A Journey With One Of The 'Little People' To Another Dimension To The Marvel Mansion And The Chamber Of Beauty
My writing “Child of the Heavens” set my mind for a spin and kept me continually thinking and pondering and wondering where my ‘writings’ come from and so forth. Part of me will always be a bit of a philosopher and try to figure things out. I find this to be an acceptable and enjoyable means to engage my mind in periodically. After a few days of philosophical musing I found that I needed to have another magical or mystical adventure. I call it a shift from my left brain to my right brain. I needed a break from so much ‘thinking’ and trying to figure things out. I wanted to somehow transcend my mortality if such is even possible. I wanted another visit from a being that most mortals do not see. I wanted another adventure .
As though my call had gone out to the ethers, a few days later I had another encounter from an unusual and very interesting being. After doing some reading that evening I had a glass of red wine then decided to call it a night. I sat on my bed, keeping my clothes on. I was leaning against the bed head board with my arms wrapped around my knees. A few moments later I could feel my head becoming a bit light-headed which transpires when I receive a visitor. My heart began to pitter and pound as I became more excited. Who would visit me tonight? Would Nookles come to me? No, he could not. He said there has to be sufficient snow. Would Rosara return for a visit? I had been thinking about her and missed her. Then in the midst of my musing, out of nowhere appeared a small man who said very clearly and succinctly. “I am Mr. Toozles.”
“Mr. Who?” I asked, snickering, thinking of the word bamboozle which his name reminded me of.
“Mr. Toozles if you please the little man said, bowing to me.
How could this be, I wondered. It’s simple. It cannot be. I am imagining this. Nothing more. Perhaps I’m just dreaming that I am awake. I closed and opened my eyes a few times and rubbed them. I looked around. The clock on my night table said 9:30 p.m. I looked at him again and he was staring at me and I sensed that he was trying to decide whether to stay or not. I smiled at him, unsure what to say. But there was no doubt, I might feel uncomfortable breaking the ice with communicating with my new friends, but this in no way implied I was not interested or fascinated by them.
I was so intrigued by this little man who looked like one of the characters I had seen in storybooks. I got up and looked out the window. Snow was falling heavily. Most of the trees were bare. It felt like winter instead of autumn. “Isn’t it beautiful,” I said, looking at Mr. Toozles. Where had he disappeared? “Not disappeared, never appeared to begin with,” I said, feeling like I’d drunk a glass of wine too many.
I looked at the trees outside my window a few more minutes then sat back down. I made sure to keep my eyes open. I did not want to fall asleep and lose myself in dream time. Moments later there he was again this time with the biggest grin on his face. That lightened me up to say the least. “Welcome back, sir,” I said, feeling self-conscious even though no one else was in my apartment with me.
“Why, thank you, good man,” he replied congenially. “But you must decide whether you believe in me and whether you want me here or not. I am not in the mood to be zipping in and out of your world betwixt your doubts and uncertainty.”
“Wouldn’t you doubt seeing a little fairy man, or whatever you are if you were me?” I asked, eyeing him closely.
“Not at all! I’d be grateful. Doubt is for skeptics. You are no skeptic. You just pretend to be sometimes. It’s your mind’s way of feeling useful.”
“I never thought of it like that. But I certainly admit that my mind has been overworking as of late. It’s rather exhausting to do so much thinking, analyzing and trying to figure out everything that I write. Please, don’t go. I very much would like for you to stay,” I said, smiling brightly. “Will you?”
“Sure,” he said, plopping beside me on the bed. I put my arm around him. He was about the size as my teddy bear. Even if I was dreaming it was fun having a live teddy bear friend.
He gave me a frown but I noticed the big twinkle in his eyes. “Watch your thoughts lest I disappear again. You are not dreaming any more than the rest of us. Life itself is a sort of dream but this is a real one or shall I say a reality dream,” he snickered, tapping me on the knee.
“Okay,” I replied, feeling much better as he laughed heartily and winked at me. Depression seemed a million miles away now. We were silent for several moments. He looked around my room. He seemed particularly drawn to my poster of Charlie Brown.
“I like that little boy,” he said, still looking at it. “He’s got soul in him, that one. Very in touch with himself. A most sensitive character. Sadly misunderstood though.”
“Don’t we all have soul in us?”
“Yes, but he’s got lots. That’s why you like him so much. Aren’t you going to ask me where I come from?”
“I think I’ll pass on that, sir. Actually, I don’t care. It’s just nice to have some company. I’ve been feeling rather lonely lately.”
“Nice to join you as well, Michael,” he said. “I’ve been feeling kind of lonely myself. Nice to get away from all that back there.” He pointed behind him.
I didn’t dare ask him where back there was or what was there. I looked at him more closely. There was something unique about him. I couldn’t pinpoint it, but I knew that this little man stood out even from his own people, as I assumed there were others where he came from. The twinkle in his eye was familiar. I had seen it before, but where? It made me relax.
He smiled at me. “We all need to step our of our personal traumas and dramas that life tosses our way, now don’t we? Tell me about how you’ve been feeling lately. I can tell you have been quite troubled. It never hurts to have someone lend a congenial listening ear. It might even make you feel better. Go ahead, Michael. I’m all ears.”
I forced a smile. “Well, I guess you could say that I have been taking myself entirely too seriously lately. I have been doing a lot of writing and making some creative breakthrough I think. But then I also find myself having what I call one of my little existential crises when everything seems absurd and useless. I feel like there are so many people or characters, or sub-personalities inside of me. They are all so different. It can be crazy trying to deal with so many sides. This has been a time when part of me craves for meaning and passion in life, while another part says there is never any meaning in it other than what we assign to it. I wrote two poems that talked about that passion I crave, and part of me does.
Then I turn around and another part of me could care less about passion or being filled with more life as the poems talk about. The past few days have been some of my bleaker days. I didn’t really think I could get out of bed this morning when the phone rang at 7:30. But I did as always. After the woman apologized for dialing the wrong number, I crawled back in and slept another hour or so. When I awoke, I felt strangled by what I call the big black mire. It felt unbearable lying here in this pitiful mortal body. The feeling of being trapped has been with me a long time but I can usually deal with it. Lately has been an exception. Sometimes I fear that I’ll be swallowed by this heavy, dense, choking physical existence.”
I recall yesterday moving about in bed restlessly, trying to entice myself to get up. What pleasure could I pursue today? I asked myself. I could go pig out at McDonald’s on greasy high fat hamburgers. I thought I might see how much food I could put away without getting sick. That might be fun. Not in the mood for that today I decided. I didn’t feel like spending the money anyhow. I could write an erotic story or poem and send it to some religious magazine. No. Not in the mood to be shocking. Besides, I reminded myself, live and let live. There was a time when you were religious. It served a purpose as it’s serving a purpose for people now.
“Maybe I can go pump iron for a couple hours. Increase my weights today and see just how far I can take it without pulling a muscle. No. I lifted weights yesterday. Don’t want to today. I could do a Star Trek marathon and watch every movie and all of the TV episodes I have taped. That would keep me going for about a week nonstop. I thought of other things. Nothing grabbed me. What’s left? I wouldn’t dare commit suicide. I know how I feel about that. I still feel it isn’t safe to die that way. It would surely lead to nothing but more problems, so that ruled self-annihilation out, which I doubt can be done anyway.
“I lay immobile for a time longer. I felt so heavy. The bed seemed to weigh a ton. So did I. I couldn’t take it much more. Something has got to give, I recall telling myself. I can’t go on like this. Life is not meant to bear down us like that. There has to be more than this suffering. There must be more. I asked for a new visitor. Then you show up. I am not even that surprised that you are so little. I am just grateful for a star to brighten up my dim sky. When you’re desperate and about to fade into darkness, any light is welcome. You are definitely that. The twinkle in your eye somehow fills me with some hope. Still, I have to admit that my intellect cannot be satisfied without at least a minimal inquiry. I know you told me not to doubt, and I will do my best. But please help me. I need to ask if you are real, Mr. Toozles?”
The little man looked at me kindly with the patience one would extend to a small child. “Of course I’m real, Michael. I know your name don’t I,” he said, grinning. “I know lots of things about you and your kind, by the way. Back to being real. Of course I’m real although maybe not quite like you, and don’t ask me to go into that. I’m not in the mood for long philosophical talks today. Save that for your books and academic friends. Just enjoy me while I am here.”
“So I’m not just seeing things? Please don’t fade or disappear,” I added quickly, recalling his earlier comment. “I don’t doubt you, I just need a little assurance. Am I seeing things?”
“Things, no, a little man, yes,” he replied, with that big twinkle in his eye as he let out a guffaw. “You see me because you got good eyes, real good eyes I might add.” He was speaking in a much softer tone, moving closer to me. It felt strange. “Can’t you tell your head to take a snooze?” he said, tapping my leg. “It’ll drive you crazy. I’m here. What more proof do you need? Actually we are not alone,” he said, waving his hand in the air, “but you are not ready to see anyone else today-at least not here. But you are ready to see someone else somewhere far from here. Are you in the mood for an adventure?”
“I could definitely use some adventure,” I blurted out. Mr. Toozles jumped up and down, exclaiming, “I was hoping you’d say that. Grab your coat. Get ready. We’re going on one. All you have to do is trust me. Hang onto my shirt tail. No matter what you see, don’t let go of me. If you do, you’ll be in for trouble and it won’t be fun I guarantee you.”
“Okay, so when do we leave?”
“Now is as good a time as any. Take hold of my shirt tail.” He adjusted his red suspenders, pulling in his shirt out. “I won’t bite you.”
The next thing I knew we were walking down a long winding road. The sky hung overcast with dark clouds. Trees swayed fiercely. We were caught in some kind of gale.
“The least you could have done was put in a request for fair weather,” I said, pulling my hood down over my head with one hand, while hanging onto his shirt tail with the other. I didn’t even bother asking how I’d gotten into these clothes when the last I knew I was wearing a t-shirt and shorts.
“You think magic can do everything,” he asked, motioning for me to make a left turn.
“Magic,” I repeated. “So this is a magical journey. Where’s the flying carpet? It would beat walking.”
“They’re all in use,” he teased, picking up his pace, which turned out to be rather fast for one so little.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Toozles, please humor me. I try to be funny when I don’t understand something.”
“I know. Just keep up with me. I am so eager to get to the Marvel Mansion.”
“Marvel Mansion. Sounds like an amusement park.”
“Amusement park. I like that word. Could be something like that.” He was walking faster and faster. I began having difficulty keeping up with this little man, which I found very funny. How did he move so quickly? I was about to ask when a screeching huge bird of a form I’d never seen before let out a squawk so loud I nearly fell over. I looked up and it appeared to be less than two feet above our heads. “Wingle,” Mr. Toozles said. “Ignore it. It can’t hurt you unless you look at it eye to eye. Then it can kill you.”
“This is not a good day for dying,” I said, moving closer to him. Suddenly I had a second wind and began walking faster than Mr. Toozles. The bird continued screeching and squawking and pursuing us. I moved my hand from his shirt tail until I had his hand in mine. I wasn’t about to let go in spite of his assurance that the Wingle or whatever the thing was could not hurt me if I did not look at it.
“Good job, Michael,” he said, squeezing my hand gently. “It’s probably safer for you to hold my hand but you mortals have some funny ideas about touching so I suggested just hanging onto my shirt tail. Ease up. You don’t have to squeeze my hand so hard. I won’t let you go. We should be free of pursuit the rest of the way. But get yourself geared up. We’re about to trek up hill for the final part of this journey to the Marvel Mansion.”
He wasn’t exaggerating. Before I knew what had happened a huge tower appeared from behind a mass of clouds high in the sky. The road we had been traveling suddenly became vertical. It made the streets of San Francisco look like a Sunday walk in the park. I noticed that he slowed down. I was grateful for that. There was no way I could trek up that humongous hill at the pace we had been going, second wind or not. We took our time and soon it was pitch dark. Mr. Toozles tossed some kind of pebbles in the air and a blue light rose over both of us. It followed us the rest of the way. It must have taken three or four more hours before the Marvel Mansion was in view.
I was relieved when at last I did catch sight of it. Mr. Toozles had seemed preoccupied and hadn’t spoken for a long time. Surely there would be someone else to talk to, or at least some interesting things to see. Hopefully not any more of those weird-looking Wingles. When we approached the colossal mansion a huge door opened when we were about one hundred feet away. Mr. Toozles let go of my hand when we were at the door. “You’ll be okay on your own inside the mansion,” he said, winking.
“On my own.” I felt fear stir in my stomach. “You mean you’ve brought me here to abandon me?”
“Everyone is on their own in the Marvel Mansion,” he said unaffected by my emotionally charged tone of voice. “You’ll more than thank me later, I promise you.” He stepped inside the door and instantly disappeared.
“At least he said later,” I said, hesitant whether to go inside or not. “Just who did this little man think he was by bringing me all the way to some strange place and then abandon me? He didn’t even tell me what to expect, the reason for coming, or when and if I’d ever get back to Earth.” I looked about. This couldn’t be my own planet. It looked like it but the bird was too strange looking, and if it was earth, why did I have to hang onto this man who pulled me into his world, or at least into some world?
“Existential crisis,” I said looking about frantically. “Still bored, Michael?” I said, stepping closer to the entrance, trying to look inside. I wanted to get a glimpse if I could of what was inside. Then out of nowhere a female face appeared a couple inches above my head, shaking her head no. Where did she come from? Where was the rest of her and where did any of this come from? I moved a little closer and then backed away. She still approached me, shaking her head. She didn’t want me looking inside. That’s it. “I guess you either go inside or you don’t,” I said out loud. She nodded and smiled. That was comforting.
“What the hey,” I said, “life’s been unbearably boring. What’s the worst that could happen? I could die,” a little voice inside my head said, “That could be an adventure too,” I told the voice then quickly stepped inside. I felt giddy and had to rub my forehead to keep from fainting. It took several minutes for the fuzziness to fade. I looked about. The room was grand. There seemed to be no end to the walls or huge pillars extending upward. I strained my eyesight reaching higher and higher. No, there was no ceiling in this room. There was no sky either. I looked about. Glass walls sparkled like diamonds. The floor seemed to be made out of sparkling jewels. Iridescent colors were designed in various geometric patterns all over the floor. "Is this heaven?” I asked. “”Maybe I have died after all. But there was no St. Peter or guardian angel or departed relatives to greet me. Surely God wouldn’t allow this if he does exist.
I was trying to be funny. “You are ridiculous, Michael,” I told myself. “Not a soul here to laugh at you, and still you try to be funny when you are nervous.” I walked about. I touched one of the thick walls. A hand reached out. A feminine hand. I jumped back. “Walls where hands pop out,” I cried out. This sure ain’t Kansas anymore. I looked back and the hand was gone. I touched the same spot again. The hand reached out again. “No thank you,” I said and continued walking. I made sure not to touch anything. I made my way to a corner to what looked like an entrance to a smaller room. The room was lit up by a purplish glow. There was a fragrance in the air that I found extremely pleasant and a little intoxicating. “Do I go in or not?”
“Yes, go in,” I heard in my mind. So I went in. The face appeared again. This time the eyes twinkled. It was the twinkle I’d seen in Mr. Toozle’s eyes and some of the characters in my dreams. The rest of her form manifested. I could hardly believe my eyes. Within moments, standing in front of me was the most beautiful woman I’d ever laid eyes upon. Her hair was silky and the most golden I’d ever seen. It sparkled like jewels. And that star like twinkle in her eyes! Was she an angel? And how come she had not glowed like this when I first saw her?
She approached me, and gently, taking my hand, led me to yet another chamber, smaller still. I could barely fit in. I had to duck my head to enter this other chamber. A pure rose fragrance permeated it. The entire room was done in pink. Pink veils were hanging about in star and moon designs. Bouquets of roses were everywhere. Was I in the Garden of Eden? I wondered. She shook her head no. “You are in the Chamber of Beauty,” she whispered, leading me a plush pink reclining chair.
“Chamber of Beauty,” I whispered, taking in all of it. She nodded. Then she was silent. What was I supposed to do? I couldn’t keep from looking at her. I was also having fantasies of kissing her. Was that inappropriate or some kind of test? I tried to shove the thought aside and I laid my head back against the comfortable headrest and closed my eyes. I must have fallen into a deep sleep because when I awoke a time later, I had a strong feeling that some time had lapsed.
The beautiful lady was sitting in her pink recliner, looking at me. “How do you feel?” she asked gently.
“Like I died and went to heaven.”
“Why die to go there, Michael, lover of beauty?”
This was too much. For some reason I was overcome with a desire to cry. I struggled but could not keep the tears away. She took a pink silk handkerchief and wiped my tears away. The touch of her hand sent me reeling. I didn’t want this to end, dream or whatever it was. “You haven’t even told me your name,” I asked.
“Here we do not take names.”
“Here,” I said, hoping I could keep crying just to feel her touching me.
“The Marvel Mansion,” she replied so softly I could barely hear her. This is the place where we are reminded of who we really are. You are a lover of beauty, Michael.” She kissed my cheek gently. I thought I would die right then and there. It felt better than any human touch I had known before. If she would only do it again! And so she did so. No, she was not human. I don’t know what she was but she was not human. And I didn’t feel human anymore. She looked at me with unconditional love and kindness. I feared fantasizing that she made love with me. What would I do if she did? It had been so long since I had known anything like that. I wasn’t sure I could take it. I tried to push such thoughts away.
She stroked my hair gently. I enjoyed her magical touch a few moments then spoke. “How is this a place to remind us of who we really are?” I asked.
“Not how, it just is. It all began back in your room. You were feeling rather despondent. I’m sorry for that, Michael, I truly am. It hurts me to see you suffer when I know that you are so much more than your suffering. It is I who sent Mr. Toozles to you. He owes me a couple of favors from a time back. So he brought you here to make a payment on his little debt to me.”
“Where is this? Is this really a place?
“Of course. It is one of the many mansions that your beloved teacher Jesus spoke about when he said, "in my father's house are many mansions. And no you cannot find the marvel mansion in the phone book or on the internet but that makes it no less real." It took all of my self restraint not to let all of my passion go. How I hungered for something beyond my everyday boring life. I could not jeopardize it by letting my hormones get out of control. “Come with me,” she said, taking my hand. I was intoxicated. She could touch me anywhere. Take me anywhere. I was hers. The next thing I knew we were back out front. The glass walls seemed to be staring at me. This time I felt more at ease. The Marvel Mansion seemed even more beautiful even though I had seen so little of it. “Follow your intuition,” she said. I was drawn to go back to the place where the hand had appeared. I did so and the hand reappeared. It led us both to another chamber. The new one was the brightest I had ever seen. There were heart designs imprinted on the walls, and pictures hanging on the walls of smiling faces full of passion and hunger for lovemaking. They looked alive. I cowered, fearing something would happen.
“Have no fear, my love,” my female companion said. “I am here. You are safe. These pictures cannot come to life unless you give them life.”
“How would I do that?”
“You wouldn’t. Let’s leave it at that.”
“Why are we in this room?” I asked.
“Magic,” she whispered, “to remind you that you are a great magic maker. Everyone is but most have forgotten. Don’t forget when you return. You make magic with your thoughts. You can think anything into being if you think enough and give it enough energy. You will be returning with Mr. Toozles soon. He is just here to visit some friends. We’ll meet up with him in a few minutes.”
“But I cannot leave,” I pleaded. “I’ve just arrived. There is so much see and explore. I want to see the entire Marvel Mansion.”
“Not possible. You can only see here what you are supposed to see. It would be an infraction to look in on someone else’s creations. Everything you know and see is your own creation. Your existential crisis is nothing but a particular creation you have fabricated. You feel bored and lonely because you think that magic and wonder are dead. They aren’t if you believe them alive. It has been a day of wonder, hasn’t it?”
“Yes it has been I admit. I’m not feeling depressed like I was.”
“I’m glad. Think on me when you go back and I’ll be there with you in your little lonely room. You get sad because the people on your world have forgotten who they are. Your senses and perceptions are capable of seeing and perceiving so much more than you can begin to realize. You are beginning to stretch your perceptual muscles or your soul vision. You sense that because you pick up the feelings of those around you. When you see people chasing after ephemeral delights and physical pleasure as though that is all there is to life, you lose focus. You get scared. You think the physical life is all there is to your being. You are more than a physical being. And you can know yourself so much more. You can also know other people in ways you cannot conceive or imagine. You can journey to countless worlds and dimensions and visit with your soul family, some whom are human, others are non-human. Still all are ensouled with the star spark of love and life that connects all life and creation. The powers of your mind and spirit are limitless. Opening the doors to other realms and worlds is the beginning of claiming your power. This is done through perceptual alteration. There are many ways to bring that about. It comes very easy for you.
“So when you vocally as well as telepathically put out the call for a new visitor your plea darted out like a bright light. It made its way to the Marvel Mansion and I immediately read your soul print and knew that you were ready for a visit here. And that is why Mr. Toozles came to you. He came to show you that there is more than what you perceive with your five senses. He came to lead you to the portals where other worlds exist. He brought you to this mansion but you had to find what you needed to see. You found me and I found you. You followed your intuition. You did not reach for the hand when it first reached for you. You did not look into the eyes of the Wingle. Many would have done so just because they were told not do. You will never go astray if you follow your intuition.”
“What you say feels right,” I said, squeezing her hand softly. The next thing I knew we were back at the door. Mr. Toozles met us there. “Did you have a good time, Michael?” he asked, with that big twinkle in his eyes and a bright smile on his face.
“ A very good time indeed. I had a delightful time with this lovely lady here,” I exclaimed.
“Good,” he said, tapping me on the arm. “It is time to return to your room.”
“Do I really have to go back?” I pleaded.
“Yes, indeed. You were one of the more adamant ones. Eons ago you begged to know physical density in its entirety. So your wish was granted. And now you are bored with your mortal human limitations. But the good news is that you are opening up and awakening your soul senses more and more. You are going to learn that you can function as a divine being, an interstellar and a human being all at once. There need be no conflict or contradiction. You can be a god and a man. This is something you and all mortals have yet to learn. Today you have experienced more of your self. Any time you feel overwhelmed by physical life you can come here. Your lady awaits you. She preserves the chamber of beauty and constantly thinks of you. She is one who inspires your poetry which, I might add, is very beautiful and soulful. You only get bored because you think that physical life is a trap. It is only if you accept it as that. Today should have proven that you can go to many places. And places that your people claim do not exist. Yet we know they do, and you now know also, do you not?”
“Yes,” I said softly. “Life is only dense and restricted if I think so. I’ve tasted sweetness today, a love that I dream about and write poems about. I am now convinced of its validity.”
“Yes, the things you write about are real, and the love you long for is real. Just take a little break from your everyday life and call out to us. We will respond, won’t we? Mr. Toozles said. His lady companion agreed. “It is time to go, Michael.”
The lady hugged me tightly for a long time. Her fragrance once more made me giddy and my knees somewhat wobbly. “I am always nigh,” she whispered “never doubt this.”
Mr. Toozles reached for my hand. “We have quite a journey back. Remember not to let my hand go outside this mansion.” I waved at the lady who blew me a kiss. Mr. Toozles led me out the front door. We journeyed back down the hill. When we reached the bottom he said that his task was done. He had paid his debt. He could go back to his own world. For a moment I wondered how many worlds existed and how many intersected. Then I saw the image of a star filled sky and felt that there countless ones out there.
I opened my eyes a time later. I was lying in bed in my room. The depression had lifted. “Wow,” I exclaimed, rubbing my forehead and having visions of a pink and red chamber. Was any of it real? “Real,” I repeated over and over. I got up and went for a glass of pop. I had three bags of Christmas decorations lying on the floor. I took a big swig of pepsi and then began taking the decorations out. “It’s time to decorate this apartment. Create a little color and magic around this place.” I hung up some tinsel and felt tingles all over. The next day I bought a string of 150 lights, the new ones that blink in about twelve different ways. That night I stared at the lights a long time, adjusting the blinkers every few moments. They were the most enchanting lights I had ever seen. Nookles would be proud of me. The wonders of technology. I looked some more then went to bed.
Soon I saw an image of the lovely lady. “Hello,” I whispered.
“Hello, sweet one. I told you that if you think of me soon I am nigh. The magic is not gone. It took quite a bit of magic to come up with all those kinds of blinking lights all in one little contraption. You people really are amazing.”
“So are you,” I said, lady with no name.”
“You can call me Belle Etoile,” she said, then disappeared.
“Beautiful star,” I said, tingles going all through me. “French is truly the language of love.”
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