A Fleeting Moment of Chance by Kevin Wikse

Snapping my Dream Journal shut hard with his hand, he shot me a defeated but vengeful glance, then looked away with a long, annoyed sigh. I knew he had conceded to my argument and his conditions, concessions I am confident he never thought he'd have to make, were about to follow. I've kept a dream journal for decades, and from 1999 to 2004, my dreams were preoccupied with Global Cataclysms, Large-scale UFO events speaking with Crystal Skulls, and what had become the Nahali, or Toltec Tradition. 

In one dream entry, in particular, a lucid dream, I detailed my delivering the soul of recently passed-over Carlos Castaneda out of captivity, freeing him from the clutches of "inorganic beings." In our escape from the penumbral labyrinth, I was almost captured. Carlos Castaneda returned the favor, and together, we watched each other's backs as we opened doorways to our proper and respective abodes. Before he left, Carlos told me. "My line is broken, my unit failed, I failed, but the warriors can return through you." 

The impact of that experience led me to do what I did in 2009 and begin recruiting a martial-minded esoteric order over the internet. My dreams of Global Cataclysm were not."symbolic" of a personal inner world crisis. That extravagantly erroneous line of Jungian-based new-age thinking and soft-handed metaphysical novocaine is why Carlos Castaneda's lineage failed miserably. It's why no other psychic or medium saw the coming of the 2020 planned pandemic, weaponized vaccines, and Global Depopulation event as I did in 2009 (naming it in one of my YouTube videos) and then posting about it again in 2014 (maybe earlier, a lot of my work has been banned and removed, so I can't check). 

Part of the problem with Carlos Castaneda's line and the resulting consequences of their influence on the emerging new-age consciousness was the tolerance of subjective experiences and realities and the over-reliance on "inner worlds." Rather than take the rigid stance of a warrior and demand validation of inner world experiences via manifestation upon the proving ground known as the material plane, Castaneda, a legitimate Nahal, unfortunately pandered to the delusions of his followers for fame, financial benefit and sexual gratification. "Going within" doesn't mean staying there, escaping to and or barricading oneself. It's all a worthless daydream, an airy imagining, unless it can shoulder the weight of the physical world to be measured and assigned merit. 

Fourteen years later, after I dreamed of rescuing Carlos Castaneda, I watched another man struggle with its meaning. The weight of the material world and the conviction to a specific cause was coming to rest upon my "inner" experience. The foundations of my claims held up against heavy scrutiny; they were found to be objective rather than subjective and, thereby, of value. This man did not think such a commodity existed until now, and now its potential worth weighed heavy upon his soul. 

My mentor, Obsidian Knife, had me travel up to Cortez, Colorado, and request a meeting with the formal lineage holder of his line. Obsidian Knife could only fully induct me into the order if its head approved. Had I not documented my dream of Carlos Castaneda nearly two decades ago, being approved would have been impossible. 

Carlos Castaneda states that the Toltec line originated in Atlantis before its overreach for Global domination, self-destruction, and sinking beneath the ocean. Atlantis's failure led to the enigmatic beings known as the "Guardians of the Human Race," designating the Toltecs (men and women of knowledge) to be stewards and keepers of knowledge, helping humanity realize the "one truth." What is that one truth? It's hard to say, but don't bother asking Carlos Castaneda's line, as rampant subjectivity prevents one from answering that question with anything but another question. 

Carlos Castaneda and Don Juan's stories inspired me and even compelled me to take risks and chances I probably shouldn't have, as they proved costly. I am glad I did, as here I was, sitting across from a Nagual of what he would say was a divergent line of Toltec lineage warriors and seers but who did not share the same enthusiasm for fame and notoriety as Carlos Castaneda. 

While Castaneda's line reveled in lofty amethyst-hued ideals, patchouli visions, and mescaline-fueled guided meditations, claiming to be non-militant warriors armed only with love, this line or order was one of the wild dogs, wolves, and coyotes who prowled the land of shadow—armed with lethal weapons and full intent to use them. They feed the desert a steady diet of meat, depraved individuals who brought misery and shame to the native peoples via human trafficking, drug dealing, the sex trade, and baby harvesting. 

An order of warriors formed in the Four Corners area (where Utah, Arizona, Colorado, and New Mexico all touch), spiritually overseen by hero twins Naayeeneizghanee, who is the slayer of monsters, and Tobajischeenee (Of the water), the Hunters of Foreign (Alien) Gods, made bodies or built and kept like Kachina idols, forever hungry for the blood of evil, humans or otherwise. 

This order claimed a link to the Toltecs, men, and women of knowledge but a more visceral and objective knowledge. According to them, the ancient civilizations of South America and Mexico were direct descendants of the surviving Atlantians, and the Toltecs were a warrior/priest class of the Nahuatl. Evil forces such as the Snake, Iguana, and Bat cults, who practiced vampirism and cannibalism, rooted themselves in Mesoamerican culture, using the incoming Spanish conquistadors and Catholic Church as proxy armies against the remaining holdouts and rivals who refused to submit to them before corrupting those foreign forces of power for their benefit as well. 

They speak of a warrior and mystic, perhaps an immortal, a foreigner, who appeared in Mexico circa the 1600s under the banner of the Eagle or Garuda. He systematically eliminated much of the influence of the Iguana, Snake, and Bat Cults. However, the forebears of this line refused to join in acts of sexual magic with this immortal being. They were deemed "outcasts" by the other Toltec lineages who did engage sexually with it, namely those of Carlos Castaneda's line. They named the being "The Death Defer." 

After a long pause, the man nodded and motioned to another man, who produced a wooden box. He spread out a multicolored cloth on the desktop in front of him. Opening the box and reaching inside, he presented an item that caused me to fall into a state of shock; my heart thundered upon seeing it. A Crystal Skull cradled in his hands. He set it upon the cloth. I had dreamed of seeing one for so long; I could hardly accept that this moment had finally manifested. 

The moment of awe and silence abruptly shattered when he erupted with a loud and quickened voice. 

"You are not one of us. You are not of Castaneda's line, yet you saved him from an eternity of torment by an ancient enemy. You are not one of us, yet you have shown yourself to be a friend in that we make prey of the same people. You make recompense for actions you committed in former incarnations. Your spirit, as punishment, is barred from entering back into the bloodline of our people until all your wrongs are atoned for. As such, you are barred from entering this order. But we will admit you used to be one of us. We no longer turn our backs on you. We will look you in the eye and say we remember you, but you are a distant memory. But because you have not faded completely, and you have returned as an outsider to keep your agreements, we can be associates. 

You may train under Obsidian Knife and run as a dog in his pack until you can fend for yourself. Castaneda was right: warriors can return through you, but your line comes through a moment of fleeting chance for which you had a preserved memory. In saving Castaneda, you seized a moment in which an opportunity of redemption for you both was made, at least possible, but not promised. 

When you have everything you need to start a line of warriors, Obsidian Knife will run you off. What you do next is on you and you alone. We wash our hands of this and await your return, but only as one of us and not before." 

Just as abruptly, he went quiet. A few moments passed, and he seemed more aware of his surroundings. He put the Crystal Skull back in the box. 

"You got what you needed," he said, tossing me back to Dream Journal from over his desk.

"Yes. Thank you," I replied.

"Don't thank me. I wanted to tell you to go fuck yourself."

I nodded and left the room. 

The message was not from him, thereby a pure transmission of knowledge and power—a motivating truth I could abide in and use to plot and calculate my trajectory forward. 

It was a fleeting moment of chance. If I could seize it before, I could do it again. Obsidian Knife agreed but warned me that our friendship would never progress further. It was unfortunate, but the way things were. I was no longer a member of his pack but a stray that he would tolerate only long enough to gain a bite, reflecting his training.  

"To be soft on you when you must eventually recruit a pack of your own would be truly cruel," he said, barring me from his house. 

"Strays can sleep on the porch, but don't bother looking for a food bowl." He slammed his door and locked it. 

I sat wrapped in a dirty blanket on his porch bench, feeling the pull of the familiar liminal space as I stared into the vast night sky over the desert. I had fallen between the cracks again. I was not alone, but I was not with friends. I wasn't safe, but I wasn't in danger. I was not a spirit so much as I was a ghost. 

A purple-hued floater suddenly swept across my vision. I fired out my hand as Obsidian Knife instructed me to "catch" it. These are "seen" as part of the fleeting moments, as an act of re-capturing personal power (my depression could be seen as my power leaking from my luminous cocoon, and I was not only able to perceive it but re-claim it). It was a challenge for all the warriors under him to be ready and waiting to pounce on every opportunity to seize or re-claim personal power. My present circumstances were also a challenge. I either disappear into the cracks between the world, never to fully emerge again, or apply myself to this in-between time so that I might learn the art of practice of a formidable and capable warrior possessing multidimensional awareness. 

"At least you can see the cracks between the worlds," a voice whispered. I still didn't know who or what it was, but it was right. 

Indeed, this was a fleeting moment of chance, and I resolved then and there never to let myself or my future pack down. 

-Kevin Wikse