Stalking Vol 2 The Bridge of Reason HTML version
Bonnie lined me up with the chair, and with a nudge allowed gravity to seat me. Leaning
low on the armrests, to look directly into my eyes, she said, "There is no screenplay."
"You don’t need that incentive to carry on." She moved to her chair and sat next to me.
"That was your old life. We’re not writing it." She gazed out over the water.
I was thoroughly confused, a grave anomaly in my current state of mind, as she said, "She
also asked me to destroy my book."
"But you’ve finished it."
"It has served its purpose for me."
"Did you do it?"
"Then you have nothing left," I said blankly.
"I have everything, as do you," she said, looking at me as if I was out of my mind… which
I was, but in a good way.
"What am I supposed to do now?" I said ambiguously, as the world became a curiously
"The answer is about to come to you," Bonnie said, quietly.
I watched as the water, then the entire vista, began to ride a subtle rhythm with a pleasant
"I haven’t a clue where to focus," I said feeling as if I had inhaled a cubic yard of nitrous
oxide in preparation for dental work.
"I’ll get you started," a hollow voice beside me said. "When you defeat your personality,
pure understandings become the assumptions behind your every action. This is the point at which
you become." She said nothing mo re.
Feeling the strongest urge to face her, I turned and said, "Become what?" and my intriguing
world froze: Bonnie was glowing translucently, her features vague within a crystalline shimmer
out of which came the word, "Whole."
In that moment, I knew that her integration process to become one with Saa-ra’s intentions
was well underway: I saw her as an inseparable aspect of everything, but infinitely more
powerful than anything, because uncountable lifetimes of self-stalking were the stuff of her
glow. I closed my eyes against the vastness of the abstraction she had become within my first
pure moment of suspended disbelief… a trap door opened beneath my expanding awareness
plunging me between atrocious cataclysms and splendorous achievements.
Looking between these choices—I knew they were choices—I understood that my
energetic vision of Bonnie had stopped my internal dialogue, and the bridge of reason I had
stood on all my life had collapsed. Everything the world of average people had told me to believe
began to disintegrate, as elements of "the" Stalker’s assumption that Bonnie had been leading me
to embrace coalesced with elegant fluidity…
I saw energy and knew that the earth was alive, inconceivably wondrous, and that we were
guests: a pulsing stream of energy emerged from the shimmering forest of Stanley Park. As it
transitioned into a human form, it absorbed a secondary energy of a personality that embraced
dimensional root assumptions, mass translations of iconic symbols, and adopted reason as the
filter that allowed it to explore the metaphors of its new existence. Masterful and mandatory,
they were illusions all.
The structure became transparent.