Decker finally found his tongue to answer. "Yes. But until this moment I thought that was all it was. I never even told anyone about it except Tom Donafin, right after we escaped, and Elizabeth. From what your Aunt Martha said I thought you might have had some premonition or something about the escape, but I never imagined this. Why didn't you ever tell me?"
A look of relief swept over Christopher's face. "To tell you the truth, I wasn't entirely sure about it myself until this moment. It was so dream-like that I thought the whole thing might have been my imagination. Why didn't you ever mention it?"
Decker shrugged his shoulders. "It seemed so crazy."
Decker and Christopher just looked at each other for a moment. "I guess I owe you an awful lot," Decker said.
"Not nearly as much as I owe you for taking me in when I had nowhere else to go."
"I probably would have died in Lebanon if it weren't for you."
"I guess we owe each other a lot. You've been like a father to me."
"And you've been like a son." Decker was starting to get a little choked up, so after a deep breath he took a drink and brought the subject back to its previous course. "So, have you done any more of this astral projection?"
"No. Perhaps I made more out of it than I should have, but there was something strangely frightening about it. Every time I did it, it was as if there was something more going on than I realized."
"What do you mean?"
"Well it was like… " Christopher seemed to be struggling for words. "The only way I can describe it is by analogy. Imagine you're walking through a peaceful field. All around you, as far as you can see, everything is totally tranquil. And yet, even though you can't see or hear it, you seem to know that somewhere just beyond your view, perhaps over the next rise, there's a tremendous battle taking place. That's about the best way I can explain it, except that somehow I knew that I was the subject of that battle; and every time I traveled by astral projection, even though I still couldn't see or hear it, it felt as if the battle had gotten closer and fiercer. It was as though someone or something was trying to get to me – at me – and someone or something else was trying to prevent it. After the last trip to Lebanon I never did it again.
"Without being specific," Christopher continued, "I asked my professor at the university if she had ever heard any report of fear or other negative feelings by people during astral projection. She said all the literature indicated only positive reports." Christopher shrugged and Decker shook his head, having no idea what to make of it all.
"But let me tell you about some other things I've discovered from taking these courses," Christopher said. "I think I've been able to piece together some more parts of my past. One of the classes taught us to do a type of meditation in which you go into a dream-like state while you're still fully conscious, so it's possible to have full control and nearly full recollection of everything that you dream. Since most of the things I've remembered about my life as Jesus have occurred in dreams, I tried using this type of meditation to draw out other information."
"So what have you discovered?" Decker asked.
"I remember, as a child, working in my father's carpentry shop and how hard the work was; and I remember playing with the other children. One thing that's a little odd is that I've had several dreams involving Indians."
Decker did a double take. "Indians?!" he said. "You mean like Sitting Bull, Cochise, Geronimo?!"
"No! No! I mean real Indians; east Indians; from India."
"Oh!" Decker laughed at his understandable error. "But, that's not much better. There's nothing in the Bible about Jesus ever going to India is there?"
"No, not in the Bible, but there's considerable evidence in other literature that suggests he did. There's a church in Montana called the Church Universal and Triumphant which teaches that Jesus studied under an Indian maharishi. To tell you the truth, sometimes it's hard to be sure which memories are based on something that actually happened and which are the product of imagination. What I remember, or at least seem to remember, are scenes of life in an Indian village and of one particular Indian who must have been my teacher or spiritual leader. In my dream I'm very young, sitting on a mat listening to him, though I've not been able to make any sense out of what he was saying."
"Is there anything else that you remember – in particular, any events which happened differently than what the Bible describes? "
"No, mostly just personal experiences," Christopher answered regretfully.
"How far back have you been able to remember?" Decker asked. "Do you remember anything about… God?" Decker's tone bore a strong hint of reverent caution.
"I'm sorry," Christopher answered, "I wish I did. I can usually remember my dreams while I'm meditating, and I have had a number of dreams that I think involved someone who seemed like a god, but each time when I woke up and tried to remember, it just wouldn't come back to me. I do remember that the dreams were very unusual and I remember a feeling of awe mixed with a heavy dose of fear."
"In your dream," Decker probed, "did it seem like you were in heaven?" The word 'heaven' coming from his mouth reminded Decker of the bizarre circumstances of this whole conversation and he looked around again to be sure no one was listening.
"I don't know," Christopher answered. "It didn't seem at all like the heaven Aunt Martha described. I suppose it could have been the planet that Uncle Harry thought I came from. I've searched my memory time and again, but all I can see of that world is shadows. It's like trying to hold water in your hand. I'll start to remember something, and for a moment it seems so real and solid, but the instant I start to grasp it, it's gone. I do remember seeing lights – glowing bodies, sometimes in human form, sometimes with no form at all." Decker's expression said that he wanted to hear more. "Angels maybe," Christopher added with an uncomfortable chuckle. "And there was one other thing: a voice. I don't remember what it said; I just remember the voice, the sound of the voice. Something about it was strangely familiar, but I can't say exactly why or how. What's even more puzzling is that I think I've heard that voice somewhere else, just recently, within the past several years."
Decker's eyes grew wide. "Can you re… " Decker stopped abruptly as a sudden look of recognition registered on Christopher's face. "What is it?" he asked.
"I just remembered where I heard the voice!" Christopher fell silent, apparently analyzing the new data in his mind.
"Where?" Decker asked, trying to urge him on.
"Remember the dream I had about the wooden box on the night the missiles blew up over Russia?" Decker nodded. "In the dream there was a voice saying 'Behold the hand of God,' followed by laughter, cold inhuman laughter. That was the really frightening part of the dream."
"Yeah, I remember you telling me that."
"That's what made the voice I heard in my meditations seem both familiar, and yet at the same time so strange. The voice and the laughter are the same. They are the same person or being or whatever. I'm sure of it."
Decker waited while Christopher silently continued his analysis. "I'm sorry," he said, finally, "that's all I can remember."
"Do you have any idea what it all means?" Decker asked.
Christopher frowned and shook his head.
Decker waited a moment just in case Christopher had any afterthoughts. He didn't. "Well," Decker concluded with a smile, "having you around sure makes life interesting." Decker started to take a bite of his meal but was struck by another thought. "Uh, Christopher… "he began, unsure of exactly how to word his question, "these classes and meditation: I don't suppose they've given you any insight into why you're here – whether you're here for a purpose or anything – if you have a mission?"
Decker was entirely in earnest, but for the first time in the conversation Christopher began to laugh. "What's so funny?" Decker asked, quite surprised by Christopher's reaction.