I’m in Seattle now, having traveled through space and time to arrive in a place where life and death are both fully present, the apartment of my friends John and Nazarita Goldhammer. One week after his death she’s showing me their house, everything here reflecting absolutely the life that they shared with such joy. But he’s not here. She is.

On my way here I spent hours reading Dreamgates, by Robert Moss. In the past month I have committed very much time assisting with a conference in which he is a featured presenter. (It will be taking place in Laurel Springs, NC, Oct. 14-17. www.journeyconferences.com, in case anyone is interested). I’ve been wanting to catch up with his writing in preparation for working with him soon, so this just happened to be the book that I brought. I couldn’t have consciously chosen any reading more appropriate for this journey. Moss is a traveller to the dreamtime, where the living and the dead, the human and the non-human live, share being, and communicate. He speaks fluidly and convincingly of these subtle realms we inhabit; realms in a dimension little understood by the modern Western mind. Reading of these landscapes and how they operate all the way here, seeing my friend of 30 years and feeling utterly outside of time, like we’ve never been apart, and then seeing their home in this location for the first time, seeing and feeling John fully here but not here – this is surreal.

It’s poetic. It’s true. It is vivid. It is mysterious, but not really. It is obvious, but not really. I am in the dreamtime, waking time, no-time, alternate spaces. Nazarita bought John’s favorite bread so I could try it. As we ate it and she told me a significant story the bread “jumped” off the kitchen counter, landing loudly on the floor. Here we are.