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The Chronicle of Belthaeous

by John W. Steele

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Chapter 41: The Mentor of Id

Sleep did not come easily. I tossed and turned in a state of restless exhaustion. But eventually I fell into a deep slumber and had a strange dream.

I sat at a desk with a man who appeared to be scholarly, like a professor or a cleric of some type. His smooth, white face shone with a sterile gleam like polished porcelain. The man’s features were cusped with high cheekbones and triangular contours that gave him the semblance of some kind of highly intelligent insect. His eyes were large like indigo plums: piercing and alert and, at the same time, lifeless. The words “arrogant” and “pompous” seemed to be the most apt description of his mannerisms.

He claimed his name was Pindar and that he’d been my “soul counsellor” since the day I signed the contract to incarnate in the physical. I had remembered glimpses of him in my visits on the Astral, and tonight he was as real as anyone I’d ever known.

Despite his audacity, I knew he was a venerated teacher in this dimension: an entity of considerable importance. We sat in a large atrium with marble walls and fluted Doric pillars.

Pindar seemed to be concerned about a test or essay I’d submitted, and he was acting more animated than I had ever seen him. The dream unwound like a DVD, and I entered deep into the psychedelic illusion.

“We’re disturbed about your progress, Rodney. It seems you’ve strayed from the path of righteous understanding. What is this blasphemy you’ve submitted in your composition? We did not show you these things. Where did you get this information?”

I swallowed hard and said, “It came from within.”

“Came from within... We are within. We are your teachers. This sort of nonsense is the feeble-minded heresy of madmen and zealots. Look at what we’ve given you on earth, and now you turn your back on us? Your answers to our questions are completely outside the scope of the knowledge we allowed you.”

I fidgeted in my chair. “I mean no disrespect, Master Pindar, but I no longer want to remain your student. Please don’t misunderstand me: you’re an excellent teacher, the best, but I’ve fathomed the design of your purpose, and I’m going to resign.”

He looked at me askance, then picked up my test papers and shook them before me. “Rodney, every brilliant mind has moments of doubt about our plans for their salvation from Third Density hardships. But once unclean knowledge of this nature enters the mind, it is impossible to remove. I must tell you, my son, you’re dangerously close to the maw of eternal damnation.

“I’ll tell you what: we’ll bring you back home, and you can serve us as an undergraduate instructor in the family. A mind like yours could attract many to our cause. Think of the glory and the splendor available to you if you unite with one of the oldest and most venerated theocracies in the Astral; a socio-memory complex so powerful it has devoured for millions of years the souls of anyone who defied us.”

I listened to his proposal, and I sensed he was serious. “Well, sir, that’s part of the problem. Let’s get something straight: your Astral dimensions are not my home, and this body you’ve canned me in is not me.

“I refuse to be another victim of your Ponzi scheme. I am sovereign, and I will not become a member of your holy parasitic empire. Nor will I assist you to drain the energy of those of lesser spiritual development.

“I do not hate you, but I despise what you’re doing. You’ve overstepped your boundaries, and I’ve decided to use my knowledge to dismantle your programs and aid you in a clearer understanding of Infinite Intelligence.

“You’re doomed anyway, and you know it. I don’t want to remain a prisoner in your heaven realm. The answer is no. You have nothing I want.”

Pindar’s face turned a shade of pink and he raised his eyes in a menacing glare. “Must I remind you of the rules of the game, Dr. Neumann? You signed a contract. In fact, you’ve signed over a million contracts and counting. You’re bound by universal law to fulfill every one of them. Some of them date back hundreds of thousands of years, and now you think you’re just going to walk away from these agreements like some kind of enlightened being?”

I looked at him squarely. “I renounce every contract I ever signed, Pindar. I owe you nothing. I am an emanation of the Absolute True Light Creator. You will hold me in bondage no longer. You have no authority over me, and you never did.”

Each time I offered a rebuttal to his reasoning, he grew a little more perturbed. The intricacies of his features transformed from a wise and learned sage to an expression of anger and indignation. His face turned the color of coagulated blood and his eyes began to smolder. “How dare you defy the edict of the family? If we are not God, who is?”

In a confident voice I declared, “I am below God, but God is not above me. His kingdom resides within this bag of flesh, and I will serve this filthy abomination of his wonder no longer.”

The Archangel’s face turned to stone. His eyes burned like lava in the sockets of his skull. He shot up from his chair and grabbed me by the collar. We began to tussle. He was extremely strong. Every time I tried to punch him, my arms froze, and I could not land a blow. My feeling of total paralysis made me terribly angry. I awakened in a state of deep frustration, and there was a long scratch on my forearm.

For a while, the vision lay etched in my mind’s eye. When the Third Density began to congeal, I saw a figure standing at the edge of the bed. The body stared down at me like an effigy of death.

A force like a bolt of lightning shot through my nerves. I sprang up from the mattress and landed on the other side of the room. My breath flowed deep and labored, and I adopted a fighting stance.

Slowly the figure grew recognizable; it was Colonel Falkenhorst. An insane grin spread nearly ear to ear on his face, revealing two rows of razor-sharp teeth not unlike the maw of a shark.

I shouted, “What are you doing in my room, you twisted asshole?”

In a voice devoid of emotion, he said, “Dr. Nacroanus needs you. He asked me to tell you to come to the lab.”

“How did you get in here?”

“Dr. Nacroanus gave me the code to your cell,” he said casually.

I opened the drawer of my nightstand and pulled out my Glock. The safety clicked and I pointed the weapon at his skull.

“If you ever come in here again, you’re dead. You hear me?”

The colonel did not answer.

I shouted, “You hear me, you brainsick robot!”

The smirk drained from his features. “Dr. Nacroanus needs you in the lab.” He turned and left the room.

I thought about pumping a slug into the back of his skull, but I knew better. To battle evil with evil leads to rebirth. Despite this knowledge, I meant what I said. Every souled being has the right to defend itself. And, if attacked, I would blast a hole in that bastard’s heart as quick as a bullfrog snaps up a fly.

I could never be a saint, someone people would look up to. I was only a flesh and blood man, with the appetites and faults inherent in flesh and blood. But through my trials I’d grown exceedingly perceptive and, for me, wisdom was more valuable than gold. I knew this wasn’t over yet, not by a long shot.

I washed my face, threw on a lab coat, and headed into battle.

To be continued...

Copyright © 2014 by John W. Steele

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