The Peacock 1904

This water is so cold, so pure, so delicious, unlike any water that has ever crossed my lips, and now, suddenly I am back in the cafe, nowhere near the Refuge, nowhere near Jesus.  Here is Carl, and only Carl in the comfy chair opposite.  And Erik seated on my left. They have been conversing.  No Stella.  No Sven.  No Caspar. "Where are the others", I ask. "We all returned here alone", says Carl. "Just now?" "We were both here five minutes ahead of you", says Erik. "Then it wasn't...? "One of your hallucinations?" says Carl. smiling.  "No.  Unless it was a collective delusion", and now he is snickering. "We were all with Jesus in that big mansion?" "Along with his very aged parents:" "Where are the others?" "Like us.  They are all back from where they were taken." "Except..." "Stella, Sven and Caspar", says Erik. "What time is it?" "Almost four", says Carl. "What day is it?" "Still Monday", says Erik, and now I can see they are both deadpanning as much as I am.  How else are we going to cope right now? "But, we did spend the night, didn't we?  But wait.  Not one single minute has passed since...since we were taken yesterday...but wait it's still today, isn't it.  Where is Lawrence?" "He was just leaving when  Jesus appeared", says Erik.  Now he's gone on with his day..."

The Peacock 1902

It is still dark.  There are no clocks here and I do not know what time it is. I am feeling rested, and here I am waking up in a strange room  And now the flood of memories from yesterday, all the strange bizarre and lurid confessions and revelations and Jesus appearing in his eternally youthful form in the coffee shop only to transport us...here....this place called the Refuge.  A quick shower is all I need and now that I am dried and dressed there is a soft knock on the door. It is Tron. "Perhaps", he says, "We could greet the dawn while walking in the gardens together." I don't see why not, but instead of saying anything, I slip on my shoes and off we go. The dawn bird chorus has already begun, and together we are crossing a huge expansive lawn.  I can only imagine the work involved in maintaining a place of such dimension and beauty.  I can just see the beautifully molded features of Tron's face as we walk silently together, past a bed of irises, much like where Carl and Melissa live, then under a bower of soft purple wisteria in full and glorious bloom.  I am feeling cold and Tron hands me without either of us asking the dark grey pullover sweater he has been carrying under his arm. "Thank you. Tron.  This is a beautiful sweater." "Take it with you." "Thank you  Thank you very much..."

The Peacock 1901

Tron has just shown me to my room.  He is one of the immortals here.  That is what he told me as he was guiding me up the stairs.  For a while he lingered with me in the armchair in the corner while I lie on the bed, propped up on cushions.    We donn't speak, but I do feel both energized and rested by his presence.  As he gets up to leave, he says, "You must remember, Christopher, that I have been called to your welfare and safekeeping.  No matter where you go, you will never be far from me."  And now before I can even say good night...

The Peacock 1900

"Benjamin?" say I to Kenny. This is all beginning to come together. "Benjamin Butterfield at your service, Christopher", says Kenny. "Facebook group?" "You were grieving the loss of your father, Jim, just when my mother passed away from breast cancer." "You were so kind to me." "As you were with me, Chris", he says bashfully. "As you were with me." We can only sit quietly right now, dumbfounded, trying lamely not to stare at each other. What I never knew. "Lord", says Carl, "There is a ferry service from this island?" "The two dimensions have come together. This island in Aaron's dimension has always been on the map, with limited ferry service and a tiny village on the north end of the island. This place does not exist on their radar, and the forest and bush ascending the mountain remain impenetrable. However, as you are ready to depart tomorrow, you will find yourselves rturned immediately to the place and exact time you found yourselves in when I summonedd you all here." "But weren't you going to keep us here", says Lawrence, "For several days, I mean?" "And those days have already transpired. The merging of dimensions has also tweaked your sense of time and place. But when you return home none of you will have lost one single minute. It will be as if you never left home. But you will still remember that you were here, and you will also remember all that I taught you.."

The Peacock 1899

Aaron says, "Stella mentioned today that our two dimensions are about to merge." "And this has already happened", says Jesus.  "When you all leave from here you are going to notice immediately that something has changed. recovered. "Does this mean we also can stay here", wonders Lazarus. "The records of mental illness and hospitalization have been completely erased.  You will always be hee with me, and I will always be with yuou where I am sending you." "Jesus", says Kenny.  "We were just talking about leaving here tomorrow, Amaris, Christopher, Carl and Francois." "You are leaving tomorrow.  Kenny, you are still recorded as deceased.  You will have to go under your new name, the name by which Christopher has come to know you." "You mean", says Kenny, a wondering smile on his face. "That's right, Benjamin.  But now you are going to have a little bit of explaining to do with Christopher..."

The Peacock 1998

Says Jesus, "The creative imagination is not merely an excuse for inventing fantasies and lies and fiction",  And now Aaron is carefully regarding him.  "It has nothing to do with wish fulfillment.  Neither is it merely a door opening to the unconscious.  Perhaps onto what my servant the famous Swiss psychotherapist coined the Collective Unconscious...but that was merely his early stumbling at grasping and identifying a much larger and much more complex reality than what is commonly understood among human beings.  Aaron, you do touch upon the truth when you mention different dimensions.  Remember, I have many sheepfolds.  How could they all possibly be contained in and confined to this tiny but exquisite jewel of a planet that I breathed, sung and birthed into being in order to be populated by such as yourselves?" "Lord", says Aaron, "Do you mean to tell us that there is life on other planets, other galaxies...Other universes." "There has been so much useless speculation, Aaron, among such things as your kind, and your kind is also my own kind, has speculated, theorized and fantasized.  Like my servant Carl Gustave Jung, a few of you have stumbled across a little bit of insight, but so little to be understood.  Rather like pulling a lit candle from a birthday cake and expecting it to light your way through a labyrinth.  Only after taking two or three steps, the candle has gone out and you remain every bit as lost, confused and unknowing as ever..." Aaron stares slack jawed and bewildered at our Lord. "The creative imagination, Aaron, is, or ought to be, a portal.  A door opening on to other realities, other possibilities.  These are not things of your inventing, rather you are seeing, you are catching glimpses of such deep, beautiful and complex truths as have yearned over and remained thoroughly perplexed the sages and prophets of old." "How is this like the Collective Unconscious?" "I said that the Collective Unconscious is a stumbling first step towards understanding that which must always remain obscured from your vision, from the vision of humanity.  It is not withheld from you by Divine caprice, but Divine Mercy.  Mortal humans, created of dust, do not have the faculties nor the ability nor the strength in order to grasp such wonders.  to have this light shined on you would be to snuff you out of existence..."

The Peacock 1997

Of course, as some of you well know, I am a disciple of our Lord Jesus Christ, here, our gracious and loving host.  You may wonder why I have written my  Lord as having the aspect of a sixteen year old youth.  That was not intentional.  In my earlier work of literary fiction, Thirteen Crucifixions, from time to time this same beautiful boy would appear in the novel.  I did not have a name for him, because I hadn't named him yet.  I simply didn't know.  But, Jesus, this has been you yourself appearing to me in the novel and so as I was in the early stages of the Peacock, it occurred to me that this was your true identity, something that you revealed to me, Lord, but how could I possibly write you this way, but then much later it occurred to me that your own disciples didn't recognize you after your resurrection not just because they were still in a state of unbelief, but that they were seeing you in a lovely, innocent,  and transfigured form. And so, Lord Jesus, this is your novel, and I have done my utmost to take my cues from you, and write you, not as we imagine nor as I imagine, but...as you yourself most truly are, gracious Lord. "But what about us?" says Carl.  "How did you do it?" "Jesus was introducing me to each one of you, and I only got to know each one of you gradually as I wrote.  That is also why I kept appearing in the novel, so we could actually come to know one another.  Every time I sit down to write, whatever next move or direction or plot device I might have in mind, it suddenly gets moved around.  I am not in the least in control of this project.  I seem to have tapped into a different or alternative reality here that is just gradually unfolding to me...