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Friday, 10th January 1992
Night Adventure: I am somewhere outdoors and I see a young woman bending down in a provocative way; behind her mini skirt, her hips are naked; then, I realize she is burnt all over! Some villains grab and throw her body on a heap of other corpses and they dump them all in a huge melting-pot.
I am an enemy of evil and I decide to stop the perpetrators. I try to walk away slowly, but they notice me as I go up the stairs. “Hey, you! Come here!” they shout at me and I turn round, pretending to be scared. They laugh, while preparing to fire their flame-guns. I ask for one minute time, so as to pray; they allow me and I squat down, next to a wall, for a brief meditation exercise.
When I finally finish and get up, the enemies fire at once. However, their guns produce no flame for they no longer function; there is only a soft light inside the long barrels. The villains get angry and they try to catch me but I fight back with two high kicks and send them roll down on the ground stunned. They realize something strange is going on and they withdraw quickly.
I know I don't have much time, because my psychokinetic influence on the flame-guns won't last long. So, at a moment when my persecutors don't notice, I enter a car of bright green colour and drive away at once. Yet, one of the enemies chases me in another vehicle. With a view to deceiving him, I get out of my car and let it go down a precipice...
Monday, 13th January 1992
The night walk in the vicinity brought back to my mind the old, inner enigma: I, the only conscience of the world; I, the centre of the world; all what I can perceive out there is nothing but projections to my conscience, images shaped in co-ordination around me; and the other people, what are they but deceptive visions? What is going on, and what for?
This is the perpetual question that can't even be put into words. This is the only problem I should work out. All the rest -everyday cares, personal issues, speculations about social, political, spiritual and other subjects- are just distractions from the inner enigma; they systematically detract me and I forget...
Tuesday, 14th January 1992
This evening I decided to express myself (the guru often coerces us into doing so) and talk about my recent thoughts in class. Ignoring a strong heartbeat and an inner voice screaming “no!”, I proceeded to confessions concerning the inner enigma before everybody. My words came out uncertain, while Alexander was looking at me with strange, maybe malignant eyes. At the end he smiled cunningly and flung at me: “Be careful, or you will go paranoid!”. Then, he addressed the class and started a pompous lecture which began like that: “This is nothing but tricks the Ego plays on you, making you think you are someone important, someone special, and for this reason you are the target of invisible forces! If you yield to such tricks of the Ego, you are likely to go mad!”
I froze in disappointment; on one hand I was astonished because I do feel like a target all the time -though I have never told a soul about it; one the other hand, I certainly hadn't expected so much contempt and hostility from the guru. As about my classmates, none of them uttered a word; yet, I could feel their ironic looks at me -all that condensed negativity being launched at me. My self-confidence wavered at once. I have been feeling miserable ever since. Just when I thought I had found myself again, I got lost once more.
From now on, I will never ever reveal anything about myself to the guru. All things considered, to talk about my psychic experiences or inspirations to others is a serious mistake. The others, as if in collusion, always question, distort or disapprove of anything I say. Since I am not considered to be an authority (like Alexander, for instance), my defeat in certain disputes is preordained. The result: Doubts, frustration, inner blocking. I go back instead of ahead. It is imperative that I should perfect the art of silence. I have to make a stand against my need for praise, which often urges me to say more than I should. Silence is gold...
Tuesday, 21st January 1992
Alexander wants us to gather about 5,000,000 drachmas, so that he will be able to buy land somewhere in the country and build his asram there. In a very natural way, he announces that if 50 disciples offer 100,000 drachmas each, the sum will be covered! As a reward, the “sponsors” will have the honour of working voluntarily at the estate the guru will buy with their own money!
The strangest thing, though, is that many of my classmates show spontaneous willingness to offer that money, while others are ready to sell their own fields and donate the money to Alexander, without even thinking twice. Moreover, Alexander makes clear that from now on the so-called “extra contributions” are actually obligatory, and that the amounts of money given to him will show who the worthy disciples are. He keeps talking incessantly and everybody listens to him devoutly, as if he were God on earth. Everybody but me.
I believe Alexander doesn't give a dime for us. He is only interested in “contributions” and “donations”. Most of the times he spends the whole lesson complaining about delayed fees and ignored contributions. He gets on my nerves. I pay my monthly fee in time, every Tuesday I spend three hours in commuting to Janus, and the only thing I learn there is that some persons haven't paid their fees. In fact, I haven't learnt anything in Janus for months now. The only thing I do when I go there, is lose my time and my temper...
Sunday, 26th January 1992
Night Adventure: I live in a medieval city-castle, together with my lover. I am somebody else: I have a different face and long, black hair. The castle is often attacked by hordes of Saracens. My boyfriend and I fight against them but there comes a day when he is murdered, while I fence against three enemies: I cut someone's arm off, I sever somebody else's legs, I gore the third one to death; yet, I fail to kill their chief, who chases me all over the castle.
While running to escape, I can see chests full of treasure behind glass walls; I concentrate and close the lids by using the power of my mind. In this way, I beat the temptation of wealth. Later on, I hide behind lofty bushes at the edge of a stone path, which is still under construction, and I can overhear some workers talking: “Long ago, someone was murdered there. His bones are still scattered around, somewhere among the bushes,” I hear them say and I know they mean my dead boyfriend.
Eventually I reach the highest chamber of the castle, where the enemies can't find me. From there, I climb down the walls and the mountain, leaving the castle behind; however I intend to return one day. Nevertheless, the luxury of the city soon enchants me. I linger along the streets looking at sparkling jewels in shop-windows, I wonder at their beauty, I delay, I forget...
Tuesday, 18th February 1992
Mother: Yesterday afternoon, when my parents and I went to buy a new refrigerator, mum didn't stop patronizing me for a single moment, constantly trying to make me choose the one she liked. She got on my nerves and we left without buying anything. This morning I went to the store with my father only and I bought the fridge I wanted without any complications.
I have noticed it many times: Whenever I talk with my mother, I tend to lose control of my thoughts and reactions; every conversation of ours ends in tension, exasperation, or even a quarrel, since she always discourages me and criticizes every idea or initiative of mine. When I was younger, my mother sought to control every move I made and I considered this natural: She always told me what to eat, what to wear, where to go etc, while bombarding me with admonitions such as: “Don't run, you will fall!” … “Don't fight with other children, they will hit you!” … “Don't wear this blouse, wear that one” … “Don't be late at night, nasty things might happen to you”, and so on. Till I was eighteen she used to be in total control of my wardrobe; she always escorted me at the shops and I considered it as a matter of course to choose the clothes she liked. Until I was 25, I was indissolubly bonded to my mother, who programmed the slightest move of mine, as if I were a robot. I had no friends, and I didn't need any because mother was there. My parents have never worried about my solitude – all they ever cared about was my taking good marks at
school. Not that they ever expected me to become a scientist; it is just that studying kept me away from “bad company”.
Even now, I take care to hide my diaries well, lest mother should see and disapprove of them. However, I suspect she has already found and read them: she knows I attend Janus -without my telling her- and she demands I stop. She is always spying on me, because she doesn't trust me. When I am downstairs, in my apartment, she appears at my threshold every fifteen minutes, putting forward various strange excuses, but all she really wants is to spy on me. When she turns up, if I happen to be writing, I hasten to hide the “body of evidence” before she finds out the “crime”; if I listen to songs, I turn off the stereo at once, before she sees me seated on a chair and finds it peculiar. I have to escape mother's oppressive influence. But how? Should I move somewhere else, maybe?
Wednesday, 19th February 1992
I have noticed certain changes in my behaviour lately, changes of a “negative” tinge: For example, when I am on the bus, I no longer stand up and give away my seat as soon as some old crock comes near me. Very few old people really have this need; anyway, why do they get on the bus early in the morning or in the afternoon, exactly when workers and employees have a hard time commuting to work?
Nor do I look forward to going out with friends, anymore. I am no longer in the mood of wasting four hours in packed buses every time, just to meet some persons of doubtful sincerity. I still see them once in a while, but I have done away with laughs, confessions and nonsense. I used to be more tolerant to people, because I lacked self-confidence and I needed their approval. Recently, however, something has changed: I no longer feel obliged to put up with any moron.
I was doing some extra work at my office this afternoon, when the telephone rang. I picked up the receiver and I heard a coarse man's voice roar in my ear:
“What iiiis it theeeeere?”
“Typings - Translations” I replied calm.
“Who's theeeere?” cried the bloke again, before I had even finished talking.
“My name is Yvonne Fezarris. How can I help you?” I asked kindly.
“Yvonne Fezarris, whooooo?” he howled exasperated.
Right at that moment I hung up.
The bloke called again at once and this time he was furious:
“How do you dare hang up on me? You know who I am?”
“I'm sorry, the line went dead” I excused myself.
Yet, he went on bawling undaunted: “If you think you are a toughie, then I...”
I hung up again and left the office immediately. As I was walking up Patission Avenue to Janus, I was feeling wonderful...
Thursday, 20th February 1992
Yesterday evening, once again, the guru said “In reality, there is no Good and Evil; only our personal point of view, alias the Ego, makes something appear as good or evil”. The other disciples agreed implicitly but I had some doubts, which I cleared out this afternoon, through meditation:
Power is Evil: When you are more powerful than another being, there are two natural and spontaneous ways to treat it: a) If the being is a little weaker than you, you seek to tame it and make it your “servant”. For this purpose you use either violence or charity; in the second case, it will owe you eternal gratitude and it will be obliged to serve you during its whole life – otherwise it will be considered “ungrateful” or “unworthy”, and the consequences will be detrimental for its survival in any society. b) If the being is much weaker than you, a small animal or insect for instance, then it is not only entirely useless but also a nuisance to you; so, you exterminate it without second thoughts.
Evil is Power: Malice (the spontaneous desire to harm other beings) has always been the strongest motive to “action” and “progress”. Certain people gather extreme power in their hands, which finally takes the form of money, fame, social status. Malicious persons have the innate tendency to unite in networks – and all networks belong to a universal super-network that controls them all. The purpose of networks is to make sure that Power always stays within the same circles of persons; that's why their members support each other with religious fanaticism.
Hierarchy is a basic mechanism of networks. Thanks to the division of labour, each person is placed at a specific post (according to their natural abilities, qualifications, and allegiance to the chiefs) and is expected to offer as much as possible to society. Therefore, very specific activities are assigned to each member: Children go to school; women become mistresses, housewives and mothers -this is their main role, regardless of career or other activities; men become workers or employees. The more “ambitious” ones, that is the more greedy, become managers. Taking one thing with another, all day long we are obliged to perform boring, thankless, tiring, enervating tasks -which often have no clear purpose. They just keep us busy with various nonsense, so that they can suck our energy day after day, year after year – and we let go in complacent misery, boasting off that we are hard-working people, useful to society.
Networks of all kinds control the lives of ordinary people through special mechanisms (work, money, patriarchy, religion, nepotism, etc), but they are also structured in a rigorous hierarchy: There are many ways the bosses of a company can control the lives of their employees, but this happens always in accordance to the line they take from higher ranks of the elite. Yet, those “higher ranks” toe the line of other, “even higher ranks”, and so on. Consequently, the flow of Power follows a strictly one-way course through specific human channels, until it all accumulates to a secret centre -at the top of the social pyramid.
The Centre is not some human being; it is an invisible, incomprehensible, probably extraterrestrial entity, an absolute Lord, who demands to be worshiped as “God” by the human herd. This is where all authorities and powers derive from and this is where they all return, strengthened by the psychic energy of billions of human beings. The higher someone is in the pyramid of society, the closer they are to the so-called “God”. However, only those who manage to reach the highest possible level, near the top of the pyramid, can recognize what “God” really is.
Naturally, the pyramid stands on its base; the weak and the poor of this world are the “blood” which nourishes the invisible and unknowable Lord, since it is their energy that flows through the entire structure. On the other hand, the pyramid can “break” only at its lowest edges; only those who are on the fringe of society may escape from this tyranny -but it is not at all easy, even for them. It goes without saying that the higher someone is in hierarchy, the more unlikely it is for them to escape...
Wednesday, 26th February 1992
Doubts about the guru -once again: Now he needs many millions of drachmas for the creation of an asram, he says. For the time being, he demands 10,000 drachmas from each one of us, so as to buy the land. However, this is only the beginning; many more millions of drachmas will be needed for the building of the settlement – and the whole estate will be to the guru's name.
There follows a psychological extortion: “The imminent world annihilation makes the situation urgent (as if we would be safe in the asram!). Besides, those who are really advanced in metaphysics, will be eager to offer any sum of money needed!”. Then, he makes an example of Harry, who has an ordinary job in a company and happily offers all his salary to Janus. Other “worthy disciples” have donated their own fields to Alexander, who makes it clear he owes them nothing at all, not even a “thank you”, since it is their honour to serve him!
All in all, the creation of a sect is the cleverest enterprise: If you play your cards right, within a few years you have a herd of loyal “disciples” who worship you like a god, they donate you their properties and they consider it their honour to work for you without pay! Brilliant!
Thursday, 27th February 1992
Psychic Experience: I get out of my body and whirl slowly, then faster; it feels good but my range of vision is limited. All at once I am in a horizontal, dark tunnel and I can see Theano in the distance. She runs
to find the light and I follow her. Sometimes the tunnel glows, as if it were full of coals. Suddenly Theano falls down and some red-hot pieces precipitate on her, but she laughs and stands up easily. We soon see the light, which is red and shining bright ahead of us. However, when we come closer it slips away and we can't reach it. Then we are both out of the tunnel, in a snowed town. My friend sits on a bench and smiles happily...۩
The managing director of Pangaea, Mr Nick Gryparis, has been giving me work at home lately – namely audio cassettes containing recorded dialogues of various rich and famous people. I listen to the tapes and type the dialogues. This is a very tiring and time-consuming job, yet I can handle it. A few days ago I took in my hands two cassettes, where three reporters talk about some famous actors and actresses. For safety reasons, I haven't put them together with my music cassettes, but in another drawer of my bookcase.
This afternoon, I felt like listening songs from the radio; as soon as I heard one that sounded nice, I decided to record it. I went to the bookcase, I opened the drawer, took a cassette and started recording on it at once. Right at that moment, the phone rang; it was aunt Penelope, Alice's godmother, and asked me to drop in on her so that she could give me some cake. I left the tape-recorder working (something I had never done before) and went to her.
When I returned home twenty minutes later, I stopped the recording, I ejected the cassette and only then did I realize it was one of the two Gryparis had given me! I stood there dumbfounded, hardly believing what I had done! How could I be so absent-minded? How could I make such an incredible mistake? What am I going to say to Gryparis now? I thought, full of anxiety.
Friday, 28th February 1992
This morning I rallied my spirit and got into the managing director's office, with the damaged cassette in hand. With a sorrowful mien, I explained the situation to him, I apologized for the mistake and finally excused myself that my eight-year-old nephew got into my room, found the cassette, recorded on it songs from the radio, and when I noticed it was too late. “But... you keep my cassettes at a place where children get in?” wondered Gryparis – yet, strangely enough, he kept his composure. He didn't yell at me, he only asked me to bring the other cassette back to him on Monday...
Chapter 4: The Path of the Dreamer