I am here, standing at the center of the circle of megaliths at Stonehenge, I watch the light of the Moon filtering through the stones, then I look at my hands, they shine with an intense blue and are enveloped by a lighter luminous halo, I know I have arrived here through a dream and yet my body of light is truly here, in this sacred place that the whole world knows; I think of thousands of years ago, when other shamans, just like me, came here to celebrate their rites, it is an ancient and yet new sensation, a shiver runs through me.
Suddenly I see him, it is him, the Unicorn of a thousand colors, my spiritual guide, his body is a moving kaleidoscope, a rainbow that continuously mixes and alternates. "Hey," I say to him, "have you had any nice trips into the astral dimensions these past few days?" "Nothing particularly interesting," he replies with his voice that sounds like a thousand little bells.
But I sense that something is about to happen, a different energy vibrates in the air, I turn towards one of the tallest monoliths and I see a message appear on its surface, it is written in the ancient fairy alphabet and the letters glow a soft lilac color, almost as if they wanted to draw us to it; we approach and, in an instant, we are sucked into a vortex of psychedelic colors, a few seconds later we pop out into a place I know only by hearsay: the mythical Land Of The Fairies.
It is even more beautiful than how I had been told it was, the air is sweet, imbued with a floral scent I had never smelled, around us stretch fertile meadows full of enormous multicolored flowers where the little fairies flutter about collecting nectar, their favorite food; in the distance I see gigantic temples built with stones transparent as glass: some blue, others purple, others green; the landscape is dotted with strange shapes that emanate energy, they are the genesa cristal and the pentaspheres where beings of light lie down to recharge; on the tops of the hills enormous rainbow crystals sprout in the strangest shapes and everywhere you can hear the melodious voices of the rivers, the trees and the animals; the entire dimension pulsates with a most powerful energy.
A fairy approaches us, her body is made of light but so dense as to seem almost solid, she is about ninety centimeters tall but her aura extends for another thirty, her energy is as intense as that of the other fairies twirling in the air, she wears clothing similar to that described in old British tales; she smiles at us and raises her hand in greeting.
"Welcome to our world, beings of light, I am Violetta." "Everything here is wonderful," I say looking around enchanted. "Have you managed to complete the Magnum Opus, the great work?" Violetta stares straight into my eyes, her light becomes more intense. "Yes, but we must clarify the meaning of that term," she says. "Today's alchemists have stolen the name and filled it with metals and formulas while modern esotericists have reduced it to banal instructions for opening chakras and developing occult powers; on Earth, today, the Magnum Opus has become a self-improvement manual." "And is that wrong?" I ask. The fairy turns towards me, her light now almost blinding. "It is not wrong, it is insufficient," she replies. "Try building a tower using only twenty bricks, how high will you get?" I remain silent. "This is what you have done," she continues. "You have taken the Magnum Opus, which was made of thousands of bricks created by shamans and beings of light over years and years of work and you have reduced it to a few bricks, you call it development but it is only an exercise of the ego; you wake up in the morning, meditate, open your energy centers, develop your psychic powers, charge yourself with energy... and then?" I remain silent for a few more moments. "And then I go out and encounter the world," I say. "Exactly," Violetta retorts. "And the outside world is made of injustice, war and misery; your chakras are open, you can read other people's minds but the people living on the streets are hungry; your aura is bright, you can guess all the face-down playing cards but the planet is dying, all this makes no sense; do you now understand why many esotericists feel a great inner emptiness?" I lower my gaze, I feel uneasy because she is right, how many times have I spent hours meditating, visualizing, dedicating myself to spiritual growth only to leave the house and not see the homeless man sitting under the porch? How many times have I sought the light without ever asking myself if I was illuminating something around me? I look into her beautiful blue eyes. "So, in your opinion, what should the true Magnum Opus be like?" Violetta approaches and her aura brushes mine. "The original great work was a dance, not a solitary exercise, it took into account the connection between you and the other, and between the other and yet another; it was a set of social rules and spiritual practices that allow the individual, society, all living species and the planet itself to live in symbiosis towards an existence tending towards physical, mental and spiritual perfection." I remain still, reflecting. Then I ask: "What do you think we should do to improve ourselves?" The fairy observes the sky. "Imagine a tower, that building remains standing thanks to its solid foundations, without them it would collapse, ethics constitute the foundations of the Magnum Opus, if you remove the foundations society collapses upon itself; humans, in recent centuries, in many parts of the world, have evolved technologically but have considered ethics and spirituality an obstacle to progress instead of a support."
Suddenly Violetta's face becomes serious and worried, she begins to speak in a faint voice, as if she were out of breath: "For a few months now our Magnum Opus has also been at risk of failing," she recounts, "a golden tree has appeared that emanates a sweet scent that pervades the entire dimension and attracts the fairies, the tree gives golden apples but those who follow the temptation to pick them are stung by its poisonous thorns." The poison, she explains to me, makes them delirious, they are no longer as good as before, they become haughty, presumptuous, greedy, they begin to consider themselves superior to the others because they possess gold, they avoid working and no longer express gratitude for their land and yet, despite their behavior, the other fairies have decided not to punish them because that would go against their ethics.
"We have consulted several oracles," says Violetta, "and they all converge, if nothing is done, this world will die upon itself, it will transform into an uninhabited and dilapidated cemetery, the meadows will become a frozen desert and the temples will collapse upon themselves." The Unicorn looks at me worriedly. "The oracles use allegorical images," he explains. "The desert and the cemeteries could suggest material decay while the image of the temples collapsing could refer to the fall of spirituality." Suddenly I have a vision, I see the most horrendous things in my world, I see poverty, war, indifference. "Oh no, this beautiful world will become like mine!" I exclaim. "You hit the nail on the head," confirms the Unicorn. "This is what gold does but I understood it with logical reasoning, without needing to prophesy the future."
Violetta accompanies us to a temple telling us that there it is easier to enter into communion with the energies that the Goddess and the God give to everyone equally; the walls of the building are covered with runic symbols and large talismans, behind the altar there are two beautiful marble statues representing the Gods; a group of fairies is performing a ritual with the magic circle and the four cardinal stones similar to those done by Wiccan sorcerers in my dimension, they dance in a circle holding hands then their ethereal bodies transform into hybrid figures between woman and tree, I see them absorbing energy from the Earth, they become increasingly powerful, they form a cone of power, finally they program the energy and radiate it throughout their dimension, as it passes I feel a warm wind brush my body of light; once the ritual is finished we ask what its purpose is and they explain that it is to solve the problem of that damned golden tree.
The Unicorn and I get accompanied near the tree, we speak to it but it does not want to stop giving those evil fruits; suddenly my guide, without touching it, with the power of his mind, detaches a fragment of a thorn and directs it towards me, the fragment stings me and suddenly I begin to experience firsthand what the rich and powerful feel: a sensation of omnipotence but also of emptiness, the poison's effect lasts only a minute. "I was born poor and I have always been," I say to the Unicorn. "I had never felt this sensation, is this how the rich and powerful feel?" My guide approaches. "Yes, I apologize if I stung you but you will see that this experience will be useful to you, sometimes putting yourself in the other's shoes, even just for a minute, can help us understand them but also to defend ourselves." I pause for a moment to reflect on the words I have just heard: "I thought the rich lived immersed in joy and instead they feel their lives are empty." The Unicorn looks at me. "The accumulation of money does not always generate happiness, it is not an automatic thing as most people believe."
At that moment, shocking news arrives: a fairy has stolen; a fairy who steals, since the worlds have existed it had never happened, suddenly the sky of that dimension becomes dark and tears as if it had a blood-red wound. "Oh no," some fairies mutter. "The oracles said that everything would begin like this, with a wound in the sky, we will all die."
I approach my guide. "You know," I say ironically, "on a book written by a well-known esotericist I read that there is a numerical sequence that allows you to receive immediate answers, it is the source of eternal knowledge, but I don't remember the numbers anymore, if I remembered them they could be useful to us right now." The Unicorn smiles. "I know them," he states. "Come on, you know it's all nonsense," I retort. "Let's try, it doesn't hurt to try," he continues.
We talk about the sequence to the fairies, we all stand in a circle and visualize the numbers that my guide makes appear in the center of the circle, we all focus on our intent: to receive a solution to the problem of the golden apples then, as written in the book, we let the numbers disappear and wait a few seconds for enlightenment to arrive. "The intuition has come to me!" exclaims a fairy. "We must not destroy the tree, right now it is indestructible, we must convince the lost fairies that they are wrong; the vision I had is a bit confusing, we should make something happen that makes them realize their mistakes so that they no longer pick the golden apples, in this way the tree, ignored, will no longer produce them, it will be dethroned; the misled fairies believe themselves omnipotent but in reality the true king is the tree, it is not they who possess the gold but the gold that possesses them."
Suddenly I feel I have an idea on how to make the blinded fairies understand that they are wrong, it is an idea that came from nowhere, perhaps those strange numerical sequences really work, I feel that the Unicorn has read my mind; we talk about my idea with the fairies, together we will create a huge mirror of energy in the sky, it must be as big as the whole sky because the corrupted fairies do not want to listen to us, we can only speak to them through images, then we will use the mirror to project the truth.
We all focus on the image of a mirror, we fix it well in our minds then my guide sends out a beam of light from his horn while the fairies and I raise our right hands, hundreds of beams of white light full of our intent come out from the center of our hands and rise towards the sky, a minute later the mirror has materialized, it is immense and framed by runes of fire.
Now that the mirror is ready we must use it as a projector to show what the future of this beautiful world will be if its inhabitants continue to pick the apples, this dimension will become like the planet Earth of today; only I can show the truth because no one here knows my world better than me but to make the images appear I must use great concentration and a huge amount of energy; the first images appear slowly, a fairy approaches and touches the mirror with a trembling hand. "What are those things?" she asks pointing to a very long line of cars. "Metal monsters suffocating the world," I reply. The fairy withdraws her hand as if she had been burned; then other images appear: a little girl looking for food in a garbage can, a man with an empty gaze with a syringe stuck in a purple arm, a battlefield with soldiers falling and a mother screaming over a motionless body. "Enough!" cries a fairy with golden hair. "I don't want to see anything else!" She turns away but the mirror follows her, wherever she looks she sees those scenes; another fairy, the one with the crown of cloth flowers on her head, falls to her knees. "Will we cause all this?" she whispers. "Not yet," I say. "But if you continue like this." A fairy covers her face with her hands and exclaims: "If we continue to pick the apples, if we continue to believe that gold makes us better." Another with tears on her cheeks screams: "Look what we are becoming!" The lost fairies look at each other, their luminous bodies tremble like flames in the wind, some cry, others put their hands in their hair, still others remain motionless with pale faces.
But as I observe them, as their shouts and their crying fill the air, I feel a tremor at the base of my back, it is the silver cord, the invisible thread that binds my body of light to the physical one that is now stretched out in my room, usually it is thick as a steel cable but now I feel it thinning, it is a signal that I am consuming too much energy but I cannot stop, not now, the fairies are recognizing their mistakes, the images are working, I must continue; I increase my concentration, new images appear on the mirror: a polluted river, a child crying in front of an empty plate, an elderly person abandoned on the street; the silver cord thins even more, now it seems a thin little rope; I have a vision, I see my physical body lying on the bed breathing heavily. "Kael, stop!" shouts the Unicorn. "Your silver cord is breaking!" But I do not stop, I create an energy bubble around my body of light, my guide tries to reach me but the bubble repels him. "Do not touch me!" I shout. "If you continue your physical body will die!" shouts the Unicorn with eyes full of terror. "I don't care!" I shout. "I don't want this world to become like mine, I don't want there to be kings and homeless people here too!" The fairies, even the misled ones, understand what is happening to me and shout: "Kael, stop!" But I continue to project images, I realize that I am not perfect, I realize that I am not acting out of love but out of hate, because I hate my world and as the hatred runs through me like an electric shock the silver cord thins almost completely then suddenly something happens, some fairies shout: "We do not want your death, we want your life, we have understood our mistakes and we are ready to fix them but stop!"
Exhausted I stop, as the seconds pass I feel my silver cord regain vigor; I see a fairy turn and run. "Cornflower! Where are you going?" asks another. Cornflower does not answer, she runs towards the Fountain Of Oblivion, that circle of deep black water that transforms everything into sand and without thinking she throws her golden apple into it; the black water swallows it, for an instant a golden glow illuminates the surface then everything disappears, the apple has become sand; Cornflower turns towards the other fairies. "It is only a metal," she says. "And it has become heavier than I can carry." She turns towards the mirror where the last image is still visible. "I do not want our world to become like this." Another fairy breaks away from the group, runs towards the fountain with her apple and emulates Cornflower. "I do not want that either," she says. A third fairy follows her, then a fourth, then all the others. "It is only a metal, a metal that is destroying us," someone repeats like a mantra. The apples fall one after another into the black water, the water trembles, ripples and absorbs everything.
When the last deviant fairies throw their apples something changes in the air, the smell of gold disappears and in its place returns the scent of flowers, of wet earth, of trees, of rivers; the fairies look around, their eyes are still bright and full of tears but on their faces, slowly, something else appears: relief. "We almost got lost," murmurs one. "But we did not get lost," says Cornflower out loud. "We are still here, we are still us." One of the fairies wipes her tears. "What do we do now?" Violetta smiles. "Now, together, we start over." The fairies stand in a circle and embrace each other, the corrupted ones apologize. "We only wanted to seem more beautiful," they say. "Instead we were turning our world into a nightmare." The corrupted fairies are forgiven, the mirror dissolves, the wound in the sky disappears and the golden tree transforms into a normal cherry tree.
"Gold is only a shiny metal, how can it transform a livable world into an ugly one like yours?" a fairy asks me. I shake my head. "Gold is not the problem, the problem is what gold does to people; when you have gold you start to think that you are worth more than those who do not have it, you start to believe that others are less important than you and when you think this you no longer care if they are hungry, if they suffer, if they die." I pause for a moment. "Gold makes you blind and a blind person, even if they do not want to, ends up trampling on those around them."
A fairy approaches me, in her hand she has a flute. "This instrument emits positive frequencies, you deserve it," she says. I lower my head, I am about to say that I do not deserve it but she whispers in my ear: "I know what you were thinking as you projected the images and your silver cord was thinning but if you also dream of a society tending towards perfection you are not so bad and the flute you deserve it." Surprised by the gift I turn to the Unicorn in a joking tone: "In some books it is written that fairies flee from those who freely express their sexuality and this one even brings me a gift." "In some books they write all nonsense," replies my guide. "Don't tell me that fairies also have sex?" I ask. In front of me I see the Unicorn and the fairies laughing their heads off.
I approach my guide and whisper to him: "But in which book did you read the numerical sequence?" He takes a few steps to the left and I follow him. "I did not know it but do not tell anyone," he replies in a low voice.
The Unicorn sends out a beam of light from his horn, immediately in front of me appears an intra-dimensional portal with an image, I recognize it, on the other side there is my astral temple; I go through the portal and reach it, I look around and put the flute in my library of objects, perhaps it will be useful to me during future astral journeys.
A few seconds later, incredibly, I find myself in my bed, it is already morning, with that lucid dream the night passed quickly; I get up and look out the window, the city is the same as yesterday, the noise, the smog, the people rushing about; I think that the tree of golden apples also grows on Earth in other forms or with other names: money, power, fame and many people continue to pick its fruits believing they are becoming better when instead they only become emptier and make the world worse; I think that if humanity, as a whole, looked into a mirror that showed, as if by magic, what the future we will leave to posterity will be if we continue to see ethics and connection with others, with other species and with the planet as garbage perhaps something would change.
As I observe the city the television broadcasts an advertisement, a cheerful voice invites people to send an SMS costing two euros to save the whales, an animal species on the verge of extinction; until yesterday I would have absentmindedly ignored those words but today, after that dream, I pick up the phone and send the message; as I do so I feel an invisible thread tightening, a connection between me and those magnificent animals that perhaps I will never see.
I go back to reflecting, I realize that here on Earth magic mirrors do not exist and one person alone can do very little to show people the future we will leave to posterity but I could write a book, I have a biologist friend, a sociologist friend, a philosopher and also an elementary school teacher who knows how to make complicated things simple; I could write a book together with them, not a text that prophesies the future but a serious one that, through logical reasoning and data, describes the future of humanity if we continue along this path; I realize that my message will reach few people, few minds will be shaken but it is always better than nothing.
Suddenly, looking at the blue sky, I have a vision, I see numbers floating in the air, I see the numbers one, one, two, three, five, eight, thirteen, I recognize it, it is the Fibonacci sequence but now I see it differently, those numbers could represent the way an idea grows; I take a sheet of paper, I write the first thirteen numbers of the sequence then I draw a spiral next to the numbers, it starts small then widens until it goes off the page.
An idea can grow like this, I think, like those numbers, if a reader recommends my future book to his friends two people could read my text, if these two people recommend it, in turn, to their friends the readers could become three, then five then eight and so on; I turn on the computer and write the title of my new document: "The World That Will Come." Then I write the last sentence of the book: "A shared idea can grow like the Fibonacci numbers, it is enough that each person talks about it with their friends and those friends with others still, the wave will widen like when you throw a stone into the water of a pond; if you liked this text, you start."
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