I remember when in grade school, View Ridge Elementary, we used to chase each other, hide and seek, through the fog that clung to the wide open playing fields. The soft cloudy depths of it roiled around us, padding our senses, obscuring everything within less than a foot in any direction. Voices and laughter, even screams and footfalls, were strangely muted, ethereal.
My dreams at that time in my life often included the exploring of clouds in the sky that looked like ski resorts and castles… soft white worlds floating high in the sky, mysterious cities in the air, hills of white I could slide down like snow, bounce on, get lost in…. Just like the fog on the play ground.
To me, fog always seemed a time tunnel, like the sci-fi television show Time-Tunnel, that I used to watch. Even at 6 or 7, I already had an interest in hard-core science fiction but was not yet discerning enough to call bullsh*t on shows like Lost in Space, Forbidden Planet, and the Twilight Zone. They engaged my imagination, kept my mind full of questions I did not necessarily want all the answers to. I only knew that no matter how wild the theme, there was always some kernel of truth in it somewhere. I just didn’t know where exactly, which is precisely what made it fun.
This was long before I knew about the experiments in time performed at Montauk, or their curious echo, the real-life version of what in took place in the sci-fi show, Time Tunnel.
That they had really built a time tunnel, just like that. That there really was a fog that could sweep souls away to other places and times and at the end of the times that could be accessed, 2012 interestingly enough, there was only a bronze horse statue with a clock built into its side as I’ve drawn it here on Corel Draw…
I wonder how many people realize when they read sci-fi or other versions of fiction how much truth is really woven into those tales? How sometimes you can know things in an ethereal level of being or even the mundane that can not yet be safely spoken of at all unless it is purported to be fiction.
This is important. Pay attention to the messages, not just the vehicle.
For instance, the Christian icon of Jesus. Was there a historical Jesus? Or was he a composite fiction woven throughout with truths? I don’t know the answer, but I do know plenty of people that are frantically concerned with it whenever it gets questioned as sometimes happens.
History is only a way of focussing on time as is non-fiction of any sort. Fiction is mostly a way of focussing on ideas. We can pick our truths from either one but the latter is more likely to progress our thinking, coaxing us into mind broadening leaps of faith.