“I hope the people of Zagria lived peaceful and happy lives,” she stubbornly thought as she closed the book with a hard thump.

  She had hoped to get some “sort of clue at least.” She did not fully expect to find a “Mount Dominus” entry in the book but she had secretly hoped it would have been mentioned tangently in another entry. However this did not prove to be the case with her intensive scanning session.

  She grew dismayed at the thought of having to single-handedly read all the individual entries – it felt like an immense labor.

  She considered enlisting Zack for this endeavor but somehow felt there would always be thought if anyone but her read it – this was her quest after all. Bequeathed to her by her grandma.

  She had to find a way to show up for it.

  Zoe’s mind grew more and more cluttered with thoughts and as she slowly drifted off to sleep she had the revalotory but passive thought that maybe she could contact the auhor or the publisher or however grownups navigated the world. She wondered how so many individual “adult” islands never collided with each other yet managed to stay together to form a so-called “society”.

  She unknowingly closed her eyes and in this manner the individualized modicum of spirit that was Zoe’s consciousness receded into the cosmic ether and immersed itself in world-above and worlds-below.

  That night Zoe had a series of very vivid and turbulent dreams. If the dreams had been presented to a soul inhabited the cultural setting of tribesmanship and clans. The inhabitor of such a world would have been said to have received a “big dream/”

  Big dreams are the sort of oneiric activity that is constellated in one individual but really intended for a group of people because the symbolic elements with which the dream is fastened are collective-cultural elements not personal-signifying ones.

  The visual dream was more than a window into the psychic realm. A sphere of life that houses the life of psyche. Rather it was a prophet’s-of-old vision that recounted the past events of the world and build a bridge symbolically, and psychically, towards new and yet-unseen and unknown realities.

  The dream boulderized into dialectical thought could be describbed as thus:

  Zoe was her current self but she was trapped in a closet. She banged and banged until, finally, the door swung open. She knew why she had to get out of the closet because it had a hole that, in fact, was a portal to another realm. Zoe desperately did not want to go through the portal-hole because the closer she got to it the more immense dread she experienced.

  Dream-Zoe was convinced a bed of spikes lay at the end of the portal-hole and that there was no safe way to get through to the end. As she stumbled out of the closet, post door-swing, clothes that had been hanging on the door’s interior fell all over Zoe, covering her face and only escalating her feelings of latent terror.

  She quickly, in this condition, tripped over her foot. And now, locked in a downward spiral of more fright, she clawed at her masked face to remove all its exterior trappings Having unveiled her vision thus, at this interval the inadequately-lit wall of the room she was facing exploded right in front of her. Revealing a huge entrance in an otherwise small apartment she was not familiar with.

  The explosion of external forces removing the wall gave way to a wonderous-picture-esque landscape. Both surreal and sublime as far as the eye could see, divine blue skies adorned the inner lightbulbs of her eyes. Majestic clouds that themselves gave way to mountaintops far and away. Rivaled only by the radiance of the Sun, sometimes in mystic literature called the “perfect planet.”

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  The clouds which seemed so close, the landscape which seemed so vivid seemed to capture the immensity of time and space in a way the conceptual mind could not compreend but was continually disarmed into fathomless wonderment.

  This vista and sumptous feast for the inner eyes of the soul gave way to a man. An Eagle-Man. A Warbird. A humanoid, cognizant, spiritual creature that was more eagle than man yet contained more rrefinement and cultue than any one person. It was, in a sense, the humanity of man.

  This was Zoe’s spirit-self, also sometimes referred to as one’s solar-self.

  It seemed as if he were the creator of worlds, or knew who was. A divine being from another realm far greater and more distant than the material realm ever surmised to the physical senses.

  The Eagle-Man outstretched his hand to Zoe while his warhammer was firmly grasped in his other talon-like hand. A reaving sickle, currently stored away, adorned his waistbelt.

  Zoe did not know why but she immediately without thought or hesitation jumped to this solar self. Nothing obstructed her anymore and she only felt peace and gratitude, as if all the negative disparate elements of her emotional economy could not pentratre through his inner-invisible forcefield, or if you like, his “solar atmosphere.”

  Zoe jumped with all the might of an action-movie sequence such as when one jumps from an immense crumbling building into a helicopter of salvation. Eagle-Man gripped Zoe firmly while still grasping his warhammer and they began to fly through the seven heavenly worlds.

  Soaring through the skies, far-and-wide, the immense blue-white landscape gave way to a far dark and unpleasant realm. One filled with the psychic residue of envy and hatred. It was dark-green, tired-looking, barren, and filled with craters and fissures.

  It was the remnants of a dried up ocean.

  There, Zoe and Eagle-Man, ended their flight and landed in front of an abandoned temple.

  It was short and stout, unconsciously reminiscent of where Zoe spent the better part of her weekdays in the dayworld. The small outer facade of the derelict temple gave way to an immeasurably large inward space, filled with an endless number of chambers.

  Zoe immediately knew what this place was though she had never been there before. Sh sensed it with an inner knowing more resolved than with which the strength we draw breath, and she sensed it faster than lightning and heat could rip open the air to display naked space.

  The central, pillared, floor they stood on seemed to be several football fields long and that was only one floor. There were many many many more such floors in this vast cosmic endeavor.

  “This is the Library of Alexanderia?” Zoe silently thought outloud. It felt as if her min and consciousness were two separate beings and as if the movements of her mind were direted with a puppeteers force – and, yet, this external godforce felt like it was her own; or, rather, she was its own. The part belongs to the whole, after all.

  The Eagle-Man walked further into this cosmic embellishment of history. He spoke to Zoe without using words; the words of a god can only ever be conveyed in material silence; the Word of god can only ever be heard in true Silence.

  Zoe experienced his thoughts simultaneously all around her yet in equally in her mind, as if It and She were one being – which in truth, they were.

  “This is the temple of Alexandrine. All the world’s knowledge is stored here. In your realm, it is also sometimes referred to as the ‘Akashic Fields.’ An infinite source of knowing.

  “The geniuses of your world are all connected here, stretching back many miliennia. They draw their power, creativity, and inspiration from this place though they know it not. When an insight of truth or knowledge strikes their mind like lightning it is divested to them not from nothing but from this pre-archetypal functioning ground.

  “In fact. This place sustains all of human-animal life. The driving-force of ‘insticnct’ and ‘intuition’ gains its momentum from this cosmic project as well.”

  Zoe did not ask question because she already knew all this instrinsically, invisibly, before Eagle-Man had articulated it to her. She knew what and ‘who’ it was the moment she stepped foot in the cosmic structure – as if she had been her a thousand times but it was only the first time here present-earthly-incarnated self stepped foot here.

  Then Zoe did ask a question, “Why am I here?”

  “Follow me, combatant.”

  Zoe whether as her dream-ego dream-self or her earthly-incarnated self did not like that word one bit. She obliged her spiritual-master, her god or god-self form, though

  she would not think to call him that.