“What is this? Where am I? Am I imagining things? Am I imagined? Am I? What am I? Who am I? I am?
The creation, clad all in red, inspired. The first time he had felt such as foreign sensation. As if he had awoken from a deep dream, a memory of another place present with him. And now, something was coming into him that he knew he needed, but did not know why.
The other place, though that colored his understanding, was that home? It was a city he, or something within him, remembered. It was clad in living clarity, something that took the brilliance compassing the city, yet forming also the heart of the city, and split that brilliant white that was already infinitely colorful and flecked with the hidden-and-also-reveled tones into fully reveled-and-seperated secrets of crimson, orange, yellow, green, blue, and purple, pure sinngular tones, not intermingled one with another: Was that substance crystalline? Somewhat.
Hexoctahedral.
Cubic, but something deeper. Triply cubic?
It was more than cubic, and infinitely durable, enduring, and radiating.
This combined with other things: black, green, hazel, violet, and based on aural pavement rooted in crimson tones.
That memory was not part of what he was now experiencing. No. This felt like a different thing. A different place altogether.
Now, hearing and feeling the sensation of his own inspiration, the creature exhaled. And being, he opened his eyes and looked up from where he lay.
Was that lapiz lazuli he saw? It certainly looked like the stone from his home. But it was not nearly as….solid. It was a space, a genuinely open space above. Moreover, it overflowed with many other things. Not stones.
Wukwukwukwuk–JayJay—ReeRe—-Caw! Caw!
“What were those things, and what was that racket? Why am I hearing these things I have never heard before?”, thought the Creation.
Brrrrrrrr-squeeksqueeksqueek-brrrrrrrrrr!!!!
The diminutive thing that looked of a kind with all the other creatures in the azure space above him passed near him and stopped, but didn’t.
The overhead creature, stayed as still it could, and yet, parts of it were moving so quickly, they were creating a sound on their own. Also, those parts were breaking apart the light he once knew from home, the way the hard stone of his city did with the Light of the city, into its six hues. While this was happening, the hovering thing moved yet closer, studied him for a moment. Was it floating? No, floating was what those white things in the azure space did. This was….
“Hovering”, the creation thought to himself.
The small, hovering creature moved so close with a protruding segment of its body that the creation, who was still on the ground, thought it might touch him with this segment. Then the thing did something he did not expect.
It stopped flapping and landed on his face, on the tip of his….nose? He felt eight very tiny pricks in the end of his nose. The thing cocked its head at him and with one eye, studied him for a moment. And the creation noticed a few things. This tiny creature, on some places of its body, shimmered like his home. Around the throat a red area like a ruby, while the back was like an emerald. The underside, however, did not shimmer, and it was a hue of drab gray-white. The eyes were unusually black and beady, with a touch of something not as dark as black.
“Brown”, said a voice, deep and enchanting, while simultaneously fearsome and good.
“That touch of something that is not quite black is brown. Remarkable creature, this flying thing. And that blue space above Us that looks like the lapizes from home is the Shamayim, my son. And that light is the Shemesh.”
The light emanating from the Shemesh in the Shamayim surrounded the outline of a image, equally red. Or was it white? Red with white, like something he had yet seen with his own vision from a distant memory and a luminescent, yet at the moment a shadow fell upon the creation’s face.
It was not something, it was someone. Someone like the creation. An older man.
And immediately, the creation knew. This was the Creator. The Father.
“My Father!”, he exclaimed.
“Hello, Adamah, my son”, replied the Father.
Adamah sat upright from the place whence he had lain. The Father had been on his knees, bent over Adamah, the knees of his robes covered in the dirt, yet not dirty. This connection with the dry land was the most natural thing to the Father. His eyes danced, and his voice at once sang and spoke with tenderness, sobriety, warmth, affection, and joy, coupled with depth of insight, knowledge and understanding. It was clothed and whole with nothing broken or missing. It was further complete in the way it spoke.
“Did I just awaken from a dream, Father?,” queried Adamah.
“No, my son. You have transitioned to this place. This is your new reality for the current season. We have had a situation at home and now we have some work to do. So follow Me, and we shall journey to the place I have prepared for you. And I will tell you when we arrive there.”
As Adamah stood from his place on the ground, he noticed everything felt different. Something had changed in Father’s voice. There was an urgency, and joy mixed with…
“Father, what happened?”
“Not yet, my Son.”
“Father, whatever it is, I am sorry it happened.”
The Old Man, who was walking alongside Adamah, turned to Him and embraced Him.
“My Son, there is much we will have to discuss, but for now, know that I adore you, and am grateful I can talk with you about what lies ahead, and at some point, we will discuss what happened before. But for now, things will get difficult, because you have to be ready…”
“Ready for what, Father?”
“You will know when it happens, Adamah. For now, let us focus on what we must do to get there….”
“Where, Father…”
“Eden….”
Thus the two of them began their journey…
{to be continued}