my side view mirror. I wondered if maybe this sign was really a cryptic message warning about the interdimensionally congested area that lay not far beyond it. The perplexing sign finally made sense. Perhaps the cow face was just an artistic touch. Very clever.
Following my slow recovery, I went over the event in my head and realized that one endearing thing about this ego-shattering encounter was the discovery that The Intergalactic Council did appear to have a sense of humor. “We don’t hire the handicapped,” is a great line. I think I’ll use it.
*O’Hare Airport in Chicago is one of the busiest airports in America.
Continue to the next exciting adventure of – I Will Blend No More Forever – Part XVII