Free The Art of Dreaming by Carlos Castaneda Page A

climbing
toward the hills. When we got to a narrow gully between two hills, don Juan
stopped.
    "This
is for sure an ideal place to summon your friends," he said.
    "Why
do you call them my friends?"
    "They
have singled you out themselves. When they do that, it means that they seek an
association. I've mentioned to you that sorcerers form bonds of friendship with
them. Your case seems to be an example. And you don't even have to solicit them."
    "What
does such a friendship consist of, don Juan?"
    "It
consists of a mutual exchange of energy. The inorganic beings supply their high
awareness, and sorcerers supply their heightened awareness and high energy. The
positive result is an even exchange. The negative one is dependency on both
parties.
    "The
old sorcerers used to love their allies. In fact, they loved their allies more
than they loved their own kind. I can foresee terrible dangers in that."
    "What
do you recommend I do, don Juan?"
    "Summon
them. Size them up, and then decide yourself what to do."
    "What
should I do to summon them?"
    "Hold
your dream view of them in your mind. The reason they have saturated you with
their presence in your dreams is that they want to create a memory of their
shape in your mind. And this is the time to use that memory." Don Juan
forcefully ordered me to close my eyes and keep them closed. Then he guided me
to sit down on some rocks. I felt the hardness and the coldness of the rocks.
The rocks were slanted; it was difficult to keep my balance.
    "Sit
here and visualize their shape until they are just like they are in your
dreams," don Juan said in my ear. "Let me know when you have them in
focus."
    It took me
very little time and effort to have a complete mental picture of their shape,
just like in my dreams. It did not surprise me at all that I could do it. What
shocked me was that, although I tried desperately to let don Juan know I had
pictured them in my mind, I could not voice my words or open my eyes. I was
definitely awake. I could hear everything.
    I heard don
Juan say, "You can open your eyes now."
    I opened
them with no difficulty. I was sitting cross-legged on some rocks, which were
not the same ones I had felt under me when I sat down. Don Juan was just behind
me to my right. I tried to turn around to face him, but he forced my head to
remain straight. And then I saw two dark figures, like two thin tree trunks,
right in front of me.
    I stared at
them openmouthed; they were not as tall as in my dreams. They had shrunk to
half their size. Instead of being shapes of opaque luminosity, they were now
two condensed, dark, almost black, menacing sticks.
    "Get
up and grab one of them," don Juan ordered me, "and don't let go, no
matter how it shakes you."
    I
definitely did not want to do anything of the sort, but some unknown drive made
me stand up against my will. I had at that moment the clear realization that I
would end up doing what he had ordered me to, although I had no conscious
intention of doing so.
    Mechanically,
I advanced toward the two figures, my heart pounding nearly out of my chest. I
grabbed the one to my right. What I felt was an electric discharge that almost
made me drop the dark figure.
    Don Juan's
voice came to me as if he had been yelling from a distance away. "You drop
it and you're done for," he said.
    I held on
to the figure, which twirled and shook. Not like a massive animal would, but
like something quite fluffy and light, although strongly electrical. We rolled
and turned on the sand of the gully for quite some time. It gave me jolt after
jolt of some sickening electric current. I thought it was sickening because I
fancied it to be different from the energy I had always encountered in our
daily world. When it hit my body, it tickled me and made me yell and growl like
an animal, not in anguish but in a strange anger.
    It finally
became a still, almost solid form under me. It lay inert. I asked don Juan if
it was dead, but I did not hear my voice.
    "Not a
chance,"