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By Jon H. DavisPublished 3 months ago Updated 3 months ago 23 min read

If walls could talk, they could also teach. Our ancient wall of stone, built many centuries ago, offers shelter for nomads dwelling nearby. Throughout the ages our wall protected them from the cold, north winds and the snows of winter. We watched over them, as their guardians.

Snow had fallen overnight, lightly dusting the landscape white as far as the eye could see. It was a chilly, frosty morn, as the sun began to chase away the clouds, looming darkly over distant purple mountains.

I am called the Wall of Dreams. Within my entire structure; infinite knowledge abounds. I am made of many stones, each one unique, yet united in the purpose of sharing our wisdom, and sparking human beings’ imagination, in many creative ways. A repository of history from our points of view, in some unusual perspectives of places all throughout the Earth.

Near my ancient wall, a weathered tent was pitched, the dwelling of three nomads. A fire burns within a ring of stones, as an iron kettle brewing tea is licked by dancing flames. It would soon be ready for the three, as they sat closely by the fire waiting, warmly wrapped in woolen blankets, and speaking softly to each other. Tula, beside her nine-year-old child Amu, is sharing bread, dried fruits, nuts, and honey.

The pace of life is unhurried for the family. Each day often has a similar routine. The father, Onga would hunt and fish, while the mother and her daughter forage, gathering nuts and berries and making small bundles of kindling. They are quite happy, living a simple, active, and creative life.

From times so long ago, their lives in harmony with nature, nomads gathered round the fires and told stories to each other, beneath dark twinkling, starry skies. All the while, our wall of stones listened closely to their mythic legends. With profound abilities of perception, we offer sound advice, guidance and direction to all who seek it, a key part of our intrepid mission.

After returning for so long, nomads called this land, The Place Of Many Dreams, because of the vivid, often wild dreams experienced by those sleeping near our deeply mysterious wall of living stones.

Through dreams, secrets are revealed in sound and visions, helping guide the curious on their journeys to new and unexpected discoveries.

The small clan of nomads, traveling together for many generations, returned to this special place by our ancient wall every year. They came for the equinox and the winter solstice, staying until spring flowers bloomed.

Our wall of stones, near half a league in length is slightly curved from end to end, shaped into an arc. The geometric focal point leads out to a well, its water flows in abundance deep within the earth, quenching peoples’ thirst.

Our wall stands tall, from its base up to its top. Forty-feet high it is, and thirty-feet across. At times, a few would climb up high, just to see the view. Mountains in the north, were capped with snowy peaks. A river ran to the south, winding through a primal forest, flowing far across the open plains and past the wind-swept dunes. Its waters reached the ocean’s shore, with its distant blue horizon.

From ancient times in Egypt, as the pyramids were created, we were there bearing witness. As Pharaohs reigned supreme, memories and visions were captured and recorded by the seers into the Akashic Record.

Thousands upon thousands of stones were made to form our wall, coming from remote locations. Each was placed intentionally, by ancestors from afar, a species that would be leaving Earth, as work had been completed.

Volumes of accumulated knowledge, gathered throughout millennia, were recorded and well preserved. Each block of stone in our wall, holds within, generations of experiences. Lifetimes lasting a thousand years, lead one to try and grasp how deep and vast our trove of wisdom truly is.

Our deep nature may seem a fantasy, but it’s not; it’s our reality. When our wall is asked a question, an answer is received telepathically. A myriad of thoughts are shared among us, some of them spawning ingenious creativity.

The creation of each stone began with silicon sands, layered into a molecular transformation chamber. A block of crystal forms by intense pressure, temperature, and transmutation. It’s infused with memory engrams, extracted from the minds of many seers and from the Akashic Record. Thoughts of a specific nature in their quantum frequencies are transmuted, fused into a crystal matrix. The data is all well preserved in a solid state. A vault of knowledge and deep wisdom is treasured here for posterity.

Near my wall, colorful nomad tents stand in sight, some with warming fires burning, where the first meal of the day is shared in the early morning light.

The child Amu speaks to her mother, asking if they can go with Pa Pa today. While he is out by the river catching fish, she wants to gather rushes from the marsh. Amu hopes to make a basket, like the one she saw herself making in her vivid dream last night.

Her mother Tula, seemed quite pleased that Amu had a special dream, and planned to make something new. The father, Onga looked up through the steam rising off his cup of tea, smiling at his little girl, saying he too had a dream of catching many fish this day.

Tula shared her vivid dream. She saw some stars come alive with creatures both great and small flying down to Earth, as they did so long ago, in the creation times. She said their spirits are still alive in the forests and the waters, and those who seek them may discover ancient wisdom.

Amu asks her Pa Pa why this place brings us many dreams. He says, because the wall protects and guides us, sharing many secrets from times beyond our memories. The wall does not forget and it teaches us the ways that are most important to remember.

Our wall is pleased hearing this, and stores these thoughts in its memory banks, adding to the collective records, continuously increasing.

Amu understood the value of this lesson she just learned. The wall has taught her many things she now knows first-hand. In her dream she saw herself weaving a basket out of black and golden reeds. It seemed so real she could feel it, while weaving fibers into the pattern she kept seeing in her mind; a golden-hued bowl with a fine black rim, and a triangular design reaching out to the edge. A woven or wooden handle would be added, making it a basket. She knew the wall instilled this vision in her dream, and told her father all about it.

Onga is impressed with the description of Amu’s artistic ideas, and says he would help gather reeds for her project. We’ll be having our midday meal by the river, in your favorite spot today. I know you love grilled fish, he winked. Soon, they headed out towards the river, their cart packed with supplies. It was pulled along the rutted path, by their pair of friendly goats.

The three return home at dusk, after having a productive day and a tasty meal by the river. Temperature has dropped and Onga builds a fire with kindling and logs brought home on their wooden cart. Onga’s abundant catch of fish will be brined and smoked tomorrow. Amu has a fine bundle of reeds, collected near the marsh. The beginnings of her basket, coming together in a precise weave, spiraled out from the center of her design. She wonders what the wall will reveal in her dreams tonight.

Amu had yet to realize our wall could listen to her thoughts. Soon, she would learn more of the many stories and secrets that we hold.

Our wall is far more complex than it appears, and we have the ability to communicate with ourselves. Another form of life, similar in nature is a coral reef, which is made of many different cells created by the polyps living in it, building the delicate framework of the corals, which grow in a myriad of forms and colors. It too, has the ability to communicate with itself.

Within our wall, thoughts are continuously in a state of flux and organization, while defining science further with mathematical equations. In the time since our wall’s creation, the Earth has gone through many changes. The nomads thrived, following their ancestral ways, living close to nature—the true provider—enjoying a productive and harmonious existence.

After enjoying a meal of hearty stew and fresh baked bread, the three crawl into their tent to sleep. Onga puts a few large stones inside, that had been warming by the fire. Their cozy space is quite comfortable, illuminated dimly by candlelight. Contented, and yet quite tired, Onga and Tula soon fall asleep.

Snug within warm furs and blankets, Amu lay awake, still wondering. Thoughts about her project, come to mind. She is feeling quite pleased with her progress. Yet something else is troubling her; she is not sure of what it could be. She blows out the candle, closes her eyes, and tries to sleep. But sleep does not come easily.

She thinks about her dream last night asking herself: “Why did the wall show me how to make a basket?”

Quite surprised, an answer comes and she hears a voice speak to her within. “When the student is ready, the teacher will appear,” said the wall. Its voice sounding deep and wise, reminds Amu of her grandfather, who told her many stories before he passed away two years ago.

Amu thinks of another question, and asks: “Wall of Dreams, can you show me the time when my grandfather told me about the owl who made its home in a hollow tree?” Our wall then spoke again, telling Amu to close her eyes and look deeply into the darkness.

She peers ahead, waiting patiently, while remembering the time she was riding on her Gran Pa’s shoulders, walking through a virgin forest. The scent of pines, a gentle breeze, the soft feel of moss under bare feet, warmed by the sun in summertime, were clear to her.

Deep within the darkness she thought she saw the movement of something very small. In the distance a ghostly apparition floated in the inky blackness. Slowly, growing larger and more solid, the figure moved forward until it stopped before her. Amu looked up and saw a familiar face; it startled her. She opened her eyes, and the face was gone. Next time she would remember to keep her eyes closed. Amu soon fell into a deep, and restful sleep.

She awoke, finding herself in the forest, sitting on a log. Next to her, a man pointed up into the branches of an old crooked tree. He spoke to her, asking: “There, up high, can you see the hollow? The owl’s looking out at us.”

“Gran Pa! I was just thinking about you. Oh, I feel like I’ve been here before,” Amu said, quite surprised, adding, “I’ve missed you so much and often think of you, and of the many stories you once told me.” Hearing the familiar voice of her grandfather felt so comforting. Steeped in ancient lore, her Gran Pa Arban spoke to her with words of wisdom.

Amu stood up and looked at him in his beaded deerskin shirt, so delighted seeing his smiling face. Gran Pa rose, and took her by the hand, leading her down the trail and up onto a ledge for a better view. Closer now, they saw the tree and on a branch next to the hollow, three tiny owlets were perched together in a row. Suddenly, a screech shattered the still air, as mother owl swooped in with a fish clutched in her talons. They both looked on in awe and wonder, as they witnessed nature’s eternal cycles.

Amu awakened from her other dream, by the cawing of hungry crows at the break of dawn. The wall had given her the dream she desired, and she was very pleased. She would have a new story to tell today. Her thoughts were focused on the wall; thanking it for the special dream. It felt so real this time, and she saw the forest in a deeper way, seeing textures come alive, in colors she never knew the names of.

Suddenly, she felt a warm spot midway near her heart, like a beam of sunlight through the trees. Intuitively, she knew the meaning, asking, “are you communicating with me?”

Yes, I was just sending you a warm hug, that’s the way we do it, and you felt the warm glow in your solar plexus. Amu put her hand on the place she felt the warm glow within, repeating the new words she just learned, “solar plexus.”

“What do you mean by we? You’re just a big old wall, with many secrets, aren’t you? But you’re only one wall, right?”

Each one of my stones is a unique part of me, with many memories from a lifespan of a thousand years, or so. We are all connected and share an unbreakable bond. We have been here for thousands of years, yet you do not see any missing stones. We have weathered quite well, naturally. So together, we are all and one.

“I never imagined that I could speak with you like I would to another person. We are having a conversation just by thinking, how is that? Do others know they can just speak with you?”

Many do, and we communicate telepathically with them too, as we are doing now. But not all those here have any knowledge of this. It is not a well kept secret, but needs to be discovered by each one, in their own time. As I said to you before, when the student is ready, the teacher will appear. I had sensed your desire for skills and learning; now your age of new discoveries is just beginning.

It is best that you do not tell others, who may not yet be open to new ideas. If you tell them you speak to me, as you would to them, they may think you’re full of nonsense.

Remember this: not all who approach our wall asking questions, will ever hear an answer. Intuitively, we know the individual’s intentions and if their heart is pure. Those who stand in front of us, impatiently demanding answers, will appear to be quite foolish, talking to a wall.

Amu thought about the wise words the wall spoke and decided to keep this all in secret. She knew she could talk about her dreams as many others do, and that would be enough. Tula went to the well for water to make tea.

Onga woke early, and had prepared brine in a long bark container for the fish to marinate in, while he put up his smoker, made of wooden poles, many cut by beavers.

The A-frame form was covered with squares of tree bark, and its rack of long smoke-stained sticks rested on the cross-members fastened to the frame. On the side, bark sections could be lifted up to lay the fish out on the rack. Two large clay pots of hot coals were placed within the smoker. A variety of wood chips sprinkled on the coals began to smoke the fish. As they smoked throughout the day, savory aromas wafted on the breeze, enticing many tastebuds, tempting those nearby.

Our wall was always watching, recording the activities and behaviors of the clan. At times, making comments, talking among ourselves, and sharing with other nearby stones.

This clan of nomads seem to be doing quite well so far, don’t you think? Absolutely! They are intuitive and so creative. They really are well balanced, having found true equilibrium, in harmony with nature’s ways.

They may never know their true origins, or their purpose for being here, in these healing times. Things could go either way, as they have free will to choose their path in life. We may offer guidance, but won’t tell them what to do. It’s a violation of protocol and our code of ethics.

Our creators now exist purely in the realm of spirit. That is true, yet long before their ascension, they inhabited ageless bodies and lived among the humans. Essentially, they were immortals. But when those around them aged and passed away, suspicion arose among a few who saw that some others never seemed to be growing any older, and stories spread about immortals.

They would move away, change their names, assume a new identity, and continue collecting another lifetime’s worth of experience in a new environment. Which brings us to where we are now, conversing in a solid state of mind.

Humans need to exist in the physical world of matter, where nature, the prime creator of the elements, weaves the fabric of life surrounding them on their chosen paths.

This clan of nomads numbers near a hundred, and sustain themselves sufficiently. From this place of dreams to the mountains in the north, where they hunt and gather, they collect materials during summer, for making many different things during the colder months of winter.

The aromatic aroma from Onga’s smoker had attracted one of Amu’s friends, who lived in another tent nearby, downwind today. Esen was a few years older than Amu, and quite passionate about fishing. He would often be seen by the river with his father, Jargal. Amu was sitting by the fire, working on her basket, when she saw Esen approaching.

Our wall had been observing the two for a while, interested in how they were relating, wondering what would develop.

Esen called out to Amu and said, “something smells so delicious!” He wanted to see what was cooking.

Amu told him her Pa Pa caught many fish the other day and was smoking them, but they had to smoke all day, before he could have a taste. She held up her basket, and said, “See what I am making! I started yesterday.”

Esen came over and was most impressed by how well Amu’s basket was evolving. He said, wondering aloud, “How do you make this so precise?” “It just came to me in a dream,” she answered. “It’s how I’ve learned many things.”

“I have seen things in my dreams too, some were very frightening, so I won’t tell you about them. Last month, father had a special dream. Now he wants to build a boat and go out on the sea where he knows bigger fish are waiting in the deep, and he hopes to catch some. He made a model of the boat he hopes to build. It’s something you might like to see; it really is so beautiful.”

Our wall commented again to itself. All it takes is an idea. We plant the seed in the minds of our children and wait to see how it grows. Any good idea needs nurturing for it to blossom, let’s see what happens next.

We continued to speculate about a group that had broken off from the clan a few years ago, and found their shelter in the mountains of the northern region. Dwelling in caves suited them, and it’s where they discovered iron ore. Now, they had learned to smelt and forge it.

So, what will they make, tools or weapons? Our wall asked itself, then answered. It is both, each tool could be used as a weapon and vice versa. The yin and yang of opposites prevail. Why do we ask ourselves questions when we know the answers, one stone asked? So we don’t get stagnant, like breathing is part of life, essential for humans. Good point. Like water, thoughts need to flow.

These nomads really have no idea of how they wound up here in this place and have never asked about their true origin. They tell tales of creation myths we gave them, perpetuated by many diverse civilizations long since vanished, but still in our memory banks. They learn from these stories, but we know they are made up fantasy and fiction, for the most part. The clan, living here by our wall, learned many skills through the vivid dreams we gave them.

No one here lived alone except for Khasar, an elder, who was looked upon as a wizard. He is a wise being with deep knowledge of the natural world. His spirit got its strength from the trees, plants, and animals that were alive with magical, healing powers. Some here believe he could fly with the birds, but no one ever saw him do it, and if they did, it was kept secret. Khasar would sit near our wall for hours, meditating, and was secretly communicating.

Among the clan, there were those who had mastered skills to a high degree. Chimeg was a talented potter and she made beautiful jugs, bowls, and covered containers for storing food. Many had some of her creations. Dawa made a variety of clothing from the skins and fur of animals. He liked decorating them with the colorful beads his wife, Bayal crafted from the shells she gathered at the shore. Ganza was a toolmaker who made the finest knives from obsidian and flint, and his tools were in high demand.

The nomads bartered fairly with each other, exchanging goods and services, all given and received with blessings for the spirit within their artful creations.

Our wall noted the evolution of skills among the clan had significantly increased over the last fifty years or so, commenting that human ingenuity never ceases to impress them. We planted many seeds and now we are seeing how they’ve blossomed.

But when did civilization take a wrong turn? When the seers first began observing human activity on Earth, twenty-thousand years ago, life was not much different than it is for this clan now. Smaller groups were able to live together peacefully in unity and harmony.

As populations grew, divisions began, while some acquired power through possessions, greed took hold, perpetuating itself. The close connection to the natural world was broken or lost for many, and they assimilated.

Systems of dependence arose, controlled by the powerful. The downward spiral began, drawing humanity into its captivating vortex. Religious zealots preyed upon the meek, and brainwashed them into buying reservations, for their salvation, guaranteed in heaven.

Throughout history there have been so many remarkable beings who strove to awaken and inspire through timeless expressions in art, literature, and science, and so much more. They saw the planet for what it really was, a living organism, needing careful nurturing.

The clan knows this and most of them are aware of their deep roots. Only because we have given them memories of the ancient ways of caring for their source of life, nature.

The clan may never know their ancestors, four gens ago, were grown in a lab on the Orb. It’s where their memories were implanted into virgin brains. What strikes me as strange is that they have never asked about other people who live in this region, or anywhere. It is odd, isn’t it?

I did notice Amu had some concerns last night. I think it has something to do with her dreams. She wonders how she gets them. She has a great aptitude in her mind. She picks up on things quickly, and has amazing dexterity, did you look closely at what she is doing with that swamp grass? It’s amazing! Like the spiral pattern seen in a sunflower, she weaves with such fine precision!

So, in time they may discover that there are none other than themselves and the twelve that moved into those caves up north. It’s doubtful they would ever contact any of the other six clans, far away on distant continents.

They know little of Earth’s history and what happened on the planet nine-thousand years ago. A pole shift caused a new Ice Age, as if things were not bad enough already. California burned, before half of it, west of San Andreas, slid into the ocean. Nine years later in 2081, Yellowstone’s caldera blew it’s top and the planet was cloaked in sulfurous clouds as a nuclear winter began. The grid went down as solar storms reeked havoc. The world was thrown into darkness, making the Dark Ages look like a merry picnic.

An onslaught of forces beyond control took over. Humans and creatures died by the millions, as disease was rampant. Seas were overwhelmed with pollution, poisoned. While militias roamed scavenging, oil barons prospered, and wild gangs of ruthless, salvage pirates plundered. Chaos churned viciously, as never seen before.

There was a long hallowed silence, spreading through the wall, remembering those apocalyptic, dismal times.

On a lighter note, I think Esen is quite interested in Amu, he’s still there watching her weave magic. He’s waiting for a taste of the smoked fish, which is not yet ready. The aroma has him salivating.

You know one thing I think we all miss? Food! The tactile sensations, the taste buds bursting with flavors were so incredible, we don’t have that programed. It’s a good thing we don’t feel hunger, yet we can remember many delicious meals, but not being able to taste them, sad.

Physical bodies do have some disadvantages, over our solid state of existence. Consider, pain and hunger, while growing older. Temporal sensations, we’ve all been there, long ago.

Our wall observed Amu’s impressive progress. Her design of the black triangle, emerging amidst golden fibers was quite stunning. She spent hours working and felt it was time to rest. Her fingers were getting callused. She was thinking about what she might possibly create next, and was hoping inspiration would come to her in another vivid dream.

As dreams and visions continue to inspire the clan, art forms emerge into reality. Creative minds and hands at work usher in an Age of Discovery, now dawning for Amu and her loving family. In ten years time we will see Amu emerge as a leader in her community, her artistry developed in many creative ways was most inspirational.

Now, Earth is their new Eden. In time, this clan will meet others on their quest. They will thrive, sharing knowledge, and continue growing as they repopulate the planet. With observations by the Elders aboard our ancient, mothership, we will see their lives evolve quite naturally.

Advancing glaciers had scraped away traces of civilization. What remained, is buried deep within the ground, and lies waiting to be discovered in a distant future age. When some archaeologists dig through layers of time, they will name the unearthed era, the Plasticene.

We have been reviewing Earth’s history since ancient times, observing the challenges the humans faced, and hardships they endured. We continue teaching lessons, in hopes of making deep impressions. Guiding this clan in natural ways is most important. They will learn to maintain the balance of our fragile planet. If not at first, they will find a way, as it’s human nature to survive, as the fittest often do.

This clan lives 9,000 years in the future. Our Wall Of Dreams also hopes to impart wisdom to all who read this story in the present day. A means of creating a healthier future for our planet comes from mindful intentions and also through mandala art, with its mythic powers.

The End of Part One

The story continues in Part Two, “Unknown Destiny.”

SeriesSci FiHistoricalAdventure

About the Creator

Jon H. Davis


Jon H. Davis, is a digital alchemist, and explorer, who documents the natural world and cultures with words, photos, and videos. View more of his work with partner Iris Brooks at their NLS website,

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