Dr. Apples®: The Psychic Chronicles – Chapter 15

CHAPTER 15

You’ll get here

 After Dr. Apples’ departure, I find myself wrestling with a multitude of thoughts and emotions. The room turns eerily silent, the weight of his last words still lingering, pressing down on me with a mixture of fear, responsibility, and an unexpected surge of rebellion. ‘Stay in the house,’ he commands. I roll my eyes. It’s not his departure that frightens me—it’s the uncertainty of what follows.

The candle snuffs out—suddenly, eerily. I focus my thoughts and flick an energetic spark at the wick. It grows to a strong flame and burns brightly.   

 With relighting the candle using a flick of my magic, a rebellious thought flickers alongside it. If bending fire to my will comes this naturally, maybe it’s not about expanding my magical abilities but understanding and pushing beyond their perceived boundaries. Teleportation, as Dr. Apples demonstrates, is about bridging distances instantly. A feat he performs with such casual brilliance, in the blink of an eye. But what if my true strength isn’t in conquering space but in mastering the unseen? In venturing into realms unbound by physical laws?

 Reflecting on Dr. Apples’ mastery over a wide array of magical disciplines, it dawns on me that perhaps my role in this unseen war isn’t about honing my elemental magic — because I apparently suck at it. Instead, it might lie in exploring something more intangible, like astral projection. Astral projection offers not just movement but a profound freedom to traverse the astral plane, gleaning insights and exerting influence in ways the physical world cannot confine -or so I’ve heard through Doc.

 Astral projection isn’t just about traversing from one point to another; it’s about embracing a freedom that transcends physical constraints. It promises the ability to explore vast, unseen realms, to be both a silent guardian and an adventurous explorer of the mysteries. And this should be nothing too difficult than me having my psychic vision experiences, right? There’s an allure to astral projection—a magic that could let me weave through the fabric of realities, uncover secrets veiled from mortal eyes, and perhaps even tip the scales in our hidden war. Yes, this feels right. Like I’ve stumbled upon a missing piece.  

 When Dr. Apples shares his astral projection stories with me, there’s a spark in his eye, a mix of pride and wonder about his journeys. From his accidental discovery of astral projection at a young age to mastering this profound skill. He’s transformed his bedtime into a launching pad for celestial voyages, gradually honing his skills in astral projection.

It strikes me that… if he could learn and explore such realms on his own, perhaps there’s hope for me too. And I don’t have to go about this as a newbie. I’ll dive into a psychic trance to grasp how Dr. Apples embraces the astral, seeking first-hand insight into his methods!

I’m so clever.

I take a deep breath and as I exhale, the world around me fades, giving way to the unmistakable scent of citrus and florals, reminiscent of Florida Water. It’s a gentle yet profound transition, as if the very essence of the air around me is shifting, carrying me away from the tangible to the realm of the unseen. A sensation of falling envelops me, not with fear, but with anticipation, like stepping off a ledge knowing a net will appear.

 And then, the psychic visions come...

 It starts as blurry images, a murmur of distant times and places that gradually sharpens into clarity. I’m transported to a familiar yet distant place, where, where the moonlight filters through white curtains, even though soft drops of rain hit the window at night, in Dr. Apples’ bedroom. The rhythmic sound of rain against the window gradually gets louder.  

 Young Dr. Apples, I assume around twelve-years of age, with his impeccably shaped afro and crisply pressed pajamas, tucks himself in for bed in a room that’s a study in simplicity and order, yet unexpectedly warmed by a cheerful pink piggybank on the nightstand. Lying down, the room seems to pause, charged with an anticipatory energy. This invisible force envelops him, a sensation so intense I feel it as the hairs on my arm rise.

 The moment Dr. Apples reclines, the atmosphere shifts; his eyes close, and a tingling sensation, almost numbness, starts at his fingertips and toes then spread to his chest. This energy intensifies, centering on his chest like a star being born. Despite the intense sensation urging him to move or react, he remains perfectly still, a battle I can sense but not see.

This escalating sensation signals not a struggle but an invitation to move forward; still, he remains motionless. And for a long while, it’s just this: Breathe in; breathe out; be still. The itch on his arm intensifies: Breathe in; breathe out; be still. The thought of morning approaching: Breathe in; breathe out; be still. Feeling uncomfortable and considering a readjustment: Breathe in; breathe out; be still. Wait. Is he asleep? No? Yes. Maybe? It’s all the same: Breathe in; breathe out; be still.

Suddenly, there’s a powerful surge of energy; a pull that guides him into a state of perfect calm and detachment. He achieves a detachment that goes beyond mere physical liberation. He enters a state of pure consciousness, venturing beyond our physical realm. His astral body separates from his physical form, floating just above it, resembling a ghostly semi-transparent version of himself. His astral form opens its eyes to view his physical body.

As his astral body hovers above the bed and adjusts to the scene, it rises. This translucent and faintly glowing version of himself ascends through the ceiling with serene grace, escaping the physical confines of his room.

Floating above his house, the world below transforms; his cozy, familiar bedroom becomes just a small part of a larger, intricate pattern of life. Hovering over the roof of his shotgun house, he takes a moment to appreciate this unique perspective. The rain, which appears as silver threads against the night in the physical world, passes through him without sensation. From this vantage point, the neighborhood stretches out beneath him—a mosaic of homes, streets, and flickering lights, each telling its own silent story, appearing more like an oil painting than solid matter. He rises higher.

Ascending further, he moves through the clouds. The rain vanishes. Dr. Apples marvels at the expanding vista below. The neighborhood, once a detailed map beneath him, now merges into a broader tapestry of the city. Streets and lights interweave, forming a glowing network of life that pulses in the night’s quiet.

He rises higher.

Hovering around Earth’s orbit, Dr. Apples watches in awe as the lands below spread wide, a mosaic of greens and browns, cradled by the vast blue seas. From this extraordinary vantage, the world below exudes a tranquil harmony, presenting itself as a unified, vibrant organism, softly pulsing in the cosmic silence. Clouds drift below, casting moving shadows over the varied terrain—mountains, forests, deserts—all bathed in a gentle interplay of light and shadow.

Above me, stars twinkle, not just as lights, but as ancient guardians of the cosmos. I’m witnessing eternity...

For a moment, we linger, and then we ascend higher.

 Silence swallows us, profound and deep. Yet, it’s a silence filled with whispers, stories without language. I lean in, as if I could hear them.

 Higher still, Earth itself now takes center stage. The planet’s curvature becomes visible, the blues of the oceans more profound against the greens of the land, all encased in the swirling whites of cloud cover. It’s a view that humbles as much as it exhilarates. Words can’t express this emotion. Around the backdrop of Earth is blackness.

My heart races, pounding against my ribs as if trying to break free and join the cosmic dance. For a moment, I’m lost, and all troubles are a distant memory.

 He rises higher.

From his exceptional vantage point, Dr. Apples surveys the cosmos, experiencing a deep bond with the universe. Earth has vanished from view, replaced by enveloping darkness, with only the sun’s distant, dancing flames providing a stark contrast. This moment is an unmatched tranquility, an intense realization of belonging to something vastly beyond his individual existence.

We are but whispers in the wind, yet here I stand, listening to the universe’s secrets. What does it mean to be so small, yet so connected? This view, from this unimaginable vantage, is intoxicating.

 And yet, higher we go.

The vastness of space envelops him, with the infinite black of the cosmos. This isn’t just darkness; it’s a canvas awaiting the strokes of paint. The silence of space isn’t empty but filled with the soft harmony of celestial bodies, a delicate symphony of cosmic whispers. It is here where Dr. Apples floats. All that’s here is blackness and your thoughts.  

 My breath catches. The darkness begins to part: a network of glowing green lines stretch out across the void like the veins of the universe. These lines connect horizontally and vertically, draw a lattice of emerald energy lines to reveal the skeleton of the universe. Had these always been here? A luminous framework that connects stars and galaxies, showcasing the interconnectedness of all cosmic entities. My hand reaches out involuntarily, grasping for the impossible. My hands are made of grids too.

At the intersections of some of these glowing lines, points of light that twinkle like distant lighthouses might mark realms unknown or the crossroads of galactic pathways. The grid itself seems to breathe. Beneath us unfolds a cosmic grid, alive and pulsing as if it holds its own life force. In front of us, smaller grids sketch out the outlines of creatures—distant yet compelling enough to go nearer, but we didn’t dare.

 These beings take the shape of mythical creatures we’ve only dreamed of: serpents, avian wonders, monsters conjured from the depths of imagination. They move in harmony with the vast grid that stretches into infinity, a sight that fills us with awe. With effortless grace, they navigate the cosmic expanse, fading into the vast blackness as silently as they appeared.

As the celestial beings weave through the stars, their light outshining the brightest constellations I’ve known, I’m struck by a profound realization. The most breathtaking sunset I’ve witnessed, with its explosion of colors across the sky, feels dim and distant now. This—this boundless dance of light and darkness—is beauty in its purest form, a spectacle that redefines my understanding of wonder.

 The experience is surreal, a vivid tapestry of motion unfurling before us, and I hope, as he does, to etch every detail into memory.

Captivated, I float around Dr. Apples, marveling as these luminous beings glide across the cosmos, contrasting light against the dark void. Suddenly, compelled by an instinct, I glance to my left. As I turn, a colossal form of a grid entity sweeps by, emitting a deep, resonant sound, its approach similar to an oncoming train, vast and overwhelming. Its form, easily tenfold my size, leaves me awe-struck. Yet, when I turn around full circle, only Dr. Apples and I remain. His own gaze darting around, indicating he too sensed or saw the entity’s fleeting presence.

 As sure as it was over, the grid creature looms over us again. Constructed from vibrant green lines, its elongated form allows the blackness of space to peer through, even as it surges past, the force of its passage sending vibrations through us. A shiver of fear races through me, cold and sharp as the void itself. My heart pounds, a frantic drummer warning of danger, urging me to retreat. The entity looms. Massive. Unbelievable. My mind reels.

 “What was that? Dr. Apples exclaimed.

 We hear a chirp in the far-off distance.

  “What?” he says, startled. Birds chirp louder.

It’s time for breakfast, silly,” his mother’s voice, both warm and genuine, cuts through the universe and the last tendrils of his astral journey. Her call from beyond the door yanks him back from the brink of the cosmos to the safety and familiarity of his bedroom. As he sits up, he’s momentarily caught between worlds, savoring the lingering thrill of cosmic secrets and the comforting pull of the every day.

The sunlight, filtering through the curtains, casts a soft glow across the room, illuminating the young Dr. Apples as he rubs his eyes. I stand in the room’s corner, trying to ensure I remember all of this. His eyes, a deep, rich brown, snap open, locking onto mine with an intensity that sends a jolt through me. His gaze, filled with a mix of shock and disbelief, pierces me to the core.

For a moment, I’m frozen, caught in the impossible realization that he might actually see me! But no, that’s absurd. I am merely an observer, invisible, intangible. Yet, as his gaze remains unflinchingly on mine, a cold dread washes over me.

 If he doesn’t see me...

 Then what?

 Wait, what’s behind me?