Beyond the Veil

Meade Fischer

Suddenly I’m standing on a barren shore, sheets of ice fanned out behind me, an ice-choked sea before me. I’ve learned not to ask myself where I am or even when I am. I just know that I’ve stepped out of my reality and into some transition space between my reality and that of, for want of a better term, my spirit or soul.

He or me or we is suddenly next to me, vague and translucent, like a projected image, a hologram. I’ve learned not to ask where we are, so I say, “What is this place; what does it mean?”

The answer, spoken aloud or maybe only in my head: “An ice age scene, unusual.”

“It seems deserted,” I say. “Is anyone around?”

“No other human life.”

And then I fall back on an old familiar question. “Is this before the age of man?”

There’s a slow shaking of the head. “That term, ‘before’ has no meaning in this situation.”

“Ah, yes,” I say. Just like the idea of some specific place. I can’t get used to thinking without the conventions of time and place. But, does this,” And I wave my arm in a semicircle, have any significance, any meaning?”

“Cold and barren,” he, me muses. “Could be that we have muted our curiosity about these sessions, perhaps have too much on our agenda want to turn away from these difficult explorations.”

“I couldn’t be too turned off. I am, after all here, and as you’ve said, it is a shared agreement.” In spite of my continuing discomfort, my difficulty with the strange concepts, I realized I’m drawn to these events.

These meetings do not normally happen to people. The veil between the material world and the spiritual -- I suppose one can call it that – world rarely lifts, and when it does, well, you read a distorted account of it in religious texts or hear about it in the ravings of a lunatic. I don’t consider myself religious, and I hope I’m not a lunatic.

It all started maybe two years ago. I’d had some minor surgery and was taking strong pain medication. During recovery, I got the flu and a high temperature. The combination of the pills and fever made me rather delirious. Mostly senseless images rolled through my mind, but then suddenly I thought I heard a voice. It seemed to say. “The veil is thinner. A conversation could be possible.” It seemed a familiar voice, and it made me want to agree, so I said, actually thought, “Yes, I would love a conversation.”