Indie Book Promo is happy to welcome John H. Doe to the blog. He’s here to share about his book, Memoirs from the War in Heaven. If this book sounds like something you would be interested in reading, please find buy links below and pick up a copy or two.
* * *
This is part of the story of my life. Which is not to say it’s over, but enough happened to make me want to write down what has happened so far. There are drugs in it (which I’m not on anymore), and there is stuff that you might call blasphemy. And that, because what has happened to me was religious, which you might have guessed from the title. The title is, in fact, not a metaphor for something else, but in fact, the accurate description of what is written inside. It starts on a typical Friday night for a sophomore in college, who dropped some very strong acid, and who became involved with the actual War in Heaven. The war in eternity. The span is from that initial night, where I was drafted into service on the side of light, to Satan’s fall, some 25 years later. No, it was not every day that I was intensely involved, but let’s say that I can say, “I was there.” That’s it, that’s the book. One earthbound misfit in a world full of angels.
Memoirs from the War in Heaven is available from:
* * *
John H. Doe is a noteworthy nobody, whose name was not an accident of birth. In the years of his life, he traveled from party animal to a deadly serious researcher of artificial intelligence. Throughout this journey were there events and hints of a larger thing, the likes of which finally revealed its import in the last month of the Year of the Dragon, the culmination of twenty-five years of war and art. The war being not of this world, as Christ’s kingdom was not of this world. And when that all transpired, here emerged an author anew, whose work appears before you. It may confuse you, and it may change your life. You have been warned.
* * *
As my body lay there, I became a completely loose freeform entity. I passed down, through layers of consciousness, I saw the connections to how we come to perceive the world around us, then where the symbols we use were grounded, and then com-pletely OUT of my body, so that I was a pure sphere. A sphere, but whose whole surface was an eye: I could see out in all directions without having to turn my head (as if that were the issue, since I had no body parts at all)—but where was I? Part of me, the spherical eye, could see where I had just been, the hallway of my dorm and the door and the exit sign above it. Was this it then, the exit I had been looking for?
I got a little scared. Mostly from confusion, plus the absolute strangeness of what had just happened. And then appeared there before me two of my friends, but I knew they weren’t really my friends, rather that these two beings were symbols of all that was right and good about the cosmos, of heaven and earth. One of them said, “John, this is the only reality you’ve got. Up, up!” And I knew exactly what I needed to do. I wonder now if anyone else had visited where I had been, and were not able to get back. Would they have been catatonic? Would it have been a coma state? I was lucky, and with that cue, “Up, up!”, I passed back up through my layers of consciousness, back into my body, and I stood up. I started walking back up the driveway, saying, “I love this place, Hunt Library…” Then I saw Bob coming down the stairs.
All he said when he saw me was, “John, where are you going?” But I was having none of it. Because he was a symbol of that which was below, the darkness, of all that was wrong, the drug rehab center and the fake reality I was trying to wake up from, trying to escape. Ironic that he had come because he was concerned about me. So, as my state of mind had determined the course I was to follow, I veered right and ran away, yelling, “I’m off drugs!” Later Bob told me this only added to my legend, and that I was a particularly fast runner. But where was I going, actually?
I had it in my mind to get out of this fake reality/drug rehab center, and I had a vision of a fall. I had decided that whatever it took, however it would feel, I was going to get out. So I was making a beeline (if bees turned 90 degree corners) to Schenley Bridge, about 100 feet high off the ground, midway—to jump off it.
And then what happened was the best thing ever. This was worth the price of admission, and a half. I was running up this hill, and I heard a voice inside my head say something like, if you want to get out, you’ll have to run forever! And this maze appeared in my mind, extending beyond my vision’s reach, and I was supposed to fill it with my running. Short hesitation while still running full throttle, when I decided, “Yes!” And at that instant, there opened a white light in the maze, the middle of my imagination; and when I tried to wrap my mind around it, the white light completely overtook me, and now was there nothing but the light, so bright as to be solid, more solid than steel or diamond whatever you could find in any earthly realm—and it was as if I did not exist in comparison to the light, and I was told I was not that light. It was then my perception closed upon it: the circle whose center is everywhere, its circumference nowhere: INFINITY. And I was dropped back into my body, which had fallen for a second time onto the pavement.