Dwight S. Huggins
This is Volume III of XXV Volumes of Dreams. Dreamt over the course of a decade, and recorded on audio-cassettes. Starting in 1989, the dream tapes ended in 1998. Each volume is the transcribed contents of ten audio-cassettes; each serving, as a chapter, which were mostly 90 minutes.
These dream volumes, do validate the dreams shared in the revolutionary memoir, Dream Magus Of Babylon, which explores the spiritual journey of Task Companions; Stephen S. Katz and I, which lasted 7 years and beyond, transcending his passing in 1989. A fascinating read, it explores a life in the theatre in both New York City and Canada, involves a nasty betrayal, great anecdotes, with dreams of the departed woven into the magical, inspiring tale that’s full of laughter and kick-ass sex!
Dwight S. Huggins was born in Nevis, August 2nd 1960. Dwight is the author of Dream Magus of Babylon and A Spacefarer's Journal, and has lived in St. Kitts, America and Canada, enjoys Jazz and collecting First Nations art, and considers the height of living to be as awakened when asleep as when awake.
Tu 28/11/89 Sg: Dream one. I don’t know what quite possesses me, but I call Stephen’s room at Wellesley Hospital; where he died. I’m rather stunned, because he answers the phone. As soon as he answers the phone I realise that it’s a setup.
I have an image of him that he’s telepathically projecting me; I can actually feel him being in my mind, as I had on Sunday 26th November 198, in that very occult pandimensional healing dream.
He is surrounded by blue, blue intense soft light. He is his usual funny self and croons, "Hello lambs! How’s this lamb doing?"
My heart just broke in a thousand and one places. Instantaneously, I thought, “My goodness why hadn’t I thought of calling the room all this time?” Of course I was moving through my own grief. I called the room and thought, “Was this a good idea of mine, calling the room?”
But then I felt badly, because I thought that Stephen is still connected to the hospital. He still thinks that he’s alive. But also I knew intuitively that that was wrong. It was simply a way for us to make contact via a very convenient medium, if you like.
What would happen is, I’d have thoughts go through my mind, and he’d know my thoughts and then answer to them. For instance, I had this image of his cadaver in my mind, as I thought of him being dead indeed, in the waking state.
To this he responded, "I’m doing very, very fine. I had a very, very good night."
Of course, I knew when he said that he’d had a very, very good night he meant his transition; his passing. He assured me that he’d had a very good night, and to not look back at the last contact with his body, as it laid lifeless the morning of his passing.
He went on to ask if I was taking care of myself. “Was I being a good lamb?” It was such a very, very good conversation. I then put in, "But listen to your voice, Stephen. How strong you are, don’t you realise that all this time, you could still be alive?"
"Oh, but Dwight you don’t understand, I’m very much so alive. I’m very much so alive here in this world. I’m more alive than I’ve ever been. Besides, you know it happened, when it was supposed to happen."
It was just such a very, very honest conversation. Of course when he said that I had the image of him making it to the bathroom of his hospital room at Wellesley Hospital, around 23:30 that last time I saw him alive.
