The Dreamer Dreamed - New Age novel about What Dreams Mean

The Dreamer Dreamed
A funny thing happened on my way to
enlightenment...

by Robert C. Worstell

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The Dreamer Dreamed

Copyright 2010 Robert C. Worstell. All Rights
Reserved.

All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under
copyright reserved above, no part of this publication
may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a
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any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying,
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permission of both the copyright owner and the
publisher of this book.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places,
brands, media, and incidents are either the product
of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously.
The author acknowledges the trademarked status
and trademark owners of various products
referenced in this work of fiction, which have been
used without permission. The publication/use of
these trademarks is not authorized, associated with,
or sponsored by the trademark owners.

ISBN: 978-0-557-89894-7

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Robert C. Worstell

Hold fast to dreams
For if dreams die
Life is a broken-winged bird
That cannot fly.
Hold fast to dreams
For when dreams go
Life is a barren field
Frozen with snow.
~Langston Hughes

“Be careful what you water your dreams with. Water
them with worry and fear and you will produce
weeds that choke the life from your dream. Water
them with optimism and solutions and you will
cultivate success. Always be on the lookout for ways
to turn a problem into an opportunity for success.
Always be on the lookout for ways to nurture your
dream.”
~Lao Tse

“Don't lose the dreams inside your head, they'll only
be there til you're dead, dream”
~Dave Mathew Band

"The longer the night lasts, the more our dreams will
be."
~Chinese Proverb


The Dreamer Dreamed

1

It all began in mid-air.

A beautiful blue day, fluffy clouds with a hint of high
wispy cirrus horse-tails above them. If it weren't for
the fact that I was falling through the air it would
have been a nice day to be alive.

Just laying on my back, relaxed and falling to my
certain end. Enjoying the ride, as it were. Wind
buffeting all around as my body fell as fast as the air
permitted it to move. Odd to see what my "last
thoughts" would be. Always wondered about this
particular ending. It's been a long time since I
dreamed this way.

Turning slightly, I saw my bed coming up - a small
dot in the distance. So I wrestled my hand to pick
out my small handbook and the other tightly grasped
my pen. Writing carefully on a new blank page: "It
all began in mid-air..."

Then the bed hit.

I sat up, in a cold sweat. The room was just as
normal, no hole in the roof or anything. It was night,
as usual - or early morning, the clock corrected me.


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Since the sheets were damp, I had no choice but to
also change my drenched t-shirt. In the dark, I
moved around, so that I could get back to sleep more
easily. Sliding back in, I was comfortable enough for
now.


The Dreamer Dreamed

2

The hospital was busy, but sounded more or less
empty. More modern than some I had visited, so this
was a new one, a different one than I had seen
before.

Nurses came, went, always checking on something,
leaving with a smile. Pretty enough, but very official.

Nothing in my arms or legs, and nothing broken. So
far, so good.

As usual, dressed in one of those stupid put-it-on-
backward gowns with dumb narrow pastel stripes.
The room too cold and the blankets too light. The
light was coming in a window as it peaked over a
wing of the building. Must be a south window, I
thought. Means it will heat up here shortly.

I got up and went over to the window ledge, pushing
one of those rolling bedside tables out of the way. It
was painted shut. But I adjusted the parallel blinds
to filter the direct sunlight a bit.

"Feeling better already?" A blonde nurse walked in,
carrying a tray of something which was set over on a
table near the door, next to the visitor chair. "We
were hoping you'd come out of it soon, but a person


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never knows..."

I smiled and nodded. Not a conversation I wanted to
have. Just seeing someone else was enough for now.
I let her leave and watched her form disappear into
the hallway. Pleasant enough and not overweight
like some of these career dames I'd met before,
especially at the desks.

But to get a clue what I was doing here, who I was,
and what was going on - that was next.

Knowing who I am is usually no difficulty. The trick
is in figuring out if I'm still being called the same
thing as before, and what is the plot this time. Most
of these dreams are similar in some aspect, you are
always looking for what is bizarre and what the
challenges are. Or that's the way I look at them these
days.


The Dreamer Dreamed

3

"He's still thinking he's in a dream. What gives?"

Clicking her pen against her thin-framed glasses,
Factor 2 commented, "Perhaps we are changing
these too quickly. Give him some time to adjust."

Factor 1 turned and looked at her directly, "It's more
difficult when he figures them out and doesn't take
them seriously. It's busting our budget to keep
creating new situations to put him in when he just
sees through them. Let's hope the hospital scenario
sticks this time."

"It should be interesting enough to keep him
wanting to stay there."

"We'll see. Betcha he moves on and goes back to
waking up again. I'm getting the next scenario ready,
but I need some time."

Factor 2 paused over the control screen, clicking the
keyboard. "Here, I can put an old friend in there -
that should slow it down. Usually does. Keeps them
occupied."

The other glanced over, furiously typing in his own
work to build the next scenario. "Better. Otherwise,


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we have to drop him back into his own 'reality' for
awhile. Prefect won't be happy."

"Ole' Fuddy-dud? He's just busting our chops
because he's got his star progenies working on one of
his toughest cases. If we can solve it, he writes
another paper and gets all the credit while we get a
little by-line and a passing grade. Screw him."

At this, Factor 2 stopped and looked up at her. He
grunted, glanced at the clock, and resumed his
tackety-tack rhythm at the keyboard.


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4

"Hello Joe. How are they treating you?"

"Hey Jack, what are you doing here?"

Jack settled into the single vinyl-covered easy chair,
draped in an intern's jacket over a plaid shirt and
slacks. His lanky legs crossed and seeming at ease in
the hospital chair provided. "Well, your name came
up on a list, so I thought to drop by as soon as I got a
break."

"Working you hard here?"

"No more than usual. I'll finish up in a couple of
weeks and then I'm going back to the books for
awhile before they let me out again. I'll appreciate
some regular sleep then."

"Ooh, that's spooky - so you guys running on fumes
are making all the decisions around here."

"Yep, that's the way it runs, apparently. But you're in
good hands otherwise..." His beeper interrupted
him. "Darn, that again. Have to go. See you."

One swift wave and a motion, then he was gone.
Leaving me to wonder why he was here at all. My


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history with him said he was last in a corporate set-
up, trying to rise through the ranks. This dream was
a weird one.

Looking around, I found the thin robe and slippers
we were allowed. Shrugging this on and tying it with
the single sash included, I kicked into the slippers and
started toward the door. A mirror on the wall
showed me to be in my 30's with no gut and a few
days of stubble. Hair tousled, but not overly long. A
full head of hair with no gray. Nice. Of course, all
those curls wouldn't stay flat unless I wet them down
- but I was curious about this new world I'd been
sent to.

I entered the hall, pausing to look both ways and
take in the scene.


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5

Of course, I'm being unfair.

Who am I?

I could be coy here and say, "Call me Ishmael." As we
certainly are going into the belly of the beast on this
one.

But no, I am you - as my metaphysician tells me. We
are all connected and part of Being - and yes, that's
still hard for me to swallow, even though I've
reached satori, been enlightened, "seen the light"
and all that.

It's really not that hard. But other people have a hard
time with it, seemingly. Or they just don't care to
look up as they open a door to see whether there's a
bucket of water poised up there. Splash! And then
it's kismet, fate, karma, etc. Also known as needing a
change of clothes.

Once I opened that door to see that things are caused
- all of them - by our own thoughts, then it took
some major brain-creaking to get past the hurdles I
set up for myself so long ago.

What do I look like? Well, it depends what dream


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I'm in. Generally, it's a body about 6 ft tall (190 cm.
plus-or-minus) auburn hair which blondes in the
summer, green eyes which change according to
weather and season - not out of shape, but not ready
to run any marathon. Don't get sick much. But that's
a lot of other reasons.

I dress just like you. Casual when I can get away with
it - which is most of the time these days. But again,
it's what I'm dreaming that counts.

This dream stuff. Keeps coming up.

Enter stage left, Hawaiian shaman - kahuna kapua.
No ceremonial robes, just jeans, sandals, sweatshirt
with cut off sleeves. Something out of a Gidget
movie.

"Hey, howsit?"

"You want to tell them about this dream stuff?"

"What would you like me to say?"

"Well, maybe explain how it is that life is a dream."

"You just did. Anything else?"

"Well, how about what it all means?"

"That's whatever you think it is."


The Dreamer Dreamed
"Oh come on, let's be fair to these people."

"OK, but life isn't necessarily fair - or is it?"

(Sigh.) "Now you can all see what I've been up
against. Thanks, Doc."

Exit stage left, smiling, shaman-kapua.

This is where the funny thing happened. But you
wouldn't think of it that way at the time.


Robert C. Worstell

6

"What's the progress, my prize-winning students?"
The Precept entered the small programming studio
through the portal behind our two factors without
announcement, making both of these grad-students
jump.

Factor 2 broke the sudden silence. "Well, he hasn't
done other than nibbled at the bait. If we throw too
much at him, he then just backs up as it's all unreal
and figures it's just another dream."

"A real tough nut," Factor 1 chimed in, "getting him
back to taking this all seriously is eating serious
holes in our resources."

The academic studied their screens over the
shoulders of the two Factors. "Well, it's a good thing
I've reallocated some of my research budget to you.
That should carry this study through if you use them
well."

As the figures changed on the screen, Factor 1
relaxed. "That gives us a bit more breathing space,
but we aren't out of the woods by any means."

"The deal is that he's got a hold of some oddball code
and swallowed it wholesale - and this is just playing


The Dreamer Dreamed
Hobbes with our regular algorithms," Factor 2
explained. "We're having to code on the fly just to
keep ahead of him."

"And I can see you are doing a great job with this. No
kidding, it's a tough assignment. But that's why you
two are on it. I don't have time with all my lectures
and interviews to hand-code the loops we need for
this. And it's all good practice for you two. Some day
you'll run into another like this. You'll already have
the code snippets you need to solve them. Carry on,
fine job so far."

With that the Precept glided out of the room, the
portal swishing shut and leaving the room again
silent, except for the low-pitched humming of
various drives and electronics, plus the breathing
and heartbeats of the two grad students as they
began to relax again.

"I really hate it when he just shows up like that."
Factor 1 complained.

"And then crowds it on by leaning over our desks
right on top of us. I liked it better to just watch him
across the room as he lectured. A bit more privacy,"
added Factor 2.

"Well, Sue, it looks like he's stabilized now. At least
he's interested in this hospital scene. Time for some
new characters."


Robert C. Worstell
"OK, Rog. We're going to have to increase the
familiarity a bit to keep him going."

"But we don't have much other choice. Too many
new characters and he'll jump again."


The Dreamer Dreamed

7

Down the hall, there were rooms right and left, as
any hospital. This one was light and airy, and
perhaps fewer patients than it would normally take
to fund a building like this. From the window views,
we were probably on at least the fourth floor if not
higher - and there was another wing across, but the
area morning fog kept more than shadows showing
up as far as nearby buildings.

We could be in a campus, and this a research center -
that might cover it.

Some other patients were also starting to travel the
hall ways, some with I.V. drips wheeling along.
Others just shuffling to whatever destination they'd
be about on days like this. No one I knew, which was
pretty appropriate.

Jack showing up made this a bit odd. How he started
into medical training after what we'd been through
was nearly incredible. I'd seen more odd things, and
it had been about a decade or more since we had last
talked. But it was good to see his face.

Just then, a younger nurse showed up, a brunette
with nearly black hair in the fluorescent lighting.
Also curvy underneath her tailored smock.


Robert C. Worstell

"And how are we doing today?" she smiled as she
asked.

Returning her smile, "Not too bad. Not sore anyway.
What's on the schedule today?"

"Well, you're up for a lot of rest. Sometime this
afternoon, your physical therapist will be by to check
things out. After what you've been through, it's
surprising that you aren't sore. But it's good to see
you around and moving about on your own. There's
a garden area off the foyer you might want to visit.
Plant oxygen is good for your condition."

I was about to ask more, but someone else caught
her eye. She nodded back to me and then moved off
with a silky gait. Watching her walk was just as good
for me as any other exercise. But I could only hope
that all the nurses were as attractive as the first two
I'd met.

Making my way down the hallway was uneventful.
More patients, various ages, but none particularly in
bad shape or bandaged up. Most in the apparent
daze from waking up or whatever meds they were
on. They all looked well-cared for.

In the foyer, I saw some middle-aged matrons at the
desk. Chunky, but not disgracefully. Trim. And I
started to wonder why I was looking at their shapes
and why mostly females - until I nearly was hit by a


The Dreamer Dreamed
glass door suddenly opening toward me.

"Oh, I'm sorry. Didn't see you coming." Another
patient, matching my own frumpy attire, only with
softer pastels in very feminine colors. Shorter hair,
another brunette, but with streaks of highlighting.
No make up, but she didn't really need any, since her
natural coloring was more than adequate.

"No, excuse me. I should have been watching for this
very door. I was looking for the garden." And the
sweet smells of fresh grass and nut trees fragrantly
wafted through the open door. Somewhere, flowers
bloomed within.

"Well, here it is. Glad to meet you. Hope to see you
around later." With that, the nameless patient
walked off into the hall, a different direction from
where I came.

The door started to close automatically and I held it
to avoid being hit, distracted as I was by her graceful
motion.

Looking into the Garden showed a well-manicured
garden-like arboretum, with high ceilings for the
well-pruned trees. It was hard to tell their age, as
they seemed more like overgrown bonsai - just tall
enough to provide shade, yet never actually interfere
with the tall roof structure. Mostly deciduous - oaks,
hickories, and it smelled like a walnut or two, plus
some pine.


Robert C. Worstell

What caught my attention was the blooming flowers
which bordered the walks. More plants native to
where I grew up. Amazing that they were able to
cultivate wildflowers here. Black-eyed Susan's,
Chicory, and Coneflower by the paths, with violets
and Dutchman's Breeches in the shade, along with
others I barely could identify.

The paths were smooth, but a composite with tiny
expansion joints as if they were fitted by expert
masons - or more probably poured in place, one by
one. Too tightly fitting to allow someone to trip or a
small wheel to catch. Smooth as if the joints were
more decorative than functional. Yet forward a bit
showed a taped-off area where you could see they
had pulled some up to repair something below - or
trim offending roots.

Everything was neat, tidy. People were enjoying the
sunshine, sitting on the low walls on the path sides,
or using the benches which were placed in small,
shady cul-de-sacs, built for some slight privacy. I saw
only smiling faces, where groups of two or three
were together. Occasionally, my wandering took me
by the solitary individual deep in concentration over
a book. And I saw a pair in concentration over a
chess board, near oblivious to the scents and beauty
around them.

Occasionally, I heard a bird treble in the trees above.
While I didn't see any, it didn't seem too odd that


The Dreamer Dreamed
this great arboretum could have some. For health
reasons, I suspected they were recordings. But a
small breeze wafted from time to time as well -
perhaps for the mutual benefit of the plants as much
as the patients.

The paths continued to twist and turn and intersect
one with another. However, they all returned to an
exit finally. No matter how one turned, you would
find another glass door and the organized hospital
world waiting from this brief sojourn in Nature.


Robert C. Worstell

8

Dog and Cat sittin' 'n watchin' 'nother sunset over
the pastures and woods of the Farm at the end of the
Day.

Sez Dog to Cat: "Should be along shortly."

Sez Cat to Dog: "'Spect so."

Dog: "They'll get tired of messin' with 'im and send
em on down 'ere."

Cat: "Yup, that's the way they goes."

Dog: "Think they knows yet?"

Cat: "Dunno, might 'spect somethin' mebbe."

Dog: "Mebbe."

Cat: "Prob'ly wouldn't show up here otherwise."

Dog: "Nope, deed not."

Sunset just keep sinkin' and looking purty. Like
always.


The Dreamer Dreamed

9

Joe walked up to the next nurse's station, lost in all
the uniformity of the hospital.

"Excuse me, ma'am, but I seem to have forgotten my
way to my room. These halls all look alike to me. I'm
Joe Deeds."

"Hi there, Joe. Hope you liked your walk in the
Gardens. Most people get a bit turned around in
there."

"I'm Rosie and that's Charlene."

"Thanks, Rosie, that is indeed a nice Garden.
Amazing, actually, to find it in the middle of a
hospital."

"Well, we do have some longer-term residents here
and it makes their stay more enjoyable so they heal
faster. You might want to check out the info sheet in
your room when you get back. We also have a nice
library and a rec room, as well as an exercise center.
Everything to help you with your healing. I'll make a
note here for the hostess to come up and go over
your options."

"Thank you, that would be quite nice. Did you find


Robert C. Worstell
where my room was?"

"Oh yes, it's just in that hall straight ahead, fifth door
on your left."

"I can see it, I think. Thanks again." Joe left down
the hallway, leaving two nurses to themselves.

"Charlene."

"Yeah."

"Would be downright cute if he weren't so serious.
Who's got shift tonight?"

"You bucking for night duty? Thought it was wearing
you out."

"You're right. But wouldn't mind spelling someone if
they needed a break. Bet he's an angel when he's
sleeping."

"Never know. But he's certainly got the manners to
suspect he is. File says he's single."

Rosie moved to look over her shoulder at her screen,
then took a long look down the hall Joe is walking.
"Wouldn't you know it. Well, well."

Charlene looks after him also and sighed, "Plenty of
time left yet. He's going nowhere soon."


The Dreamer Dreamed

10

"Find anything yet Roger?" Factor 2 was monitoring
Jack's progress while Factor 1 was busy looking up
online manuals as well as a short pile of texts.

"Nope, Sue, got nothing. Real weird." Factor 1 closed
the heavy volume he was thumbing through and put
it in the second pile, hefting the next from the first.
"Good you spotted that anomaly. That might be the
clue to this whole scene of his."

"Sure seemed odd to have it sticking in that place.
He's been plugging that one piece in here and there
repetitively, trying to get it to fit in. But never back
where he got it from."

"Definitely some sort of incomplete loop. And a self-
imposed restrictor so he won't put it back again. Real
curious. We'll have to chase that down. Someone
gave him that piece out of sequence. Wonder where
he found it?"

"Why don't you give it a break and watch these
screens for awhile, my eyes need a rest."

"OK Sue. I'm getting brain-numb anyway. Carpal-
tunnel just from the weight of these." Roger put the
last book back on the first stack after dog-earing the


Robert C. Worstell
page he was looking at. Then swiveled to give his full
attention to the screen. "Looks like he's just heading
back and will settle down now."

"That was a night touch with the young nurses. That
should keep him distracted for awhile."

"Yea, but I didn't want to overdo it. He'd start
suspecting again. Just make it pleasant. Same with
adding more scents in the garden."

Sue quits rubbing her eyes and purposely relaxes,
stretching her arms over her head. Joe glances over
and frowns. "I wish you'd quit doing that."

"What?"

"You know. Stretching."

"What Roger, too stimulating for you?"

"Too distracting. I need to concentrate."

"Maybe I should get you a set of blinders."

"Very funny. Save it for off-shift."

"What do we have - 2, 3 hours left?"

"More like 5. Hope they relieve us on schedule."

"Hey, I'm going over for a snack, want something?"


The Dreamer Dreamed

"Maybe a fruit bar. Just to tide me over."

"OK, see you in a bit." Sue bounced out of the room,
carefully staying out of Roger's peripheral vision as
she did.

Gawd, I wish he'd lighten up a little bit, she mused.
Zipping down her tunic so it was more comfortable,
she ambled down the hall easily, like a leopard or
hunting cat. When she yawned and tossed her mane
of hair, she could sometimes look just like a lioness,
or so some friends said. Too bad Roger didn't
appreciate more of the side-benefits of his assigned
duties, she thought.

But then again, the Precept could walk in at any
time. He had an uncanny habit of doing just that.
Almost always just after you mentioned his name.
And she remembered some undergrads who were
caught in an interesting position one night. Mid-
term transfers didn't help your grade average. She
sighed.

The short hallway ended in a small break room. A
few steps to the fridge, which almost opened as she
got there. Her face was bathed in a warm yellow light
as she perused her prospects, one hand on the door,
the other slowly following her tunic's long, zippered
opening.


Robert C. Worstell

11

"Do you often think about sex?" The advertisement
blared from the page. Joe turned over the cover to
find the volume tab. Sure wish the ads weren't so
loud, he thought. Especially in these supposedly
serious scientific journals. But if you mute them, the
animations become more rapid and the colors
wilder, more garish.

The image was a voluptuous younger woman in a
doctor's frock - or something like that. And it was an
ad for some version of suppressant that would keep
you focused on whatever you were actually supposed
to be doing.

I don't think she could actually close that frock if she
wanted to, Joe mused. He turned the page and found
another over-scintillating ad and finally closed the
magazine, watching the colors fade from the inner
pages as the back cover animations started up.
Sighing, he put his robe over it so the room would go
back to the quiet pastel green and quit moving in
beat to that magazine.

"You can just put them back in the holder and they'll
quit. That lets them recharge as well." The middle-
aged woman in the doorway smiled wryly. "Takes
some getting used to. But it's like the old phrase, 'a


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place for everything and everything in its place.'"

Noting his surprise, she stepped into the room and
extended her hand, "Hi, I'm Pamela, and I'm the
Wing Hostess. I'm here to make sure you find
everything you need." With that, she walked over to
his bedside, pulled the robe and magazine off the
bedside table. Magazine went into the holder, robe
on to its nearby hook.

Joe shook her hand politely and found himself
relieved to find someone who dressed conservatively.
She did manage to exude a bit of professional
confidence, just enough color in her blouse to be
attractive, yet not stand out more than she needed.
Probably calculated to be easy to find among the
nurses and doctors here, he thought.

"I hope you've found the briefing sheet, but I'm here
to go over it so you understand all you can do. The
point is to make this stay as pleasant as we can to
make your stay enjoyable. Our point is healing, and
everything is aligned to the holistic betterment of all
known and unknown discomforts," Pamela said in a
well-practiced, even tone.

"Sounds almost more like a luxury hotel than a
hospital," Joe remarked.

"Some enjoy it that way. But they heal faster if they
are surrounded by a pleasant, supportive
environment. There's more to healing than just pills


Robert C. Worstell
and bandages, you know."

Pamela came closer to Joe's bedside and leaned
against it while she fished the laminated sheet out of
the magazine holder. As she did, it flashed to life
with colors and motion. Joe noted the warmth
coming through her jacket as she leaned against him,
the pleasant fresh-soap smell coming from her
clothes and hair.

"Our job is to make your stay here as homey as we
can," Pamela continued, pointing to sheet in Joe's
hand. "Here, for instance is the entertainment
center, where you can watch your regular TV shows,
whether you prefer to do this privately or with a
group. Lot's of people think sports games are better
experienced with a crowd than alone. Others find
that when watching a docu-drama, they can get
distracted from the plot and action if too many
others are present. And some simply prefer to shift
past the commercials or keep track of several
programs at once - which others could find
annoying."

Joe nodded, understanding her as if she were
reading his mind. Too often TV was just slow and
tedious for all practical purposes. Games could be
noisome affairs, especially if you were rooting for the
losing side. Ads were best used to shift over to
another show and pick up what was happening and
then shift back. But Joe knew others didn't share his
cursory approach and would rather completely


The Dreamer Dreamed
involve themselves with the story - as if they were
living it in that instance.

"And to keep you fit, here's how you get to the
Exercise Center, where you can also join in any
group activities like aerobics or simply work out,
either under a trainer's supervision, or on your own."
Pamela then turned the card over. "Now, here is a
map of the building and how to get to where you
want to go. This," she unclasped a small card," is a
locator, which will act like a personal GPS. Just
program in your destination and then clip it to your
gown or robe. It will beep if you take a wrong turn.
Glance at it and you'll see an arrow pointing to
where you wanted to wind up."

"Well, that's quite something. Always thought we'd
have it some day." Joe was honestly surprised.

"And if you need help for any reason, you can just
press and hold it and someone will come to help you.
Of course that's mostly for our residents with more
extreme physical conditions. Those three smaller
areas at the bottom can be pressed for special needs:
red will get a nurse to call you through the nearest
intercom, yellow gets the nearest aide, and blue will
get me - or one of my assistants if I'm off duty."
Pamela ended her talk by looking right at me and
quickly stood up and away a polite distance, a slight
flush on her cheek.

"I hope you find everything satisfactorily and I do


Robert C. Worstell
hope to help you some time in the future." At that,
her beeper went off. While she looked at the display,
"But I'll be back again this evening after dinner to
check on you and how you're doing. Got to run,
sorry." She smiled at this, which was right on cue as
she left the room.

Joe found himself still admiring her smile seconds
later, much as the Cheshire Cat left that grin behind.

Shaking his head, he looked down at the pulsing
briefing sheet in his hand and then replaced it in the
magazine holder.

That's certainly enough for this morning, he thought.
Suddenly tired, he shrugged down deeper into his
soft bed and pulled the covers over him, soon
drifting off to sleep.


The Dreamer Dreamed

12

Wishing I had brought more than a machete and a
backpack of food and that small first aid kit. You
don't travel in this country other than light, however,
unless you want to pay porters. And I knew they
wouldn't want to go where I was wanting to. Sure,
there's that GPS beeper if I get in trouble, but that
shouldn't be a problem.

No, the greater deal was that I was working on an
ancient description of where this thing was and the
paths it described were all overgrown. It was easier
to follow game trails, which did more or less follow
those old worn paths. These roads had been used for
hundreds of years before the civilization seemed to
just vanish. And the growth was bad. Often, you
could only work out the trail by looking up - and
seeing where the trees parted on both sides, being
thin in the middle.

Still, the vines were tough and over grown,
sometimes thicker than my forearm. I only cut the
ones I needed to. Those old movies of people hacking
their way through the forest don't also show them
taking breaks every 15 or 20 minutes to recuperate. I
quickly found out the fastest way was finding a way
around instead of going through.


Robert C. Worstell
Steep bluffs were the most troublesome. 30-40 foot
drop-offs forced me to go up or downstream to find a
tributary or gorge which would afford me access.
And then I had to do the same thing on the other
side. That river meanwhile was a twisting, curling
mess, as it would double back on itself within a
quarter mile. Of course, it wasn't during the rainy
season, so it was mostly a shallow, gravelly mess on
the bottom, covered with regular dead-falls of old
trees and bunched-up brush with nasty traps set
from rotten water-soaked wood if you tried to cross
broadside.

And mosquitoes were everywhere. Sweat rolled off in
mini-rivulets, but I had to preserve the water in my
canteen for the miles ahead.

Finally the path broke free of jungle growth and I
was moving away from the river again. Here, the
game had found that the old roads were more easily
traveled and left a path. It looked like the ground
was too tightly packed for much growth, but that
packing had also left the road lower than the
surrounding forest on each side. So there were many
soft spots to walk around. Still not easy going.

What was I doing this for? I had to remind myself of
the cache of hidden knowledge which legend says
was stored in that old temple so long ago. Sure it
said riches, but I knew the other meaning. And if
there were valuable data there, it would be on the
walls, whatever were still standing.


The Dreamer Dreamed

A clearing broke ahead, odd for this part of country.
As I move forward, the growth parted and I felt more
solid under-footing, as if the original stone road was
under there somewhere. The road was straight now,
and the misty sunlight was hiding whatever was still
in front of me to discover. While my heart began
beating quicker, I worked to still it and stay calm.
Just because I had been traveling for weeks to get to
this spot, and more than half a day away from the
Jeep I left on the jungle's closest navigable trail, I
still needed to get back that same way.

My hopes nearly got dashed with what I saw next.

The road broadened out to a clearing was empty,
except for saplings which had started growing there.
No temple of rock rising out of the forest floor. No
huge monolith inscribed with ancient writings. Just
an empty clearing filling with what new growth could
penetrate that underlying rock floor, which showed
through where old slabs had been uplifted here and
there by the tree roots and weather.

Still picking my way forward, I reached into my pack
to extract my camera and recorder. Just then, I
stumbled.

Fell, more like it. And kept falling.


Robert C. Worstell
Because there wasn't anything to grab hold of on my
way down or anything to stop my fall with
outstretched arms.

I could see the opening dwindling above me which
had been hidden by vines drop away above me, but
my concern was not busting my head or ribs or
something else when I eventually landed. Odd that I
could think clearly during all this. Events seemed to
slow as my mind apparently sped up. But the worst I
was getting was some massive scrapes and bruises as
I the vines and roots I ran into kept slowing my
downward progression and I was finally able to grab
several in order to halt in some awkward position an
unknown distance from wherever "down" finished.

I hung there, suspended, until I could figure things
out.

Light wasn't clear here, the bulk of it was streaming
through that small hole I had punched in the grass
and vines above. Meanwhile, my fall had taken me
past more of these, which tended to snap back and
fill that space I had come down through. And no, it
wasn't easy to get to some sort of flashlight, since
these were in my backpack, which was now twisted
behind me in a painful contortion as the straps cut
into my shoulder - but at least it was still there.
Again, this wasn’t like the movies.

So in that dim view, I carefully found thicker
branches and vines to move to and got myself


The Dreamer Dreamed
upright again. Sorting out the backpack with a free
hand did allow me to fish out a light - which I
quickly clipped by it's lanyard to my waist so I
wouldn't lose it. It dangled below me by a foot or so
as I took my free hand to get more secure and more
comfortable, my breath still ragged and I worked to
calm the body down after that excitement.


Robert C. Worstell

13

"And how do you think you think?" asked the
shaman-kapua.

Dressed in his typical duck-cloth shorts, short sleeve
open shirt, and sandals, the old man was smiling as
if he had just set the joke for a coming punch line.

We were sitting near the beach, in the shade of the
trees nearby. The waves were keeping their irregular
pattern on the shore, and birds cried above as they
hunted for food. The world seemed at peace, his
question almost an interruption to this quiet scene.

I answered, "I don't know, never thought that far
out."

"Look it over, let me know." The old man was still
smiling, and turned to look out to sea.

"Well, there's how it happens. Looking at things
objectively."

"True. How else do you think?"

Pausing, I said, "And then there are people who
think with their feelings - how it affects them, how
they react to whatever happened."


The Dreamer Dreamed
"Again true. How else do you think?"

A longer pause. More looking out to sea. "There are
things which stand for other things. Symbols. What
things mean."

"Yes and right again. Is there another way you
think?"

Now the pause stretched a long time. One could
almost see the shadows move from the sun’s passage
before I finally concluded, "There's how things work
together, like wind, sea, sun, birds. The holistic view
of things. Natural systems and interaction."

"Ah, that is so. Very good."

And with that, my friend the shaman-kapua rose and
walked down the beach in the direction toward his
hut.

I stayed and sat to digest what he had just made me
figure out for myself.

The sea continued its irregular beat against and with
the shore. Trees overhead whispered the songs of the
breeze, while flying and dipping birds gave their own
odd riffs and accent to this unwritten, but eternal
melodic tune.


Robert C. Worstell

14

"About time you got back. He's gone and done it
again."

Sue zipped up her tunic to its top and put the fruit-
bar on the desk. Roger's hands were furiously typing
as he stared at the characters moving on the screen.
His sweaty forehead made the whole small control
room seem warmer.

"He's flipped out of the scenario we set up and
started his own." Roger was frustrated, working
frantically to rebuild the world that Joe was
supposed to be staying within.

Sue quickly sat and started in on her own keyboard,
"OK, it's time for her visit. A little early, but this will
knock him back into the loop he's supposed to be in."


The Dreamer Dreamed

15

Joe stirred suddenly in his sleep. It was the hospital
room again. He didn't move, knowing that he needed
to find out what just happened which woke him up.
The room was darkened, the hall barely lit beyond it.
Night was official at the hospital. His room door was
open and someone was standing there.

As he looked on, the figure reached up to turn off the
glowing badge, then shrugged out of a smock which
was draped over the visitor chair by the door. That
movement showed in the dim light she had
started moving toward his bed. He could hear other
articles of clothing quietly slither to the floor as she
moved.

A hand on his shoulder was warm as she moved him
onto to his side away from her. Quickly she undid the
ties to his hospital gown and proceeded to massage
his shoulder and back. He responded by rolling over
on his stomach, where she smoothly continued to
rub his back, finding areas where unknown tightness
still remained. Knots loosened under her practiced
hands, until the world was a soft, relaxed world of
comfort.

Her hands moved slowly lower on his back and then
progressed to his thighs and calves. His feet were
last and became completely relaxed without tickling.


Robert C. Worstell
Joe felt her hands quickly continue back up across
his back to the shoulders, where a sudden quick
movement had him turned completely over and
facing the ceiling again.

And then the light from the hall was blotted out as
she moved to straddle his legs with her own, the
weight moving Joe's bed down, but with no noise or
bounce as the mattress adjusted to the weight.

Suddenly, her lips met his and hair cascaded down
the sides of his face. Light kisses then proceeded
down his neck and chest as her hands worked over
his arms, pecs, and abdomen.

Joe knew better to interrupt at this point. Simply
laying back to enjoy this new development would be
the best approach...


About the Author
Dr. Robert C. Worstell
Rev. Dr. Robert C. Worstell, M.Msc,
MBA, PhD is an independent
researcher and the author of several
self-help and self-improvement books,
Thinking at Internet Speed, How Self-
Help Authors Write Bestsellers, Go
Thunk YourselfTM, Go Thunk Yourself,
Again!, Go Thunk Yourself, S'more!,
and Go Thunk Yourself, Revisited.
Worstell lives on a working farm in rural Missouri and is
continually involved in research to improve the quality of
life. He has spent over 35 years researching the human
condition through personal studies of counseling,
education, and self-improvement.
“Freedom Is (period.)” is his last self-help book, following
over a decade of writing, editing, and publishing in this
genre. He has mentioned, however, that spiritual training
articles are still in the offing. Upcoming plans are to
venture into a line of illustrated children's books, as well as
publishing numerous cartoons and caricatures.

Dr. Worstell may be contacted through his blogs for
lecture requests and interviews:

http://robertworstell.com – A Midwest Journal
http://midwestjournalpress.com – Midwest Journal Press
http://gothunkyourself.com – Go Thunk Yourself
Bookstore

The Dreamer Dreamed - New Age novel about What Dreams Mean

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The Dreamer Dreamed - New Age novel about What Dreams Mean