Chapter Ten. Presto.

On the flight to Pokhara, from Jomosom, I asked Hasan why he didn't just "teleport us" or use some other magical juju to get us to Srinagar.

"What makes you think you're qualified to fly first class?" His smile radiated. I was keenly aware of his genuine affection for me.

"Well, I mean, if you're this multidimensional being from another realm, why do we have to go through the rigors of using trains, planes and automobiles?"

Ryan was reading a magazine in his seat across from us. He seemed to be interested in the forthcoming answer, even though his gaze stayed fixed to the magazine.

Deliberately careful with his words, Hasan proceeded slowly, "Derby. As I place my finger on this spot...," and he marked an imaginary point in the air in front of him. "How much space does that point occupy?"

"You mean the area in front of you?," I asked him, slightly perplexed by the question.

"That exact point," he explained.

"Well, if it is a point, it takes up no space, if I remember my geometry," I submitted.

"Correct," he motioned as he made a line in the air. "Now this line. How much space does it take?"

"Again, as a series of points, it occupies no space," was my answer.

"Now Derby," he seemed to search for the right expression, "how much space does time take?"

"Time? Space? How much space does time take?...," a combination of perplexity and confusion caused me to twitch uncomfortably in my seat. "I don't think time takes up any space. But physics is not my thing."

"OK then. How about a thought. How much space does a thought fill? Or a feeling, say sadness...what kind of space is required to accomodate sadness?"

"Mr. DuBois. While this line of questioning is intriguing, would you mind just telling me what you're trying to say," I offered in frustration.

"You suggested that I am multidimensional from another realm," Hasan seemed elated at my confusion. Then he continued, "I'm just pointing out that everything is composed of many dimensions and that all of us deal in what appears to be real time, in what appears to be real elements, concerning objects and ideas from other realms."

"And your point is....," I hinted.

"My point is that, yes, I'm multidimensional. Yes, from your point of view, I'm from another realm. But these are just relative perspectives. You see, nothing means much except in comparison to something else," he said, as if it would make perfect sense to me.

"I'm sorry sir," I countered. "But I'm still confused. Are you suggesting that angels and spirits and things that go BOO in the night only appear to be from another world, when really they're part of the same world as we're in?"

"Precisely!," he exclaimed, quite excited. He dove in further when he said, "It is all a point of reference. Take the acute sense of smell of a dog or the impressive eye sight of hawks and eagles. They only seem outstanding to beings whose sense of smell and sight aren't as developed. And yet we don't assume that Cocker Spaniels and Red Tailed hawks are of the "spirit world!" Now do we?"

"Well there is a difference, " I countered. "I can see pets and wild animals."

"Ahhhh!," he said, as if he was a lawyer in court or a scientist arguing a theorem. "Can you see a mouse in a field from a mile away? No, of course not. But does that mean the mouse is in another dimension? As a matter a fact, the mouse dwells in many other dimensions. And so do you! Did you know that you and the mouse are connected by a glowing thread, which you can't see? And that the thread occupies no space, but is in another dimension?"

I remembered my dream from the night before, of the people and the picnic and the glowing thread that connected everything. As he finished that question, he turned toward me and waved his right hand in front of me.

In the flash of what seemed to be a fraction of a second, Ryan and I were in the Himalayas, equipped with backpacks and canteens, decked out with goggles and hiking boots and parkas. Overhead we heard the loud shriek of the Ceylon Hawk Cuckoo. We stood next to each other, looking around in disbelief. The chill of the mountain air reminded me I was glad to be bundled up. Ryan spoke first.

"What the....Where is DuBois? Do you remember how we got here?"

(Watch a video of the known universe, starting at the spot where Ryan and Derby found themselves. Amazing!)

I assured him that we seemed to have been transported by some kind of magic and that the last thing I remembered was on the plane next to Hasan. Then we heard the confident voice we recognized, coming up the path behind us. It was DuBois, in the same gear. He had a proud look of achievement. He reached our position and snapped his fingers. We were back on the plane, as if we had never left.

My look of amazement and raised eyebrows were enough of a question for DuBois. He offered this explanation, "We never left. You just saw a memory."

Ryan had dropped his magazine and leaned across the aisle to ask, "A memory? We've never been to Chinindia. How could it be a memory?"

"All information of all time, past and future exists as consciousness. This consciousness is unborn and undying. It is not to be compared to anything, so it exists without dimension. Your Zol exists in consciousness. Our thoughts and feelings reside in consciousness. All pairs of opposites have arisen from consciousness." As Hasan spoke, Ryan and I exchanged glances more than once. He motioned for me to ask the next question.

"But the temperature was low. I distinctly recall the frost in the air. There is no question. It was real. We were there."

"Real and unreal are also pairs of opposite. Both need a point of perspective. As you now remember being in that pass above Ghorepani, the experience is related to your amazement about arriving in a non-conventional manner. Is that memory less real than this conversation? What if I told you that going or coming, there is really no beginning and end to our life. So if you viewed your memory as a movie running backward, you would first have been hiking above Nepal then later on a plane going backwards to the USASSR."

"That is a freaky thought," I replied. Ryan took it up where I left off.

"How did you do it? How did you show us a memory from the future?"

As Hasan DuBois answered that question, I had no further doubt about his credentials. He said, "I didn't do it Ryan. And nothing happened except you both changed your perspective. I simply dusted off a blockage which serves an important purpose for you both. Just as information seems to be passing through space in to your PIS, so too does consciousness permeate everything, except at a much more profound level. The thing is, a mystery keeps everyone and everything from seeing the total picture. What we know for sure is that we all are on a journey and that there are gifts along the way."