TRANSFIGURATION:  HYPNAGOGIC HALLUCINATION or MY SO-CALLED EPIPHANY

 

 

TRANSFIGURATION: Jostfoto

 

 

“All night, all day, Angels watching over me, my Lord…         

Now I lay me down to sleep, Angels watching over me, my Lord.
I pray the Lord my soul to keep, Angels watching over me…”

~Traditional Hymn

 

I must have been five; maybe six years old, I recall a bedroom shared with my baby brother, four years younger.  He slept without contest, interned behind retractable bars in a crib.  The twin bed upon which I slept was situated free-range under a spacious window, positioned parallel within whispering distance--the proximity of our beds both spatially efficient and efficacious. 

Being put to bed for the sole purpose of falling to sleep was a rule of conduct strictly administered by our parents.  There was no margin for infraction.  Dad was once a sergeant in the Air Force.  Consequently, lights-out, barracks protocol prevailed.  One peep heard, incurred a stern reappraisal of incriminating behavior. 

Sure, we talked amongst ourselves--gibberish, really.  Courting suspense under the radar was part of the fun; even if it was mostly monologic.   We just couldn’t help ourselves.  And, why not?  A five year old and his junior roommate had a lot to share, recapping the day’s business.  Besides, provided the “pss pss pss banter” maintained a decibel level below the drone of the distant television, the recumbent tete a tete could go on for quite a while undetected.  Plus, we had a back-up plan, too.  Muffling spontaneous eruption of uncontrollable cackles, burying contorted faces into pillows was an accident-proof recourse---well, almost always.

Eventually, due to being kept up way past his bed-time, the little sibling slipped into slumber.  Subsequently, there I would be, left to my own devices, a whirling dervish of spinning quixotic visions in the noggin.  The room invariably transmuted into a shadow-box.   An interplay of morphing shadows and silhouettes surrounded me.   I was by no means, a fearful child.  And, I did know the difference between what was real and what prevarication was.  Nevertheless, just the same, menacing chimera and fantastic scenarios could be actuated through the wide-open aperture of this child’s hyperbolic imagination. 

Perched upon a pillow, elbows propped on the sill, peering out into an enchanting, mysterious star-speckled sky was preferred over counting sheep.  The vast expanse of The Milky Way provided a panoramic canvas, whereby, connecting twinkling dots, real and imagined constellations were constructed.  Exhaling breezes unfurled the festooned curtains, sheer and diaphanous, wafting like angel’s wings aflutter in wisps of fugacious flight.  Serenaded by a nocturnal chorus of cooing, chirping, croaking creatures concealed amidst the phantasmagorical landscape, enchanted my eardrums.  A multi-timbral soundtrack, an incessant, yet soothing night-music lullaby, would coax inevitable sleep. My bed, an interplanetary craft, transported me out beyond the cares of the day left behind.

On one of those star-trek nights, cast adrift in the Orphic Realm, I had the strangest, heretofore sensation.  Betwixt sleep and awake, my body froze paralyzed, heavy and immovable.  Inexplicably, I was unable to shake myself free from an inexorable cataplexic grip.   I was falling, free-falling without a parachute, impervious to the external world of five senses.  My inert body was molting, a lifeless garment, over a bottomless chasm.  Futile, hapless screams hollered out, were mute.  Senseless cries for help, reverberated and echoed back to me within a bell jar vacuum.  I fell deeper, deeply into an inescapable void of hollow darkness. 

Just before impact, a spasm jolted an instantaneous paroxysm!   I literally jumped out of my skin, buoyant, hovering above the bed.  The previous prepubescent kinesthetic disappeared into thin air. Even though, I still thought of myself as my self, I was disconnected from the flesh and bones identity lying supine down below.  Enlarging, my awareness encompassed multitudes, an integral part of an ever-expanding, pulsating Universe. 

Do I contradict myself?  Very well then I contradict myself,

(I am large, I contain multitudes.)  ~ Walt Whitman 

The walls of my room took on a volatile, mirage-like transparency.  Were they evaporating?  The dialogue and laugh tracks emanating from the television interspersed with my parent’s laughter and conversation could be heard down the hall.  Yet, clearly, I wasn’t in Kansas, or more precisely---I wasn’t in Florida, anymore.   Not in possession of comprehensive literary allusion, my young mind construed the perplexity akin to Dorothy being whisked away to the Land of Oz.

What in heaven’s name was happening to me?   How was this Technicolor splendor broadcasted in such panoramic high definition widescreen?  Apart from the improbability of it all, I was just about as beguiled as a five year old could be in the throes of an astral projection.   The new-found ability to navigate in gravity-defying feats of aeronautics was out of this world.   There was no need for wires and harnesses.  One could actually hang glide upon command without the aid of updrafts or wingspan.

Quite unexpectedly, the apparition of a man, attired in a black tuxedo materialized.  His corpse, for that is what he resembled, was outstretched overhead.  He was poised at a 45 degree declination, suspended mid-air, where the window had been.  Despite appearing dead normal, his grimace had a facial contour of someone in excruciating pain.

Did I know this man hitherto this ethereal excursion?  Except for the movies, I had no recollection of ever seeing someone so formally dressed.  However, a peculiar familiarity regarding this stranger was disconcerting.   ???

Propelled by curiosity, I maneuvered about for a closer inspection.  The apparition had been stabbed between the shoulder blades.  Strange though, there were no visible signs of struggle, or blood.  Thus, if he was a revenant that had come on the scene to haunt and spook, he remained uncharacteristically still and composed in a wake of repose and eternal sleep.

Then, a strange thing mystifying occurred.  A sensory rush of confounding effect overwhelmed me.  Into the wild yonder, the specter began to levitate slowly, air-lifted by a mysterious force.  His countenance modulated to luminous serenity, like those picture book paintings I had seen of angels aglow with loving, beneficent beatitude.  The empyreal entity soared heavenward evoking, what would turn out to be, shamanic soul alchemy.

Beholding this numinous TRANSFIGURATION, my heart filled to over-flowing with ECSTASY, a palpable LOVE.  The multiverse was transplendent, flood-lit with glorious, unified LIGHT.    Was this a panegyric celebration, a victorious return home aloft in the celestial ocean of SUPREME BLISS?  Ascending out of reach, leaving no trace, the avatar was consumed by a sacramental immolation of OMNIPRESENT WHITE FLAME DIVINITY, at once pixelating into millions, billions, trillions of white doves. 

I haven’t been the same since.

“At that time Jesus said, ‘I praise you, Father, Lord of heaven and earth, because you have hidden these things from the wise and learned, and revealed them to little children’.” ~ Matthew 11:25

In retrospection, I entertained the manifestation of a martyred incarnation.  It mattered not whether the visitation came from the past or future, or if it was an adumbration of the present lifetime.  The uncanny thing was, when I found myself in times of trouble, struck down by cruel twists of fate, the sense memory databank downloaded this apotheosis as an instantaneous, decisive moment.  Through the years, though kicking and screaming at times, I’ve had the forbearance to endure outrageous misfortune and senseless suffering from a higher perspective.  Indelibly etched into my impressionable psyche, like the relic of a venerated saint, the EPIPHANY has given me hope and faith when friends and family failed.

Hindsight is 20/20.  I see now the EPIPHANY was a prescient gift of GRACE.  Further, the revelation foretold via metaphorical narrative, the process of ASCENSION.  Even at an early age, I was given a brief catechism—a pictorial guide for the attainment of the soul’s highest expression.  The ascended martyr archetype represented overcoming earthly sorrow through the ebullient power of forgiveness.

“Father, forgive them---they know not what they do.”

When heartbreaking vicissitudes of cruelty, betrayal, abandonment and rejection leave one in doubt as to the higher purpose of living the Golden Rule---those are the transformative times we do it for our own soul's transcendence of the material world.  Within the greatest weakness resides the kernel of the greatest strength. The disparity between the two reconciled into a unified axiom of truth is not an altogether easy task. As a matter of fact, when served the foibles, fallibility---yes, even the ruthlessness, it can be quite a conundrum, especially in regards to idealizing THOU.  Yet, the greatest lesson--- despite the tribulations suffered, even by the most desperate, despicable hands imaginable, we trust all are just seeking a way forward---the way of all flesh evolving.  By penetrating the unfathomable abyss of the soul, we excavate the greatest gifts of FAITH, COMPASSION, HOPE and LOVE.

Our bodies are becoming crystalline compounds of ever increasing photon energy.  The activated Merkaba Star Tetrahedran, Ezekiel's Chariot, will transport us to lofty realms where prejudicial borders and echelon criteria are no more.

Divine timing is everything.  As Gaia traverses the photon belt, the sun continues to molt its molecular structure, a birthing-process manifesting in massive coronal ejections and solar flare activity.  This in turn is accelerating the pulse of the telluric dimension into the higher octaves of vibrational frequency.  As above, thus below:  The tetrahedral silica of the time-space continuum fabric is being activated by these monumental galactic light-source events: a triangulation is aligning the structures of the crystalline human liquid body (especially through DNA and the pineal) with Gaia's crystal grid network.  What was once engineered utilizing the density of shadows will no longer hold up to the light.  As humanity's consciousness evolves, returning to the One Light, collective thought will transform from an elitist mind control matrix into a halo:

 Ascended Masters of Truth, Set Free.