Destinations 7.

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Chapter 20

“This ocean of orange, again,” sighs Doris.

“According to the coordinates you’ve got, we should be there anytime.”

“How do you know that, Don?”

“Wild guessing.”

“Mm-hm, so much for accuracy.”

“Accuracy? You’re looking after accuracy?, little lady. Sure, why not. We’ve just crossed the edge of a solid state crystal that contains the observable universe. Our pyramid, because we still need a vehicle to travel and a tent to shelter out bodies, is pulsating down and above a resonant field. This is what our brains interpret as an orange ocean. We do not know what it is, no clue about it, so we just take the mental drivel, from perceptions, and churn words and phrases away. You cool with that? Or shall I get more accurate?”

“Hey, hey, mister pilot. Calm down. I didn’t wish to upset you. Just nagging.”

“Truth is, my dear Doris, that the puzzle gets even more perplexing with every sheath of reality we unwrap. The mystery only expands with every new discovery.”

“Little we know. This is the truth, Don.”

“A more accurate truth,” whispers Don with the eyes fixed on segmented waveforms, or this would be what Doris can see from her angle at five o’clock behind her husband, “to put it gently, is that we don’t know a damn thing. All we do is guessing and acting on gut instinct. Like electromagnetic animals.”

“I like your vibe. Do you sense my flux?” What else can a woman do when she’s mystified by nature, by her man and by – occasionally realizing – her own awakenings.

“Let us focus on the next level, Doris.”

“You say?”

“I say that as long as we keep looking for answers in this ocean, the only response we’d get is the orange – variations and fluctuations of the same resonant field.”


“You’ve given me a pair of coordinates. Told me that this is our destination.”

“I did that, yes.”

“Can you speak out this set of coordinates? Are they numbers? Are they symbols of any kind?”

“No way I can understand what they are. This is why I shared them telepathically with you.”

“And only me.”

“This is how I received them, to share with you alone. Yes.”

“And they are no numbers, no symbols, no representations of anything you would know to interpret.”

“Not to my knowledge. No.”

“For you and me to reach this destination, we stand in our tent, which travels outside the Platonic universe, through this flame of creation, where we’ve got no landmark, no point, no target to aim at.”

“We’ve always got each other. I got you. You got me. We are together.”

“See? We are the landmark, the target, the destination. Nothing else around. We do not need to tramp all over space and time. There is no space and no time that we need to measure or cover. This because we’re already having each other. Because we are already there. Here.”

Excited by his words, grabbing him by the shoulder to turn him around, so he can face her, she jumps to hug him with her arms, and legs. The joy emanating from both hearts, brought close together, chest to chest, allows for a deep breath followed by a long exhale. So long that they lost memory of the breath, when they inhaled.

Short circuit. Flash of light and the sound ahead, from all over the orange, winds them up and away.


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