This is an important and timely question explored in the highly acclaimed spiritual novel, SNOOZE: A STORY OF AWAKENING, winner of the 2015 National Indie Excellence Award for New Age Fiction.
Written with young adult and young-at-heart readers in mind, SNOOZE further proved its literary merit by being selected as a 2016 Readers’ Favorite International Book Award Finalist in the Young Adult-Coming of Age category and receiving an Honorable Mention in the 2014 Beach Book Festival Prize competition in the General Fiction category.
You’re invited to join—either with eyes or ears—Max Diver, a.k.a. “Snooze,” along the razor’s edge of a quest to rescue his astronaut father from a fate stranger than death in the exotic, perilous Otherworld of sleep.
This inspiring tale interweaves a plethora of paranormal and metaphysical subjects, from Bigfoot and enlightenment to the Loch Ness Monster and time travel via the Bermuda Triangle.
In her review of SNOOZE published in INDIE SHAMAN Magazine, June Kent had this to say about what she described as “superlative fiction”: “Engrossing, entertaining and occasionally humorous, SNOOZE also takes a look at a wide range of subjects including levitation, telepathy, lucid dreaming, spirit animals, parallel universes and shamanic-like journeying, giving a wide range of information effortlessly absorbed as you enjoy the story as well as much food for thought.”
Naturally, your generous review would be greatly appreciated even if you simply enjoy the full text now being presented on this blog and numerous podcast platforms. Keep in mind that paperback and ebook versions are for sale. A complimentary online version is also available for your reading pleasure.
SNOOZE: A STORY OF AWAKENING
By Sol Luckman
Bracing himself, expecting to be bewildered, Max followed the creature into the dark cave—where, to his amazement, he could actually see. Not very far and not very well, perhaps, but he was able to make out the enormous humanoid striding with arms swinging ahead of him through a weblike network of tunnels.
“Please wait!” he pleaded. “I have to rest.”
As the creature stopped and turned around, Max could see its eyes high above glowing a soft red in the surreal twilight that seemed to emanate from the cave walls themselves.
“I’m not used to this … this place,” explained Max, hopelessly trying to orient himself underground. “Where are we anyway?”
When his companion made no answer, taking a handful of deep breaths, Max motioned that he was ready to continue. “Just not so fast, for God’s sake,” he said. “You walk like most people run.”
The creature’s only acknowledgment of this request was to slow its pace. Soon, growing accustomed to navigating in semidarkness, Max got his second wind and was able to keep up without complaining for what seemed hours … until the tunnel began to brighten.
Almost imperceptibly at first, then steadily and noticeably, the walls glowed brighter and brighter, until they seemed no longer solid but diaphanous like heat waves, mirages of themselves through which he glimpsed the features of an external landscape: trees, streams, hills.
The creature stopped again for reasons of its own. Holding out a leathery hand the size of a baseball glove, it indicated with a grunt for Max to take it.
Not without trepidation, he extended his comparatively tiny hand, which the creature grasped firmly yet not too hard—at which point there was a sound like wind in tree branches accompanied by a searing flash of light.
Max found himself standing alone on a sandy beach beside the bluest water he had ever beheld. The sound he had heard was the breeze rustling the palm trees; and the blinding light was the deep tangerine sun pulsating overhead.
There was no sign of Bigfoot, but on the hill overlooking the ocean was a familiar sight: the casita surrounded by tiered gardens in front of which, just a few hours before while watching fireworks, he had glimpsed a vision of his mother—or rather, his mother if she had lived into her forties.
No one was outside the casita now, as Max made his way up a winding trail flanked by strangely bluish palm trees of an enormous size and many other plants with shapes and colors that seemed somehow … otherworldly.
“Wake up, Snooze!”
Popping up out of his dream like a dolphin clearing the water, Max smelled Old Spice as he came face to face with his father seated on the mattress beside him.
“I hated to wake you, Max, but I’ve got to head out.”
“What time is it?”
“Just after six.”
Dressed in his flying gear, Captain Diver was literally ready to walk out the door.
“I know. You sure you’ll be okay by yourself?”
“I should be home no later than eight. I left some cash on the kitchen counter, if you’d like to order a pizza, along with Dr. Morrow’s phone number in case of emergency.”
“No, I’m not trying to pressure you, Max. It’s just that with Nadine out of town, and Maizy and Tuesday traveling, I couldn’t think of anyone else I trusted.”
“Not to worry, Dad. I’ve decided I’d like to see Dr. Morrow. Maybe he really could help me … understand myself better.”
“Are you certain you want to do this—for you, not because I want you to?”
“Okay. We’ll look into scheduling an appointment when I get back—maybe for next week.”
“You behave yourself today, all right?”
“Don’t worry. I will.”
Captain Diver kissed his son’s forehead and was almost out into the hallway when Max called after him, “Dad?”
“You be careful down there, all right?”
“Not to worry.”
Around eight o’clock that night, after a quiet New Year’s Day Max spent reading and watching TV, around the time Captain Diver should have been walking back in the front door, there was a loud knock instead.
Max discovered Dr. Morrow fidgeting on the doorstep in a beige trench coat. Peering at the boy from behind his wire-rimmed spectacles, he sighed and said with his slight accent, “Do you mind if I come in?”
“Where’s my father?” Max demanded as Dr. Morrow let himself in and plopped down on the couch still in his coat.
“That’s what I’m here to tell you, Max.”
“Well, would you please hurry?”
A pained look crossed Dr. Morrow’s thin European face. It occurred to Max he looked kind of shaken—and the boy suddenly felt sorry for being rude.
“I don’t know how to tell you this, Max, except to just tell you.”
“Tell me what?”
“As of fifteen hundred hours this afternoon, your father is officially MIA.”
“Missing in action.”
“Lost at sea with no radio contact. It’s possible he’ll show back up—but I wouldn’t count on it. His plane was totally lost from radar.”
“The Tempus Fugit … lost?” was all Max, stunned and in shock, managed to stammer.
“I’m afraid so, Max. I’m truly, truly sorry. Your father was … my friend. Many more people than just yourself lost a hero today.”
Copyright © Sol Luckman. All Rights Reserved.
Introducing Sol Luckman’s new visionary novel, CALI THE DESTROYER. Learn about the single most censored story in the history of the human race—and why it matters today.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Sol Luckman is a pioneering ink and acrylic painter whose work has been featured on mainstream book covers, the fast-paced trading game BAZAAR, and at least one tattoo on a female leg last sighted in Australia.
Sol is also an acclaimed author of fiction, nonfiction, and humor. His books include the international bestselling CONSCIOUS HEALING, which you can read free online, and its popular sequel, POTENTIATE YOUR DNA, available in English and Spanish.
Sol’s popular book of humor and satire, THE ANGEL’S DICTIONARY: A SPIRITED GLOSSARY FOR THE LITTLE DEVIL IN YOU, received the 2017 National Indie Excellence Award for Humor and was selected as a Finalist in the Humor category of both the 2018 International Book Awards and the 2018 Best Book Awards.