Capricorn 23. While their bodies sleep, a group of people meet on the astral plane.
At night the soul sees in the dark and feels along the threads that connect it to many others. These threads are like the lines that depict roads on a map. Souls follow these lines to each other, gathering the way mist gathers into dewdrops.
I came to an ancient abandoned city high in the mountains where a swift brook flowed through the rocks amidst a green meadow. Here wandered naked people, some in groups, some alone, who talked or who held hands silently. Some sat under trees and studied strange documents together while others sought the privacy of a ruined temple to share a secret communion.
And I knew there were many other meeting places like this one, yet different in an endless variety of ways, places that are born and which die, generated according to the desires of the souls who inhabit them.
In this particular place, freed from time, souls give and take, merging with each other in a never-ending afternoon.
Waking in the morning some remember, others not at all, some feeling only a vague inexpressible residue of their encounters.
Those who remember most yearn to revisit these places, but although all are destined to know them consciously and remember them clearly, few have yet come to realize they are forever and always there.