The Power of Twelve Page 8

  Under her breath Gayle whispered to Randall, “I know my wines too, and each of these bottles is worth almost ten thousand dollars. Think of the number of children we could feed with just the money from a single bottle.” Randall nodded at this charitable thought. “This Arnold Wheeler is really over the top,” she went on. “A single bottle would have been more than sufficient as a gesture of respect for tomorrow’s meeting.”

  “You know I agree with you, but let’s give him a chance,” Randall whispered back, as Gayle’s glass was being filled. “And please do taste this wine. I have had it only once before and it is truly exquisite.”

  As the waiters removed the dessert plates, which had held the individually baked chocolate soufflés—Abigail/Barbara had had seconds—Jim stood and addressed the diners. “As you know, we are meeting all day tomorrow to discuss Project Wake Up. In Santa Barbara we developed an overview of the project, but tomorrow we will start delving into the details. Barbara has been working on related initiatives for years and brings her breadth of knowledge to our planning session. I know that Arnold has other plans and cannot join tomorrow’s meeting, but I am grateful that he was able to join us this evening and hope that he will be able to return at a future date and become a true partner in our endeavor.”

  “Yes, regrettably duty calls,” Arnold confirmed. “I must be in Africa early in the morning, so I will actually be leaving in about twenty minutes. I did want to at least meet Barbara, and of course it was great to reconnect with Randall and Gayle and to meet so many dedicated individuals working for the betterment of the planet.”

  “What a pity you are leaving so soon,” Gayle interjected. “I was hoping to explain to you why Project Wake Up is so important. I fear that you did not take seriously my comments when you were last here that the masculine cycle of the last 26,000 years has come to an end and that this new 26,000-year cycle will be dominated by feminine energy.”

  Arnold posted his standard smile. “I am sure we will have another occasion to discuss those beliefs.” Yet he could not help adding, “I really am not certain that you should identify your own views too closely with Project Wake Up. I, and those with whom I have influence, are only likely to support an organization or movement that is grounded in reality.” He was slightly slurring his words, and the amount he had already drunk fueled what he said next. “I confess, I find it pure speculation when you start talking about cycles and a change from masculine to feminine energy. I am not sure of your sources, but if you think the Mayans were the ones bearing this message, then all I can comment is: Where are the Mayans today? They were not very good at preserving their own civilization, beyond a few relics and oddball shamans performing rituals that don’t have any real impact on the world.”

  Barely containing her indignation, Gayle responded, “I do appreciate that you never hold back, Arnold. Those Mayan shamans may be much more effective and relevant than you realize. You are a powerful man, but you may be much more limited in what you can do to make a difference than you think. If you ask me, Project Wake Up could make good use of your money, but I doubt we will even want to have you assist us until you show some empathy for those who are not multimillionaires. To change the world requires efforts from everyone, not just those with material resources.”

  Arnold rose, holding onto a tight smile. “Regardless of our differences, Gayle, I do wish you well with your project. You are quite the embodiment of the feminine force yourself, and I always appreciate a strong voice whether in agreement with me or opposed. After all,” he ended, chuckling, “without opposition, what pleasure can I take in triumphing?”

  Arnold turned to Jim and Inéz and bowed slightly. “It has been a true pleasure. I look forward to my next visit to Mcely.” Smoothly he moved toward the door, where he was handed his coat. Through the doorway all could see him as he walked toward the BMW that was waiting to take him to his private plane.

  Gayle’s verbal skirmish with Arnold had clearly made Jim and some of the other guests uncomfortable, so after Arnold had left, Randall turned to Gayle and admonished her, “You know, Arnold has access to billions of dollars, possibly hundreds of billions. I do not think it a good strategy to bite the hand that might be able to feed Project Wake Up all the resources necessary to ensure success.”

  Gayle was still smarting from Arnold’s final remark. Of course he would assume he would triumph over a mere woman. “The whole idea of compromise is so last century. Project Wake Up is doomed unless all who participate are equally awake and aware.” She was keeping her voice low, but it vibrated with intensity. “How can we wake up anyone if some of the core members are themselves asleep? Project Wake Up is about raising the consciousness of everyone on our planet. Anything less will not work. Full feminine energy requires absolute commitment and the willingness to take risks to achieve the ultimate goal.” She saw that she was drawing more attention, and she continued with more fervor. “We must always bring nurturance and understanding to all that we do. We must not condone violence of any kind even if that violence comes wrapped in gold and furs. We must question people like Arnold Wheeler who give lip service to wanting to help the less privileged, but only if they can retain their luxuries and positions of power. That is just another form of condoning violence, don’t you see? It is time for real change, and as a mother and grandmother I will settle for nothing less.”

  “Do you really think Arnold represents such negative energy?” Eve asked.

  “I do not know him well enough to say,” Gayle replied, tempering her remarks, “but my instincts are that we must be careful.”

  “I certainly agree that we must be careful,” Randall added, “but let us also be fair. As you have stated, we need everyone to participate in Project Wake Up to ensure success. Everyone includes the wealthy and perhaps even the misguided. Let’s give Arnold a chance and see if he can become part of the team.”

  “I think Randall has a point,” Jim joined in. “Arnold’s foundation has given millions of dollars to worthy causes.” He noticed the storm gathering in Gayle’s eyes, and he allowed, “Arnold’s personal lifestyle is somewhat over the top, but you have to remember that he grew up affluent and has added to his family fortune ten times over. Arnold is a hardworking man and, as Randall has stated earlier, could singlehandedly fund Project Wake Up.”

  Softening her expression, Gayle relented. With her eyes sparkling with good cheer she remarked, “Of course we will give Arnold a chance. I only want what is best for Project Wake Up. I can, however, read energy, and I know that with Arnold there will be challenges. I hope he will come around and see that not everything that matters can be measured and documented to his satisfaction. There are unseen forces that will come to assist us, and if Arnold is meant to be part of our endeavor I am sure that there will be signs confirming what we are to do.”

  “Yes, let’s end this dinner on a positive note,” smiled Abigail/ Barbara. “I am so grateful to everyone who is attending and helping. I recognize what Gayle is saying and believe we should take her caution very seriously. At the same time, I have in the last fifty years never felt that my vision of realizing the universal human was so close at hand. I believe that Project Wake Up will be the final catalyst to achieve this goal. Thank you all so much, and especially you and Inéz for hosting this remarkable dinner.”

  “It has truly been our pleasure,” Inéz responded, speaking for Jim as well. “And now it is late and time for us all to rest. Tomorrow will be a busy day.”

  Gayle tried to sleep, but she could not get the image of Arnold Wheeler out of her head. She found him more than annoying. She thought his arrogance was dangerous—a symbol of all that needed to be changed. At last she got up. She decided to catch a breath of fresh air in the garden to calm her down enough to fall asleep. Careful not to wake up Randall, she put on her robe and a coat and shoes and walked down to the garden.

  She had gone only a few dozen feet into the garden when she felt a familiar presence. Drawing near was the blis
s of an angelic being. Turning to her left, she saw the blue dress of Mother Mary. “Do not be frightened, my child. All will be well. You are right to have your fears, but do not let your fears dissuade you. You are destined to succeed. The feminine energy is coming. It is already here. It is time to love and time to fight that which represses love. You are a fighter. You have been chosen to fight this fight.”

  Mother Mary folded Gayle into what seemed an embrace of light rather than a physical clasp. Mother Mary stepped back at last and, still holding Gayle’s hands, continued to advise her. When the conversation was over, Mother Mary imparted a look of deep and perfect love and then disappeared.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  THE POWER OF CONSCIOUS DREAMING

  THOSE WERE THE BEST FISH tacos I ever ate,” Randall told Gayle as he stuffed the last remnants of the avocado, fish, and salsa into his mouth.

  Although Randall had generated hundreds of millions of dollars in advances and royalties for his superstar author clients and tens of millions of dollars in commissions for himself and his staff, he liked simple, down-to-earth people and authentic dining experiences, whether fish tacos at the local taco stand in Cardiff or a hot dog with all the trimmings on the streets of New York.

  “It was not quite as elegant as the seven-course dinner we had at Chateau Mcely last night, but my vegetarian burrito was also excellent. I love this all-night taco stand,” Gayle agreed. “Thank God it’s still open at midnight. We are still on European time and I was famished.”

  “I’m amazed at everything we have accomplished at the Chateau in just two trips,” Randall said, thinking back. Then a new thought struck him. “You know, Barbara really seemed to be flying. She is always an inspiration, but it is as if she has a new lease on life.” His eyebrows rose in a question, and she nodded to indicate that she had noticed as well. “In any case, Jim and Inéz really seem to be embracing Project Wake Up. And I am amazed that the Virgin Mary materialized in front of you on each of our two visits!”

  “Yes, Mary’s presence at Chateau Mcely is the strongest I have ever experienced,” Gayle agreed. “I am not certain why Mother Mary is visiting me so frequently, but she seems to want to warn me about opposition from powerful forces to Project Wake Up.”

  “That does seem to be the case. Tell me again exactly what her last warning to you was?” Randall asked.

  “My last encounter with Mother Mary was even more powerful than the first. She took hold of my hands, and at one point she embraced me as she spoke. I do not remember her exact words, but it went something like, ‘All will be well. You have never wavered from your task. Your reward is at hand. The obstacles are dwindling, but certain people do not want you or your friends to succeed. Barbara is a special being. Take care. Take care.’ And with those few words she took one last look at me, her brilliant blue eyes glistening with knowledge and awareness, and disappeared.”

  “I know you asked me not to share your experience with Jim and Otto and the others, but I am still wondering if the warning was as much for them as for us. Do you really feel that we should keep this encounter a secret?” Randall asked as he rose to dispose of the plastic tray on which his tacos had been served.

  “At least for now, I think we must regard this as a sacred meeting not to be revealed. We are going back to Mcely for a third meeting to fully launch Project Wake Up at the end of the month, and I will sleep on it and see if Mary returns with any direction on what we are to do. I do think this latest encounter was not so much about my personal destiny as the destiny of our project, but it is best to be cautious. We do not know who among the project participants is motivated by higher will and who might have a less altruistic personal motive in using Project Wake Up for their own purposes. I felt that Mary was trying to warn us that we had to be cautious and that much is at stake,” Gayle explained.

  “I will be guided by you,” Randall agreed, smiling but serious. “You have always been my guardian angel, and I know that your extrasensory abilities have in almost all instances been accurate in guiding us toward our greater happiness and fulfillment.” He spread his arms wide, as if embracing the whole world. “I sense that we are on the verge of grounding the great vision that Barbara, Otto, Jim, and so many others have been evangelizing. The real work is now just beginning. We are about to see grand-scale changes in tens of millions of people.”

  “It is so strange to hear you talk this way, but it pleases me,” Gayle said. “Even five years ago you were so full of resistance to what I was seeing from the other side. What has changed for you?”

  Randall gave her a kiss on her lips and then drew back. “It’s your smile and your gentle ways. I have never met anyone so dedicated to loving all creatures as you. I have been skeptical for many years that you were too naïve, too kind, and too easily swayed by conspiracy theories that seemed impossible to me. Being with you these last eight years, though, I have begun to trust your intuition as much as my own.”

  Gayle grabbed Randall by the hand. “Come on, let’s go home.” They headed to their BMW and drove home to catch some much-needed sleep.

  Gayle had cultivated the art of conscious dreaming. Her first encounter with angels had been when she was just seven years old. She had grown up in a warm and loving family in southern California, but had two older brothers who delighted in teasing her and making sure she understood that they, and not she, were in charge when their parents were busy with other tasks.

  As older brothers, they sometimes went too far, once trapping her in a drainpipe underneath some nearby train tracks. They coaxed Gayle to follow them into the pipe and then quickly darted out and covered up the entrance with a plank of wood that was lying next to the drain. Gayle was caught in total darkness and started pleading to be let out. Just then a train sped by overhead, and the vibrations in the drainpipe were so loud and forceful that little seven-year-old Gayle was terribly frightened. It took her parents three days to assure her that she would not die. The trauma of the train noise and the claustrophobic experience of being trapped in the dark drainpipe made her physically sick for an entire week.

  During the recovery period from this mental trauma, Gayle started seeing angels. She could not understand why her brothers could be so cruel and why innocence seemed to be a weakness rather than a strength. Gayle’s sorrow was not just for herself but for all of humanity. She did not feel that being a human being was tolerable, and so she prayed for death. Raised as a Catholic, she knew about angels and prayers, but she was not yet old enough to know that suicide was a mortal sin and that a good Catholic girl should not be praying for death.

  The angels heard her prayers and came to her. They told her that she had a purpose on planet Earth and that they would always be near to protect and comfort her no matter how difficult her life might become. Gayle did not fully understand what the angels were telling her, but she realized that she would have to learn to get along in the imperfect world of her brothers and other people who could sometimes be cruel.

  Gayle’s life evolved with moments of joy and moments of sorrow, as most lives do. In her moments of sorrow she learned to take refuge in her dreams. The angels would often reveal themselves in her dreams, and though she was never sure exactly what they were trying to tell her, she took comfort in her visions and later in life learned how to consciously enter altered states. She became a remote viewer for the American government and learned to travel interdimensionally throughout the universe. Yet she encountered terrible situations that she did not want to see and abandoned that work, convinced that the governments of the world had knowledge from extraterrestrials that they were keeping from the general populace.

  Not knowing what to do with her ever-increasing psychic abilities, Gayle pursued Tibetan conscious dreaming meditation. She studied with sacred Tibetan masters for twenty years and learned how to enter dream states in which she could tap the sacred knowledge of the universe.

  It was into such a dream state that Gayle entered that night after sharing the
best tacos she and Randall had ever eaten. As she entered into her dream, she asked that the true meaning of the Virgin Mary’s warnings be revealed.

  In her dream state, Gayle was transported to a remote region of the universe filled with pure blackness. It was a void within a void. Nothing, not even a single vibration, existed in this space. Gayle felt as if she had become part of this nothingness. Suddenly, within the dream, a vibration appeared, as if from nowhere. This vibration vibrated within itself and created a dual vibration, and from this twin oscillation the equivalent of light and dark emerged. There was no longer only the blackness of the void within the void. She spied a variety of blackness and soon a variety of vibration. Gayle could not tell if the process took a trillion years or a single second, but she felt that she was observing the very creation of the universe.

  In that moment Gayle understood for the first time that there was no good or evil. The distinction between light and dark was arbitrary. They were two elements of the same energy and equally necessary for the evolution of life. And then suddenly Gayle awoke. With a dead certainty she knew that when she returned to Mcely, she would have a third encounter with the Virgin Mary. Then she would know to whom and when to reveal the warning that she had been given in the forest.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  THE ILLUMINATI

  GEORGE W. BUSH WAS A SIMPLE MAN. He could not believe that he had been president of the United States. He preferred to chop wood on his Texas ranch and play with his grandchildren. He had always been intimidated by his father and in a strange way was still a mama’s boy seeking to please his mother, Barbara Bush. If not for his mother, he would never had entered politics or agreed to accept the nomination to run for president. Part of him had really not wanted to win the election, and although he put on a brave face when Al Gore dropped his protest over the “illegal” vote counting in Florida that determined the ultimate result of the election, he was less surprised than disappointed that he would now become president. His father had assured him even before he had been nominated that his election was a “sure thing.”