Make IT Real!, Sander R.B.E. Beals [uplifting novels .TXT] 📗

one completely ravaged cat, and its almost catatonic owner.

Sure enough, Marion seemed to recover quite fast, as children are said to do, but the scars of the attack stayed with her, even across the boundaries of several incarnations. And thus my darling Selina still quivers when seeing one animal slay another.

With the night swiftly falling, as far as the location of the lake will allow, we walk the remaining half mile or so in the eerie half-darkness of the midsummer night. The seasons are such, that the sun just about dips beneath the horizon, before coming back up again. As we reach the transporter pad, its last rays light up the mountain top across the lake. The familiar feeling of being spread out into an unbearable lightness ceases, and the two of us crash on the soft silkfoam couch that means home to us...

“I could stomach it when the fox got the rabbit”, Selina begins. “But watching it first-person up close and personal was just a bit too much!” On the other hand, the knowledge that the eagle probably had a nest full of young nearby did make a difference for my lovely lady friend. So much so in fact, that she is glad that despite my checking out also, I'd been able to record the dive of the eagle right until the end of the following flight home, where the prey indeed proved to become food for her young.

We watch it together, Selina snugly seated on my lap, embraced by two long and very loving arms. After that display of motherly love on the large living room wall, we retire to bed, not because we need the rest, but because love can not be made, only experienced.....

4444AD, Day 226, 00:17, Home

“Whoa, what a weird flashback!” I wake up next to Selina, who was still very much asleep. So as not to wake her, knowing her dreams are delightful, I get up, and go down to the living room. I'd been dreaming of a past, the future of the guy whose book I am currently reading, namely me. I'd been wandering around this house, very spacious and obviously meant for an upper class household. I remembered the life back then as something that wasn't quite that. Full time job, just about enough to pay the bills of a life that kept almost perfect track of incoming money where spending was concerned. Sure, I dreamed about Abundance, but was under the impression that getting just enough just in time was also abundance. At that point in time though, something had obviously happened, because here I was, walking the builder through a home that was about to be officially handed over to its new owner, me.

Standing in front of it, I could see a two lane entrance into a subterranean garage, with a few steps leading on top of it, to the perfectly designed front door. Upon entering, the hallway showed evidence of a toilet on the left, and a door leading to the study on top of the garage. To the left of the end of the hall was a broad set of a few steps leading down, into a ballroom sized living room. It opened up into a sun room on the south side, which was the shape of half a pyramid, merged to the side of the house. Further towards the back of the house were the kitchen and two more rooms, each about four by four meters. The contractor had really pulled out all the stops, because no defects of any kind could be observed even by one as observant as me. He led us up the stairs to the first floor, home of four bedrooms with ample space, and a bathroom with built in sauna. From the balcony trailing along the three bedrooms, he proudly gestured into the back, with its walled off courtyard, and the sunken, indoor swimming pool. On top of it was a Japanese roof garden, which could be reached from the balcony through a long boardwalk across the left garden wall.

We went back in, and down the stairs again. Another set of stairs immediately below it led to the basement level, and the garage. Four rooms there as well, beside the two car garage, as well as the oversized cabinet that housed the electronics for the photovoltaic panels on the roof, and the ubiquitous mains and low voltage wiring and network equipment that was installed throughout the house.

This home definitely hadn't popped out of just anyone's neural network. Although it wasn't immediately obvious to me, a good fifteen minutes of meditation cleared the Akashic pathways enough for me to remember just where this design had come from:

At age fourteen, my 1977 counterpart had decided to design his dream house. Not because he had the definite idea that he'd ever make enough money to be able to build it, but much more just for the fun of it. Back then, drawing up such plans was done on large white sheets of thick paper, with either pencils or drawing pens with Indian ink. The kid set to work, meticulously drawing up floor plans, side views, and even a full perspective drawing of the dream home. When he was finished, his uncle (who was in construction for a living) told him he'd almost be able to build it, just based on those plans. Knowing his uncle to be a very straightforward guy, the young boy had no reason to doubt his uncle's words. After all, his uncle was a magician: the doctors had told him thirty years ago he had cancer, and only six more months to live. He had seriously thanked the doctor, told him goodbye, and had gone on to prove the guy wrong. Being alive over thirty years later was sheer magic to his young nephew.

The plans to the house stayed with him for years, but eventually got lost during a relocation later on. No harm done though, because my other self from that era still remembered his own remarkable and joyous activity at age forty-five, and then spent a similar amount of time to recreate what was in his mind. Only this time, it was done with the tools available then, and the insights to go along with it. This was the house that eventually got built, and in which my dream had played out its scenario.

I figured that such a detailed dream of that house would not be there for no reason. Although my memories of the house were still very vivid, and I could pinpoint its location along the IJssel river down to the last meter in the 2012 time frame, a lot of earth changes had occurred during the last two and a half millennium. I'd still be able to figure out if, and where, that house might be, or have been.

Not being able to do it now, and figuring I'd want to sleep on it a little anyway, I took a glass of warm milk with honey (or at least what the replicator made of it), and drank it before returning to the plush warmth of a shared bed.....

Sunday, March 14th, 2010, 20:20

Having just written about Sander's dream, I figure the next thing will be for him to go find the house or its remnants, if only to figure out what the significance of it is to him. Being completely self-sufficient, and the daily receiver of untold abundance, he will definitely not appreciate a pot of gold, or anything similarly trivial. I've got an idea of sorts, but in order not to spill the beans yet, I shall remain quiet about it for a while longer.

Excuse me if I seem distracted. I'm currently enjoying Aina and their album the Days of Rising Doom. I just love theme albums, where a set of songs tell an entire story, especially a love story such as the triangle between Orianna and the two royal brothers. Yet somehow, I always seem to find the positive side to even the most seemingly doomed scenario.

I know both positive and negative exist, and that I cannot extinguish one or the other from my reality. Still though, at the same time, I can tweak my experience of both. I know war exists, but I don't have to allow it to be rubbed in my face with every airing of the evening news. Therefor I already watched few TV programs, but today I went just one step further: wanting to switch Internet providers, I opted for one that allows me to not include TV in my package. Thus I can phase out TV altogether, and not have my free time usurped by illusions that wish me to believe in their world of separation and control.

Am I a heartless creature because of this preference of not wanting to experience war? I figure a little Dutch lesson will explain to you how I feel: in Dutch we know the words 'medelijden' and 'medeleven', which literally translate to 'suffering with' and 'living with' , also known as pity and compassion. While I do feel compassion for anyone who needs it, I have over the years become very sparing in 'suffering with'. First of all, if I lower my vibration to come down in the dumps with you, my possibilities of doing anything effective about it are equally diminished. It is kind of like helping you if you ran out of gas on the freeway: I can sit right next to you and lament the fact that you don't have any gas, or I can get into my car, and go out to bring you a can of gas, even if my fuel tank would not allow me to siphon off enough gas to get you going again without stranding me.

I've been doubting my ideas, figuring no mechanism could be so intricate as to seemingly be able to fulfill many of my deepest desires at the same time. I thought there had to be something that would make it all a perverted hoax, played out by a sick world. But no matter how I piece it together, I can't make the hoax scenario stick. Besides, who could have known about all my deepest desires, since I never voiced most of them to anyone, or even admitted them to myself? But it's true: having had my apprenticeship with a middle-aged scientist and his way too young wife, I saw that love could be great, and wanted one like that for me. And thus a lady twenty years younger crossed my path despite the fact I dared not approach her first.

Another wish came from watching the belle of my technical education sitting there on the balcony in the auditorium. The only reason I could think up for her to be sitting there alone was that nobody dared approach her. At that moment I desperately wanted to be able to cross that boundary, but back then I didn't. Now, years later, I ran into Selina, at least as strikingly beautiful, and she already broke the ice. Another wish granted.

Designed my dream home with the idea of building it one day, even though I had absolutely no idea on how to acquire the millions needed to do so. But the mirage of being abundantly rich somehow keeps playing through my mind my whole life through, as well as knowing that writing might very well have quite a lot to do with it. And then, suddenly, Selina's coming introduces an intriguing story, that can easily be turned into a bestseller. It might be I'm not the guy to do that, but I'm sure as Heaven going to try.....

And then there is this 'hangup' about being famous. Not that I desperately want to be famous, but I'd love a chance to prove that one can be famous and still remain a nice guy. Getting this novel up there between the Browns and the Rowlings just might give me a shot at that too....

And of course we all