After leaving the dunes I set out on an entirely new life exploring the metaphysical in a harmony with a much more grounded life in the everyday world.

Somehow word of my work reached an organisation dedicated to exploring life in the future, with hundreds of reporters and researchers worldwide. I was fascinated when their recruiter contacted me and flew me to the California headquarters. I found it interesting that this was only an hours drive away from the dunes where I had such a deep inner transformation.

I accepted their training program once I qualified and began learning the rigorous art of remote viewing and then reporting back. Little did I know then that the entire organisation was shifting and shaking on its foundations with renegade groups in spinoff radical factions threatening the entire positive premise of the organisation.

It became clear that top-down rigidity was not a consistent method for this organisation to succeed. With so many intense researchers and research areas being simultaneously worked on, there was no Plan B. The organisation apparently collapsed leaving hundreds of reporters and researchers out of work. Highly trained and finally tuned they were forced to find their way in the average world of the every day.

Travel to the future to report findings was impossible or there was nowhere to report back to. Like most, I did my own private summation of the work to date and left for yet another new life.

Now I know that the organisation had actually gone underground based on all its future data. There was no other way to continue on. Independent researchers found notes of contact from time to time with one another. One with a headquarters contact note placed for a future discovery.

My time in the field was hard, of course, being monitored and in a way managed by some of their agents, but what happened wasn’t clear to me at all until after I left and was contacted directly. My old report had been a Book of Secrets in a way, as my current task of discovering and assembling a perfect wonder cabinet was parallel — somehow magic and reporting research were combined.

Magical quest in language, with the same in a new organisation, equally hidden, equally occult, equally examples of nothing new under the Sun. But I knew there was much more to it than to simply say that this is more research and so forth. That was not enough.

I knew the voices were not completely truthful and I could tell by a certain wavery tone that it was a set up. I didn’t believe it was established to intentionally delude me with a hoax, but more as a familiar ground for me to set up base camp. At work I dreamed that if I went to the back of the great Hall in headquarters I’d find the doors.

So I did I open them out and discovered nothing less than a shift in perspective so powerful I had to use all my weight not to cry out before turning and running away as far as I possibly could. The open doors revealed persistent mist blocking all in moist cold damp opaque mist. I stepped into it without thinking and somehow it gripped me.

I pulled away and that is when I screamed but my open mouth was stuffed with mist and no sound came out. My eyes were flattened by the mist cotton. I wasn’t really breathing but I heard my breathing as if it came from the great mist bed not from me.

I looked ahead and behind me the doors to headquarters closed. I heard the latch and was soon nowhere looking at nothing. Headquarters had been built upon a familiar crossroads in the old times. It was set there to keep its purpose in sync with life’s essential grade requirements for form and purpose. I was aware of this, and seeing crossroads beneath my feet I became alert and aware, hoping that an animal might appear to guide me away into a place with meaning or purpose. Why was I even piercing this mist? Why had I not become used to it? I was curious, no longer afraid, but accepting my condition as a step along the path.

Was I even seeking the wonder cabinet any more? What is here behind the door at the back of headquarters, where is the door at the back of the wardrobe? at the back of the family tomb? at the back of everything?

Now it was up to me like an Inuit in a snowstorm — I thought what would they do? Drumming of course! But I had no drum so I found my hand again and hit my chest in a rhythm of my heartbeat I stamped my feet in rhythm to that as a counter rhythm and I began to sing. But the mist coated my throat, filled my mouth, no sound came there. So I pushed the melody out through the crown of my head into this strange atmosphere. There it rested as a vibration and shield. There it called out. I called louder as I could feel its warmth and protective shelter.

Still seeing nothing, I stopped stamping and moved more gracefully with the beats still happening on my chest. And with the light appearing slowly with each beat I felt a large wing overhead passing me with its feathers like a breeze moving the mist. Its great wingspan showing me an eagle form or angel form, something to attach or to ride. I held up both arms to the sky now and continued to dance as the wing brushed my fingertips and the idea of flying took hold. Then it was gone. I sat on the ground. The patio of the headquarters building was gone and instead there was a scrubby spot to sit or stand.

I’ll wait till the fog is done and I did have an animal sign, very encouraging. It didn’t matter if my eyes were open or closed since there was nothing to see so I closed them to rest them for a time. I thought I had to get out of this place somehow. I suppose the sounds in the wing had encouraged me and given me hope. The blood beat in my ears. I collapsed to the ground. It wasn’t a dream.