Part 37 (1/2)

”In other words,” Rama interrupted, ”you have Paul wrapped around your finger. You have learned much.” His twisted compliment threw me off balance, and I failed to defend the seven-year friends.h.i.+p.

I turned to my brother. (”Love ya, bro.”) I said, ”I am not attacking you in the Dream Plane.”

”Oh no?” Rama interrupted again.

”I'm not conscious of it.”

”Oh, sure you're not,” mocked Rama. Then, in a professorial voice, he explained how, in each family, only a limited amount of power could be pa.s.sed to the offspring. ”Typically, one child claims most of it.

The others are often so drained that they don't even notice it's gone.”

”Rama is an only child,” I thought.

”Agni used to have the power,” he went on. ”Now Dan has it.

They will have to fight each other for the rest of their lives...”

”That's bull!” I shouted.

The disciples looked shocked. No one spoke that way to Rama.

Now I was angry. It was still my turn. I turned to Rama.

My heart was pounding. (”Why do you tell Dana to tell me to tell Tom to call you? Why can't you call your old friend on your own?

You're playing power games.”) I said, ”You're a grown man. You have a Ph.D. You run a computer company and a spiritual organization.

Given three phone numbers, I think you should be able to contact Tom by *yourself*.” I sat down, stunned. I had spoken honestly to Rama.

It was invigorating.

”That's going to be a tough act to follow,” admitted Rama.

Then he began to speak. Within minutes he transported me with a tranquilizing voice and abstract language inside a fuzzy, familiar bubble where words were not questioned and consciousness seemed high. I found myself being drawn into his world.

It was comforting being back. Earlier, he had given me some play.

That made me feel important. I let my thoughts drift aimlessly about.

I found myself gazing, without blinking, into his eyes.

I found myself mesmerized by the sound and the rhythm of his words.

Somewhere far away, I found myself floating...my vision blurred...things went fuzzy...

”Hey!” I thought, bursting the mental bubble. ”He's formatting us again--only this time without the LSD!”

I stood back up. I was ready for action. I did not know what to do.

Rama stopped talking, squinted his eyes, and aimed his index finger at me.

I recalled a scene from The Last Wave, a movie Rama once took me to see, in which a sorcerer kills a man by pointing a ”death bone”

at him.

I now saw Rama as both friend and foe, mentor and tormentor, Christ and anti-Christ. I was frightened and confused.

Estranged, yet held by his seductively androgynous, authoritative face, I lapsed into a meditative stupor...

A glint of light caught my eye and snapped me out of the trance.

Rama was chanting something in a low, monotonous tone.

I seized the string with the bicycle lock key. I pictured bright purple sparks and blue lightning bolts radiating in all directions from the key. The light s.h.i.+elded me from attack and lit the path to the door.