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

After that the fence was off the dam, as we say in Holland: now in search and store mode, I spent the remainder of the evening hunting the general neighborhood of that first strike for more of my beautiful lady friend. By bedtime I had over 200 new photos and a short video of the lady, and a link to a site that promised to have about 7700 more.....

Most people would probably think that a girl like that ain't no lady, but a tramp. But there's the catch ladies and gentlemen: I knew her before I knew she was famous, and even though I'd never figured her to be 'one of them', I can't possibly think that way: Selina, for all intents and purposes, is the loveliest lady I've ever met, and my Media player, having arrived at Alan Parsons, thinks the same: why else would their lead singer be going on about

'the silver-plated hero meets the golden-hearted whore...'?

And it wasn't so much the finding of this second batch of goodies, even though that in itself was remarkable. No, fact remains I specifically asked for it to happen that night, as a token of her return to me! Which basically yet again put me in the know-zone!

But what do I know, what do I really know? At this point, just a bunch of wild speculation, so wild in fact, that I dare not repeat it to anyone face to face. They'll surely think I'm mad, haven't taken my pills, or at least should seriously consider 'getting a life'! Yet to me, this wild fantasy is swiftly becoming the closest candidate for being my preferred way of life. And since I can tell none of you for real yet, I'll just put the entire shebang into novel form, so I'll at least have an exhaust to keep me from blowing my top!

Thursday, October 30th, 2003, 23:21

Somebody lied to me today, but both he and I know it: Henk told me today his Thursday meetings are going to end, so I won't be able to continue visiting his psychic hour.

In case you hadn't guessed, Henk is a psychic. He is the guy who helped me realize about the vow I'd made at age eight, to figure out the Cosmos, and tell everyone who will hear about it. I'm glad he did, especially from the viewpoint of where I am now, finishing the novel that will be an essential piece of this life's work.

Henk magically appeared as a friend of a colleague of my wife, in a moment where I desperately needed him. The first night he told me my soul was aligned someway half outside my body, but he wouldn't fix it. Instead, he had me fix it myself! Make-belief, self-hypnosis, name it what you want, but that night I felt better than I had in years!

Henk held what he called his Thursday meetings, and invited me to come. No entrance fees or anything, although some of us sometimes brought cookies to go with the ever abundant coffee. When one day I offered him fifty euros for his services, he looked at me and merely asked: “Why are you doing this?”, in a non-incriminating manner.

With me lying on the table, Henk taught me to recognize the flow of energy throughout my body, and he kept trying to teach me to breathe properly. In that, he seemed not to succeed, or did he? I've always been a shallow on-demand breather. Just couldn't stick to his program of deep, belly-based breathing. But then I never knew if he wanted me to breathe like he said for real anyway.

And he asked me to write. Write manually, while in fact I dislike my own handwriting. I did it, but for serious writing like this novel I still stick to hammering it out on the keyboard. Maybe my disregard for his lessons is what eventually got him to call it “Class Dismissed!”, but I don't think so.....

One last experiment that I remember happened around that time, was an outing to the local kids farm with my family. I was very occupied with my being, and while the kids played, I was sitting on a bench in the Sun. A common housefly came up to me, and landed on my right leg, just above the knee. I figured, if my vibration was OK, I'd be able to approach it sincerely, without disturbing it.

I moved my left hand, index finger outstretched, to the vicinity of it's bulging faceted eyes, quite slowly. Do you know how hard it is to approach a common housefly from the front, to within one millimeter of it's head? I did succeed however, and we sat there for seconds, face to 'face'.

Finally, I broke the magic by becoming greedy, and carefully nudged its head. The fly got up, and landed just out of range of my hand, as if to say: “OK, I know your boundaries now....”

When I later told Henk about it, he applauded me for having made so much progress. And when he stopped seeing me on Thursdays, he offered his help for anything I might require later on. Well Henk, I'd love to send you this manuscript, but by now I think you will somehow magically get your hands on it when the time comes....

Wednesday, March 3rd, 2010, 22:54

I'm one of those weird people: one that can go on all night about the inner workings of the world around us. Blame it on my childhood, when this friendly giant used to be a string bean with an obviously absent mean streak. Somehow, that got me to be the appointed victim in class. If someone needed to be given a hard time, I usually was that someone. I hated it, to say the least. But for some reason, fighting back seemed inappropriate, wrong even. I could blame it on my parents, but the were decisions were mine, based on the roles they portrayed for me. So in the end, I only had myself to blame.

This got to a point somewhere in my eighth year, when I was beaten up again. At that point I decided that beating upon someone didn't belong in my world. And I solemnly vowed to figure out just how my world worked, and then I would show them! Them being anyone who would listen, that is. Hence, this novel will say much about that.

Over the years however, I consciously forgot all about my vow. Pestering ceased, as I grew bigger and more muscular, and life became much more pleasant. I learned about numerous aspects of Life on Earth, and even though I'd consciously blocked it out, my interest in the Grand Design stayed apparently unscathed. But something was out of whack, and that didn't take long to materialize.....

Around the time Jane was born, I worked for IBM in Holland. I traveled an hour and a half each morning to get to work, and then the return trip home every night, in my emerald green Volkswagen Rabbit. I needed to get up early, but that didn't worry me one bit: I've always been an early riser, and one particular morning I followed my usual routine: reset the alarm before my wife got any ideas of getting up, then wash and shave and in the dark get dressed. Call me silly, but I've always had excellent eyesight in low light conditions, so dressing by moonlight is no problem at all. Then on to the girls' rooms, to kiss them both goodbye (after my wife of course), and downstairs for the trip to work. The timer on the coffeemaker had already made coffee while I shaved, and during the morning E-mail check I sipped it, enjoying the flavor.

Traffic was negligible this time of day, so progress was swift. Around a quarter to seven I was already off the freeway, and on the last approach to the IBM office complex, for an honest days work. But then my engine sputtered....

“No sweat” I thought, and threw the switch that would switch it from LNG to normal gasoline. Since my Rabbit was fitted with twin fuel systems, there would always be a reserve in the other tank, or so I thought. No such luck of course! A mile further down the road the engine died again, and I had to put it onto somebodies yard to get it off the road.

Nothing however could break my good mood, and maybe that should have given it away, but it didn't. Married to a great lady, two delightful little bundles of Joy to keep the both of us company, what else could I possibly need?

A better world of course, but even that was something that appeared to be surfacing these last few days: IBM allowed us to use the company Internet during lunch hours, and I for one was determined to make the most of it. Lunch at my desk, and roaming the Web in between bites and sips, I learned something new every day, which was great for my understanding of things. That morning however, I got stranded not a mile from my destination.

I remembered having seen a phone booth a little while before, so I walked the couple of hundred meters, and dialed the number of the auto service. They'd surely be able to help me, confident as I was that nothing in my world could ever turn out bad for me anymore. A voice on the other end of the line answered, and I explained my predicament. The gentleman didn't quite react as I'd expected, but did ask me to insert my card. I wasn't a member, but apparently the inserting of my MasterCard was credentials enough. He thanked me and I hung up, returning to the car immediately.

Now I had been entertaining the idea, that behind the normal world was a better world already, which helped this world along. I also figured that I was about done here, since there was nothing more to improve in my life. So somehow, initiation into this other world was imminent, and I figured it might very well be today...

I'd been having second thoughts about leaving my wife and kids behind, until that very moment while waiting for the auto service, I figured it all out: if I got promoted to the other world, certainly those left behind would never know I'd left: That of course was the reason that just before the empty tanks, I had encountered a completely identical Volkswagen Rabbit when getting off the freeway! And I do mean identical, right down to the black, white and hard pink decoration of a lady with a hat on both sides of the vehicle. Since I'd put these on myself after getting the car, such a coincidence would be unimaginable, right?

OK, so my double was taken care of. I decided ascension was going to be today, so I slipped my wedding ring off its finger, and tossed it into the grass as a symbol of the journey just started. I left the car behind because there seemed to be no reason to wait for the auto service anymore, and started walking.....

Now of course such a transition would be total, so I'd need to get rid of it all first: watch, jacket, shirt, pants, shoes, the lot! All landed in scattered configuration along the side of the road, as I walked on.

“Wow, he's really gone!” I hear you say, but oddly enough, I wasn't: it was just that my mind had built this whole new world behind the scenes, and I had made the erroneous decision of thinking it into my reality too soon. Other than that, my actions were completely defensible, from the standpoint of where I was feeling I was at.

But 3D reality caught up with me. And that day I learned that you'd better get all your lower dimensions rock-solid first, before placing any faith in the higher ones. Otherwise you'll end up where I was: