The Destiny of Ethan King

Chapter 7: States of Mind

The psychology section of the college library was quiet. It was a Saturday, after all. Ethan stared at his notebook then looked up at the pile of textbooks in front of him, most opened on chapters related to theories of human memory. He needed to get this essay finished over the weekend, ready to hand in to his psychology tutor on Monday morning. 

He tapped his pencil on the blank page and stared out of the window at the passing traffic. There was something soothing about the constant stream of cars passing by. Where were all those people going? What were their stories? 

After a few minutes, he took a deep breath and forced himself to focus on the essay. He usually found it quite easy to structure essays, but today he couldn't keep his mind on the task. He pulled one of the books out of the pile and turned to the contents. As he skimmed over the chapter headings, his eyes were drawn to one: States of Consciousness. He read the chapter subheadings: Meanings of ‘consciousness'; Sleep; Dreaming; Hypnosis; Meditation... 

He flicked to page seventy-seven and started reading. He quickly read over the section about the different stages of sleep, including the REM stage, when dreaming took place. He slowed down as he noticed the term 'sleep paralysis' near the bottom of the page. It outlined how, when a person is dreaming, their brain usually paralyses the muscles to prevent that person from harming themselves. Sleep paralysis was when this mechanism was activated immediately before or after sleep, paralysing the body when the person was still conscious. It didn't go into much detail, but Ethan was relieved to see it listed there nonetheless. It must be fairly common. Maybe he wasn't going mad. Perhaps he'd experienced sleep paralysis and, while he was still half sleep, he'd imagined that he was floating. At the time, he would have been positive that it was real, but now he felt more distanced from it and he wasn't so sure. 

It all sounded so scientific and precise. But what about the auras he was seeing? Perhaps there was something wrong with his eyes. Or it could be the result of disturbed sleep. Yeah. It would probably fade when his sleep patterns returned to normal. 

Ethan looked at his watch. Seven p.m. He rubbed his eyes and made a circle with his head; his neck was stiff and he hadn't even started writing yet. His eyes rested on the centre of the blank page of his notebook. He felt his mind shift gears, like the sensation he got when he used to meditate. It was an experience of expansiveness, like he was no longer confined to his body. It wasn't an out-of-body experience, though. This was different. He was still aware of being in his physical body, but he was simultaneously filling a larger space too. His thoughts slowed down and became distant, like a radio in the next room. He was aware of them, but they barely registered. And then there was the intense feeling of joy that made every cell in his body tingle with aliveness. 

His breathing sped up. His body was infused with light; his consciousness looking down on the proceedings with a calm all-knowingness. In his mind's eye he only perceived an endless field of blackness. No images or memories. Then, after what felt like hours, he saw a bright white star in the distance. It grew in size as it approached him. Or maybe he was approaching it. Soon its pure white light filled his field of vision and then he was inside it. He bathed in it. 

"We close in ten minutes." The words registered in some far-off region of Ethan's mind. It took a concerted effort to tune into the voice and he hauled himself down to its origin. When his eyes regained their focus, Ethan saw a middle-aged woman frowning. Her mouth was screwed up tightly and her cheeks sucked in as she glowered at him over the top of her standard-issue librarian spectacles. 

"Uh, right. Okay. Thanks." 

She tutted, spun round on one heel and marched off. 

Ethan reached over to the chair next to him for his bag and fumbled with the zip. He took out a bottle of water, took a long swig and almost spat it out over the table. The page of his notebook was full! He picked it up to take a closer look. It looked like his handwriting. He scanned the words and didn't recognise any of it. It wasn't an essay on the psychological theories of human memory, that was for sure. This had to be some kind of joke. He'd been set up. He looked around. There was a girl about his age sitting at one of the computers at the other side of the room. She was muttering something under her breath as she tried to extract a piece of paper that was jammed in the printer.