Part One: A Journey To Sheagh Sidhe

The Discontinuity of A Continuous Dream


"Are they "the gods of the earth"? Perhaps. Many poets, and all mystic and occult writers, in all ages and countries, have declared that behind the visible are chains on chains of conscious beings, who are not of heaven but of the earth, who have no inherent form but change according to their whim, or the mind that sees them. You cannot lift your hand without influencing and being influenced by hoards. The visible world is merely their skin. In dreams we go amongst them, and play with them, and combat with them. They are, perhaps, human souls in the crucible--these creatures of whim.
-WB Yeats

This is a story of bi-location and in particular, a personal account of a journey through a mirror which was designed to reverse the order of reflection between object and image. We assume that our journey begins, originating in the organic fabric here on terra firma. But then this experience lent itself to a consideration that the opposite may be a possibility in the sense perhaps all of us are changelings of an unrecognized order, and that our temporal journey through life may be a dream which has as it's foundational origination, a realm without location, which we participated within as it's co-creators. If this is so, it only leads to more questions, if this existence is an extension of another extra dimensional reality, why are we here and not there? Is our sensate materiality an adaptation necessitated within a nested hierarchy that we are unable to either recall or penetrate in reverse order to whence we originated? Which dream is our natural environment of habitation from our current location as if positioned upon an isthmus between the two? The quest of eternal return has undoubtedly has been the focus of human efforts to debate since we first arrived on the shores of this island. Is there a realm where the outside is inside and the inside is outside? Is the intangible organ of imagination, a vestigial means of sensate perception originating from a non local natural world that can embody all possibilities all potential only limited by our perceptual conceptions?
When I consider the anomalies of the firmament, the strange flying craft of a seemingly infinite variety of shape and size, the abduction tales both pleasant and terrible, I often think back to this journey albeit remotely viewed perhaps in the same manner as near death experiences..and perhaps the craft we see are encapsulating membranes as vehicles to navigate a dense realm which allows for the travels of what has no corresponding materiality.

"Away with us, he's going,
The solemn-eyed;
He'll hear no more the lowing
Of the calves on the warm hill-side.
Or the kettle on the hob
Sing peace into his breast;
Or see the brown mice bob
Round and round the oatmeal chest.
For he comes, the human child,
To the woods and waters wild,
With a fairy hand in hand,
For the world's more full of weeping than
he can understand."
-The Stolen Child WB Yeats



"And though you should live in a palace of gold, or sleep in a dried up ditch,
You could never be as poor as the fairies are, and never as rich."
~Rose Fyleman

If you should ask me to explain in cogently rational terms the strange arrangement of a continuous dream over the course of five night journeys to a nameless realm, I cannot provide one to satisfy my own skepticism, let alone the fact that it would be my preference in this examination to avoid it entirely, although this would be a dishonest strategy which is to avoid an honest confrontation with these experiences that eludes any categorization I could possibly provide them. The most interesting aspect of this experience was the recognition that the continuity of time as well as my position within that time within these visions was paramount as if the consistency of my point of reference within this experience bespoke an alternative universe, for lack of a better term. I was most certainly abducted into this, however, there was always, first and foremost, the counterintuitive realization that there was freewill and choice on my part that was most certainly involved as events took their course. Nearly two decades have passed since this experience occurred and nothing remotely similar has occurred since that time and place which although it is rapidly receding into a past largely forgotten, the memories of this journey are as freshly impressioned if they arose an hour ago between the stillness between the light and the darkness. While not an invention of literary device, the arrangement of seemingly archetypal symbols left an impression that this experience was in essence staged through their use, as if I was challenged within each step to move forward and yet not allowed outside of this situation until I had fulfilled it's path.

The First Night
It was a beautiful summer day the warm sun at my back as I made my way along a nameless suburban street shaded by trees, the rows of homes bracketing my travels seemed pleasant enough as I peered around me as I walked taking in the sights without any significant self questioning outside of the fact that I had no idea of where I was however I had become adapted to these strange nocturnal journeys which rarely occurred inasmuch as each was a progressively more sophisticated extra dimensional experience as if I were being tutored in an odd acclimation process which was both jarring and fascinating. Forward of my way, the street took a sharp turn to the left of me and there was a graveled drive in the midst of a overgrowth of trees and entangled underbrush which immediately captured both my attention and curiosity as it certainly stood out from the neatly arranged and manicured lawns and structures which I had found myself surrounded by. While I was somewhat reluctant to follow this path, I could not resist my own curiosity and soon found nearly buried in the dark overgrowth a series of dilapidated buildings in various states of ruin. These made an impression on me as if they were warning my common sense instincts to avoid traveling further past them. I stopped and looked back from whence I had entered this dislocated environment and took in my own feelings that I was trespassing although there were no occupants or owners which had obviously long since abandoned this enclave.


The Second Night
I awoke standing in this pathway as I had left it and did not question the continuity of my situation on this second night and decided that my return was a good omen toward my continuing down this abandoned roadway so I continued wherein the trees dissipated and there before me was a treeless plain which had as its main feature a very large and steep hill which this path followed upward, which rather surprised me inasmuch one would think the path would be arranged to avoid this steep ascent.In the distance, were two prominent vertical constructions. At the crest of the treeless hill stood a open gate that spanned the pathway, however there was no enclosure or fencing attached to it's posts. It stood alone, imposing and resolute in it's dislocated construction as I slowly approached it, sensing that this construction was a enigmatic demarcation whose portent could either bode well or disastrously for me should I decide to cross through it's bracketing portal. I hesitated as I took in the details of it's arrangement and came to the conclusion that it was better to err on the side of caution as to whether or not to enter whatever territory it was erected to mark.



Third Night
I immediately recognized that I was standing in the same position before this strangely ornate gate once again as if my waking hours were but a interruption of sleep juxtaposed in a reversal of hierarchy as if this situational arrangement embodied a striking permanence that should not exist. It was though a clock of time had been stopped and then restarted in this alternate universe until my reappearance. This situation that I was located within doubled my sense of caution and restiveness and I became even more convinced that irregardless of the persistence of this phenomenon, I would not go forward.

Fourth Night
I was there again, in the same position in the same arrangement so I took the opportunity to survey the surrounding terrain which when I looked behind me, there was the graveled path winding up the hill, curving gently to my left just as it was earlier leading to the group of abandoned buildings in varying states of decay, which blocked my further view. I carefully walked to the left of the gate, down slightly from my original position and saw this pathway wending downward into what appeared to be a cluster of various buildings corresponding to a village. Rather than taking this as a good omen or an unfounded prompt to my curiosity, I became somewhat obsessed with
my imagination producing all sorts of dreadful potential inhabitants in this place which may not exactly greet me with open arms.


Fifth Night.
Based upon the continuity of these experiences as well as my travels both entering and taking my leave of this realm without any harm having come to me, I walked through the gate and made my way carefully down the hillside toward this village which as I drew near what appeared to be one of antiquity and close arrangement, which made no sense whatsoever, as it was surrounded by an endless plain which extended as far over the horizon as my vision could follow it. The streets were narrow and every building and feature of this odd museum piece was arranged on a scale that was roughly only three fourths of the size of similar buildings which struck me as a representation of such homes rather than actually serving as places of habitation. There was no one in the streets. I tried to peer into windows to no avail. I was slightly anxious as what would I do if someone approached me , should I avoid them or ask them where I was?
I walked on and on for some time to the extent that I began to question this tactic as being ridiculously surrealistic as if being there alone was not surrealistic enough. I mustered my growing frustration with the absurdity of my plight into a mustering of the wherewithal to approach a doorway and knock on a door in the apparently vain hope I could determine the parameters of this place as well as my own. I knocked loudly perhaps too loudly on the door due to the fact I honestly had not expected it to be opened. The door swung open as my adrenalin rose in anticipation of who or what would greet me. An elderly woman of short stature whose long gray hair was pulled back, smiled warmly, greeted me by name and gave every indication which I could not fathom that I was both familiar to her and that my arrival was most certainly anticipated, which momentarily stunned me further. "He's expecting you come in..."
He was a short elderly gentleman of just over some four feet high, somewhat stout who gave an impression of of guarded kindness and of a serious nature, all of which, provided evidence of a presence I stood before that was commanding and nor prone to the toleration of foolishness. He had a white beard which followed his jawline as though he were a Mennonite and his clothing while rough in the manner of handmade garments, reminded me of the 18th century. He stood in a large library that appeared as though it were also a study. His arm extended in greeting. "Do you remember me?"
"No"
"None the less, I am glad that you are here..you know all we can do at best is extend an invitation, we could not return you here by force.,,have a seat there"
I noticed with great curiosity, a large rather large statue that sat on the corner of a desk strewn with papers. it resembled a totem pole with outstretched wings, and encrusted with the familiar symbols of religious paths, philosophies and arcane occult symbols, some of which I did not recognize. I couldn't take my eyes from it as he spoke, while pulling several books from the shelves. "This is your home, your true home and we needed to discuss your life as it were, as it is in relation to your being here."