Doubtful Rays of the Sun: The Oracle, #2

By Joanna M. Pilatowicz

Jasmin, a young artist seeks a brighter future in the Netherlands where she is just an Immigrant, but she is longing to be an Expat. Among the challenges of living abroad are both the mundane reality and the nightmares that accompany her at night. She dreams about a priestess Sarah from ancient Egypt, an Oracle, who as a result of her search for immortality, is cursed. Through astral travels, Jasmin watches how life on Earth was influenced by alien races. Sarah's magic mirrors portray the origin of humankind where non-human beings rule the world. So-called gods look like mythological creatures – hybrids.

Jasmin's self-doubt and low esteem do not allow her to believe that reincarnation exists or that she could exhibit psychic or telepathic abilities and lucid dream.

How could she believe in Ea – an engineer of a man, the Annunaki race, vampires, demons or angels belonging to myths and legends. And above all that Sarah could be her, in an earlier life.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Joanna M. Pilatowicz
• Release date: Jul 24, 2019
• ISBN: 9781393176510

Joanna M. Pilatowicz

Joanna M. Pilatowicz is an adult's coach, dancer, dance teacher, choreographer, author, abstract painter, and recording artist. She has lived in Poland, The Netherlands and currently resides in Germany.  Her master thesis, "Expansion Through Dance," explored the concept of using dance as a healing media, positively influencing not only body, but mind and soul as well.  Life in the Netherlands inspired her to write her first short stories, in Polish language, hiding some of observed reality behind the veil of fantasy. As she says, "Passing the borders of reality, I would say I am entering the world of fantasy, dreamland, and paranormal; however it is all still connected to everyday life." "I was always drawn by what's invisible to a human eye. At the same time, probably from a desire to understand my own Self and motives more, I started to write diaries which unfolded in an unexpected way. So I just followed it." "The supernatural creatures in my books and paranormal aspects present there are my own ways of expressing my reality, linking non - fiction with a feeling world as well as adding some sort of higher force to it." "It is my own metaphor for different roles from our so-called subpersonalities that perhaps want to share their story with us, in order for us to grow, explore, experience or have a more fulfilling life. I do my best to follow these inner voices, giving them space and grabbing their message." For more information about Joanna and her passions, please visit: www.ifnotdance.com

Book preview

Chapter 1 ~ The Wheel of Fortune Rolls

He never showed up .

Jasmin opened her eyes slowly and looked at the large suitcase at her feet. She felt disoriented, as though physically present but mentally in some faraway place—not unusual when her mind wandered off into that other reality. She had no desire to get up and lug her luggage all over the place again, even if it did have wheels. The library, which was nearby, remained out of bounds since she had no membership card. She could always purchase one for the right price, of course.

Resigned, Jasmin retraced her steps to the main train station: Hague Central. She had exhausted her backup plans and was now at a loss as to what to do next. Her pace was slow in contrast to the hurrying pedestrians passing by. The feeling of not belonging there deepened, as did the sense of alienation from a place that she had, after all, explored only a year ago. She went back to McDonald’s, the only familiar touchpoint. There no one would ask questions, no waiter to take orders: a welcome reprieve in her current state. Despite the approaching lunch hour, the queue was not long. Absently, she took a vegetarian option and plonked herself down at a table in the furthest corner, as though in defiance of logic she sought privacy in the most public spot.

She forced herself to think, but nothing wise came to mind. Mental, rather than physical, fatigue put her in a state of thoughtlessness. Eating was one of those things that required little thought, making it easier, for some time at least, to set her worries aside. But when she finished her meal and coffee, she stared blankly at an empty tray on which was laid out a paper with a picture of menus and dishes. Again, she closed her eyes, promising herself that it would be for but a moment. Soon, she would plan what to do next—just not now.

WAS SHE FALLING ASLEEP? She could clearly hear the murmur of voices around her at McDonald's. This must therefore be happening in reality, she surmised. Moments later, she saw a coming flood and terrified people trying to evacuate. A stranger got into a car and suddenly Jasmin was with him, seated comfortably inside the vehicle. Somewhere in the distance, the wave of water was fast approaching, but she sensed this rather than saw it. Someone was passing underneath high voltage cables when a wave struck. The man ran through smoothly, but Jasmin saw a little dog heading directly toward the wires. She immediately ordered the driver to stop, got out, and grabbed the dog in her arms, taking it into the car. The man praised her for saving the animal.

The scenery changed. Her cousin Melanie pulled Jasmin from Holland straight to New York. Why there? That question nagged Jasmin, but as they crossed the strange border between the two countries, which was located somewhere on the water, she heard:

"Excuse me, is this free?"

Jasmin opened her eyes and found herself still sitting at the McDonald's plastic table in The Hague. No Melanie, no New York. Disappointment weighed down her heart.

Yes, it is.

With a quick glance at her watch, she got up. Mickie, the kindly salesgirl at the kiosk, from whom she had purchased the phone card and who had been so empathetic of Jasmin's plight, was ending her work day. It was time to go outside.

Mickie and her boyfriend Iodine were already waiting for her. At the sight of the two strangers, Jasmin cheered up as though she was about to enjoy the company of good friends. Over another coffee in a cafe that wasn't visible from the main station but close by, the three of them discussed her options for that night—a motel, a hostel, a shelter, or whatever alternative might present itself. She couldn't afford to be picky; there was only one real option. Mickie and Iodine accompanied her to that address.

A group of people, who were clearly not tourists, crowded the front of the shabby building as Jasmin and her new friends approached it. Inside the building, the prison-like reception area did not bode well for a restful place. From behind the bars, the receptionist said indifferently, Here's the price list. You can leave the suitcase there. We are not responsible for anything. In one room there are a dozen people.

Overcome by shock at the cold reception, Jasmin stood still for a moment. Mickie's look of understanding endorsed her own feeling that this was not a place where one could feel reasonably safe or confident. When she finally found her tongue, she said, I'll think about it. For now I will just leave the suitcase in the locker.

The three of them went outside and Jasmin took a deep breath. Even the city's air was more refreshing than the suffocating air in the hostel. Mickie and Iodine decided to keep her company for a while. They followed her everywhere she went, although in reality Jasmin had no idea where she was going. It did occur to her to question the couple's intentions in spending an entire evening of leisure with her. Were they in some way lonely, perhaps? Were they in need of friendship, or was it all about something else? What were they looking for in life? The phone rang and snatched her out of her almost hypnotic walk.

Do you still need a room? It was Bernard, the owner of one of the dance schools to which she had applied.  I just got your email.

I do.

He gave her a number to call and added that he was too busy to meet with her that day.

No worries, she managed to say before he hung up. She had had no such expectations considering that she barely knew the man and that the workshops at his school were not starting for another month anyway.

Armed with new hope, the trio's steps gained momentum. With a rush of strength, Jasmin picked up her suitcase. Her new friends helped her to find the address and did not leave her to her own devices until they arrived at a nice looking area. Jasmin thanked them with a small gift a few days later when she was able to meet again. The Surinamese family had not expected to rent the place so soon, so it required some cleaning. Jasmin was so uplifted by the pleasant place that she offered to help out. The available room was lovely and spacious. With a sigh of relief, she sat on the bed and, for a moment, enjoyed the tranquility while reflecting on how this day had ended.

Chapter 2 ~ A Mixed Fate

It was not until the evening that she managed to organize herself in her new space, after which, she left her rented room in search of an Internet cafe. Fortunately, there was one in the next street. As soon as she sat down at the computer and logged into her mail account, she poured out her grievances against Hipolit—from now on definitely her ex—to everyone whom she wrote. In email mode, the worst kind of persecution reached the Polish people. She didn't manage to spill it all out because her mobile rang.

This is Bernard. I just finished work and I have some free time—can we meet?

Sure, I'd be happy to.

She genuinely loved the idea of meeting with Bernard, especially now. After such a day, she would be happy to get to know someone, particularly when he had rescued her from oppression. She had no idea as to what might have influenced Bernard's decision. Just a few hours earlier, he had claimed he would not have the time.

When she'd hung up, Jasmin felt suddenly nervous and questioned his change of heart. She’d never seen the guy, except on the official school photo, and even then, she could barely remember what he looked like. She told herself that there was no reason to get worked up over it, even if her instincts said otherwise. After a few more minutes of deliberation, she finally left the Internet cafe. Outside, the street was deserted, except for a nasty-looking type talking on a cell phone.

Oh, God, she thought in panic as she sized the man up. Please, God, let it not be him, or I'll shoot myself in the head. This guy looks like a bandit.

Slowly, Jasmin walked towards the man, trying to persuade herself that he was not really such a bad person—he had found accommodation for her, after all. She was about to greet him, when she heard laughter coming from behind. Someone called out her name and she turned, feeling relieved as she identified the speaker. The man approaching her was short, elegantly dressed, and quite a hunk; so much better in appearance than the one she'd almost mistaken him for.

With a charming smile, accented by his dark complexion, he invited her to his car. She hesitated only for a moment.

This must be the right person—he knows my name, she told herself. I should be okay. At least he makes a good impression.

Jasmin got into the car and, soon after, expressed the desire to see the sea. Bernard agreed and she suggested they take a short walk despite it being rather cold and windy. It was typical Dutch weather, but today her mind barely registered something as mundane as temperature or wind. Perhaps, at this moment, she was cold and warm simultaneously, irrespective of the weather's mood.

The first thing she learned about Bernard was that he never walked if he could drive. Had Jasmin known something about cars and devoted a little more attention to her surroundings, she might have realized that he gave the impression of being filthy rich. It was not just one school he owned, but several in different cities in The Netherlands. He didn't limit himself to running his dance centres, either. He was interested in cars and women, and obviously liked expensive things. Ties, sunglasses, watches, all gadgets shared the same characteristic: they were extortionately expensive.

Have you eaten yet? he asked, clearly not expecting an answer, as he parked by a Suriname restaurant. His choice of restaurant combined with his exotic coloring indicated to Jasmin the man's Latino origins. She could not refuse.

Feeling satisfied after the nourishing meal, home would have been the inevitable conclusion to the evening. After such a long day, Jasmin was more than ready for bed. But Bernard didn't take her home; he drove to his school, instead. She didn’t mind.

The last dance classes came to an end and soon the students and instructors left, and silence reigned in the building. They were alone.

What do you teach, exactly? she asked.

Bernard didn’t answer, but turned on the music and began what turned out to be a two-hour dancing lesson. Despite a sleepless night and a stressful day, Jasmin felt revived. Salsa, Bachata, Merengue—it was exhilarating to lose herself in all the dance movements, but Salsa would always be her favorite. She could swear that on this night she fell in love with Salsa all over again.

It was after midnight when Bernard drove her home, not once trying anything that Jasmin might have considered inappropriate. He'd behaved like a gentleman.

She sat in her new room, staring at the faux fireplace on which she had placed a candle. Before falling asleep, the thought of how unbelievably things had turned around in her favour crossed her mind.

You stupid, dull Muppet! You heartless red beet! You'll regret what you've put me through!

More curses were hurled at Hipolit before Jasmin finally closed her eyes, satisfied that she had done the best that she could in the circumstances that day.

A young horse was standing in the hallway of the dance school. Jasmin approached the animal and embraced him. Another animal came in, so she called it to her, too, with no thought as to where they had come from. What mattered was the fact that they were her friends and they seemed to need her presence. She walked away, down a corridor, at the end of which was a door. She stared at it for a while, not daring to touch the door handle.

You see what you are accustomed to see, but this door does not have a handle, a voice said, but when she turned around there was no one. Look again—what do you see?

Stupefied, Jasmin now saw ancient gates where the door had been, which were at first visible and clear, but then turned transparent until they seemed to disappear into the darkness.

Come, let me show you something, the voice spoke again.

Jasmin hesitated. Was it not an announcement of death? If she reached that door, would she die? Wasn't that the symbol stored in the collective subconscious? Wasn't that the portal so many people dreamed of when they were dying? Perhaps it would be better not to take the risk and cross it.

There are a lot of deaths, the voice argued, seeming to read her mind. There is still time.

Jasmin decided she might as well take the plunge. Slowly, carefully, she passed through the door and was confronted by the image of the illuminated room, which she remembered from her previous dreams. A lot of things were happening there, she knew. Whenever she dreamed about that place, it felt familiar; she felt safe, as if she was home.

Sarah smiled, feeling the delight of the young woman. Nobody will discover this place, she said. It is protected by magic and invisible to human eyes, as well as others.

Jasmin didn’t ask what other eyes were being referred to. Mesmerized by what she saw, she looked around. The familiar feeling of déjà vu didn't leave her.

I've already dreamed this. It already happened. I'm in a dream!

Of course you are.

‘IT WAS A SUCCESSFUL meeting, even if not quite face to face,’ Sarah thought, after sending Jasmin's astral body back into the future.

On the crystals of Atlantis! Demon exclaimed, hunched over the books. What he had discovered whilst reading had excited him. He began to clap his transparent hands.

Sarah looked at him quizzically.

Did you know that a blessing removes any curse? Demon said.

It depends, Sarah replied evasively. In truth, she hadn’t thought about it.

On what?

On the force thrown at the person, and on the victim's situation. The moment of death is a very critical time, she said in a knowing tone.

According to this book, it's easy! The curse is removed by blessing rituals from that person. Demon remembered that Rashida—the one who had cursed Sarah—had died and would be unable to remove anything anymore. Wait a minute, he thought aloud. Wasn't it your own blessing that worked here? We looked into the future and Jasmin was rescued from oppression. This may be a sign.

It's still not proof.

Let's see it again.

Demon approached the mirror and Sarah followed him, gratified that she wasn't the only one engaging in her own case. Additional help was welcomed.

Who is this Bernard? Let's check him out.

Sarah raised a hand gesturing from left to right, to accelerate the motion picture. The image, however, refused to listen to her orders; it spun and, instead, a completely different form than expected appeared, at the sight of which, the Demon jumped back in terror.

I'll destroy you! The greenish figure threatened from the mirror.

What? Demon exclaimed. The figure disappeared. What was that?

No idea, but he definitely won’t collect scarabs with us. Sarah concluded.

He came out of nowhere, exactly like those scarabs. The Demon laughed nervously.

Such is the belief, but I doubt that things were born out of nowhere, Sarah observed thoughtfully. I wonder how he escaped. The magic protects every entrance to my chamber.

Is a mirror a portal without protection? Genie joined their conversation, curious about the new character as well as what had happened. Each door has two sides. Looks like it's someone you know. The question is: do you remember?

Are you saying that the transmigration of souls exists also backwards? Demon looked at Genie questioningly.

If it goes forward, it must have the capability of shifting back, right? Genie was sure.

Speaking of the souls’ traffic, what happens backwards? the Demon wanted to know.

Shut up, both of you! Sarah turned quiet immediately after issuing her command, then added in a softer tone, It is possible that this comes from the past.

What is he doing here on the Horus eye?

I cannot remember the past, Sarah realized. It is, however, useful that I begin to remember the future.

I think we have a problem. The question is: what is to be addressed first? Genie thought aloud. We cannot be simultaneously in the past, in the future, and here. We are already here and in the future. It’s getting too much!

It's also impossible, Sarah interrupted. "Everything goes as best as it can—do not fight with the flow of the Nile. The curse has been loosened by the blessing. She also preferred to believe it. There is no point in pretending to know the past when I don't remember anything there."

Hehe, Demon clapped his hands in satisfaction. You sound like Jasmin. See, she also doesn’t remember you—I mean herself—which is all very complicated. No, it's easy; it’s very logical.

So, in the end what is the answer? You cannot constantly change your mind, Genie glanced at Demon.

Only a cow does not change its view. Demon was enjoying this conversation.

What? Now both Sarah and Genie spoke at the same time.

"Ah, you are not learning anything from the future. You have to go with the progress of the time. They have a different language. I like it—it gives so many possibilities of expression. What is a curse if not a change in the genetic material fields that assure the future path of an individual? Change must therefore be a combination of areas in the system that have been manipulated in order to be able to unfold its natural, slow course, to go only where it wants to go," Demon felt proud of himself. This secret knowledge, known in the next centuries simply as science, appealed to him. Amused, he looked at Sarah and Genie who didn't seem to have a clue as to what he'd just explained. Nay, he himself didn't fully comprehend what he had claimed, but it sounded really good. He was content with himself.

One day I will be a scientist, he added.

What? You don't even exist, Sarah scoffed.

Then there was a momentary silence in the hall.

Chapter 3 ~ A New Day, A New Chance

Early morning required coffee and a plan for the day. Soon with the makeshift map in hand Jasmin headed off on reconnaissance. But she lost her way, cruelly thinking she was close to the sea. On the map there were not many streets, just a few tram lines. The sea should be around here somewhere. She felt it, she smelled it, with her own nose she could sniff it out, it must be close, but in which direction exactly? Stubbornness ordered her not to give up and eventually she reached her destination. She looked at the wide horizon of water and experienced a temporary relief. Something she didn’t think too much about it, but it worked like a balm: the ubiquity and power of the element, in this case water. One look was enough to feel like these waves, spreading everywhere so freely. She loved the sea, more to admire it from a safe distance, cruising through the beach, wetting her feet in the ocean rather than swimming in it, and certainly she would not do something like surfing, although watching these crazy, courageous people was a pleasure. She walked along the seemly endless promenade, interrupted by a congestion of seasonably built cafes and restaurants. This area was known as Scheveningen, one of the largest beaches in the Netherlands, but she didn't know that yet.

Eventually she reached the wooden pier, leading a potential tourist into the sea. Here, close by, there were more cafes on the seaside and more hotels to her right. The Kurhuis made the biggest impression on her, a massive building in the shape of the palace, now used mostly as a hotel. Curiously she looked up, completely unaware that this edifice had stood here since 1886. To the total coastal composition were added the shops, which she now clearly saw. Here at the pier there were many. Thus, she followed to its end, where small lanterns on both sides gave the impression, that she was in a Dutch fairy-tale, which she loved. The tourist season promoted additional attractions. Here and there were arranged extra areas for children to play, and at the end of the pier she saw another huge building, directly on the sea. Probably there was a restaurant, she thought, then heard a scream. A tourist bungee jumping. That is so bad for the spine, she judged, watching the guy falling with lines on his side, which abruptly made him spring back up, clearly its length was ending. Suspended, seemingly just above the water, he spread his hands as if experiencing an ecstatic moment. Jasmin turned to go back to the beach, wishing to stay here, in The Hague. The longing in her heart, temporarily at least, agreed with her mind. A perfect unity and a final lack of conflict within, she smiled slightly.

Opposite to the pier, she entered a typical commercial precinct, where the only uniqueness of the shops was expressed in extremely high prices. That was probably the result of being located at the seaside, she concluded. Among the boutiques of clothes, shoes, suitcases, bags, one Café - bar, grocery store, ice cream parlour and a traditional Subway sandwich store and McDonald's, was a tiny shop with esoteric gadgets: cards, angels, stones, incense, all that a decent Witch is supposed to have at home. Jasmin didn’t go into the store but looked curiously through the glass. Wasn't it something that she had stopped being interested in? She had promised herself to break with all these esoteric beliefs and items.

It was late afternoon when nourished again, after taking some rest at the sea side, she had the long tormenting walk back, wherever her legs still wanted to carry her. She returned to her new, you would say, the ‘house for a month’.

Now she had to reach the third floor. She looked up at the ever present Dutch high stairways and slowly started to climb. Only today after opening the door, she saw how spacious the room was. High, white walls and a mock fireplace on the opposite side of the single bed added style and dignity to the place. The typical Dutch windows were huge; luckily they had curtains. In the corner there was a pretty solid wooden desk with a chair. A very common element in Dutch housing was a washbowl in the bedroom. Here it was too, and above it hung a mirror. Next was a door as if to another room, but it only hid the closet, a piece of furniture hidden in the wall. She could unpack. She could go out to the kitchen, thankfully located on the same level. Kitchen and bathroom were shared with someone who lived next door. This one turned out to be a young German student, an intern for two years. Today, she just greeted the girl who was about to leave. They exchanged a few polite phrases, some helpful information and Jasmin stayed alone, enjoying the space. She liked everything here. She walked again to see the kitchen, hall, room. No, not completely everything! She had forgotten about the tiny bathroom where the shower was so narrow without curtains and the water flowed in a very weak stream. Perhaps it was on purpose to avoid splashing water everywhere, especially