A Dream
«You are urgently called to school,» my son muttered when I crossed the threshold of our flat, and instantly disappeared into his room.
The teacher was no longer young and gave the impression of a fairly intelligent and kind woman. I could imagine anything of the possible reasons for the urgent call, except for what she said.
«I dont know what to do with your child, its a nightmare! He wants to be the first in everything! Is this really conceivable? He raises his hand without waiting for me to finish formulating the question. He is the first to hand over the tests and begs to go to the blackboard. Not to mention the fact that he is always inventing some games for children and wants to lead them somewhere!»
I was ten or eleven years old when, during the winter holidays, my mother sent me to the largest and most famous in our Kingdom Christmas party, where parents were not allowed at that time. The central hall where the event took place accommodated an insane number of children of completely different ages. After the party, the children had to walk in a circle on the Square of the Three Cathedrals, which looked like a corral for horses and was fenced with iron partitions. Parents, standing behind the partitions in several rows, tried to get closer in order to find and have time to catch their kids out of a huge crowd of children wandering in that circle before they started another round.
The game «Find Me!» was a real stress for both children and adults. Firstly, because winter was still real then, the snow creaked underfoot, thus, after standing in the cold waiting for the kids for quite a long time, parents could catch a cold. Secondly, at that time it was customary to wear «uniforms» there. So it was very difficult to find among the thousands of identical felt boots marching sadly in a circle those on which your kid had struggled to put on the rubbers in the morning. On the other hand, the game developed the sixth sense just feel yours!
My mother and I agreed that she would wave a scarf of the same color as the flag of our Kingdom at that times. However, it turned out that at least half of the Christmas party participants agreed on the same conventional sign. I felt sorry for my mother and decided to give her a gift to go outside the first. I walked along the wide road to the magic circle, far apart from the main crowd. I dont know how I managed that. I entered the circle and heard the joyful and excited exclamations of parents, «They are coming!» And I also heard them whispering, «God, who is so lucky? Whose child is this?» Then I saw my mother. She was smiling. Me too.
After my mothers death, I often found myself in an unpleasant dimension, in a tense space with «gummy» time, where an inexplicable vacuum of something was felt. You leave almost all your energy there and come back completely exhausted. I usually passed into the World of the Dead (or rather, of those stuck between Here and There for some reason), where various entities live, including gray-wax ghosts, through a huge screen similar to a mirror, in a dream. My mother got stuck There, and we took turns visiting each other, she came to me Here, then I went to her There. The boundaries of spaces (dimensions?) became thinner even in grandmas old flat, and There turned out to be right Here. First, the Door to Another Reality opens slightly, then you physically feel another space flowing into your local one, and almost immediately you hear Its sounds and, less often, see It.
Having adapted, I wasnt afraid of drafts. However, due to the specific ability to take with me into Another Reality those nearby when the Door was opening, I was afraid for my son. I purposefully didnt read him bedtime stories about Another Reality, tying him to the Earthly one. Once, when we were falling asleep and the Door creaked, I pretended that nothing was happening, but my son looked me in the eyes and asked in a whisper, «Have you heard that, mom? These sounds, what are they? Who is there? Tell me that you hear them too!»
I went to the child to say goodnight.
«Once I died, and then I was born,» the son suddenly said. «And then, when I die again and am born again, I will have a different mother.»
«Not necessary. Souls can meet in subsequent lives, but they dont always recognize each other in their new bodies.»
«No, mom, we wont meet again.»
«Why?» I was surprised.
«You will never be born again. I feel so. I know, they will let you stay There. And I began to see also a Man in Black. Who is he?»
«How do you see him?» I tried to keep calm, because after my mothers death I had often seen the Man in Black; all wrapped in black cloth, he looked like a monk and, standing at the window, silently looked at me.
«He comes to me. Sometimes in a dream, and recently in the room, at the window. He always appears unexpectedly. Im afraid of him. Hes all in black. Like monks. In some kind of cloth. I dont know. I cant see his eyes, but he looks at me in silence. Im scared. Why does he come?»
«Ask him who he is. The next time he comes. Dont be afraid, just ask what he wants.»
«Its easy for you to say, youve never seen him! Its more difficult in a dream. When I begin to understand that its a dream, I wake up.»
I saw my son several years before his birth. I knew how he would look like on Earth. He was born an unusual child, preferred solitude and violently showed dissatisfaction when he was picked up or surrounded by calf tenderness. My son didnt allow anyone to feed him with a spoon. His first word wasnt «mom» or «dad», but «me myself!»
Before he started speaking, he often had nightmares and screamed heart-rending. I used to enter his room, turn on the light and observe horror pictures he was fighting off someone invisible and didnt react to me at all. I hardly managed to wake him up, but when he woke up and remembered where he was, he instantly calmed down and smiled.
In early childhood, my son had a favorite game with balloons. We used to come to the park, he asked me to buy him at least one, so I did. He took it and, as if unnoticed by me, released it into the sky. Then he turned to me and, looking plaintively into my eyes, asked me to buy another one. That could go on ad infinitum. It seemed to me that my son was teaching himself in advance to let go of everything earthly he really liked, just as in smart adult books we are taught to get rid of idealizations and attachments.
Later he began to talk in his sleep, very clearly and absolutely seriously, in an adult way, perhaps with his Teacher. «I cant do this now,» my seven-year-old son once said in his sleep. And I was afraid that he wouldnt become a Warrior of Light.
The MWWN disappeared For several days, I clearly felt my astral body moving further and further away from the physical one. When one leaves, this starts about seven days before, the physical pain disappears a couple of hours before I know this from my own experience. However, that time I wasnt leaving, at least in the way people do because of illness, nothing hurt, just the other day I had received several bad news at once, cutting me without a knife. Not unexpected, I had a premonition of them for a long time. Anyhow, even if you feel and know that its impossible to change anything, you hope for a miracle until the last moment. No miracle happened. I didnt want to see anyone or talk to anyone, except for Him. I sent Him a spell about me standing on the windowsill by the open window. He replied that standing on the windowsill in February was quite cool, at least for people, but I was a spell-caster, so it was even good for me to clear my head with fresh air a little. I wrote, I didnt want to live and asked Him not to disappear.
«Dont be sad, or wrinkles will appear» He answered and disappeared again.
After exiting thought the window, I found myself in an area that looked like a large, light corridor located in close proximity to the Earth. The Voice, neither good nor evil, absolutely impartial, guided me. Nobody condemned me for anything. We communicated mentally.
«Remember what you see to tell people,» the Voice said.
I visualized a sheet of paper and a pen and tried to write down, but almost immediately I realized the futility of the idea, I wouldnt be able to take my notes out of There. The paper obediently disappeared into the air along with the pen. I waved my hand and looked around, closely examining the details.
The Voice led me along an intermediate state corridor, where there were those who had just «died». They were slowly floating in the distance. On the way, each of them looked through some pictures of the earthly life, as an exam. At the beginning of the corridor, everyone was shown the same pictures, a standard set revealing the Souls reaction to what was viewed, depending on which its further fate was determined. The deceased women were shown women with newborn children. Some souls began to rush about, being drawn to Earth to give birth to the babies they had killed in the womb. I was absolutely calm, so was the Voice, as if it knew that the subject didnt concern me. I saw murderers, and then drug addicts, who were shown the places where they could quench their thirst. Tormented by the realization that nothing like that existed in Heavens, their souls felt an incredible attraction to Earth. I still remained absolutely calm. I remembered the «Tibetan Book of the Dead» and the books of a famous psychologist about idealizations and attachments. One needs to get rid of them, still being alive in the body in order to die in a state no longer experiencing any attachments, i.e. unfulfilled earthly desires, otherwise one wont be able to reach to the end of the corridor.
«Now look,» the Voice said calmly.
I stopped at the Window to the World. The Space of Light slowly decreased in brightness. I saw a city, cars and people, a metro station. It was raining. A woman came on a date with her beloved man. I saw them meeting. Astral tears started pouring from my eyes. The picture floated. The Voice looked at me with sadness, although it was invisible to me. An insane desire to live out love for the Man Who Was Not spun me around in a spiral and instantly pulled me back into my sleeping physical body. I collapsed into it and woke up horrified by hopelessness. To escape There from the nightmarish loneliness that day meant to be incarnated the next day in another newborn Here.
Escape to Another Reality lost any sense.
5. Храм Души
Сегодня вечером ты идёшь к РАМ, приказным тоном произнесла одна из коллег, выслушав мой пересказ сна.
Нет, возразила я. Сегодня вечером я приглашена в Свет читать заклинания.
Сегодня вечером ты не будешь читать заклинаний. Тебе надо познакомиться с РАМ. Она приезжает два раза в год и проводит семинар в течение недели. Я только вчера узнала, что она сейчас здесь.
РАМ Раиса Ахметовна Мансурова сидела в центре огромного зала, рассказывая о потрясающих возможностях каждого человека. От контура её земного тела исходило ослепительное сияние, казалось даже, что это самый настоящий Огонь. В рабочие дни мы занимались по пять часов вечером, а в субботу и воскресенье весь день. За неделю семинара мне довелось несколько раз поговорить с Учителем наедине. Она читала мои рукописи, смотрела будущее и видела в нём Свет. РАМ многому нас научила, но мне больше всего нравилось медитировать под музыку, совмещённую с мантрами, записанными в ходе её экспедиции в Тибет.
Я закрыла глаза. Перестав ощущать физическое тело, я оказалась в живописном месте в горах, на поляне с журчащим ручейком. Справа обычные горы, которые я видела в Тибете несколько лет назад наяву. Слева пропасть, за ней иные горы какого-то Иного, неизвестного мне Тибета. Где-то вдалеке на верхушке одной из гор справа возвышался маленький монастырь. Воздух приобретал расплывчатые контуры. Внезапно я почувствовала, что сейчас увижу маму. Мама уже давно очень-очень далеко, и ей трудно собраться в тот земной образ, который навсегда останется в моей памяти, но я всё равно узнала бы её из тысячи туманных очертаний. Будучи такой же прозрачной, как и она, я осознала, что обняться по-земному у нас не получится и говорить словами тоже. Моё физическое тело пребывало в зале на семинаре РАМ, я могла смотреть отсюда на «Я в Зале» и перемещать в него Сознание, наблюдая за «Я Там, в Горах» со стороны. Это была игра в мгновенные перемещения, и она мне нравилась. Встрече с мамой я несказанно обрадовалась. Мы гуляли там, у приоткрытой Двери, где сосуществуют обычные и иные горы, и общались молча, я даже не формулировала фраз мысленно, потому что остались только чувства, и всё остальное излишне.
Мама провела меня к Монастырю на Горе, где горел огонь, хотя, возможно, я приняла за него огромный чан с благовониями, окутанный туманной дымкой, из которой сотканы наши с мамой тела здесь. Забавно: мы прозрачные, а монахи плотные, в настоящей одежде. Странно, что они не обращали на нас особого внимания, лишь мельком окинули взглядом и продолжили заниматься своими делами.
Через некоторое время монахи принялись обходить по часовой стрелке чан с благовониями или огонь, от которого шёл дым, танцуя, распевая мантры и ударяя в музыкальные инструменты, похожие на бубны. Мама позвала меня танцевать с ними. Странное чувство радости и абсолютного умиротворения танцы с мамой и монахами, которые смотрели на меня так, будто моё появление здесь совершенно обычное явление. Мама позвала меня к пропасти. Это была самая настоящая бездна. Когда-то я поднималась в горы выше, чем 5000 метров, но сейчас мы находились на высоте в сотни тысяч километров над уровнем моря. Или Земли? Неописуемо красиво и величественно. Я чувствовала, что Земля так далеко отсюда, что до неё нужно лететь, и достаточно долго. Мы стояли на самой высокой горе Мира, Иного Мира. Чёрные горы казались мне душами монахов. Небо огненно-красного цвета напоминало закат Солнца. Но земное Солнце едва виднелось у дна пропасти. Подниматься выше уже некуда, это самое-самое высокое Небо, Небо цвета Огня. Мама хотела, чтобы я прошлась над пропастью, она взяла меня за руку, хотя это иллюзия, я просто почувствовала, что она поддерживает меня. И я сделала свой первый шаг в пустоту. Мы шли с ней по Огненному Небу, как люди гуляют по осеннему парку. А потом я поняла, что маме пора уходить, и её контур медленно растворился, сливаясь с тем, что называют Богом. Звучала последняя мантра. И казалось, что всё это Огненное Небо вмещалось в один только звук ОМ.
На следующий день я оказалась на той же поляне в горах. Уровень, на который я попадала в начале каждой медитации, ниже уровня Огненного Неба, откуда я возвращалась на Землю. Я заранее знала, что мама не придёт и что мне нужно поговорить с монахами. Я переместилась левее и обнаружила 108 источников со святой водой, прошлась по ним и отправилась дальше, огибая горы. Вдалеке виднелся уже знакомый мне Монастырь, но путь обрывался у пропасти. Я остановилась, задумавшись. Со всех сторон меня окружали иные горы. Над пропастью натянута тонкая нить. Я внезапно почувствовала, что кто-то подошёл ко мне сзади, обернулась, оказавшись спиной к обрыву, на том месте, откуда начиналась нить, ведущая к Монастырю, и увидела улыбающегося монаха. Он подошёл так близко, что я инстинктивно сделала шаг назад и встала на нить. Монах продолжал улыбаться и держать меня взглядом, чтобы я не оступилась, двигаясь задом наперёд: спиной к Монастырю и лицом к Монаху. Мы шли медленно, пока я не почувствовала под ногами землю. Монах показал рукой в направлении Огня, и я присела около. Я попросила его о помощи, рассказав о своей Пустоте, но он улыбался в ответ. Появились остальные монахи и начали танцевать вокруг Огня. Я подходила к каждому из них по очереди и просила мне помочь, но они улыбались и молча приглашали меня танцевать с ними. Я поняла, что пора возвращаться на Землю, и оказалась на той самой высокой горе, где Небо огненно-красного цвета. И я уходила в это Небо, пока всё оно не сливалось в один только звук ОМ.