Third Eye

"Consuela!!"

I'm all disoriented.

"CONSUEEEEELAAAAAH!" I scream even louder. I'm in a mad panic. I've just opened my eyes from what I thought was a waking dream -- but in reality, it seems, it's not.

"GET THE FUUUUCK IN HERE!!!" I start wailing, and close my eyes. It's a grey day out. And even though both my eyes are closed I can see everything around me -- through my forehead. It's as if there is a mini movie screen playing all the things around me.

Consuela enters the room out of breath. "What???? What iz der problem???" she says. I've frightened her, but I don't care. There is some serious heavy shit going on right now.

"Hold up your right hand!" I tell her.

"Mia, why iz yer talking wis yer eyes closed?" she asks me.

"Shut up and hold up your right hand!!" I tell her.

This is not NOT happening to me...

Consuela walks closer to the bed and lifts her arm.

"Your RIGHT hand!" I snap at her, and she switches arms.

"Mia," she says softly, "I iz don't like dis game, ok?"

I take a deep breath, I need to calm down if she's going to help me. "Now hold up some fingers, but don't tell me how many, ok?"

Consuela nods and through my tiny movie screen in my forehead I can see her hold up three fingers.

"How many fingers are you holding up?" I ask her.

There's silence.

"Answer me! How many fingers are you holding up!" I scream.

Consuela lowers her head. I've hurt her feelings.

She'll have to get over it.

"But Mia," she starts "yer iz said dat do not tell yer da number before, right?"

She has a point.

"I know what I said before, but I need you to tell me now, ok? I need you to tell me when I ask you...got it?"

"Got it!" she says and stands a bit more erect. "Der is tree fingers."

Shit!

"OK, change the number of fingers" I say and watch her switch to one finger. "Now," I say very seriously, "how many fingers?"

"One" she says.

"Don't move!" I tell her and look around the room. I see the time on the clock radio...it reads 8:07. I turn back to Consuela who is no doubt very confused because I'm talking to her with both eyes closed.

"What time is it, Consuela? Look at the clock beside my bed and tell me what time it is."

"Mia," Consuela starts, "Der iz maybe somesing wrong? Yer is wanna go to da doctor?"

"Just tell me what time it is!" I snap.

Why do I always have to repeat everything with her?

"Eight oh Eight" says Consuela.

I whip my head back to clock - and sure enough, it's changed.

Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit!

I must be dreaming.

"Consuela, can you please pinch me?" I say. I've calmed down a bit because panicking isn't going to help resolve the problem. She reaches out her chubby little fingers and grabs the skinny part of my wrist -- and pinches.

Ouch!

OK...I'm obviously not dreaming.

Consuela takes a seat on the edge of the bed and I sturdy myself a bit before trying to open one of my eyes -- but then it happens again.

And so, I close my eye.

"Miaaaa," Consuela whispers, "Why iz yer eyes dey closed?"

I don't answer her. How do I tell my somewhat limited housekeeper that when I open my eyes, I see a pipeline into Heaven?

I take a deep deep deep breath, and calm my heart down. The pulse in my neck begins to subside, and I feel my shoulders soften.

"Consuela, I can explain in a little bit, but for now -- can you please sit here?" I ask.

She smiles and says, "Sure, no problem."

I brace myself, and slowly begin to open both my eyes, and as I do -- the movie screen of this reality, that I can see in my forehead, transitions to a tunnel; at least, I know it's a tunnel -- but it has the depth of one millimeter -- and I can see through a circular peep hole larger than the size of my head, all the wonders of Heaven.

"Holy shit!" I say. I make eye contact with Consuela, who now knows that she needs to sit still at the edge of my bed and remain calm. Through the peep hole I can only see about three feet deep. A white foggy light washes away anything deeper. I turn left and right to gain a better perspective -- but I don't see anyone; and since I'm limited to the peephole, I can not see the ground. I'm not even sure how far into the atmosphere I am.

With my human eyes; in this dimension -- I look around and see all the surroundings of the life I know. My old VHS collection, a favourite stuffed animal, some favourite perfume bottles on a bookshelf.

And through the peephole, I see something way more alluring. More enticing than anything material that this world could, or would ever give me.

I see home. Void of anything material. Void of status. Just pure acceptance; as if I'm an organic component of it -- except in a spiritual sense.

"What yer see?" asks Consuela from the edge of the bed after a few minutes.

"Promise you won't think I'm crazy?" I ask. She nods. "I think...I think I see Heaven." I say.

Consuela immediately does the sign of the cross and begins to pray feverishly. She closes her eyes and begins to whisper bullet-fast Spanish prayers under her breath. As she does so, the pipeline becomes smaller rather quickly.

"Stop that!" I yell at her. She does -- and the pipeline freezes.

"Now, just take a deep breath and calm down." I say to her, "There is nothing to be afraid of, ok? Nothing is going to hurt you. I'm just having some sort of weird spiritual insight." I tell her and reach out my hand so I can hold hers.

She scooches over to me and wraps both of her pudgy hands around mine. "OK, Mia. I iz not afraid." she tells me.

The pipeline resumes to it's normal size.

I sit there for what seems like another half-hour or so, looking left and right like a submarine telescope -- trying desperately to see anything past the foggy white mist. But I can't.

It starts me thinking, about life -- specifically my life. Why I'm here. Why I'm seeing this.

A moment later, Consuela speaks "Iz yer talking wis God, Mia?"

"No, I don't see anyone -- only clouds, I think" I say to her. I can't tell if it's clouds, or mist, or a blinding white light; like how a room looks after you come in from the bright sun.

"Consuela," I start, all the while turning left and right to see what I can see, "when you were praying before; you were afraid, right?"

She nods yes.

"You know," I tell her, "when you did that -- the pipeline to Heaven became smaller, hey? Isn't that interesting? I think...I think you're not suppose to pray when you're afraid. And by that I mean, you're suppose to remove the fear from your heart when you pray. It's like a better reception or something."

"Ahhhh," Consuela says and nods in agreement, "Dat iz good to know. Cuz sometimes I iz praying and I iz crying and scared, and dat iz when I iz sinking dat da praying iz not working. But den sometimes I iz crying so much dat I iz not scared anymore when I iz praying -- yer know, just maybe tired; and sometimes dat iz when da praying it really works. I sink yer iz right, Mia."

I continue to turn my head left and right -- but never see anything more than the mist. A moment later the pipeline disappears. I ask Consuela to make me a strong cup of coffee.

I have a lot of writing to do today.