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
“Zana!” Max rushed over and, before he could censor his reaction, hugged her thick, wooly midsection while smelling her familiar scent like that of wet dog. “I can’t tell you how happy I am you’re back!”
Her response was to cackle in her gorilla manner while ceremoniously presenting Max with one of three items she was carrying: an extremely large and heavy fruit that resembled an oversized pineapple.
“Thanks, Zana. What is this exactly?”
“A jutjut fruit,” answered Maxwallah, standing up himself. “It will make an excellent breakfast for us.”
Max examined Zana’s injured leg in the firelight but could find no trace of her wound—not even the suggestion of a scar. He was so elated to see her alive and well again he thought he would float.
Meanwhile, Maxwallah approached Zana and, reaching up with his right hand to touch her shoulder, said, “I see myself in you.”
Unexpectedly, Zana reached down with her right hand and touched Maxwallah’s shoulder so that the two formed a circuit. With absolute clarity, to Max’s astonishment, he heard her reply telepathically: “Zana sees herself in the Ombudo.”
The other two items she was holding were small leather pouches closed by drawstrings. These she now handed to Maxwallah with a barely discernible bow. “Thank you, Zana,” he said. “For everything.”
“What’s in the pouches?” asked Max, placing the jutjut fruit near the fire to keep it from freezing in the night.
“Berries and herbs.”
“Berries and herbs?”
“The berries come from the holywood tree that grows at the foot of the mountain as one travels toward the Inland Sea.”
“That’s a long way to go for berries.”
Maxwallah set the pouches on top of his backpack, grabbed his empty water flask, and shouldered his bow and quiver. “These are no ordinary berries.”
“What are they for?”
“They are for you.”
“Boiled as a tea, they will provide you with sound sleep and restore your strength. You will need it for training. Let us go fetch some water.” Maxwallah led the way down the stairs as Max followed and Zana brought up the rear.
“What’s in the other pouch?”
“What’s that—something for telling the future?”
“I am not sure I follow.”
“Among other things, tarroh leaves can be used to dramatically reduce the time it takes to tan animal hides.”
“Does this have anything to do with Zana’s elk?”
“Yes. Even if the pass over the Red Mountains becomes navigable, we could still encounter bitter cold or more snow, or both. Since your upper garment was destroyed, I would feel better if you wore a hide shirt beneath your poncho.”
“I guess I’d feel better, too. It certainly beats freezing.”
They were midway down the avenue of cherry trees approaching the plaza and fountain. Just then there came a deep, rumbling growl—which stood Max’s neck hairs on end—from the direction of the ball court.
Without hesitating, Maxwallah nocked an arrow in his bowstring. Zana jumped into action as well, quickly gathering a pair of rocks for throwing from some nearby ruins.
“What’s going on?” whispered Max, terrified. “What just growled at us? Whatever it was, it sounded really big.”
“It was a cave bear,” replied Maxwallah calmly.
“A cave bear?”
“You do realize, do you not, that you tend to repeat my statements back to me in the form of questions?”
“Sorry. It’s an old habit.”
“No need to apologize.”
All grew silent for a time. The only thing Max could hear was the sound of Zana sniffing. Then, almost palpably, the danger seemed to pass. Maxwallah breathed a sigh of relief and replaced the arrow in its quiver as the ravens started croaking from their roosts on the crumbling rooftops.
“We’re not safe here, are we?” said Max.
“Not at the moment. Especially at night.”
“Does this have anything to do with … me?”
“It has to do with the Way of All Things and therefore, yes, with you.”
“What’s the Way of All Things?”
“To be attracted to the energy of the space field, even as moths are attracted to the flame.”
The three companions started moving again as a tight, cautious group toward the fountain.
“You’re saying that animals,” said Max, “including dangerous ones, are drawn to this energy?”
“Correct. Even though they may be unaware of their own reasons for being attracted, the energy represents the current of evolution. It is the Way of All Things to seek out and attempt to merge with the space field.”
“Because instilled in all creatures, both sentient and inanimate, whether fauna or flora, is the imperative to evolve into more complex expressions of consciousness by way of the energy.”
“Even rocks. Nothing in nature is static, Maxwell. Stones have their own developmental phases and lifespans just like us. Everything in the cosmos is in motion … or ceases to be. To embrace this flow of energy is to embrace one’s own becoming.”
Max thought of Dewey Larson’s book, Universe of Motion, on loan from Professor Icarus gathering dust on his bookshelf in his dorm room. Suddenly, what Maxwallah was saying made a lot of sense. “So is this why I was attacked by deadly predators three times in as many days—because they were drawn to my energy?”
“Absolutely. Coming from the world of space, you are a tremendous source of evolutionary energy.”
Having arrived at the fountain, with Zana standing guard nearby, Maxwallah drank his fill and suggested that Max do likewise. When Max finished drinking, he said, “If I understand correctly, the Way of All Things would also explain why there’s a water dragon—whatever that is—camped out in Blue Lake below my father’s location.”
“You are a quick study,” replied Maxwallah while refilling his flask. “Your father is also a source of space energy—though not as strong, or as stable, as yourself.”
Max had another revelation. “This must be why cryptids show up in space-time near vortex points. They just naturally follow the energy whenever there’s an opening.”
“What are cryptids?”
“Animals from your world.”
“Ah, yes. We call visitors from your reality hunzabi, or displaced creatures.”
“I suppose I’m one of the hunzabi myself.”
“In a manner of speaking.”
“Do animals often attack you, too?”
“I have been a target all my life. But I am used to it. You are not. And unfortunately, things will only get worse.”
“The Umbodi and the Ombudo are about to begin training in the use of the energy of space here at Muru-amah.”
“You mean we’re about to turn this place into a lighthouse for energy-seeking creatures?”
“That is one way of putting it.”
“What kind of creatures are we talking about?”
“Cave bears, of course. Jorks. Saber-toothed tigers—”
“You just repeated my statement as a question again.”
“Sorry. Are saber-toothed tigers … common?”
“They are not uncommon.”
“Do not fret, Maxwell. Thanks to Zana, help is on the way.”
“What kind of help?”
“You will see. For now, let us do our business behind the cherry trees and return to the tower as quickly as possible.”
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.