May 18, 2023

 It took me a while to figure out what was going on this morning but I’m pretty sure I’ve figured it out now. I suspect that I was called to assist a living person’s trip to the Imaginal that had been facilitated by a psychedelic substance. I’ve wondered about these so-called tourists into the Imaginal and know that sometimes people have a bad trip. I suspect that what makes a bad trip has to do with the person’s lack of preparation, lack of a guide (in the physical sense) and lack of a guide (in the Imaginal sense.) I’m sure mental health and the overall capacity of the person to handle intense, confusing and possibly terrifying experiences are also factors.


Today, I was meditating when I became aware of a goat-like man. He was standing amidst pine trees and was glowing silver. He was clearly fey. He led me through a dense pine forest, weaving among trees until we reached a small clearing. It was nighttime and at first I thought the glowing silver orb in the middle of the clearing was the full moon. It turned out to be a portal of sorts. Beneath it stood a silver stag, waiting patiently. As stared up at the ‘moon’ I saw a woman appear. She was clad in rich, silver robes and her skin glowed silver much like the goat-like man’s. She descended from the portal, landing astride the stag. She motioned for me to accompany her and I swung up behind her, clasping my hands around her waist. If you haven’t figured it out yet, she was clearly one of the fey folk as well. 


She guided the stag through the pine forest and we eventually reached a vast river. This raging torrent, however, was no normal river, though. I recognized it even though I had never seen it from this perspective before: It’s the soul river, the river that souls travel through on their way to their next destination, whatever that may be. I’ve known about this ‘river’ for years, at least since my early twenties.


From the ‘outside,’ the river looks both beautiful and unnerving. It’s rushing waters are a very sublime azure color but the current is the white wispy substance of the souls of the dead. I guess you could say it’s sort of like the River Styx but not exactly.


I observed the river, sitting behind the woman in flowing silver robes and seated on the silver stag. I asked her why the souls have lost their unique identities, becoming essentially faceless wisps. Her reply was simple, “They’ve forgotten most of who they were, like drinking from River Lethe.” I wondered how they remember their old identities and she seemed to think the question was funny. Looking back at me, she said, “How did you remember? You already have your answer.”


I knew I wasn’t sent there to stare at the river; I was meant to immerse myself in it. It dismounted from the stag and took my leave of the woman, wading into the swirling waters of the river. It was bracingly cold, cold as death, but not frightening. As soon as I was submerged in the river, I found myself in a different realm. This was a realm I’ve visited before. In this realm, the souls of the dead make up a raging wind, a gale that buffets everything. It’s a beautiful, if bleak, realm, lit by moonlight. Its colors are grays and blue and silver.


There was another fey waiting for me here. Unlike the goat-like man and the woman on the stag, he was clad all in black armor. I’m sure he appears fierce to some but I knew him to be a brother and I was happy to see him. To me at least, he was gentle, welcoming and kind. We greeted each other before lying down, side by side, on the ground and gazing at the souls screaming past.


I had barely lain down when I noticed the moon above was not really the moon. I understood that it was a portal, just like the one that the woman on the stag had descended from. I was immediately drawn into and found myself in another familiar world. This was one was snow white. Everything was white, almost blindingly so. It was so white that it was hard to see exact shapes. I did, however, see a trail of red in the ‘snow’ - it was blood. I followed it.


It’s interesting that usually I’m drawn into blackness and radiate a soft glow. The glow illuminates that blackness, allowing me to see what is hidden. This was the opposite; rather than radiating a glow, I radiated shadow and the shadow allowed me to see what was hiding in the whiteness.


I soon happened upon the person whose blood I was following. I still am not sure their gender or even what they look like but I got the sense they were young and scared. For this reason, they seemed kind of rabbit-like. This poor person was panicking, lost in this blindingly white realm and they were bleeding.


When I caught with them, I told them to stop and sit down. As had happened so many times with me over the past three years with other entities, I told them to breathe and relax, meditate. There was nothing to do, nowhere to go, nothing to be. Just breathe.


We found ourselves in a gray realm, the realm of depression. Slowly, I began to understand their story. They had entered the Imaginal, probably using a drug, and hadn’t done any of the preparation. They had been driven to do this because they were distraught and sad over the death of someone they loved. They wanted to try to find the loved one in the Imaginal and had found themselves lost first in the soul river, which terrified them. (It can be quite scary, I admit.) Panicked, they’d fled and found themselves lost in the white world where they were blind. They were hurt and limping and beside themselves with terror by the time I found them.


What could I do other than sit with them? I kept reminding them to breathe and relax. I told them that it’s generally a good idea to follow the time-tested protocols when entering the Imaginal. Do it in a safe place with a physical person to watch over you, call upon your protectors and only enter where you’ve been invited. I didn’t see any guides and it didn’t seem like they had a person around to look after them while they were on their trip.


The person was better while I was with them but they were still quite anxious. I think the gray realm was just about as bad as the blindingly white one for them. They had spent a lot of time here, mostly due to depression and found it smothering. What could I do in a few minutes besides tell them to keep breathing and relax. I also showed them a trick I’ve learned: Pay more attention to what the realm is made out of than to the forms or lack of them. This is Being 101, learning how to recognize the ‘substance’ of Being which is really ‘just’ truth. The more you can tune into the truth of Being, the easier it will be to accept whatever might be appearing before you. This is useful in the physical world, too, because it trains you on the non-doing practice. Simply breathing and relaxing and tuning into the truth of Being will help your soul to melt into non-being. Incidentally, this is similar to the dying process.


I don’t know how much I really helped but I hope I made a bad trip into a less disturbing one. The truth is that it takes decades of hard work to ‘train’ your soul and even then there is much to learn. I would hardly call myself an expert but I guess I do have some experience.


As my meditation drew to an end, I encouraged this being to stay with me and use me as anchor. I have no idea how useful this was but it was all I could think of.


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