Lonely Wolves

Dear Wolves,
Don’t think I planned this experiment. I had something else in mind. I thought I would invite you all to a different trip every night — time travel or whatever. It didn’t happen. The band wasn’t supposed to fly together. I knew about it the first night, three weeks ago. First of all, it chilled me.

It took me a year to transmute last year’s experience, the Astral Volants. It ended in fish tail and pudding, much to the chagrin of vegans. It took me that long to digest this indigestible dish. Finally I felt ready for a new test. But it didn’t start at all according to the drawing board. To avoid any inconvenience, should the experiment be interrupted immediately?

Leave time to time. I waited a second night to make my decision. Good took me. When I woke up, I understood the importance of the gift. Something, a will, a strength, I don’t know who, took the reins for me. What’s on offer is infinitely better than any of my dreams. An enlightening adventure is what I wanted to offer. I was going to give and receive more than that. The gold of the heart.

Someone controls the astral journey of every wolf — and it’s not me. It should have worried me, not at all. I took the pulse of every wolf. I was comforted by your letters. We were on the verge of a very beautiful journey. Always unexpected, disjointed no doubt, difficult to unravel. The far-fetched dream is incomprehensible at first. The Wolf tells me about it. A fleeting memory comes back to me. I mention it in dotted lines. The Wolf takes it and tells the whole story. Then I know that I lived it with him, that I answered the words that he puts in my mouth, that it is indeed our astral journey to him as to me, both alone.

I was due in time in the universal mind…

In your e-mails, you told me in bits and pieces the exploits of the previous night. Surrealist, absurd, incongruous, whatever we want. It’s up to me to put it all back together. It would be great to put all your memories together, like pieces of a big puzzle. Associated with mine, your stories will make a complete story. Daily interventions of the former gods. Our dreams are their domain. They teach us the other human history of which I give you bits in this very site.

First incomprehensible and then clear. I became the observer of fantastic astral adventures and at the same time I live these adventures like you. Like each of you. The Pack was the waiting room. I didn’t choose the place, someone or something did. The Wolves used to mingle in a futuristic, well-lit den. They went there every night. And one of them, one of them, was going on his astral journey. I accompanied him immediately. I followed in his footsteps, I followed his flight, and we both lived his adventure. The Wolf was the main actor, but also the guide, the conductor and the director. I was both a champion and an informant. I could give him answers. In the dream first, and in the next day’s mail.

So in the meantime the others were waiting their turn? No. Not at all. There is no time or space in astral. Everyone’s dreams, sometimes long to tell, never lasted more than a fraction of a second in GMT time. No waiting in a dream. You are still the main character. Last year I wanted to take you to my dream. That’s why it didn’t work. This year, the opposite happened: you took me to yours. And it worked really well.