Weaving a Tapestry of Dreams


Jess Fulton





“Hello. Good afternoon. Is this on? Can anyone hear me out there?”


The faint tapping on the top of the microphone turned to thunder in the auditorium.


“Wow! Ok. Now I can hear myself! First off I’d like to thank everyone responsible for inviting me to come and speak to this Beginners Creative Writing class. It is truly an honor. My name is…” The nervousness of the speaker was obvious from the paper shaking in her hand. She took a deep breath to center her energy as her Yoga class instructed. It helped a little.


“Well my name is quite irrelevant actually as I don’t use my real name. I am a writer. That sounded more like an AA confession. Hi my name is Joe and I’m an alcoholic. Anyway, my claim, as I said before is I am a writer. Some might say I’m an author but I prefer writer. Why? Because I write. I write because it is what I love to do. I put letters on a blank piece of paper or a computer screen and before my very eyes a story, a tale weaves itself into existence. Like some artisan weaving a tapestry from a rainbow of threads. I weave a dream from a rainbow of characters. Characters, in the dual sense, actors as well as squiggly shaped lines forming letters, But I’m straying off the subject and I only have a limited time up here I’m told. Unlike in my writing hideaway where I can take all the time I want. Ramble on and on and come back and make cuts at a later date. Today there is no rough draft, only the final copy.


“The reason I write is not for fame. I haven’t come face to face with that problem yet. But I hear it’s horrible. The love, that’s the motivation. Someone buying your book is also nice, so the motivation can continue. Please keep that in mind if you see my book sitting all by itself on a bookstore shelf. Remember, books make a great gift for someone you don’t know that well and they also make a great doorstop. One final note on being a writer, I am a writer not a talker. It seems like a contradiction in terms but it is very true. Up until a few months ago no one seemed to care one hoot about what I might have to say. Then a few books went home as doorstops and poof all of a sudden people want to hear words coming out of the whole in my head. But, I confess I am still the same person I was several months ago so I’ll let you be the judge of whether I have anything important to say. Especially you there, third from the left, top row. Could someone wake him up please?”

A moment was taken to replenish the speaker’s fluid level. A gulping was echoed around the room. Snickers emerged from the chairs.


“The glass of water on the podium was a great idea. Thanks. Since this is a beginner’s class, I guess the best place to start is at the beginning. In the beginning God was with the word and the word was God. John 1:1. I know this is an English class not a theology class but you can’t argue with the truth. The word, where it all began. And isn’t it amazing how few words it takes to convey a message sometimes. And how many words it takes to describe something sometimes. I refer to my writing as a staccato form. Short and sweet. In days past people had all the time in the world to read a book, that’s all they had to do. But now look how busy everyone is, going here, going there, picking up kids, picking up dinner, picking up the house. By the time they have a chance to sit and relax and pick up a book they’re tired and they’ll be lucky if they stay awake through the first chapter. So less is more.


“Getting back to God. I know, I know, I’ll keep it brief. English not theology! God created. And we are his creation in his image. And we love to create. We have a burning desire in us to create. Art, music, dance, writing, we need to nurture our creative side. Let it grow. Let’s face it we all have this beauty inside of us that wants to be on the outside of us. We want to produce something that is truly unique, one of a kind. Just like we are. Let it happen.” The script was flying by now. She was on a roll. Only a few more pages and she could escape through the side door.


“A voice. I won’t bring God into this topic, unless of course any of you out there wants to? OK, no hands rising. Your writing voice. You’ve all heard the term but what is it? A writer’s voice, well it’s the voice inside your head that used to talk to your imaginary friends. It’s the voice that is you. But as you grew up you were taught that there was no such thing as imaginary friends, so you stopped believing in them, you stopped believing in your imagination, and you stopped talking with your voice. You still have a voice in your head but now it talks about what to fix for dinner, what to do to get a raise at work, does this one love me. Talk, talk, talk, but no imagining. Be a kid again, imagine. Dream while you’re awake. If your imaginary friend is gone talk to your best friend, yourself. Look inside for that voice. My grandmother always used to say ’you can find anything you’re looking for; you just need to relax and let it come to you.’ Relax and listen.


“I thought there was one more reference I had with God in it, but I can’t think of it right now. So on to writing discipline. Some expert writers harp, write something every day. Even if you have to erase it tomorrow write every day.  Here again some people are busy. Are you busy? I get busy. Before I know it it’s time to go to bed and I haven’t written a word. And some people like discipline, structure. They are self- motivated and got that way by keeping a tight rein on themselves. So if you are one of those people that are obsessed with following rules; keep a note pad by your bed and before you go to sleep write two words on it. Just two words. Good Night. There, you have written for the day. A good night’s sleep should await you now because you have met the criteria of writer’s discipline.


But, why would a person need discipline to do what they love? And that is what this is all about. The love, the passion, you don’t and you won’t too often get time to write, you have to look for time to write. And it won’t be something you are forcing yourself to do if it is truly your passion. A few minutes here a few minutes there, you will never be satisfied with the amount of time because you are trying to satisfy an unquenchable thirst. But that is all part of what keeps the passion alive, always wanting more. Same thing with a relationship people, if you have to force yourself to make time to be with someone, instead of feeling you can never have enough time with someone, chances are that you are not passionate about the relationship. But now I’m way out of my league touching on psychology. Just remember, passion finds its own time and place.


“The word. How very important is the word. In the beginning of the story, as in the beginning of creation, God held one word in mind and all was created. You really didn’t think I was done with the God thing did you? Well I don’t know about you, but I certainly would love to know what that word was. In all actuality I don’t think it was an audible word, I think it was more a single thought a single emotion. So when I’m writing I try to keep in my mind that single thought that single emotion that I want the reader to feel. Oh there will be a variety of emotions felt through the story but the overall tone will be the sum total of all those feelings and that tone is where you need to keep your voice focused.


“Would someone please tell the gentleman in the back we are nearing the end? Yes, you. Sorry to have to wake you again. Thanks for coming. And believe me I’m not in the least offended that you’re nodding off. I’d much rather be sitting out there with you than standing up here.


“Where was I? Oh yes, perfection. We all want to write the perfect story. The one and only perfect story. Sorry to burst your bubble here but they are all perfect stories. Everyone has a perfect story. And I think they should add a new genre, one of real fiction. Because let’s face it. People have inhabited this planet for a long time and I don’t think there is a story that hasn’t somewhere, sometime, been lived. If not in entirety at least in sections. But all things have been lived, consciously or subconsciously. The goal of the writer is not in finding the perfect story but in writing it perfectly. A trip to the grocery store can be made into an enchanting love story, a horror epic or even a self-help soul discovering journey. The perfection comes from the weaver of dreams.


“My final note is on obligation. Once you have set pen to paper or fingertips to keys you have entered into an obligation. I believe if you are going to write then you need to be strong enough to fulfill that obligation. You have an obligation to the imagination, mind, and very soul of the person whom will read the words you write down. That person is entrusting you and your word to carry him or her on a journey, an adventure, a quest. You literally have that person in the palm of your hand. Your obligation is to carry them without faltering and return them safely home again. Hopefully a better person, for having embarked on your journey.”


The silence roared in the speakers ears. Had everyone out there joined mister top row third from the left in a dream world of their own making? Her jaw began to tremble ever so slightly. A trait that appeared only under severe nervousness. The next part of her presentation would crumble unless she could control her jaw from shaking. She closed her eyes remembered his words echoing from her past. A calm rushed over her. She swore she could feel the brush of a hand against her cheek. She could continue. She could do this.


“Almost finished I promise. Now as the grand finale I’m going to write a story for you. Right here, right now. Nothing up my sleeve, the podium is glass, you can see through it and I don’t have any more cards, no palm notes.


“When I write I relax, close my eyes and watch the story emerge in my mind. A special kind of dreaming while still awake. Could someone dim the lights please? Darkness can be a writers ally. Let the darkness caress the soul. Feel a friend walking toward you getting closer and closer, that friend is my dream, my story. Lean your head back and close your eyes. And let your imagination see what my imagination sees. Free your imagination for just the next couple of hours. Take a deep breath, let it out slowly. Let all your tension drain out. You can worry about whatever it is that is occupying your brain after class. This time is mine, to weave you a tapestry of dreams.”

Assume, for the sake of argument that time, as we know it, did not exist. The same assumption to be made of space. All things happening right here right now. Furthermore assume the fact holds true in the existence of multi levels of heaven as well as hell in accordance with Dante‘s Inferno. Then there leaves but one explanation as to what makes up reality, that which truly is. That explanation would be dimensions. And what makes up dimensions but varying frequencies of vibrations. What defines vibrations, but energy. A tiny spark of light (life).





Chapter 1

On one of the higher levels of heaven, not nearly the top but a vast distance from even the first level of hell an assembly was called. There in a chamber sat 12 echelons. They are vested with the mission to pass down decisions of the utmost importance pertaining to the present level of existence and trickling down to all lower levels of vibration as well. Before them this occasion was a woman giving testimony of her cause. She was there to request permission to jump. A term used to incarnate on a lower dimension.


All in the chamber sat quiet listening to her evidence save one man standing so close to her side they would have been viewed as one except for the tiniest beam of light between them. He was tall, well-proportioned for his height. He emanated power and strength. And beside him the woman fit with perfection to his side. The curve of her shoulder molded to a space under his arm. His chin came to rest on the top of her head like a last puzzle piece being put into place, nothing ever fits so perfect as the last piece. Their movement choreographed in perfect union as if they had practiced forever. She was the gentleness to his strength the grace to his power. But it was the blending of the two that radiated love between them. Separate they were fractures but together they were complete.


The woman had the floor as the man glared into the eyes of those assembled as if trying to hypnotize them into swaying the verdict in his direction. For his opinion was not in agreement with the woman by his side. A faint glow not seen by mortal eye, but this dimension did not belong to mortals, radiated around him changing from orange to crimson as the woman spoke on.


Her voice spoke not much higher than a whisper but would have lulled any normal person to sleep before the first sentence was finished. “It has been my post to witness the evolution of the race now nearly finished. As is the knowledge of all present here the time is at a close. I have many still in the race that are on the verge of passing through the curtain but the opposition gets stronger all the time. The curtain becomes denser and denser as the energy from the upcoming courser race darkens the veil.”


The council sat at curved stations around the room with the man and woman in the center. Attendees could sit in the balcony surrounding the floor but only the echelon could decide the answer sought by the visitor. So she stayed focused front ignoring the audience and her partner alike.


“What is it you propose, Destiny?” The echelon in the center of the council was the appointed one to speak. He looked to each of the others to receive their minds first. With a kind melting smile he continued, his eyes giving a spark of gentleness. The light he gave forth never wavered never faltered. Only a steady white glow. “You know as well as us that it is not for us to interfere in the outcome of the race. We are to observe and let free will take its course. Let the concentration of polarity be the victor.”


“But what if some cannot break through the concentration of negative energy? What if the wall is too thick? Are they to parish because the masses have chosen negatively? The time is drawing near. They deserve a chance.”


“The time draws near yes, but the severity of the devastation is proportionate to the concentration of polarity. So there is a chance that those you speak of shall be the ones to inherit the planet and not parish.” He echoed what he was sure she as well as all present knew.


“But these few I speak of do not want to inherit. They want to continue on. They are done with their evolution but are being held captive by forces that there are not enough of them to alter.”


“Such has been the way since the beginning, Destiny. They have had multitude of chances to move onward and still they linger. The law has not suddenly changed, it has always been thus. The hour has always been drawing near. But now they panic that they have missed their ride. The universe cannot stop and wait while these few get ready for the next step.”


“But isn’t it written that if even one soul remains worthy that the town will be saved.”


“That soul will not parish it is true. But just because a soul wants to move on is no guarantee it will happen. Life is about getting what is needed for advancement, not what is wanted. Mind you in some very rare cases the outcome is the same.”


“Please sir. I implore you. I do not make excuses for their lingering. I do however have compassion for their reason. These few that I speak of have fallen in love. Not fallen in love with emotion like the others. They have not given their souls to sensation but to love. Opened their heart to another soul and become part of each other’s lives. Woven together like one single tapestry. Some have fallen in love with a place a world where beauty unfolds around each corner. Life explodes from every atom. But what better place to experience the fullness of beauty and love than in a world such as theirs. Who of us here cannot remember the beauty? But they have loved too deeply. If that is possible. Become too intertwined with the physical dimension and now they are trapped. I don’t see anywhere in the law where one should suffer because they have loved.“


“But why jump? Is there not something that you can do from here?”


She saw a glimmer of hope for her request. The Grand Master of the Assembly was asking for details. A sign he was open for the idea.


She continued her plea. “The majority have chosen to be oblivious to any other reality of dimension or energy other than their own. Totally and completely focused on the dimension in which they view with their eyes. They are blind to what they cannot see. That’s why I feel if I go back to their dimension I can influence them from there. Open their eyes. At least I can try to add to the positive energy and perhaps lesson the opposition enough for some to break through the cloud of darkness. The day is not yet upon us. I believe there is still time to make a difference. At least I’d like to try.”


Adam, the man sharing the floor with her as well as her life, spoke not to the assembly but directly to Destiny. “We do not go backwards. It isn’t done.” his voice thundered with authority.


Her voice even softer, only his ears could hear, a hint of sadness. “True, but unlike you I am not yet completely transmuted to this level. I can still go back if I choose.”


He turned to the council to plead his case as he had no influence over her. “She lets her compassion speak for her. Lead her actions. We need to decide with logic and impartiality.”


She spoke even though the comment was not directed to her. “Who are you to speak of compassion? Didn’t you pull me before my time from the grips of the physical dimension?”


“I couldn’t bear to see you in pain.” his words soft, his tone pleading.


“Is not pain the best and fastest teacher on the lower vibrations?” she shot back still arguing her side.


With eyes closed he repeated. “I could not bear to see you in pain.”


The Grand Master cleared his throat ready to give the council’s decision. “This banter could go on forever. But Destiny is within her rights. And she is wise in choosing this date as there is, as she said, still time to alter the outcome and severity of devastation of the inevitable. It is in the interest of all, that we grant this visitation. Go with our blessing.”


Adam made one last attempt at shifting their decision. “Her compassion will make her vulnerable. You know it will. She will have no defenses against the negative energy. And being a concentrated source of positive she will be an eminent target.”


“It’s true compassion makes us illogical even vulnerable, but not defenseless. We have faith for that. Have faith in her, Adam.” The Master rose with the other members of the high echelon.


Adam conceded and felt guilty to hear his attitude compared with lack of faith in this woman. That was the farthest thing from the truth. But she knew that. Or at least he would have to make sure she knew that before she took her jump. Eyes the color of crystal blue carried him back to the beginning of time. She smiled up at him and all was right with the world. There was no passing of time in this reality. He was thankful for that. For upon her return it would be as if she never left his side. It would be as if he never took his eyes away, never blinked. But for her it was another matter entirely. Once she jumped she would have to fulfill the outlined life she chose for her soul to encase. Even if, and it always did in that dimension, include pain.


She broke the silence. “I have to go now.”


“So soon? You’ve found a suitable situation then?”


“Yes actually they’ve found me a pod of significant positive energy. You don’t have to worry.” She looked up at him rather sheepishly.


“So you’ve been planning this a while.” he tried his best at looking stern but failed miserably.


“Yes, but I really do have to go. It’s my birthday.”


“Happy Birthday then.” he kissed her on the forehead creating a series of tiny sparks between them.


“Thanks. Could you promise me something first?”


“You don’t even have to ask. I‘ll promise you anything.”


Her face become sober with a crease of worry between her eyebrows. “Don’t let me forget my way home.”


He held her tighter in his embrace and the fine thread of light between them disappeared. “I’ll be right here. I promise I won’t let you forget. As for what the Master said, it‘s not a question of my faith in you. You know that?”


Dark lashes pulled a curtain over the crystal blue. Destiny nodded. And then she jumped.


A hand rested on his shoulder as the assembly dispersed. “You know it had to come to this. She was not done on the lower level yet. Her slate was not in balance.” The Grand Master consoled.


“I still will not be able to bear seeing her in pain.”


“Then do what you must. But give her time to do what she must. Let her complete her compassion.”


“Her love is too strong for that dimension now. I should know. She could get tangled in the web just like the other souls she spoke of.”


“She is one of those souls Adam. And now she must break the ties.”


* * *


Forty some years had passed to Destiny. Luckily it had been nothing to Adam. He was the one to call the assemble this time.


He plead his case as passionately as she had. “The time is drawing close. Destiny has done what she set out to do. She has significantly given positive energy to the race. It is up to the scales to decide from now. I am going to bring her back, I don’t need your permission I only called this assemble to inform you of my intentions.”


The Grand Master spoke for the rest. “We expected her return before this. She is pushing the time limit. You know there isn’t much time left. Events are happening rapidly now. The future does not look good for that dimension. It is in the hands of as they refer in that dimension, Mother Nature. The world is balancing itself. We hope she has broken her ties by now or bringing her back could prove difficult. Has she forgotten how to return on her own?”


Adam bowed his head slightly. “I don’t know. I intend to find out.”


“You go with our blessings of course.”


A frail woman came to stand beside Adam as the assemble filed out. The woman was almost completely transparent with light. Her name was Mira. “You aren’t going to jump. You can’t.”


“No. But I’m going to bring her back all the same.”


“She has added considerably to the energy down there. The opposing darkness will not let her through easily. Her way will be barred. Darkness always tries to consume the light.” short choppy sentences drifted over the waves as a bottle bobbing slowly into shore. Her tone still childlike even though her existence started long before his own.


He smiled ever so slightly.“Thanks for the full color details. It won’t be easy I know.”


“I’m going to help you.” A smile softened the worried lines of her forehead.


“Thank you but you don’t have to, Mira. You are past agony and suffering. It won’t be pleasant to feel and see those things again. To be subjected to the horror. I can do this alone.”


“It never hurts us to be reminded of the past. That insures we keep moving forward. I’m helping you. Besides you forget the bond I have with Destiny. Perhaps I can help her remember.”


“Let me try it alone first. No need in more getting tangled in a web than is necessary. But I’ll call you if I need you. OK”


“I’ll be here.”



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