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.
Now for the first time ever, this epic visionary tale is being officially serialized—in both readable and audible formats.
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.”
If you’d like your own downloadable review copy to share your thoughts via Amazon, Goodreads and elsewhere, read details and contact the author with your request.
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.
IMPORTANT: Be sure to follow Snooze 2 Awaken and/or Sol Luckman Uncensored for alerts as new chapters of the 84 in total that make up Max’s extraordinary story become available.
SNOOZE: A STORY OF AWAKENING
By Sol Luckman
Still dripping from a much-needed cleanse (complete with lavender-scented soap) in the Sacred Pool, Max’s intuitive sense kicked into high gear as he followed Maxwallah past the stinking elk tree and under the row of cherries into the long avenue.
Instinctively, he gripped the hilt of his obsidian sword, which he carried in its scabbard, even though he didn’t have the faintest idea how to use it. Happily, he didn’t need to learn swordsmanship on the fly. Muru-amah was teeming with strange creatures, true enough, but they were all of the friendly variety.
Sasquatches were everywhere. There must have been a hundred, all adult males of varying colors, shapes, and sizes. Some were busy chipping and stacking rocks into little pyramids—and more seemed to be arriving. “What’s going on here?” Max asked his grinning twin.
“Help has arrived.”
“Protection … and perhaps other forms of aid.”
“How did they know to come here?”
“Zana has been busy.”
“Rounding them up.”
Max walked slowly, taking in this genuinely otherworldly spectacle—only to realize, as his curious gaze was returned by one Sasquatch after another, that for them he was the otherworldly spectacle.
When the twins arrived back at their camp atop the astronomy tower, an entire section of the wall had been stockpiled with a range of foodstuffs: bandu eggs in leaf envelopes, giant coconuts, enormous apples, jut-jut fruits, bananas, wild carrots, fresh salmon, ring-neck pheasants, a young deer, a wild boar. “For a place with no supermarkets,” said Max, “this is a pretty good imitation. Where did all this stuff come from?”
“Where do you think? Our guests.”
Max stashed his sword under the shelter, peeled a banana the size of a bicycle seat, and devoured it where he stood. “They must have known we were in dire need of food.”
“Perhaps, perhaps not. It is their custom to bring gifts of sustenance when gathering—especially on important occasions.”
“What’s the occasion?”
“You, my friend. The Umbodi does not arrive in our world every day.”
“What do they want from me?”
“From you? Nothing. They come simply to be in your presence—and to ensure that you live to fulfill your purpose.”
“And what might that be?”
“To complete the Circle of Life, of course, and unify our worlds so that others—including the Almasty themselves—may follow in your footsteps.”
“You keep talking about the Circle of Life, but I still don’t completely understand it. Care to elaborate on what you mean by unifying our worlds?”
Maxwallah, still wearing his backpack, selected a ripe jut-jut fruit and headed for the stairs. “All in good time, Maxwell.”
“Where are you going?”
“To sit on the sun.”
“To sit on the … sun?”
“I do not have confidence you will ever break your habit of repeating my statements as questions.”
“I don’t have confidence you’ll ever break your habit of speaking in riddles.”
“Touché. See you in a few hours.”
“Aren’t we going to train this afternoon?”
“We will train tonight. You should eat and rest now after the morning’s exertions.”
“You’re actually going to leave me here all alone surrounded by Sasquatches?”
“Why not? It is your party.”
Left to his own devices, still hungry, Max ate a couple of raw bandu eggs and the better part of an apple. Afterward, he lay down on his pallet of pine needles. But with so much rock-chipping filling the air with exotic music, he was unable to fall asleep and eventually got back up.
Fingering Maxwallah’s bow, he tried pulling back the string but wasn’t strong enough to draw it very far. He examined one of the black-feathered arrows in his twin’s quiver—only to discover that its obsidian arrowhead was nearly identical to the one from the orchard still in his pocket.
For the first time since showing up in the cosmic sector, Max was actually bored. He was also more than a little thirsty after his midday repast, so he descended from the tower and walked in the direction of the fountain.
He could feel many eyes on him as he entered the plaza and drank from the basin. Turning around at last, he found himself facing a crowd of swaying Sasquatches that had gathered silently in his wake. Silverback was there, toward the rear, but Zana was once again absent.
Max knew he should say something, but he didn’t know what. He had never been comfortable with public speaking—and now was no exception.
“The Umbodi should speak what is in his heart.” The voice in his head was Silverback’s. “That is the only thing worth saying.”
“Thank you,” began Max, telepathically, to those assembled. “On behalf of myself and my father, I want you to know your assistance and gifts are truly appreciated.”
The silence that ensued prompted him to continue. “You know, my mother spent years searching in vain for your kind. She was fascinated by you—and now I realize she was right to be. In many ways, it should be her standing in front of you, not me. I only wish she could see me.”
A telepathic murmur of approval traveled through the crowd. Max realized he had struck a chord with his heartfelt sentiment.
The Sasquatch nearest him—a comparatively short but broad fellow with auburn fur and pudgy cheeks—stepped forward. Gently reaching down and squeezing Max’s shoulder, he said mentally, “Rolling Boulder sees himself in the Umbodi.”
Max completed the circuit by placing his hand on Rolling Boulder’s shoulder. “And I see myself in you.”
Satisfied, Rolling Boulder stepped aside as another Sasquatch, then another and another, made the circuit of greeting with Max.
Touchwood, Deer Stalker, Stone Pitcher, Firebrand, Kingfisher, Shepherd, Lapis Lazuli, Spelunker, Fox Tracker: their names were as distinctive as their faces, which when viewed at close range, struck Max as remarkably individualized.
How many greetings he performed, one after another after another under the cloudless autumn sky, he couldn’t say. By the time the crowd had mostly dispersed, the afternoon shadows were lengthening and, incredibly, he was hungry again.
He glanced up as a latecomer approached for what he hoped would be his last greeting for the day. To his great surprise, and greater joy, it was Zana! “Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes!” he exclaimed aloud.
With her signature flash of teeth and burst of laughter, she placed her hand on his shoulder. “Zana sees herself in the Umbodi,” he heard her say.
Max completed the circuit. “And the Umbodi definitely sees himself in Zana. I’m lucky to have you for a friend. God knows what I would have done without you.”
She stepped back, breaking the circuit, and bowed her head almost modestly.
“Not to change the subject,” said Max, “but do you happen to know where Maxwallah went? He made some mysterious comment earlier about sitting on the sun.”
Into Max’s mind suddenly flashed an image of his twin on top of one of the distant pyramidal structures that could be seen from the astronomy tower.
“Care to pay him a little visit with me?” he asked.
“Zana would love to.”
“Great. Let’s go now while we still have daylight to climb by.”
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.