"You don't like Kindle, but you'll like this," he tells me, pressing a tablet with moving jewel-bright lights into my chest cavity, which opens for him. The tablet contains all the books I will now write.
There's more. He wants me to ingest a seemingly endless golden tongue. It looks and tastes like cookie dough. I think of an old depiction of Ogmios, a Celtic god of eloquence, guiding his listeners by fine golden chains that stream from his tongue. Yes, I will take in this power of goodly speech.
I met this radiant double during a group shamanic journey at the training I led last week. One of our dreamers had described how she "downloaded" the first draft of a PhD dissertation in a dream in which she traveled through a Western gate and encountered a future self who told her the work was already done; all she needed was to let it come through. She couldn't bring back details from the dream, but found that when she sat down to write, everything streamed through, day after day, until she had produced a 200-page draft over 14 days.
Encouraged by this wonderful account of dream-driven creativity, we agreed we would all like to meet a future self who could give us the essence of a new project, which might be a creative endeavor in any field. The beautiful lion-robed figure I met is unlikely to be a "future self" of me within my present span of years, but I love the idea that he is a self I may join or rejoin after my physical death, and who is available now to help me deliver my best work.
I realize he has never been wholly absent from my life, even when I forget all about him.
Drawing: R.M., "He wears a lion robe lined with the night sky", September 15, 2012