1986, Ukraine, Kharkov, 54 Katsarskaya Street
– Angel, why do we dream dreams?
“Dreams are the journeys of the Soul according to the multiversion of the Universe. This is a reminder to people that the Soul lives in several dimensions at the same time.
(1990 Earth time, Ukraine, Kharkov)
We were familiar. And familiar for a long time. I and wolf-people. Rather, they had everything human except the head. The head was a wolf. And the heart was a wolf. They ran after me and wanted to “stain”. They already caught up with many. And I had to run away from them at all costs. They “stained” very easily. This simplicity of their ritual amazed, and the results of the ritual impressed too. When they caught up with me, one of them tuck his hand under his shirt, touched his wolf’s heart and was ready to “stain” me. If he took away the hand from his wolf’s heart and touched me, any place of my body, I would become a wolf-man. I became a member of their pack. Their company. Their soulmate. They already caught up with many. Their pack grew. But I was lucky. I managed to dodge. It was a regular nightmare of my childhood dreams. This children’s nightmare lived in me for too long. Then it disappeared, and I completely forgot about it. And suddenly again.
How many nights have I escaped from them, dodged, hid and survived till the saving first ray of sunshine…
But today I did not have a chance. I knew that. Knew and felt. Today their leader was with them. Wolf-man. Their god. Their leader. He was catching up with me. He did not need to put his hand to his heart. He “stained” with any of his touch, his breath, his word and his look. It was hard to run. I had a book in my hands. It was huge, with blank pages, leather-bound and terribly heavy. Wolf-people were getting closer. My feet were very heavy. The heart worked at the limit. And the Moon shone with might and main. And dawn was still far away. Oh, how far. And the book had to be saved.
We ran in some kind of fog. I could see no road, no rocks, no bushes. Only the Moon overhead and the misty patches of milk around.
“Did they catch up with everyone who ran before me? – I thought. – So, I am the last one who can bring this book. I am the last. And if not me, then this is the end. The book will remain in the realm of wolf-people. In the possession of the Wolf-God, their leader. I was the last one”.
– Help! – I screamed into the milky fog. And toppled over, tripping my foot on some kind of snag. The wolves flew at me through the fog and inexorably approached. Their eyes burned with fire and their mouths clicked in anticipation of prey.
– Only you can help yourself, – I heard a calm voice from a cliff.
Milk fog began to clear up. Or it seemed to me that the fog was clearing.
“It’s not the fog clearing,” the voice answered. – The situation clears up. The situation with you and your future life on this planet.
I had to turn around. I saw a stranger who spoke. He was reclining right on the ground with a chalice of wine. Not with a goblet, cup, mug or wine glass. It was exactly the chalice. And I knew that. It is not known why, but I was sure that was a chalice.
“It all depends on your choice,” said the stranger, very slowly, “on your choice in this situation”. After all, “all situations, as we know, we attract to us ourselves”.
He sipped from the chalice and stood up. He put his chalice with wine on the ground and unfastened a sword, which I had not noticed on him before, from his belt. The sword was long, in a copper sheath. Stranger put his sword on the ground next to the cup. And completely without noticing the wolves flying at us, he went to the nearest tree to relieve himself. Apparently, he drank here for a long time. Or maybe he was waiting for someone.
I jumped to the chalice. I grabbed the sword, threw off scabbard, and turned to the leader of the wolves. The wolf smiled, pulled an ax from behind his back with a very broad blade and with one light movement knocked a long sword out of my hands. His pack shook in silent laughter. All wolf-men laughed. A stranger, who provoked this situation with a sword especially for me, also laughed. I understood that now.
— Become one of us, — a wolf-man howled, — and you will be fine. Be one of us voluntarily. Bury your stupid book right here. And it will not harm anyone. Do it right now! And you will have money, power, pleasure.
I was silent and pressed the book to my chest. It is a pity that the sword did not work. I wonder why he, this two-legged wolf with a human voice, needs my unwritten book? My fear passed. I felt like in the theater. The wolf played his part. I play mine. The man with the chalice also played, but it was not yet clear what he was playing. And suddenly I understood: the wolf is afraid of the book. Not the book itself, but its content. Or maybe not the content, but the idea embedded in it. But the book is empty, I looked. All pages are completely clean. Then what is he fighting for? Why is he running after me?
– Are you really so afraid of this book? – I screamed at the wolf. – If you are afraid, so read it!
My death was close, and I felt it. Following a subconscious impulse rather than common sense, I opened the book, I saved, in the middle and turned the pages to a pack. The wolves jumped on me. Something jerked me up and back. From the book either the flame or the lightning flashed, and my pursuers disappeared. Immediately became calm and cool.
– Well, you made your choice, – the stranger began collecting his things. He was already without a chalice. Mockery disappeared somewhere. The stranger was extremely serious and a little solemn. He carefully wrapped his sword in some rags and tied it to his shoulder bag.
– Bye, – he said, and set off.
– Hey! – I shouted to him. – What did you do here?
– Slipped you a sword. Satisfied with the answer?
– What for?
– You are not worthy of the answer. But out of the kindness of my soul, I can say that you should not touch swords. This is not your Mission. Your business is books and lectures, and your weapon is the word. So learn to gab, and teach others. That’s it dear native. The audience is over.
– Why am I your native? – I threw him after.
– The most that is native, – he replied from the fog.
So I escaped. There were no wolf-people in my dreams anymore. In real life, I met them. It was dangerous. It’s always dangerous for me, but not so interesting.
Only many years later I recognized the one who was chasing me with the pack. It was Anubis, the Egyptian god of the Kingdom of the Dead.
And then I recognized the stranger. His name was OtDar. He was a messenger from my great-great-great-grandmother Darya and her commissioner. But with the book turned out to be more difficult. It was a book of sutras. Unwritten sutras. The book of my sutras. The book of sutras, which I wrote 200, or 500, or 800 years ago in one of my past lives. And these old sutras now needed editing. Therefore, the pages in the book were clean. They had yet to be filled out. Fill and erase, delete and rewrite. This is the Mission on Earth. My new Mission on our old beloved Earth.