Like many people. ever since I was very young there’s been this part of me that likes very much to shift into fiction adventure romantic fantasy realms where I let dramatic imaginations take me deeper perhaps than even ‘real life’ usually does. I spend time telling stories in order to explore certain feelings and ideas and visions that are so interior and at the same time universally real they become suddenly mythic …

… like this primal ‘chance’ encounter between a man and a woman that came to me one day, and that I wrote down … the narrator is not at all me – and he just starts in talking to us, telling his story – he’s someone who writes down maybe a quarter or even just a tenth of what’s going through his mind at any given moment, documenting mostly the physical and interpersonal dimensions of the story, giving us our own vital freedom to fill in all the other dimensions that are at the same time in play.

So – let me know if, now and then, you like tapping into this level of my life’s work … I’ve been very shy about letting this literary level flow out – just getting ready … all in good time. And before we start with chapter one (below) here’s a short video interview I did with Kristen White about the book:

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THE MAHEE VISION: Chapter One

I woke up from a vivid dream of making love with Angela over in western France where we’d honey-mooned. The dream was overtly erotic and when I opened my eyes and found myself alone in bed, it took me several moments to come to terms, yet again, with the fact that Angela was no longer my bedmate.

I went downstairs two at a time, noting the light rain sifting through redwood boughs outside my kitchen window. Today was the last day before Christmas break and I was hoping for sun. Turning on the TV to catch the weather, instead I caught the tail-end of a heated controversy on the local news about a set of Guatemalan artifacts temporarily on display at our Marin County museum. The tight-lipped woman on the program declined to show a video of the primary piece under discussion, complaining that the art-work was a realistically sculpted thousand-year-old jade phallus and not at all suitable viewing for the young or sexually faint of heart.

Half an hour later, splashing downhill in my VW camper, I got temporarily lost in memories of my exchange-student stay in Guatemala ten years ago; I’d fallen crazy in love with a girl down there who somehow (or so my ex had claimed) still had tentacles imbedded in my heart. By the time I got to Marin College (where I’m teaching while finishing my doctorate at Berkeley) I’d made up my mind to go and see the museum exhibit before heading south on vacation tomorrow.

I’d always hated taking tests in school so I did my best to give my students something fun to sink their teeth into. Finally finishing off the last class, I walked outside to the parking lot. The rain had temporarily stopped but clouds still blotted out the sun and the air smelled like damp rust and cold moldy leaves. A bubbly student who I was quite fond of came walking along with me, chatting about her amygdale or some such psychological theme from an exam question. I suspected that she wanted to maybe end up in my camper and sail away into the afternoon with me. The idea was tempting, but what I really wanted after all the chatter of school was to head off solo along some back road in the rain, listen to some tunes and be alone for a while.

I climbed up into the driver’s seat just as rain started pounding on my roof. The camper felt like a womb as I closed the door, an outer bubble encapsulating my inner feelings. After two Christmases spent together with Angela, this one would be a solitary and probably pretty lonely vacation. I started to reach for the key to drive off, but the calm secure atmosphere inside the bus was so soothing just then, that I leaned back and relaxed a moment.

And right then a most curious thing happened; I was overcome with the definite feeling that I was not alone, that somebody right at that instant was focusing intensely right at me. I’m no stranger to inner oddities, I know how expansive consciousness can get because I grew up with a mother in possession of several distinct personalities, all of them quite interesting; she still spends time each year down with the Huicholes in Mexico exploring parallel universes and so forth.

But my personal preference has definitely been to avoid psychic extremities when possible, and this sudden feeling of being possessed by the invisible presence of another person was a bit scary. I knew somehow that the person was female, and the feeling of her presence was quite intensely pleasing. But instinctively I turned the key, put my trusty vehicle in gear and focused all my attention on driving off into the slippery downpour. That did it, the moment passed, I felt alone again; all was okay.

Half an hour later, rather than head home to an empty house, I yielded to my desire to drive over to the Marin Museum of Natural History on Ross Avenue and immerse myself in memories of my teenage romance in Guatemala. I parked and hurried across the parking lot, splashing through the rain and wind up the outside stairs and into the shelter of the building. Entering the lobby I came to a stop, caught my breath and unzipped my jacket.

The place was jam-packed but, still possessed by raw elements rather than societal stuff, my mind refused to process the loud chattering all around me. Instead I shifted into a momentary deep stillness; no thoughts, no nothing. Definitely unusual feelings on a rainy afternoon. Several native sculptures, lobby teasers for the visiting Mayan collection, stared down at me from their pedestals. I reached for a brochure featuring the Mayan display.

The collection’s center-piece which had caused such an uproar on the morning news was indeed a life-size jade phallus that, from its brochure photo, did possess a rather remarkable similarity to God’s own handiwork. The carving had been discovered during the winter of 1939, about 20 feet under water in highland Guatemala’s Lake Atitlan. A deep-diving Indian boy who brought it to the surface sold it to two noted Scottish archeologists who were busy digging nearby. They also purchased twelve other ancient stone carvings, then headed home. Because of the wartime situation, the thirteen pieces were stored and forgotten for decades, until a small fire in a storeroom provoked the re-filing of the storeroom’s contents.

I looked up and gazed directly at the rough Mayan statue positioned at the entrance of the main viewing room. For a moment I felt the statue’s stone presence looking right back at me … I broke the stare finally and looked vaguely around, half-hoping I’d see a friend to team up with before I went into the museum proper.

Blurred colors of clothing moved past my eyes. My gaze came to rest on a young woman sitting over in the far corner. She wasn’t doing anything at all. She was just sitting there calmly … gazing right back into my eyes.

Bodies between us moved and she disappeared from view. I began walking with the general flow of gabbling visitors toward the inner rooms of the display. Then the sea of bodies parted and there was that woman again – but not looking at me this time, just sitting meditatively with her eyes closed. She was wearing ordinary clothes but she looked qualitatively different from the other people in the room. I stood staring at her striking profile; long dark hair, high forehead and strong nose. Her face looked somehow similar to the Mayan statue over behind her.

Without warning she turned her head as if sensing my eyes on her, and again boldly met my gaze. For a second her face changed and I thought I was looking at Olivia, the girl I’d been in love with down in Guatemala. Olivia’d had that same luxurious brown-black hair, full lips, dark smooth complexion.

Then Olivia was gone and the woman broke our frozen moment with a slight smile. Her expression was subtle, probably no one else noticed what was going on, but I felt struck to the quick; her smile was the eager welcoming smile of an intimate friend. I assumed I must know her, she seemed so intensely familiar; maybe she was in one of my classes, I had over a hundred students at the college this quarter. But surely I would have recognized this particular woman –

She made a move and sat upright, still holding my gaze. I guessed she was about twenty-five; no make-up; light blue pants and a silk blouse that slightly revealed her full breasts. She crossed her legs, cocked her head and suddenly lost the smile altogether as she looked intently at me. The impact was unexpectedly strong; flustered beyond reason, I felt the impulse to turn and get the hell out of the building. But I couldn’t help myself, I glanced back in her direction.

The flow of people coming into the museum again closed the visual corridor between us … she was gone from view. I started to push against the flow of the crowd toward her but people banged into me. My legs felt weak, my mind dizzy. So I surrendered to the moment and went on into the inner display room.

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