Tag: vision

Philip K. Dick

I am tied to Philip K. Dick by fate, among other things. We are brothers, or more correctly, we are twins. He wrote on more than one occation that he believed himself to be in contact with someone whom he named Thomas (which means twin), though he seemed to picture Thomas as one who lived in apostolic times. Then again, he thought at times that we all were actually living in apostolic times, that the better part of 2000 years were a sort of “fake” time, that real time had frozen way back when. He also seemed confused between Thomas and his own existence in eternity. Which sort of makes sense, since in February and March of 1974 (2-3-74) he had suddenly had the Halospace open in his mind.

I am able to explain a few things. Count it as my CV for the position of Thomas. For one, he saw what he said was a great pink light, and I know what that was. In my own visions, I saw at one point a silvery swirling cosmic egg split, and the two resultant lights that came from it: one was pink and one was light blue. I saw the pink light pass by and away, but the light blue light entered me. It was me. And that pink light I did not know for the longest time, not until 25 years after it had happened, that that was what it had been: it was him. And further, he’s actually not pink: it was red infused with light, which made it look so. His color is red, as mine is blue. I might go into what these colors might mean in another post. Maybe.

It may be that he was so clued out about what and/or who his twin was so that I, being him, would have no idea about it, either. But like many things that he left in the air, I nailed it down. Where he got 8,000 handwritten pages of ideas? It had been balled up in an eight hour long vision of what he called modern art forms he experienced early on. I myself had such an experience, minimally so, when I had a dream that God the Father showed me a little of the Kingdom of Heaven. Phil was a saint. He was a prophet. He was human. Was he right about anything? He was right about everything. As we progress through the years, his books: they don’t reflect reality, because they came first, unless you’re talking about reflecting was to come: reality more and more reflects his books.

It has been observed that Philip K. Dick books come upon you at just the right time as to be able to absorb them. Such was the case for me, at least for two of them: A Scanner Darkly, when I had been into the drugs scene in college; and VALIS, when I was experiencing things divine in scope. Yea, verily: the Force was strong in this one. Now look around you; did this, what you are looking at, did it come at some synchronistic time? Then this would be my evidence, that I were his twin through time. If this seems instead to be some random writing that you happened, even better: this is your introduction to the weird (a word that once meant “fate”). I’ll see about coming up with more on how we are tied, PKD and me. As he wrote to me once, “The theory changes the reality it describes.” Yes, weird.



The Nightmare

What I happened upon in a psychedelic nightmare. A place that seemed like another world, it seemed to me that my room had been trasported to another setting, for when I looked out the window, it was like nothing known on Earth: different scenery, different sky. The first time I ended up there, there were bars on my window—which was the first thing I noticed, my window on earth being conspicuously bar free. There also seemed to be a grill on the window, at different points, which makes one wonder about the malleability of that “reality” as opposed to the stability governing this one. If you want to see the kind of atmosphere I’m talking about, go do an image search for Hieronymous Bosch’s Garden of Earthly Delights and look in the third panel. The one called “Hell”. I don’t know where the activity in the front is happening, but in the far back, at the ghost, black building there: that’s what I was inside.

I also remember distinctly that there, in the dim red sky, somewhere above, there was some kind of Watcher. I don’t know what it was watching for or at, I just knew I didn’t want its eye on me. I once had it right on top of me, on one visit, breathing down my neck, and I was prevented from thinking that it was Satan—just like I was prevented from thinking that the Black Iron Prison was Hell. Philip K. Dick thought that the Prison was what the world actually looked like, in one substratum. There was an opposite to the Prison, he wrote, which he called the Palm Tree Garden (which I call the Oasis). But if the Prison is what reality looked like on one level, couldn’t the Oasis be in there somewhere, in some upper stratum? Paradise and Hell: we probably have the idea of them all wrong, maybe even more wrong than the ancients, who put Paradise in the sky and Hell in the ground.

If you ever see the ’Prison, you’ll know it. You might not have had the words to call it properly by name, but you’d know it like a heart attack. Philip K. described it as the far future mixed with the ancient. Everything, all the buildings, the whole landscape, is black (hence the name). I remember looking out into that expanse the first time, and I don’t think it was a hallucination superficially superimposed upon the buildings that existed in real life, I think I really noticed that: this black city is not where I had just been; I was somewhere alien. Where the joints were—at least on some of the architecture—it was as if black claws bound the corner shut, clasped the boundary between floors together. Sinister the architecture, all of it. A thoroughly evil place. Except I wasn’t allowed to think that, either.

We who do see it, I found we can break free of it forever. Philip K. Dick was freed when Nixon resigned as President: this was the world freed from the Prison outside. I was freed the last time I ever saw it when I dropped acid, upon a short missive from secret Christians in the æther: the whisper of, “Walt Disney is God”: this was the world freed from the Prison inside. It might not be in grand gestures such as these, but as sure as there is a God who is love, you will find an escape from the Prison if ever you venture too far into the Dark Wood, to the city on the other side, where no sun ever shines, where the stars flee the dark red smoke.