The Gateway Experience

Wave 1:

Discovery Orientation

Nobody can hear a scream in the vacuum of space, or so they say. Pressing the play button on the first audio tape, I’m ready to test this theory. The sound of binaural beats swarm through my headphones.

“This is the first step along your path to a gateway, a gateway beyond which is discovery,” Robert Monroe speaks through my headphones.

I lie back, my head resting on my feathered down pillow, and breathe. The sound of what seems like computer dial-up tones fill my ears. My right leg jerks, agitatedly. I rarely meditate.

“Now a simple preparation,” he continues instructing through my headphones, this time his voice flowing through only my right ear, “Because of the special audio technique used, it’s important certain sounds reach your right ear.”

Hemispheric meditation: the tool the CIA explored in hopes of maneuvering through the space-time continuum, now available to the public after nearly forty years of secrecy. Had traveling through dimensions really been achieved? I hope so. According to Robert Monroe and the government, listening to the thirty-six Gateway Experience tapes will allow you to travel to different realities. Luckily an anonymous saint uploaded all thirty-six of them to YouTube.

My hands become heavier as I visualize releasing my negative emotions and material woes into my personal energy conversion box, as Robert Monroe instructs. The waves of binaural beats continue to drift into my brain, calming my nervous system. As my eyes become heavier I feel calmer, wiser, and steadier.

“Now open your eyes,” he says.

I open my eyes after approximately thirty minutes of meditation. I don’t understand. I had just lied down only moments ago. I sit up, slightly confused. A clear, crisp, and alert energy washes over me. My vision is focused. As if the cluttered space in my brain has been vacuumed and emptied, I hear my fan churning and cars bustling outside my window with precision. I sit up and stretch my arms above my body and crack my neck.

“Well, that was interesting,” I say aloud, removing my Bluetooth earbuds and tucking them into their case.

Cocking my head to one side, I notice my calendar on the opposite side of my bedroom. All the days are crossed off through today, April 11th, 2022. On a Monday evening, I have work to do.

I stand up and exit through my bedroom door, down the hall, and wind through my condo toward the living room, where the “cock pit,” as an ex-girlfriend liked to call it, lives. Four monitors and a high-processing computer allow me to spend long hours coding for various companies I contract with.

Sitting down in my high-back swivel chair, Taps, my fat tuxedo cat, jumps into my lap and places his two paws on my chest. He purrs and nuzzles his nose into my neck.

“Well, hello there, buddy,” I scratch and kiss the top of his head.

Of course, this encourages him to demand more of my attention. Chuckling, I set him down and unlock my computer home screen. I pull up my work scheduler through an app on my desktop and notice three unchecked boxes I need to check off by the end of the night. Squashing a few bugs and drafting for the next project, already eight pm, I have three to four hours ahead of me.

A news notification emerges on the right side of my screen. It reads: Ukrainian officials state 4,000 citizens evacuated from violent areas as Russia invades.

I shake my head. On the brink of World War Three, I consider how much longer our species has left on this planet. Born in nine-teen-ninety-two, I’m not surprised anymore by catastrophe; however, my heart aches for a decade prior, when things felt safer.

I turn my gaze outside, where I see the neighboring skyscraper condominiums and several people watching television or getting ready for bed through their windows. I look toward the Willamette River. A few boats trudging along the water. The view of downtown Portland, Oregon twinkles less than half a mile away. Eight stories high, the condo I rent on Portland’s waterfront offers me an expansive view.

A video chat notification emerges on my phone. It’s Rae, my best friend.

“Kit, he fucking ghosted me!” Rae wails into the camera as I answer.

I skirt my hazel eyes toward the bottom right of the phone screen and scan my face. My pink, purple, blonde, and blue pixie cut is a bit ruffled, and I realize I’m wearing no make-up. My skin is clear and smooth. Rolling my thick lips together, they’re a little chapped. I reach for my water bottle and take a sip.

I look back at Rae, “What do you mean he ghosted you?”

“Fucking prick! He left me on read seven hours ago,” Rae paces her apartment.

“Calm down Rae, who cares?” I say casually. Rae had a habit of involving herself with the wrong men. This is nothing new. “You just met him two weeks ago,” I console her.

“But he seemed perfect!” Rae mopes, “I mean, fuck dating apps… no one ever seems to stick around. We are turning thirty this year, and both of us are single. Aren’t you a little scared?”

I shake my head, “Not really, I’m fine being single. Besides, it’s only been six months since Ana and I broke up, I don’t need to be dating right now.”

“You have it so much easier being a lesbian,” Rae poked.

I nod. She is right. Not having to deal with men romantically makes all the difference in my world. I sigh, “Rae, there must be at least one guy out there who’s the perfect match, or whatever. Don’t fret. Just calm down,” I pause, remembering the meditation tapes, “Oh! I listened to that meditation thing you sent me.”

Rae’s expression changes, “The Gateway Experience?”

“Yeah, like, I didn’t feel like I was meditating. It was super trippy. I’ll listen to the second one tomorrow,” I say.

Rae stays quiet for a moment and then responds, “Yeah, about that, you probably shouldn’t, actually.”

I’m confused, “What do you mean? You suggested I listen to them only six days ago; weren’t you, like, on tape ten? I thought they were life-changing?”

My friend shuddered, “Look, I… I take that back. I shouldn’t have suggested them. Something happened while listening to the eleventh tape a few days ago, and it sort of freaked me out.”

“What do you mean?” I press.

Rae shakes her head, “You’re not going to believe me, Kit. You’ll suggest I be locked up or something.”

“Rae,” I nudge, “You can tell me. We’ve been best friends since the seventh grade.”

Staring off to the left of her phone, Rae finally says, “Kit, I went somewhere two days ago. Like, somewhere not here in this reality. Somewhere I couldn’t have possibly imagined. Don’t continue listening to those tapes.”

_____

Message to the Vocal reader:

The Gateway Experience is, in fact, based on the real life tapes Robert Monroe and the investigation done by the United States Central Intelligence Agency. The characters, events, and plot of my story are fictitious, however, and do not represent real states of consciousness, people, or events. If you’re interested in learning more about the study, feel free to check out or browse the internet for the Analysis and Assessment of the Gateway Process report, written and vetted by the United States Central Intelligence Agency.