6.1 Astral Projection

On the top of Mt Teghenis, Tyler Friesen looked around at the breathtaking view on a sunny day. Greenish or brownish brushes of the Tsaghkadzor valley lay below the snowcapped land and beyond, the town of Hrazdan in his obvious eye. On a clear day like this, Tyler caught a picture-perfect view of the mountains on the horizon covered in snow and the terrain in between with patches of brown shades. To his surprise, he was looking on at a large body of water like a scene on a postcard.

“What’s that lake up there?” he asked Cherry.

“That is Lake Sevan,” she replied.

“How far is it?”

“Seventy kilometres.”

“Gosh!” he cried, “Beautiful! Looks like it’s lying so close to us.” He raised his Nikon camera and began to snap pictures of the scenario and the woman smiling at him like a tulip. “You know how I felt on the chairlift?”

She shook her head.

“Like you say, light-headed and floating. Thirty feet below my boots, I see this bright white snow.”

“You should try a corporeal levitation one day,” she told him, “From my practice of the esoteric teachings of Kabbalah, I have achieved very successful results with my clients on astral projection.”

“You’re kidding!”

“You don’t want to believe me!”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Mister Friesen, it is too complicated to explain. If I tell you that you’ll be free falling without adrenaline released in your body. It requires a long procedure to get to that point. Let’s drink!” Cherry produced a miniature bottle of Cognac and passed to him.

He took a sip and said, “I’m interested to try that and I want you to do some psychic reading as well.”

“It’s a spiritual course that I do one-on-one at my place in Makravan. Many clients quit before getting there. The difficult part is to continue with fasting.”

“I might be able to stand the fasts,” he said.

“Well, I’ll show you then what’s in the course.”

“Let’s dive!” Tyler judged, “We have to tackle two thousand nine hundred metres down the slope.”

“Let’s go!” She was first to dart into the snow on her skis followed by Tyler who dropped his goggles and knifed his way leaving behind a snake path on the thick layer of snow evenly spread on the ground. It was one of the best ski courses he tried.

Cherry and Tyler rode on bicycles through a lane up the hill with maple trees on the sides. It was misty and a light precipitation felt in air, windy and cold. On top of the hill, he caught sight of a black dome standing on his right few hundred yards away.

“That is the Makravank Monastery, a 13^th century church dedicated to Surb Astvatsatsin,” said the woman standing with her bicycle between her legs, “Holy Mother of God.”

“That looks damn old,” he uttered.

“Do you know what Armenia is known for?”

“No,” he shrugged, “genocide…perhaps!”

She frowned, “True. Besides, it is also known for the oldest churches in the world. They are hidden in the villages and hard to find.”

“What is that town?” he pointed to the houses seen beyond the village.

“That is part of Hrazdan these days where train stops and there is a reservoir lying further south.”

Grass was sparse and tainted on this side of the slope but there were beautiful trees in the valley hiding the huts and few trees appeared around the monastery. They descended at ease rolling down the narrow lane into the small village and stopped by one of the houses they reached first.

“This is my place,” she said.

He paused by the stone wall without a window on this side. By the front, beneath the trees, there stood a cozy-looking wooden bench and a table in the middle. They climbed up the steps to a portico and she undid the padlock on the door. There stood a rocking chair, wooden benches and two windows on this wall. She went in and switched on the lights.

He entered a large vestibule and this house was divided into five parts with four rooms by the corners. Two fireplaces on both sides of the vestibule paired with two rooms on either side. He sat down beside the highly polished wooden table and removed his gloves. Cherry lit one of the fireplaces with a kindler, filled the kettle with tap water and placed on the grid.

“Let me get your bag,” she entered the bedroom on the far right and the one on left was the lavatory.

In a moment, she carried his bag and placed on the table. “This is the library,” she pointed to the door on the left close to the entrance, “And this is the makeshift clinic where I treat my clients.” She opened the door and switched on a light.

Tyler got up from the chair to take a look. All he could see were black screens drawn on four walls around a clinical bed and a fireplace by the entrance. A spherical dome on every corner contained several electric bulbs.

She explained, “In deep sleep exercise, it triggers an astral projection and it cannot be seen. These screens are coated with sulphur and when the incandescent light bulbs bring in heat over 370° Fahrenheit, sulphur rays get reflected and a faint image of the projection can be seen to the naked eye. This room will be arranged with herbs and flowers to improve your sleep quality. Here is a flyer for you with the course prices.”

He received it and felt the mattress covered with a neat white sheet on the narrow bed which seemed not very soft to his touch.

She continued, “If I observe carefully, I’ll be able to see the astral projection like a faint glow rising up to the ceiling and this beam passes through anything, any solid matter so, here’s what you should know. If you have a visual like a dream, you should not hesitate to ascend. If you do, it will discontinue. You must let it go without fear, feel the levitation and wake up with a clear vision. For that you need some practice.”

“Obviously,” he realised he was silent again.

“Let’s go have a drink,” she offered, “I have some Areni wine.” She stepped to remove the kettle from the stove.

“What did you say you majored at Oxford?”

“Physics,” Cherry picked two large wine glasses, “It was the longest journey I took. I spent sixteen years in the United Kingdom without coming home.”

“And how did you end up doing this?”

“My grandma,” she said from the library picking a red wine, “Some ancient roots prevailed in their belief patterns even after Romanising of the region. It is also a mix of mysticism and science.”

Tyler opened his bag and picked the Colt, placed it on the table.

“Is it loaded?”

“Fully loaded. I didn’t bring a spare magazine.”