Stories of Phil, Chapter 6

The clock showed 2:59 and Phil woke up wide-eyed awake. The room felt funny. He tossed a few minutes and rolled out of bed, grabbed some mexican blankets and folded them until he had his standard zazen setup.

He had given up using zafu cushions. After receiving a wrist watch from some alien named “Ald”,  a constant barrage of bat-shit omnipotent deities trying to gank it from him appeared almost every other day.

He dropped the mexican blankets in a stack in front of a blank wall.

“Blankets easy. Multi-functional,” he chirped.

He took his socks off, bowed to the folded blankets and sat on them in a half lotus posture and stared at the wall. Half lotus was his favorite “can’t get to fucking sleep” zazen posture. Other days when he was more limber he would do full lotus and occasionally he would slum with Burmese style sitting.

With no singing bowl he just said “Ding” and was off to reality. He’d given up singing bowls as well. They usually ran in the hundreds of dollars, and even though he could easily get the watch to make any singing bowl he wanted, Phil was, at heart, a minimalist.

Even with the most powerful piece of inter-dimentional technology attached to his wrist, he kept his simple, dumpy life as is. In fact, he had less stuff than ever.

He sat there in reality. Nothing special. A little uncomfortable but otherwise he was okay. His thoughts started slowing. The wall was there … blank … and blank …

And then it lit up like a big screen TV.

“Ding,” said Phil ending zazen. “Sheesh, can’t a guy get a few moments of peace?”

The wall morphed into a 3D image where he saw a team of ghostly beings frantically working. They were in a control room filled with computers and communication equipment was everywhere. Upon seeing Phil, one jumped up and ran to his supervisor. Phil could see him talking and waving his four arms but could hear nothing.

Phil morsed into his watch the following question. “Who are these people and how do I keep them from breaking into this universe?

A soft voice replied in his head. It was a female, non-emotional and unassuming. Insouciance incarnate.

“They are the Canta. A sophisticated race across many dimensions. They have a deluded being that thinks she is the true monad. Tell me to cross the dimension and change an equation within their system and I will do so and they will short out their entire operation. The extreme cost to rebuild it will delay them way beyond your life cycle.”

Phil morsed back.

“Great. Please do it but don’t harm them please.”

“Done,” whispered the voice.

Within minutes the apparition of the excited beings were confused. Their faces showed that things were going wrong – very wrong. Bedlam broke out. Smoke started spweing and just as their commander gazed down Phil eye to eye with contempt, the connection between the two Universes was severed right after Phil smiled and waved “bye.”

The wall was blank again. He got up, used the bathroom, brushed his teeth, ate a graham cracker, drank some almond milk and returned to the stacked blankets and sat down.

“Ding,” he chimed.

He sat for an hour and went to bed.

5 thoughts on “Stories of Phil, Chapter 6

    • Hang around? Of course. Maybe I miswrote when I said not my nightmare. I probably should have said it’s a nightmare I rather not dwell on. The priests and their hooded rough medieval robes actually are my nightmare. I just haven’t had that for a long time. I have thought that my iteration has drifted away from such drama but I am curious where you are going with this. I have credited such priests with moral implantations in order to gain control. Especially “don’t look” has been fruitful. Your “has a soul” and “doesn’t have a soul” also has moved me and brought me to a different point of view as well.

    • The TV provides the neither blank nor not blank random canvas for the mind. Maybe the blank wall can also provide this fertile backdrop.

      I am questioning the importances of the realities thus created. Written another way, if my experience of life is a subjective dream, can it be woken from? If it can, then does any of the drama that it previously contained hold any objective importance?

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