I descended deeply beyond relaxation into meditative unconsciousness. The world around me disappeared, my energy melded with the natural energy of the earth. I escaped from my know world onto a band of energy propelling me past sights I knew to sights my mind's eye could not comprehend. No, this was not some kind of drug-induced trip.
A distant voice softly spoke the words that would bring me back to my conscious state. The energy band began reversing as reality returned. I noticed the time, five minutes had passed. Then my eyes focused on the lack of sun light in the room. Finally and fully back from my meditative unconsciousness, the "shenim" bade me welcome back with hot Jobe's Tears tea.
With recorders running to capture video and audio, the "shenim" asked me relate where I went and what I saw. The more I talked, the less sense I made. I was in my trance state for about a day and a half.
"You had a rare and beautiful journey that few experience," shenim said. "Your confusion is normal although you make sense of it, you cannot express it in words."
I felt no hunger or thirst and sipped my tea. When invited to stand, my legs would not obey my brain signals; I stumbled and teetered until my legs rediscovered their purpose. Shenim helped me disrobe for the ritualistic cleansing bath. Afterward, I dressed in my clothing for a light repast. My weekend was over, I was prepared to face a world of unknowns but with the knowledge that unknown is not really unknown.
**********
I came home to a household I no longer recognized. I knew I had changed while those around me had not. I was taught, indoctrinated, by society that I should follow a path leading to years of indentured servitude to work and to dream of retirement. It was time to escape.
My first day back to work was the best day of my life; phase one of my escape began with a trip to supply for boxes and tape. I packed my personal belongings, stepped into the boss?s office with a simple, "I quit."
With my car packed and only enough room for me to safely drive, I headed toward the unknown without a map. My life is in my hands not someone else. I knew what I would miss and that knowledge made my conviction stronger. I also knew what I wanted and that knowledge affirmed my conviction.
**********
My drive took me to ocean beaches, mountain retreats, desert oasis, and then I found a small town, ghost town really, in the foothills of the Southwest. What was left of the sign-entering town announced, "You have reached Oblivion."
A resident rattle snake greeted me with its rattle and tight coil as if ready to strike at this person who just disturbed its sunbathing. I smiled saying, "I'm not your enemy, Mister Snake. I may want to be your neighbor."
As if satisfied, the snake relaxed its coil and seemed to point me toward the only building in town that looked habitable. It became my destination for the moment.
Outside, I heard a gas powered motor churning away and realized it was an electric generator providing a little power to some lights in the building. A hand written note on the wall read, "Its open - come on in." I did.
The inside was just barely livable with sparse pieces of furniture, an ice chest, a small fan, and a single bed in a corner. Yet it was the resident of the place who surprised me. A smiling young woman greeted me with an outstretched hand for a handshake.
"Welcome to Oblivion, the last stop of your journey." Her voice was pleasant and her smile seemed genuine. "My name is Charlene, call me Charlie."
The last stop on my journey were her words, how could she presume that, I wondered. "Charlie, thank you, I am, ready, Charles, also know as Charlie. How is it that you think this is the last stop of my journey?"
"I watched you stop at the town line. I watched you get out, saw you react to the rattler, and watched as you waved your hand to calm it. You're home."
I had to admit, Charlie was attractive and, I guessed, in her early thirties. I wondered why she was alone in a ghost town.
"Is Oblivion your home, Charlie?" I asked the question thinking I knew the answer.
Charlie looked at me before beginning her answer. I sensed she didn't want to tell the whole story but then the floodgates opened; she began crying and pent up emotion boiled over.
I had a hard time following her story; however, I learned she had been married to a guy who only wanted her to use her body to win him favors. When she was done telling her story, she finished with, "So, Oblivion is my home. And you are the first man to enter my home in three years. You are almost the only person to enter my home in three years."
I recalled my thoughts as I drove into town, recalled telling the snake I may want to be a neighbor. After meeting Charlie, I felt that thought being cemented.
"What's your story, Charlie," she asked as calm began to return.
My story of the shenim, my journey into deep trance, and my return to the present was not the story she told; yet she seemed to hold on to each morsel. "My life changed and here I am in Oblivion."
**********
For the better part of a week, we explored the town trying to find a suitable place for me to set up camp. I was more concerned for finding us a place.
One old house seemed in reasonably good condition, it was wired and had plumbing. It had an old well and older pump handle that began working after being primed several times. The water was hard, as is the case with wells, yet it was good water and drinkable with purification tablets. I set down my first new roots and began cleaning the old house.
There were surprises throughout that old house. The kitchen was more modern than I expected, had a gas stove connected to an old LP tank and there was gas in the tank. There was also an old refrigerator I hoped still had some cooling power. The kitchen became first priority.
Charlie was always near. Though she hadn't left her run down shack, she wasn't in it much.
Rooms in this old house still had bits of furniture that cleaned up pretty well although dust always flew every time someone sat. There were three bedrooms and in one was a full size double bed, the mattress protected in plastic wrap as if the resident had just bought it.
"Charlie," I asked, "why didn't you take this place? It is much nicer than the one you are staying in now."
She smiled, "I guess I was waiting for you to get it cleaned up."
"Waiting for three years?"
"Charlie," she began, "do you think my little generator can run the refrigerator?" She sat next to me on the dusty sofa as a plume of dust swirled about us. "Yes, waiting three years."
