Brian is a regular bloke with an ordinary life – or so he thinks

“So what would you have done when the entity dragged the client’s body across the room and out of the crystal mandala?”

“Same as you. Carry on with the process, the client could still breathe, they were just frightened.  Just because some entity calls itself Beelzebub, does not mean…”

Our conversation is interrupted by the soft chirruping of the shop landline.

We are having an unusually quiet afternoon in my little crystal shop. My assistant Brianna has grabbed the opportunity to pick my brains. The shop is warm and cosy, it is grey and drizzling outside with few potential customers passing by. My appointment book has empty spaces and we pass the time chatting about some of the shamanic journeys she has facilitated.  There are always questions, even from the most experienced of my students about their technique and the unusual things they discover.  Answering leads me into reflection and deepens their understanding of my own uniquely modern form of an archaic and arcane healing art.

“Inner journeys, crystal emporium and shamanic healing centre…” Brianna answers the phone, making my little shop sound much grander than it is.

I can hear an excited male voice raving on about something important. She rolls her eyes handing me the phone with her hand over the microphone. 

“It’s that crazy used car salesman. He says he is calling from the south of France, something about a sea chest, a book and an old man.  Seems to think you might be interested.”

“Its true, all true!” A breathless tinny voice breathes into my ear from the other side of the world. “In the chest there was a book, in the book there was a note, folded in right next to a page with an illustration of the tower and the old guy we met. Unbelievable!  I quit my job and came here to to France.  According to the message and the code left by my uncle, I am…”

“Best not to talk about these things over the phone”. I interrupt.  “Thanks for letting me know, I am not at all surprised.”

“But what the fuck do I do now?  With all this information?  I sell cars on the Parramatta road for christ’s sake!” 

“Not any more you don’t.  Your brothers in the order will help, seek them out, but be careful who you share this with, yours was and still is not a popular group in some quarters.  Gotta go, I have an appointment, good luck!”

I hang up not wanting to get into a lengthy conversation, both for his safety and my sanity.

Brianna arches an eyebrow, she knows that I have no appointments scheduled until tomorrow.  I sense her probing me. “Its rude to probe anyone, especially your teacher”. 

She blushes. “Sorry I couldn’t help myself, wouldn’t you like to share?  We have all afternoon…”. 

How did this all start? I remember just two weeks ago Brian came to see me with absolutely no idea what was in store for him…

I am with Brian, standing on a desolate plain, we are at the start of our shamanic journey together.  He has come to me to find his life’s purpose, feeling limited and bored by his job as a car salesman.

He is excited – I am troubled.  For the first time in his life he is having a visceral, first hand experience, in full consciousness of another reality and it is blowing his mind. I am trying to place the the time-space we are in, so as to navigate our journey safely and I can’t.  Something about this place is not quite right.  I have not visited this space before, for the first time in a long while I feel quite lost.

What do we do now?  He telepaths.

Lets explore. I respond with far more confidence than I feel. 

We wander around aimlessly for a while, I suggest he listen to his heart and trust his guidance.

Over there, a tower!  He squints into the hazy distance.

Barely discernible, a pimple on the horizon extends its invitation to us.  It takes an age to walk there. I prefer clients to figure out for themselves that they are not limited by gravity so I do not usually tell them they can fly.  By the time we reach this place I am beginning to wish I had.

This tower is like no other I have ever seen, majestic and spiralling upwards to a point, it seems ribbed like a seashell from a distance. It becomes clear to us both as we get closer that it is not constructed using conventional building materials, made of neither bricks nor stone, this tower is constructed entirely of books.  It looks weatherbeaten and very old.

We walk around its broad base looking for an opening and find the remains of a crumbling stairway on the outside, leading to a narrow arched entrance which reveals a fusty, dim interior.  

Inside the tower has a more solid feel.  There is only one way to go, so up the spiral staircase we tread.  Brian is beside himself with excitement.  I find myself totally perplexed.

I have spent many years drumming into my students that nothing is ever symbolic in a shamanic journey, everything is real.  Right now I am in a psychologists dream environment, full of symbols, a desolate plane with a mysterious tower, made entirely of old books.  All I need next is some wizened old character in a room at the top and I have a complete set of set of symbols to analyse over a period of weeks.  Not my style at all.

Brian who has shot up the stairs ahead of me telepaths excitedly. 

You are not going to believe this, there is an old guy up here, who says he has been waiting for me.

Just as I expected. Ask him if he loves you.

I reach the room at the top and sure enough Brian is there with an ancient man, who looks harmless enough. 

I know this is not symbolic, it can’t be, we must be in another reality somewhere, perhaps one created and maintained by a powerful group. The ancient one addresses me:

Greetings my friend, thank you for bringing him.  I thought he would never get here.

It is an honour, you have something for him?

Indeed!  Some information that may be to his advantage.  Turning to Brian.

My child you really have no idea who you are, do you?

Brian is speechless.

Your great uncle who died some time ago by your reckoning, left something for you. You will find a sea-chest in your grandmother’s attic, in it there is a book.  You came on this journey to find out more about yourself.  You have an inheritance which is priceless, the book is yours and it has the key you seek.


Brian has no clue where to start with his questions.

All will be revealed. In the book you will find clues to who you are and you will recognise this place. This is how you will know the truth of your experience.

Thank you for visiting.  I can be at peace now. He folds his arms and slowly closes his eyes.

It s obvious that he will say no more.  We take our leave and depart the tower walking back across the plain in silence.

I know that Brian will find all that he needs in the sea-chest and I sense it will change his life forever.  Power flows down the male lineage with old brotherhoods.  Brian lost his father when he was a child so he was never formally initiated into his ancestral order.  

I wonder how he will integrate into his present life his new found position in the Order of Knights Templar.

All stories are © 2019 Raym Richards and are extracted from his book “Sprit World. A diary of an Urban Shaman” available through iBooks and Amazon or directly from Crystal Dreaming